Like Lazarus, but with more HTML and a lot less religious implications - I'm resurrecting this thing.

 If you look at my first post on this blog it was 20 years ago that things started off.  A lot has changed since then.

Then you may look at the last time I posted - about 13 years ago.  A lot has changed since then.

Things are getting ready to change even more, so I'll need to dust this thing off along with my copy of Mavis Beacon typing tutor.

I did run a side blog with this one called "The Geek and Goddess" shortly after getting married, but I've collapsed all of that content into this guy to give the illusion that I was more active and less scatterbrained.  

Anyway, I'll be publishing some info here in long form and sticking to Facebook and Instagram for short form and media type posts respectfully.

Infected like an Iranian nuclear reactor.

Bet that cliff hanger from the last post has left you hungry readers wanting more, and judging by the number of comments that were left I already lost that bet... dammit.

A schedule change took Kathy from her always dependable 5/4, 9 hour workday schedule and moved her to straight 5's (aka, Monday through Friday, every single week). Now I'm sure most people would cry a sarcastic "boo hoo" or "suck it up" simply because it's the schedule most of the working world rotates on, and I'll admit I was not only on that bandwagon at first, I think I was the driver of the truck. Like a seasoned debater (or "master debater" for you pervs) Kathy took to the podium on her stance and provided a very spirited argument for why it was wrong for this to occur, and I have since been won over to her side... Find myself doing that a lot for some reason.
Anyway, it boils down to mostly that this change was clandestinely in the work for weeks and she wasn't clued into any of it until the new schedule got posted. Bogus. There were other, more spirited, points made by my lovely litigator on the issue but that was the one that eventually won me over. Think about how you would feel if for any reason, your employer just changed your schedule without the common courtesy of a forewarning, let alone a chance for rebuttal.

Not too long after that episode, Kath started getting more and more tired after work. I'm sure this is true for most people this time of year but I'll provide a bit of backstory in saying that a wave of nothing less than black death itself has been making its rounds at both of our jobs around this time so I immediately readied the cart to "bring out the dead" the next morning as she was no doubt tired from the beginning ravages of this horrible plague. Imagine my surprise when I awoke the next day to what can only be described as a feeling of someone shoving a tennis ball down my throat and filling my sinus' with cottage cheese.
I am your a-typical sick guy in that I don't do well with disease in general. It not only feels poopy but is just a general hindrance in keeping things productive as my body just won't accept commands in a timely manner. Couple that with having "Attila the Nurse" as your caregiver and I can get downright depressed.
Now I grew up with my mother as a nurse, so I was no stranger to getting the short end of the stick while the other kids were reaping the bountiful school-skipping rewards when they were ill, but she was also able to fall prey to the motherly concerns of one of her children being in harms way so I wasn't getting things too rough growing up. I thought I had retained my ability to garner "sick pity" throughout adolescence and into adulthood but my dearest Kathryn however, has obviously invented pity blocking underwear as I watched all of my attempts to leech tenderness on the matter being deflected much like bullets off of Superman's chest, but these bullets come directly back at me with insults insinuating no less that I was a "baby" for being victim to such a horrible illness. The nerve right?! Guys are not wimps when it comes to this stuff, right guys? *crickets*

By the way, I am writing this while under the affects of a bit of cold medicine so I am banking on the idea that these confused writings will find me discovered as a new age Oscar Wilde... or labeled as a robotripper... probably the latter.

Speaking of bacteria filled vessels, Kath and I also started a couple batches of beer this past week. We'll have a boysenberry and nut brown ale in the coming weeks so stay tuned for a report on how things turn out!

Feelin' so fly, but not like a G6

This weeks post finds the Goddess and myself on a wonderful trip I hinted at in the previous entry, because we headed down south to a warmer "clime" found only in Arizona this time of year. The journey was fraught with more fun than anything else, but it's no secret that I do not belong up in the air; which brings me to the first leg of things with our leaving of the local airport.

I have no problem saying that I'm "that guy" that trips the metal detector each and every time I head through. Yes, I forget to take things out of my pockets, but I also believe aliens have abducted me at some point in my childhood and implanted weird medical/tracking devices into my body because I can get down to my skivvies and still throw up alarms that cause TSA agents to start feeling trigger happy. Meanwhile, Kathy could practically coast through with a 10" bowie knife strapped to her leg on the outside of her pants and no one would bat an eye. One more reason it pays to be gorgeous I guess.
Once on the plane, I'm not completely a psychological wreck but I do start to get pretty nervous. Then I get up in the air... Every bump, or inconsequential noise, is interpreted by my brain as a complete mechanical failure that results in no less than a fiery death spiral of a crash. Once again my seasoned traveler of a wife (who used to treat this condition with the same pity you would give a sick puppy) is fast asleep, rolling her eyes, or all out chuckling at my falsely placed worries.
Landing in Arizona (not my favorite part of the flight either I might add) was late regardless of what timezone we were in let alone two hours behind. Tired would be an understatement, but we sucked it up and went to our hotel via the shuttle that was called for by what could only be described as a half-dead zombie worker for Super Shuttle.

