A friend in need

Is a friend indeed.

Click here to donate money to help with the disaster relief after the devastation in Asia, thanks to Amazon and the Red Cross.

Spending my day at work, happily typing while listening to my new MP3 player, thanks to The Missus. FYI, the iPod mini arrived last night, and it is cute.

Lunch is over soon. Back to work.

Catch ya later.

Merry Christmas!

Here's hoping that you weren't banking on timely delivery of gifts by FedEx, UPS, et al.

Like I was.

The iPod mini hasn't arrived. Curses, FedEx. CURSES!

But, all it all, still a beautiful day in The Pieman's world.

Hope the same for you.

Missing the point of Xmas

Actual text from a Christmas card I received today:

"Hey, did you know Jesus is the reason for the season! [sic] Merry Xmas"

Don't get me started.

Back before Thanksgiving, I expounded on the offense I took at people who use the phrase "Turkey Day". I hinted, in the comments, on how I wasn't looking forward to the next adulteration of holidays, which is what "Xmas" is.

Typing the word "Xmas" into Google will show you that it is used by many people in the exact same way they'd use the word Christmas. You can read Xmas jokes, get Xmas fonts for your computer (whatever those are supposed to look like...), and celebrate Xmas all year round.

Whence comes this word, Xmas? Well, in my revulsion I decided to confront the old standby, dictionary.com, to find out what Xmas means. Here's what they say:

Christmas.
[From X, the Greek letter chi, first letter of Greek Khrstos, Christ. See Christ.]
Usage Note: Xmas has been used for hundreds of years in religious writing, where the X represents a Greek chi, the first letter of [omitted Greek text], “Christ.” In this use it is parallel to other forms like Xtian, “Christian.” But people unaware of the Greek origin of this X often mistakenly interpret Xmas as an informal shortening pronounced ([ommitted Greek text]). Many therefore frown upon the term Xmas because it seems to them a commercial convenience that omits Christ from Christmas.

So, "Xmas," which is a world I have reviled for eons, is apparently a term that ought not offend, as theologians through the decades have already settled on it as a shorthand term for Christmas.

In the past, as people have said "Merry Xmas" or send cards containing the same, I've spent more time frustrated at their idiotic disregard for the use of proper English. I've sat back in my Christian up-brought, holier-than-thou way and felt offended. I've pitied people's inability to comprehend the meaning behind the season.

Have I been missing the point?

Maybe. I guess you could say the same is true when discussing my strong convictions on calling Thanksgiving by its name, as opposed to cheapening it by calling it Turkey Day. But, in the end, I think what matters is the thought behind what people say, more than the words they use to say it.

That isn't to say that I'm ever going to be too tolerant of a "Happy Turkey Day" thrown my way. "Turkey Day" doesn't have the imprimitur of authority that Xmas does, by virtue of hundreds of years of use as a shorthand term for a longer word.

As we quickly approach Christmas, though, I hope we don't miss the point of the holiday. I received an e-mail today from from a friend's husband, and it made me roll my eyes, perhaps because I was the choir being preached to. However, it laid out the importance of this holiday in a very clear way, and I've ended up being thankful for the reminder. I include it below for you to peruse and to regard how you see fit:

Hello Everybody!

Just thought I’d share a “seasonal” thought with everybody if you’d like to take a moment to read it…

Everything going on at this time of year is so crazy because it’s the holiday season. It’s sort of funny that it’s called a holiday, because for a lot of us this is the most slammed time of the year. Especially for Jeanine and me, we have a two-and-a-half-year-old daughter who’s really into Christmas now! But for me, I know I need to really think about why Christmas is something I should enjoy and even meditate on instead of just letting myself get “caught up” in it.

Fourteen years ago, I chose to give my life to Jesus. Since then, it’s been an exciting growing experience in Him as He’s journeyed with me through my life’s changes. These days, along with reading the story about how Christ was born, I’m thinking a lot about what that means to me as a God-follower.

There was something else that was born that night besides the baby Jesus, and that was hope. When the three wise men came to visit the baby Jesus, they were not just looking into the face of a newborn. They were looking into the face of God. Up until the moment Christ was born, God spoke through people he had chosen to take his words into certain corners of the world and showed himself through things like a cloud of fire when He was leading the Israelites out of Egypt. He also spoke to a certain number of people, but not to everyone. But one thing that was consistent was that no one had seen His face.