Once safely on the ground we joined up with our other travelling partners in Kathy's parents, her Aunt Mary Anne, and Grandma Eva (who were coming from Oregon to escape dreadful weather of their own). Soon we were about to set off on a multitude of adventures, but before I dive in to expunging them off to you I need to explain that I am about to do something that may incur the wrath of my beautiful, loving, and understanding wife by glazing over the events of the next few days simply because the amount of time it would take to go into detail I could reach would leave me writing until I had to do the next post... and that one would just be me describing how I was writing this post. Awful writing if you ask me.

First off (and dear to my heart) was HoHoKam Stadium, which is the Spring Training grounds for the beloved Chicago Cubs. Closed because training doesn't start for a few more weeks, but awesome none-the-less just because it won't be used anymore after this year as they move to a nearby location.

Organ Stop Pizza blew my mind more than I had thought it would. If someone said "Pizzeria plus a guy playing the organ" you might think of a lame church gathering that tries to bribe converts with food, but you'd be dead wrong and definitely miss out on a great all around experience.

The Phoenix Zoo was great because it had the variety most people want to see without being so huge you didn't want to see everything. Monkeytown made me happy... that is all I have to say about that, and with a name like how could you possibly not relate with me?

The Arizona Opry was almost like a blast from the past in that there was food and song that reminded me of my adolescent days. Even though we didn't stay for the whole show it was a good time for both of us.

Goldfield Ghost town and Tortilla Flats were something I looked forward since we had arrived because they both catered to the "Old West" style that is apparent in the area but kicked it up a notch on the campiness in just the right ways. I also got a chance to take stroll (safely) into the desert and if you would think things as dead, or just dry and sandy with some cacti then you don't belong there. Truly appreciating the breathtaking beauty of the area was not difficult once you were in the thick of it and I have some amazing pics to show for it.

We found ourselves in Scottsdale's Old Town on our last day there, and it was good to have a relaxing walking/shopping day before we hit the main reason we were even there for: The Frank Marocco Accordion Event.

This was the coup de gras, the main event, and was the focal point of the trip because if Tip (Kathy's dad) hadn't participated in it years before we would have found ourselves cuddled on the couch instead; complaining about the drab weather thinking of nicer places to visit.
A little bit of context helps in understanding things with this concert though because I was told from previous years that we would get to check out things with almost a "back stage pass" type of access, but those hopes were quickly dashed away by the Nazi known as "Joan". Everywhere we tried to catch a sneak peak of the practices, or jam sessions, she was quick to plug the holes like a government official responding to Wikileaks.
Now, I have heard Tip play for many years by now, but when he performed his solo that night he was in a rare form that caused others in the audience to pick up that he was a step beyond the other concert participants. The other group songs were alright, and a few other duets/special pieces were exceptional to say the least, but others were also outright wacky. A scat type jazz of a piece by one of the guest players left usbefuddled and this feeling was only topped by the audiences' (as well as Frank's) reaction with a standing ovation. Had we missed something?

It almost seemed like we just got started with things before we were once again on a plane ride back to the real world and our respective jobs. I had foreknowledge regarding how ghastly work would be for me (telethon time awaits!) but the Mrs. was about to be surprised...

Happy New Year, and Better Luck Next Year!

Continuing our theme of celebrating a the new year I wanted to expand a bit on how things have developed after the holiday dust has settled. I would like to say we were going to start the New Year off with smiles and funny anecdotes; however, things have gone off he trail a little bit into crappy territory. Let me explain...