The same One of whom no one had seen His face showed us His heart’s desire to restore the relationship that had been broken through Adam and Eve’s fall into sin. He did this by leaving His rightful place to come to earth to be with us. He bridged the chasm that had separated us from Him for so long. This is the true Christmas story. He was born to be with us and born to die for our sins so that we could have an eternal and perfect relationship with Him.

The reason why I said that hope was born the night that Christ was born is because He is the hope; the perfect hope that fills all of our emptiness; and He’s the perfect love that conquers any depth of loneliness we could ever know. And we experience this by opening ourselves up to Him and giving our heart completely to Him.

That is what God is teaching me about Christmas. Christ was born as “Emmanuel”, which means “God with us”. He is not ever far away. He is right there with us and will never let us down. All we need to do is give ourselves to Him and trust Him with everything we are.

I hope you all have an awesome Christmas!!

Wes

I've been reading all of my usual blogs, including Rozanne's, Denise's, and Betsy's, and I've appreciated all of the different approaches that everyone has toward this season. Some people really get into it, some people low-key it, but all of them seem to appreciate that there is this time of year where we can all be with family and friends, spread cheer, and just be, in that enjoyable sense. I don't know how they, or many people, feel about the religious aspect of the holiday, and I wouldn't be so presumptuous as to tell them that they have to feel anything about it. Religion and faith, after all, are a matter of choice.

However you feel about this season, and whatever you believe about it, I wish each and every one of you a very Merry Xmas. In keeping with my beliefs, I will pray that you all have a safe and happy holiday.

Catch ya later.

Eve Leave

So, as I work of the public and am therefore immune to such perks as Christmas bonuses or stock options or what-not, one of the few perks that I'm offered is something callled "Eve Leave".

The way it works, at least here in Multnomah County, is that you are given a personal holiday to use anytime between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day.

Usually, this is quite the boon, because when Christmas is on, say, Friday, you can work yourself into a four-day weekend to which you wouldn't otherwise be entitled by using your Eve Leave on the greatest Eve of all, which is Christmas Eve.

This year's odd, though. Christmas, and New Year's Day, both fall on a weekend, which means that they are both being observed on their Eves. So, instead of using my Eve Leave to get Christmas Eve or New Year's Eve off, the government's already dealt with that problem.

What to do?

Well, in my case, I'm celebrating Christmas Eve Eve, by taking my Eve Leave tomorrow.

Joy of joys! Whatever can a growing boy do with so much free time on his hands?

I'm pleased to report that, as of this evening, I am no longer in need of shopping for gifts. In fact, all that is left for me to do to prepare for Christmas is to wrap the iPod mini, whenever it gets here (it's been promised by Christmas Eve at 10:30 am and, per Fed Ex, left Anchorage AK today at 4:09 pm for the final leg of its journey) and to pray that the last minute super surprise gift that my wife will die to have shows up in time. Since I just bought it off E-Bay today, it's not likely, but where would be be if we didn't pull for the occasional Christmas miracle?

So, I will spend tomorrow doing what every young married buck does when they get a day off.

I will clean my house.

Horror of horrors! Can this be true?

Yes. My day is jam-packed with fun. I will arise, pop my half-pill of pleasure, and then visit my doctor. After being told that my pills seem to be working, and being asked not to drool so much, I will make my way home to clean up my guest room (Santa's got a little surprise in store for someone who most likely doesn't know about this blog, but you can't ever be too sure), then I'll mix in a video game, then I'll eat some disgusting low-carb yogurt, then I'll clean the living room, then I'll do some work I brought home out of a mixture of guilt and the knowledge that if I don't do it, I'll feel jammed next week. Then I'll clean the kitchen. I might play another video game in there. Who knows? Kinda like Frank the Tank said in Old School, when describing his exciting day of shopping at Home Depot and Linens 'n' Things, I may not have enough time. There's just so much to do.

After making that statement, Frank got busy with a beer bong. No such fun in my day: Xanax doesn't mix well with even low-grade beers like Hamm's, so I'll be sipping at my low-carb, sodium free fizzy water as I toil.

By the way, it has really surprised me how many people I've talked to have dealt with some sort of chest-type issue similar to mine. Today, one of the lawyers in my office described nearly identical symptoms, and said his was stress-related as well, and that it just (eventually) went away. Here's hoping that I've got what he had (unless he had something really, really bad that's just hiding under the bed, waiting to jump out and grab him, in which case I wish him something better).