Kathy and I are huge supporters of the Coupon Bible (aka Entertainment Book) and use it frequently to try out new places and save some cash all at the same time. This past week my beautiful wife had a craving for some good ol' fashioned Italian food, so a quick flip of the book and we were out the door going to our next destination: Sal's Pizza.
Now to say Kathy is anything less than a connoisseur of all things pasta would be an understatement of epic proportions, and through the years I have attained somewhat of an "apprentice" status by working on identifying what she (and most other Italians apparently) look for in a good pasta. The right noodle consistency that meets the strict standard of "al dente", the correct sauce flavorings and level of chunkiness, and of course: the cheese at the table had better be Romano to be taken seriously. I could go on and on on the intricacies of such things but I think there is a text limit at some point on this thing so let's continue.
I had immediate misgivings about the place when we pulled up and I was instantly bathed in the neon glow of the the all too familiar red/green "Pizza!" sign that greets the same type of audience at every other half-assed pizza joint in the country. The dining area inside looked like it was caught between "newly redone", and "just gave up", as well did our waitress who donned a pair of wing tattoos on both of her collar bones. Some of you dear readers may already be asking why I didn't try to hightail it out of there, but when the Mrs. has a pasta attack I know to get out of the way.
Then the food came... The spaghetti and meatballs tasted literally like Chef Boyardee, and my philly cheesesteak was dry and had the mouthfeel of the meat was like dried flakes of bacon that had been out for a little too long. I didn't think things could get any worse...
But things got worse... "How?" do you say? Well while we were eating another table sat near us and the head of the family asked our waitress if they could use a coupon they had even though it was meant for take out. She disappeared for a brief moment to talk to the owners in back and came back happily exclaiming that they will take it no problem. Now it was our turn to pay, and Kathy had went to start the car in order to make a quick getaway from that awful vomit inducing food which left me to secure payment but when I handed the coupon from our Entertainment Book a pained expression came across our dear inked-up waitresses face. "Oh... they put those in there without our permission so we don't accept them. We used to have a sign on the door but I guess it's gone." Needless to say I was not a happy camper. I'll skip the dramatics and skip to the point that has since become a contention point between me and the wifey: No coupon, no tip.
I can hear all the arguments and angry comments being shouted at the screen now such as "That's how they make their money" or "It wasn't her fault!" but I will justify my reasoning being that she was very quick to try and talk to the owner to get the other customers coupon recognized but for some reason mine was some sort of taboo coupon that must not be mentioned lest they awaken "The Beast that Devours Food Servers". Hell, I figured even if it wasn't her fault and was a judgment call by the owner then he'd have to put up with her complaining about the "no tipping pale guy and his hot wife". Pretty sure that's what she would say...

As I said in my last post, with the New Year also comes those time honored traditions of promises we make to ourselves that are doomed to fail, also known as "Resolutions". I have several this year thinking that I could at least succeed at one if the others fail. Working out was not one that either of us had vocally proclaimed to partake in, but I feel it' was a good chance to keep things rolling or start things up again if they fell by the wayside a little. So back to the gym we went!
Now, Kathy and I had already been working out for several weeks prior to the holidays and started to slack off in the slew of bad food and laid back attitudes going around. Once the first rolled around we tried to pick up right where we had left off without any sort of real "easing" factor and paid the price in full over the next few days. I mean it when I say "sore" is a word that doesn't hold enough strength for the amount of lactic acid that coursed through our body's over the coming days, and I'm sure if they wanted the government could easily justify post-workout pains for torture of prisoners as I would have confessed anything if the burning would just stop.

Continuing on in three's is the unfortunate loss of the Eagles to the Packers yesterday. While I don't watch much football, Kathy is a fan that takes these things sort of hard. As a Cubs fan, I've grown accustomed to my mantra of "there is always next year", but this doesn't seem to work with her in the same way that denial treats my woes. I have to say that since Vick has come back and went to the playoffs without their full strength of players then it really says something. I'm not a sportswriter (nor would I aspire to be), but I still think the best thing that team can do is fire Andy Reid and get someone in there who is capable of utilizing the talent that is there effectively. Sitting behind this computer screen and typing about me and my wife's day to day stuff has obviously qualified me to make such an exaggerated statement. Overqualified really.

Now, I know this post is laced with negatives but the light at the end of the tunnel is that we'll both be heading to Arizona later this week! First time for me, but Kath has been there a couple times before me and it looks amazing. The father-in-law does a bit of his accordian squeezing down there with the other geeks of his kind (I kid but he's amazing) and we are going to meet up with the in-laws from Oregon as well! Another thing to point out is while I don't find it too cold here, I can't say no to slipping on some shorts in January and spending quality time relaxing away from work with the Goddess herself. See you all next week (hopefully after getting some pigment courtesy of the desert)!

No fat chicks, please.

Well with the start of a new year comes those all too famous resolutions that usually fizzle out soon after they are started. I hope to make this resolution (writing in this blog at least once a week) one of the rarest of the rare by actually keeping up with it. How will I measure my success against that? Eh, who knows as this is just for fun anyway. I am now carrying a small notebook and pen with me in order to capture any interesting events throughout the week so that way the up-coming posts will be a richer, fuller, smattering of our adventures through the week.

That being said, on with the madness!