Finally, and probably most importantly, a police officer in Gresham e-mailed me a freakin' hilarious video (about 1 meg big) reminiscent of one of those old Rudolph claymation-type things, only it involves Santa having a run-in with the COPS crew. I forwarded it to Jack and Jake, but neither's elected to post it. If you'd be interested in seeing it, and perhaps hosting it on your space (I don't have any of my own, or if I do I don't know how to use it), shoot me at e-mail at piemans.leblogue@gmail.com and I'll send it your way. It's truly worth seeing.

Anyway, Happy Christmas Eve Eve Eve.

Catch ya later.

Vampire movies du jour

As you may or may not have noticed, depending on whether you actually read my blog (and, I've noticed, alot of people have been going through it quite thoroughly lately), I enjoy the cinema. In particular, I enjoy vampire flicks (to read some prior reviews, check out my fun-time entertainment guide).

Recently, I've been able to take in a couple of the new films in the genre, and while I'm eagerly awaiting my next medication binge, I thought I'd critique them for you.

Van Helsing
I got to watch Van Helsing while I was ill. I originally had wanted to see it in the theater, but there are certain movies that you see with certain people. Spanglish was one that I was planning to see with my wife. Why? Well, it's an odd one. Sandler flicks are usually to be seen with the guys, but this is one of those Sandler flicks where he's trying to show that he can act. Which makes it a chick-ish flick, since his acting turns always revolve around some poor romantic-schlub role. The reason I had to emphasize the word "planning" is because my wife used my bed-riddenness as an excuse to see Spanglish with another chick, forcing me to wallow. I mean, I only have the one wife (that I'll tell all you about, anyway) and so I'm relegated to seeing it alone while she's out of town, tricking one of the guys into it, or waiting for it to come out on Netflix.

But, anyway, Van Helsing is the other kind of movie -- a guy film. Except most of my buddies didn't really want to see it. I'm convinced that they didn't want to see it in the same way that I didn't want to, which is to say that they did but they were afraid that going to a Hugh Jackman-led film might make them gay. Some guys are just too good looking, Jackman being one of them, for anyone to buy that you are watching them for their acting skill.

So, I didn't want to see it, which is to say I did, and the only reason I did is because it's a vampire flick. So, with my disease riddling my still-warm corpse, I cozied up with my laptop in bed and watched Van Helsing, which finally arrived courtesy of Netflix.

Van Helsing, to put it concisely, sucked. The story follows a newer, braver Van Helsing from the old bespectacled doctor-type of the Nosferatu days as he goes around battling a who's-who of evil. Among the menagerie he fights (at times against, at times for, and at times as) are Mr. Hyde (of Jekyll and Hyde fame), Frankenstein's monster, Werewolves, and Dracula. There is a hint that Van Helsing is an immortal thrown in, to, which seems to remove much of the danger and peril from his fight scenes.

The only real reason to watch is Kate Beckinsale. I swear to God, I love her in everything. I mean, look at the list. Much Ado About Nothing; Serendipity; that abomination with Ben Affleck on Pearl Harbor; Underworld (one of the finer vampire flicks, mind you)... Don't tell my wife, but if I weren't married to her, and Kate Beckinsale weren't married to whomever she's hitched to, and I was much more handsome, and we met somewhere and I told a funny joke that launched a romance, and so on and so forth, well, man, she'd be mine all mine.

Since none of that worked out that way, I watched Van Helsing, admired Kate Beckinsale's bad acting, rolled my eyes at the ludicrous plot, and took a nap after I was done. On a scale of 1-5 stars, Van Helsing gets 2, and one star is because Kate Beckinsale was in it. The other is because it's only a 1-5 scale, so I couldn't give a zero.

Blade: Trinity
As I noted in my last diatribe on vampire flicks, the Blade films are high on my list, so when I heard this one was coming out, I couldn't wait to get to it.

And, so, I did.

First thing I noticed is that Whistler (Kris Kristoferson) was alive, which I thought was odd, since I was sure they killed him off in the last one. Regardless, they killed him again early in this one, which was a good move. Because the only good Kris Kristoferson is a dead one.

Anyway, the third installment of the Blade trilogy sucked, too, but it was a better suckage than Van Helsing, so I'll give it some run.

In this film, Blade goes up against the big bad himself, Dracula (aka Drake, because noone can take themselves seriously being called Dracula in 2004). On the way, the afore-mentioned happy slaughter of Whistler occurs, followed by Blade's discovery of Whistler's secret daughter (the naughty-hot Jessica Biel, a virtual tour-de-force of minimalist acting), her partner in crime Van Wilder (played, coincidentally, by the guy who played Van Wilder the first time he was a movie character), and an ipod mini, much like the one my wife is getting for Christmas, except not so cute.

I was delighted to find that this movie also starred a fraction of the cast of Christopher Guest's A Mighty Wind, including John Michael Higgins (who's best work still remains his portrayal of David Letterman in The Late Shift, unless you liked his uncredited work as one of the evil aliens in Halo 2, the video game...is there anything IMDB doesn't know?) and Parker Posey, who never really delivered on the promise she showed in Dazed and Confused, if you ask me). And, to round things out, everyone's favorite WWE wrestler who isn't The Rock, Hulk Hogan, or Rowdy Roddy Piper (who's that leave? That's right, Triple H!) plays the big, dumb vampire flavor of the month.

Anyway, as you can guess, noone we care for dies (that's right, we all hate Whistler), Dracula dies, Parker Posey dies. Good triumphs over evil. At least there are a couple of good fight scenes (though not what you'd expect after seeing former Blade movies), but in the end this one feels like it's mailed in. Especially when Blade actually talks like a stereotypical angry black dude, which is a departure from the character that just can't be forgiven.

Blade: Trinity: 3 stars. And it should've been called "Van Wilder's Night on the Town".

Anyway, thanks to all my well-wishers (all two of you) who've dropped me supportive notes in the last day or two. I appreciate it greatly.

Catch ya later.

Dropping a quick line

It's been a few days, so I thought I'd say hi.

I've been in a bad way lately. This all dates back to the caffeine misadventure, of course, which followed Thanksgiving.

So, the update.

Since the Thanksgiving after-math caffeine overdose, and the subsequent doctor visit, I've been kind of up and down in terms of how I feel. Occasional dizzy spells, fatigue, and most concerning, a feeling that my heart was skipping beats.

The first couple of symptoms are reminsiscent of my first bout with hypothyroidism, which leaves one feeling, well, dizzy and tired, as well as cold a lot of the time.

The last bit has been newer to me.

Anyway, things were going so-so until Wednesday afternoon, when I started feeling the dizzy and the heart thing again, and I started freaking out. My anxiety level was high, due to my on-going fear that the same premature heart disease that offed my dad, uncle, grandma, and grandpa has been gunning for me. I tried calling the Providence Hospital advice nurse, but she really didn't seem to be too concerned with what I was describing, and didn't seem to pick up on the fact that I was too concerned about what I was describing. I then called my doctor's office, and they kindly scheduled me an appointment for the following Tuesday.

Thursday, I called in sick and stayed in bed. Every time I got up to go to the bathroom, dizzy spells and palpitations would hit.

Friday, I tried to have some breakfast with work chums, in an attempt to free myself from bed and make it to work. I made it to breakfast, got halfway through my food, almost heaved, and went back home. I decided it was time to call my doctor again.

Strangely, after my description of what my last few days had been like, they demanded I come in and see them right away. And, so, I did.

Good news: I don't appear to be dying. The doctor said that the palpatations I've been feeling are more than likely normal-ish, but are such a problem for me because I'm over-sensitive to anything heart-related that I feel, and my anxiety is probably making my heart behave a little bit strangely.

Bad news: My anxiety level was clearly through the roof, and since the only way to get a handle on my physical issues was to get a handle on my anxiety, it was time for some serious meds.

So, as you read this, I'm getting fuzzy on my night-time dose of Xanax. I have to take it at night and in the morning, and it is making it incredibly difficult to type a whole sentence without having to delete something. Actually, that last sentence worked out okay. The one after that wasn't so great. The last one was a mess. And so on.

Saturday, my first day on the Xanax, I stayed in bed.

Sunday, I was able to do some gift shopping with my wife, although I ran into a couple of walls at the Gap and nearly knocked a fire extinguisher off of its holder.

Today, I made it to work. Wisely, I've timed my Xanax out so that I take it after my morning commute, which negates the danger that I could be if I took it right after waking up.

Today, I also got placed on a heart monitor for a month. The doctor thinks, and I agree, that although my heart issue appears to be nothing too serious, it doesn't hurt to cover all the bases.

Anyway, if you say prayers, I'm accepting them. If you think happy thoughts, that'd be fine, too, though I like prayers better.

Here's to hoping I feel better in time for my vacation.

Catch ya later.

Tales of the accursed JLowe

So, as anyone who reads this blog with regularity knows, I spend most of my time here writing about whatever moves me at the moment. Sometimes sports, rarely politics, sometimes just links to websites I've enjoyed on my freetime.