Kathy had a relative (Giacamo) and his friend (Davide) come visit from the "olde country", aka Italy, this past week and what I had originally worried would become a forced/awkard event turned out to be one of the best times I've had during the holidays.
Things started out innocent enough as we went out for lunch at Misako for sushi buffet on one of the first days they were here, and we thought it would be a good idea to stop in for some beers at Gordon Biersch right after (around 3 in the afternoon). The poor chaps made the mistake of asking what I would be drinking (the strong but delicious winterbock mind you) and attempted to keep up as best they could. By the time we left everyone was more than a bit tipsy, and translations proceeded a bit slower as we confirmed (scientifically) that attempting a second language while drunk does indeed not make you more fluent. This was confirmed both directions as we tried our best to fire off half-assed Italian phrases we had picked up, while they attempted full conversations that combined in a slur of accents, misplaced, and unknown words. Sounds awful to an outsider I'm sure, but we were able to find common ground and had more than enough laughs to fill that half empty place.

Christmas Day came and went a little faster than I had expected, and was the usual afair of good food, presents, and great company with the wifes family. We'll be spending another Christmas with my side of the family in a week or so when my brother gets back from North Dakota, so maybe things will end up seeming a bit longer in the end? The Goddess received exactly what she had asked for with Epic Mickey, and I received some Cubs gear in the form of gloves and a lanyard which I'm sure I'll make great use of this coming year.

The main stage attraction, however, was the day after Christmas (affectionately known as Boxing Day I believe) in which all of south eastern Virginia awoke to find themselves lovingly blanketed by about a foot of snow from the previous night. This posed a bit of a problem as we were stuck in our apartment, while our Italian guests were 15 minutes away stuck at the 'rents and even though we had entertainment in the form of games and Netflix, Kathy soon found herself in the throws of being stir crazy within record time. This followed suit with questions about how I was able to "deal with it" whilst growing up in North Dakota to which I had a one word answer: booze.
Now this proved to be a folly on my part as Kathy's eyes lit up and she proceeded to convince me that we simply need some alcohol to help lubricate the clock a bit and get things to a more agreeable situation which would surely be presented the next day. My pride also started to bubble a bit and I pounded my chest at my uncanny ability to drive in the worst wintery conditions; a skill I obtained while living life in the frozen tundra of my childhood. Luck was against us though, in that we were unable to even get our cars out of their respective parking spots let alone down the street to 7-11 for the coveted Mad Dog. Thoughts of walking for our prize were just as quickly dashed away as obituary clippings outlining such a stupid endeavor flashed through my head. We would just have to wait...

The remaining time with our European friends found us trying to impress with "American" styles of food and entertainment. Due to my work schedule I found myself unable to partake in some of the activities, but all in all I believe they had a great time before heading out to enjoy New Years Eve in New York; something even we haven't done as Americans.
Truth be told, we are going to miss them as we had such great times with them that I could outline pages of this blog with inside jokes and inuendos we came up with together. Trip to Italy in our future?

Speaking of the future, it's now 2011 as the timestamp on this entry will likely show. Last night we were thankfully invited over to a friends cookout for the usual debauchery that takes place on the last night of the year. I was designated driver which is a post we are both going to take very seriously after a close call in which our car went off the road due to some ice. The Goddess is in bed now, nursing herself back into true form with some good ol' fashioned "sleepin' in" while I write today's entry. Happily I'll do my best to make sure she's taken care of today and the coming new year....

Snips, snails and puppy dog tails...

This has been a weekend of both excesses and defiencies; it was filled with too much of many things a person shouldn't have and not enough of things we should do. Fried foods and beer among those in abundance, and sleep on the latter of those activities we needed more of (at least for me anyway). Thankfully, we took on this two day endeavor together so we are finding each other being drawn to the same comfortable spots in the house which allows for a good amount of cuddling and nap stealing.

Enter the puppy. Frankie has a very limited understanding of social interactions between humans, so to say it lightly he has all the tact you would expect a small puppy to have when mommy and daddy just want to relax on the couch. I don't mean to sound like we don't love him dearly, and I am sure to him it makes perfect sense that when every day is a day off and you finally have your masters around during daylight hours the logical decisions are to lick, pounce and fetch toys for/on them. Apparently dachschunds were bred for birth control purposes in addition to their excellent badger hunting abilities because if having children is more work than this dog then waiting a little longer is no brainer (plus I haven't heard of a baby yet who has flushed out a badger).

This next week will thankfully be a short week for the Mrs. but for myself it is only shortened by a few hours and I can already tell by the size of my inbox it will be a hellish one. Hopefully having some help back in the office after being alone for a month will get things rolling quickly.

Stay tuned

Coming soon is a blog of epic proportions the likes of which have not been seen before. Or maybe has, but we'll give it a good shot.