And, often, friends.

Today, I tell you a tale of my accursed best friend, JLowe.

Why accursed?

That's the story.

JLowe and I go back. Way back. Let me emphasize this enough. Waaaaay back. We met in hight school (which, sadly, is longer ago than I'd rather ponder).

Really, we were never meant to be friends. JLowe and I had a common friend, Caleb. We all met in our church's youth group.

My first memory of both is from the summer prior to my freshman year in high school. The high school class was going on a missions trip to Mexico, and my mom thought it would be good for me to join along. So, off to Mexico I went. Caleb was there. JLowe was, too.

JLowe, at the time, was a stuffy, stuck-up kid (at least, that's how I viewed him) who didn't really communicate with anyone I hung out with. Caleb was the pastor's kid, and as such was always looking for trouble to get into. I was kinda just a dorky mama's boy, trying to find people to hang out with.

That first summer, I'd not be friends with either of these lads.

The following year, I ended up working my way into Caleb's circle. Don't remember how, it just happened. Somewhere along there, JLowe worked his way in as well. As time went on, it eventually became a circle of three. Caleb, I'm sure, was the dominant part of our group. JLowe and I were basically his friends, and more acquaitances towards eachother, and as we always were hanging out in the same group, we just became friends out of necessity.

Caleb, the PK, ended up leaving town. First it was as a buyer for a Turkish carpet store (no doubt an excuse to engage in foreign debauchery), then as a student at bible college, then eventually as a married guy, and finally he just sorta disappeared. We haven't seen him in years.

When Caleb split, JLowe and I were stuck being friends. Our triad was busted, but we kept the party going, hoping our third leg would return. Eventually, through college and law school, we ended up being best pals, pseudo-brothers, roommates, and best men at eachother's weddings (although Caleb was in both of our wedding parties). It was working for JLowe's dad that brought my wife into my life. It was hanging out with me and my wife that brought JLowe's wife into his life. JLowe and I work together, as do our wives. We're working on arranging the marriages of our future children even now.

Trust me, this is scary stuff.

This long lead-up to describe the accursedness of JLowe. As fast friends, bosom buddies, etc., we have taken to exchanging Christmas presents. This year, I thought to buy JLowe some movies to watch.

Knowing he wanted Dodgeball, that was my first choice. But one movie wasn't enough, so I ended up getting him Kill Bill I & II as well (don't worry, he already knows about that...).

Here's the kicker. JLowe, knowing full well Christmas is coming and multiple people are looking to bestow fun stuff on him, went out and bought himself a present. That present: the afore-mentioned Dodgeball.

I hate that. Now, it has arrived (via Amazon.com, my favorite place for avoiding mall traffic), and I'm just going to have to keep it for myself now. In fact, as I continue to feel not-so-well, I'm about to head to bed and watch it as sleepiness washes over me.

Why am I writing this? Simple. First, I haven't written in a couple of days. Second, I got the gift in the mail and it reminded me of how irate I am. And, third, to share a little holiday secret with you all:

Never, ever buy yourself presents right before Christmas. It's just wrong.

That's all. Catch ya later.

The Mighty Tannenbaum

My old, poor, sad, lonely tree is no longer any of these. It is now an exciting bit o' Christmas.

Picture courtesy my lame-o Sony Clie.

As I previously reported, I've now had a Christmas tree 12 hours shy of two weeks, and until today it had occupied either my garage or my living room in sheer nakedness, looking entirely too unhappy for me even to bear.

Not that I ever did anything about it, of course. My week's been filled with more important activities.

On Monday, I came home and went to sleep at 6:00, expecting my wife to wake me up to take her to the gym, and instead slept the whole night away.

On Tuesday, Scrubs and Sweet Basil at JLowe's house (by the way, check out his new mantel. Made it himself; thoroughly impressive.)

On Wednesday, I don't remember how I wasted my evening; suffice it to say, I did.

Thursday: Santa duty, followed by The OC, followed by The Apprentice (finally getting good) and E.R. (in decline, but still worth a watch).

That left tonight. I wasn't sure how this whole tree thing was going to work out, because there was much to do this weekend. Today I had a CLE (lawyer jargon for class-time that helps us keep our licenses) downtown. CLE's are great because I get to see all my work chums, which is a rarity as I'm still posted in the far off reaches of Gresham. And seeing my work chums at the end of a work day is great because we can go, after work, to the Lotus for appetizers and quality time. I love the Lotus. It is one of my guilty pleasures.

Today I was all set to go to the Lotus, except I realized I still owed my wife a trip to the gym. She's still trying to develop the ipod rationale, so I have to help her to establish the necessity.

So, no fun for me. I came home and took a nap until The Missus got home, then off to the gym we went.

I anticipated that after the gym we'd come home and go to bed. Been a long week for us both, with all the TV to be seen and all. I figured that if we were ever going to do the tree, it would be tomorrow sometime, which forced me to get out of some plans I had been trying to get into (involving playing X-Box with other lawyers and behaving like grown men shouldn't).

But the wife surprised me with a sudden flourish of Christmas cheer, and the tree got decked.

Sorry the picture sucks so bad. We haven't yet sprung for a proper digital camera (though we are getting one before heading on our trip to Mexico), so all I have to take pictures with is my 18 month old Sony Clie PEG-UX50, which isn't altogether bad, except the lens is recessed enough that the various pocket lint that's worked its way into the lens hole is no longer extractable, and everything works itself into a big, blurry mess. If you were able to see anything in the picture, I'd be able to describe the myriad of random decorations we have and discuss the significance of each (like my "Playful Penguins" which I've had since childhood and were inspired by my love of Opus from Bloom County, or my wife's freaky stuffed bird, which she bought at Target last year and loves because "it's so soft, like real feathers," but which just gives me the heebie-jeebies).

Anyway, the tree's almost done. We still need a topper. Have one that doesn't really fit on modern trees. It's one of those old glass ones that has a narrow opening and looks like a needle swallowing a ball. I can't describe it any better. Anyway, it worked on the old trees of the 50's and 60's, prior to the introduction of steroids into our culter which has resulted in trees with tops too wide to cram into the tiny hole. So, to add to our Christmas tradition, this year we're getting a new topper that can handle the realities of modern conifer science.

Should be fun.

Now that I've handled the tree angle, I can feel like a decent human being again. Now I can blog about something snarky. First, I'll have to find a topic. Until then,

Catch ya later.

I'll show you Christmas spirit

So, I got the opportunity to be all Christmassy lately, and it was tons of fun.


A couple of weeks ago, one of those desperate e-mails shot out on the Gresham Police Department server, begging one of the officers, any of the officers, to volunteer to be Jolly Ol' St. Nick at the annual Christmas party.

Responsibilities:

1. Hand out gifts
2. Take pictures with kids
3. Be jolly

No one responded. This could be for several reasons. First, officers who go to these things are usually ones that have kids, and how would they have any fun with their kids if they were stuck being Santa to everyone else's? Second, officers who couldn't come to this thing were probably unable because they were working. And, finally, the notice came out kinda late.

I don't fall into any of the first two categories. As of now, my wife and I are still comfortably in the D.I.N.K. (dual-income, no kids) category, and I was safely off of work after 5pm. And, as the assigned DA out there, I've grown to appreciate the hard work the officers do. So, I put my name out as an alternative if noone else became available. Of course, once you do that, you may as well just say "sign me up," and sure enough an hour later an extremely grateful GPD staffer came into my office, all excited and overwhelmed that I'd actually do the Santa thing. Apparently, lawyers are supposed to be more Grinch than merry old elf.

Anyway, last night was the night of my big show, and so I spent a couple hours greeting children, giving gifts out, taking pictures, and getting a ton of hugs while giving out tons of "Ho Ho Ho's". It was honestly alot of fun.

I spent last night and today getting all sorts of grateful acknowledgements from people and hearing how wonderful I was, just because I saw a need and stepped in, and had a great time doing it. I was reminded how rewarding doing the right thing is, just because it makes you feel good. I didn't do anything special; I just did something good.

Anyway, if you ever get to play Santa, take the opportunity and run with it. A happy kid is a great thing, and you never know who'll be blessed because you took a little time out to help.

Catch ya later.

Ode to my poor sad Christmas tree

I, like many of you, have a Christmas tree.

We got it the weekend after my recent unfortunate hospital visit. I remember the day well. I was feeling un-plussed, not so much at having to get a tree, but more at having to go out on a day when I frankly felt lousy. However, being the sport that I am, I pulled it together, and off we went.

We were accompanied in our time by our eternal brethren-in-arms, the Lowes. JLowe was kind enough to drive us in his trusty new Element, which was nice, as the back seats fold all the way back and allow for sweet sleep. Which I got. Both on the way there and on the way back.

Anyway, so that was over a week ago.

Our tree stayed out in our garage the first four days, as our old Christmas tree stand, which is actually one of the newer, fancier, plastic-type models that is supposed to be trouble-free, has caused me to say more than my fair share of swear words every year since we bought it. So, I found some time on the Tuesday after we bought the tree to buy a stand. We got the tree up on Wednesday, which (I think) was in time to prevent it from drying too-far-out to survive the holiday season.

So, there it has sat for about a week, lamenting its uncared-for state. Because, after putting it in the stand, we failed to decorate it. And we have persisted in failing to decorate it through today (and, I anticipate, will continue to desist in decking the halls until Saturday-ish).

Not like I haven't had time to do any decorating. I spent three hours at church on Saturday, primarily assembling and decorating a 12-foot Christmas tree. Then I came home, looked at my tree, and went to do something entirely different.

I feel horrible. I have a tree sitting in my house, looking deprived of any purpose that merits its removal from the lovely tree farm where it was so wonderfully affixed to its root system. And I continue to be entirely unenthused about remedying its sorrowful state.

This is my confession. I feel a weight lifted from my shoulders. But, don't worry. As soon as I leave my desk and pass the tree again, I'll again feel like a useless turd.

Guess this year I get a lump of coal...

Catch ya later.

A few random thoughts

Steroids in baseball
Are you surprised? Really? Ever since ESPN and other outlets brought forth the latest shocking revelations regarding America's sole government-sanctioned monopoly, the sports world has been abuzz about the "news" that several major league sluggers are not playing on a level playing field, so to speak, with real-life, honest athletes.

I think it goes without saying that this is not news at all. Since before the time of the much ballyhooed, thoroughly juiced McGuire-Sosa home run derby, we've seen baseball players go from relatively demure Gehrig/DiMaggio proportions to the neo-neanderthal norm of today's players. Although one could argue that advances in weight training, sports nutrition, and legal supplementation could explain some of it, one has to shake their head at people who are shocked at the news of the steroid use in MLB considering factors like the exponential growth in the size of particular players in recent years (look at pictures of Barry Bonds from the past decade and note how much bigger he's gotten, or look at Jason Giambi from about six years ago, compared to the juiced-up Giambi of three years ago, compared to the slim Giambi of the last season, most of which you'll need to find yourself because it's getting late and I'm having too much trouble locating them) and you'll see that it's been obvious for too long that America's pasttime has been changing for the worse.

Besides the shock that all of these people seem to be professing, the thing that shocks me the most is the way that Barry Bonds, the obvious juicer who has benefitted the most from cheating, is able to say with a straight face that he took steroids without knowing that what he was taking were steroids. The best analogy I've heard this week is the Formula One racer, who has a piece of fine-tuned machinery and isn't going to chance it with gas from the neighborhood pump. Given that I won't put anything in my mouth without having some idea what it is, regardless of who hands it to me, why would Bonds repeatedly use an item for whatever reason without knowing what it is and being sure of what he's using? I don't buy it. Bonds claimed that he used the "clear" and the "cream," two of the steroid items created by Balco labs and designed to pass MLB's weak testing protocols, to relieve pain in his body. He claimed that after awhile he decided they didn't work and discontinued use. However, he still gave the guy who supplied them rewards associated with Bonds' personal accomplishments throughout the season. Why pay a guy for a product that didn't work? It's just fishy to me.

Anyway, just another sport to be leary of. In the end, I'm insulted that these people have gotten over on America for so long, and if people are really surprised that this is going on, I'm sickened by how feeble-minded we've all become.

Christmas is coming
And, lo and behold, gift buying has begun in earnest.

I begin by referring you to Betsy, who seems to understand that Christmas is really about spending time with family and not so much a commercial excercise.

That said, despite my ambition to be able to survive Christmas on the cheap, it has become apparent that Christmas will, once again, strain all logic when it comes to how our money should be spent.

And I figured that out on Friday, when my wife came home telling me she wanted an iPod for Christmas. And not just any iPod. She wants an iPod mini.

This all grows from my wife's on-going commitment to work out more. I find that incredibly noble. My wife and I have had gym memberships for at least the last two years, since she stopped going to school and we no longer got to go to her school gym for free. For the first year and a half, my wife used her gym membership exactly thrice that I can recall, each time after realizing that, first, we were spending too much on her membership not to be using it, and second, she wouldn't have to feel like she was in such bad shape if she actually worked out. 0

Anyway, eventually we came into enough money to buy her some training sessions, and once there was someone there to hold her accountable and assist her in structuring her work-out (I was not appropriate for this, as I actually prefer to work out at the gym over telling my wife how to work out at the gym) she actually began regularly going. She still does. By regular, I mean twice a week, which is still not regular enough for her to get the results she's seeking.

She knows this, of course. We've discussed it several times in the past. She just forgets. She remembered again last week, surely while considering that we're going to Mexico in January and thinking how it would be nice to be able to wear a swimsuit without feeling self-conscious (I have to say, I think my wife looks just fine, but my opinion doesn't count in that regard).

Surely the iPod idea came up while she was talking about these things to JLowe's wife, who herself wants an iPod mini. Because, after shopping with Lady Lowe, my wife came home and discussed how she needed to work out more, and having a music device would certainly help her to do so, and that device had to be an iPod mini. Preferably pink or green.

I know when I'm beat. And so I did what any beat man does, which is compromise some of the sting away. I pointed out to my wife that there were other great MP3 players that aren't iPod minis. I pointed out that we have a Dell credit card that we could use to buy a Dell device. I found some devices on the net, including the new small Dell one, which you can buy colored coverings for. But, no. It has to be an iPod mini. Why? Because she likes their colors, and they are soooo cute!

Ugh. I'll spend the rest of my wife trying to understand how my wife thinks, and I'll surely die frustrated. But not before I fork over some of my hard-earned government payola to Apple. And you can take that to the bank.

Secret Santas
Last, but certainly not least, is the story of how I got over-gifted at my recent Secret Santa event. CW, one of the many great people who work at my office, invited The Missus and I, along with some other office chums, to her house for dinner this weekend. Part of the dinner was a Secret Santa exchange. Rules: 1) $10 limit; 2) If you're assigned one of the married workmates, you are buying for the couple and not just for him/her.

(Thankfully) my Secret Santa was either unaware of the rules, or didn't care. I opened my bag to find that Santa had bought me a sixer of Hamm's tall-boys and a brand-new copy of Halo 2 (assuming Halo 2 costs $50, my total gift cost about $50.06 plus deposit).

So, I guess I made out pretty well. The Missus isn't so sure, however, because she knows it'll be two weeks before we have another meaningful conversation about anything. Just in time for me to get a new game to play.

Well, it's quite late now, and I've bored you enough. So, off to bed I go.

Catch ya later.

Modern health crisis

So, it turns out not all my problems are caffeine-related.

During my recent misadventure, the doctor in the E.R. had the foresight to draw my blood to check my thyroid level. Since 2000, I've been taking thyroid supplements due to an under-active thyroid gland, and the doctor was curious as to whether there was a change in the level of supplementation that I need that may help to explain away my light-headedness, if not all the symptoms I displayed in my brush with not-so-nigh-death.

Turns out he was right. I saw the doctor yesterday and she verified that my thyroid level (as supplemented) is low. I've noticed since Friday that I've been very fatigued, generally feel cold, and have continued to be a bit dizzy. Once we talked about my low thyroid level, I remembered that these were all symptoms I was feeling back in 2000 before discovering my issue.

And so we've upped my meds, and all should be good.

While there, my doctor also checked my cholesterol level. Recall, as I've blogged many times, that I have a family history of heart disease and cholesterol problems.

I've actually been taking steps to treat my own high cholesterol since I was 18, when we first discovered that I was heading towards levels that were higher than an 18 year-old should have. During my last cholesterol test, we found that a maximum daily dose of Zocor, mixed with diet and exercise, was holding my cholesterol to a near-good 197.

Well, I've learned that the diet and exercise components are key. Over the last three or four months, I've slacked off on my dieting. Also, my workout regimen got screwed up, which I blame mostly on the disruption that moving represented. As most people who work out know, once you get a routine going, its easy to keep up. But stop for a bit, and the whole house of cards tumbles in.

And so it has with me. I've recently re-booted my physical exercise regimen, but not soon enough to realize a continued benefit in my cholesterol level. The latest results? High. Too high.

So, a new med, and a re-commitment to the diet that helped me shed 35 pounds and many, many points on my cholesterol level, and I'm hoping when I go back in six weeks to see satisfactory results.

Anyway, all this to say that I haven't been blogging because I've been sleeping. I'm actually on my way to bed now, because I'm still tired, but I'm hoping that my new thyroid medication will kick in noticeably in the next few days, allowing me to spend many a late hour typing my gibberish into the ether.

Hope all's well with all of you.

Catch ya later.