Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Missionary Curve
The most recent phone call from the ward missionaries concluded my study on the subject. I can explain it using the graph below:
12 Years
We’ve been married 12 years tomorrow—can you believe that?
Twelve years ago, we received numerous pieces of advice from just about everyone we knew… even some from people we didn’t know. I can’t remember a single one of them… except from my brother-in-law Kris, who said that a good husband always lets his wife hold the remote control. I haven’t followed that piece of advice very well because if I had, we’d be watching “Larks Rise to Candleford” nonstop, which would send me into orbit. Or, we’d watch “Pride and Prejudice” until my eyes started to bleed, which would happen almost instantly. My sanity and existence depended upon vigilance with the TV remote.
Michelle has never really demanded the remote control, though… mostly because over the past 4 years or so, we haven’t had cable or satellite TV. It was an unintended surprise to ditching the whole television habit. Even when we watch things on Netflix via our Wii, she doesn’t demand the Wii remote, either. I’ve learned that I can usually get her to find something else to do just by putting on a show that she doesn’t like. “The Office” does it all the time. Of course, the flip side is true, too. Queue “Larks Rise to Candleford” again.
Nevertheless, I think that 12 years has inspired me to agree to a different set of guidelines than those that, I think, were told to us so long ago. I’m not sure how Michelle feels about them, but I’d bet a dime she’d agree.
Now that the advice is out of the way, I have to tell you what we did for the cherished event. We ate an overpriced and underwhelming meal at the Springfield Grill. She got the chicken, I got the steak and the $50 bill. I then took her to get a bag full of her favorite lotions, perfumes, make-up, and other smelly things at Victoria’s Secret at the Ross Park Mall. Going to this store is always a funny experience. All the other guys tend to hang back, keep their head down, watch from a distance—ironic considering the ads in the store are intended to get a person’s attention (guys?). I’m not like the other guys, though. I’m right in the action. Of course, that “action” was limited to the perfume counter this time. Michelle rarely ventures to other parts of the store anyway, which was sad considering the 12th anniversary is the “silk or fine linen” anniversary. When we did venture into other parts of the store several months ago, I was deep in the clothes throwing suggestions out to her at lightning pace. Ninety-nine percent of them were thrown back, leaving the “sensible” ones still on the negotiation table. In the end, all of them were returned. I had hoped for a repeat during our anniversary visit, but Michelle ensured we stayed near the lotions and eye make-up counter instead.
That was it. Twelve years of marriage and a van full of kids and you tend to run out of ideas for a unique anniversary evening.
The 13th anniversary is “lace”, so we might be back in a year.
Twelve years ago, we received numerous pieces of advice from just about everyone we knew… even some from people we didn’t know. I can’t remember a single one of them… except from my brother-in-law Kris, who said that a good husband always lets his wife hold the remote control. I haven’t followed that piece of advice very well because if I had, we’d be watching “Larks Rise to Candleford” nonstop, which would send me into orbit. Or, we’d watch “Pride and Prejudice” until my eyes started to bleed, which would happen almost instantly. My sanity and existence depended upon vigilance with the TV remote.
Michelle has never really demanded the remote control, though… mostly because over the past 4 years or so, we haven’t had cable or satellite TV. It was an unintended surprise to ditching the whole television habit. Even when we watch things on Netflix via our Wii, she doesn’t demand the Wii remote, either. I’ve learned that I can usually get her to find something else to do just by putting on a show that she doesn’t like. “The Office” does it all the time. Of course, the flip side is true, too. Queue “Larks Rise to Candleford” again.
Nevertheless, I think that 12 years has inspired me to agree to a different set of guidelines than those that, I think, were told to us so long ago. I’m not sure how Michelle feels about them, but I’d bet a dime she’d agree.
- I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life. ~Rita Rudner
- Never go to bed mad. Stay up and fight. ~Phyllis Diller
- All marriages are happy. It's the living together afterward that causes all the trouble. ~Raymond Hull
- Never feel remorse for what you have thought about your wife; she has thought much worse things about you. ~Jean Rostand
- · Three rings of marriage are the engagement ring, the wedding ring, and the suffering. ~Author Unknown
- Marriage means commitment. Of course, so does insanity. ~Author Unknown
- Like good wine, marriage gets better with age - once you learn to keep a cork in it. ~Gene Perret
- By all means marry; if you get a good wife, you'll be happy; if you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher. ~Socrates
- Marriage halves our griefs, doubles our joys, and quadruples our expenses. ~English Proverb
- I have learned that only two things are necessary to keep one's wife happy. First, let her think she's having her own way. And second, let her have it. ~Lyndon B. Johnson
- In the early years, you fight because you don't understand each other. In the later years, you fight because you do. ~Joan Didion
- The best way to remember your wife's birthday is to forget it once. ~H.V. Prochnow
Now that the advice is out of the way, I have to tell you what we did for the cherished event. We ate an overpriced and underwhelming meal at the Springfield Grill. She got the chicken, I got the steak and the $50 bill. I then took her to get a bag full of her favorite lotions, perfumes, make-up, and other smelly things at Victoria’s Secret at the Ross Park Mall. Going to this store is always a funny experience. All the other guys tend to hang back, keep their head down, watch from a distance—ironic considering the ads in the store are intended to get a person’s attention (guys?). I’m not like the other guys, though. I’m right in the action. Of course, that “action” was limited to the perfume counter this time. Michelle rarely ventures to other parts of the store anyway, which was sad considering the 12th anniversary is the “silk or fine linen” anniversary. When we did venture into other parts of the store several months ago, I was deep in the clothes throwing suggestions out to her at lightning pace. Ninety-nine percent of them were thrown back, leaving the “sensible” ones still on the negotiation table. In the end, all of them were returned. I had hoped for a repeat during our anniversary visit, but Michelle ensured we stayed near the lotions and eye make-up counter instead.
That was it. Twelve years of marriage and a van full of kids and you tend to run out of ideas for a unique anniversary evening.
The 13th anniversary is “lace”, so we might be back in a year.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Once Upon A Time, There Was Dinner
SurgeonPsychiatristLawyerComputer PhysicistAeronautical EngineerStock BrokerResearch ChemistGenetic EngineerCEONovelist
There was promise, at one time. Now... no more. Look out Ronald McDonald... there is a challenger coming up.
I come home today and walk in the front door. Smoke hits me in the face like Mohammed Ali. I walk in, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
Inside, sitting on the sofa playing the Wii are my four kids. On the stove in a pot is/was dinner... a roast. Pouring out of the pot (it has a lid on it, mind you) is smoke that smells like charcoal.
Me: "What in the *!#% is going on??!!"
Chrissa: "What?"
Me: "I SAID, WHAT IN THE *!#% IS GOING ON!?"
I go over to the stove, remove the lid, and nearly choke as I'm hit yet again with a wave of smoke.
Me: "Did you notice at all that the food is burning?"
Michelle had left to run errands since today is the first day of Spring Break. Chrissa was left to manage things.
Chrissa: "Yeah, but I called mom and she said it was okay."
Me: "What???"
Chrissa: "I called mom to tell her that I could smell smoke. She asked me if there was any liquid in the bottom. I said there was, and she said it was okay."
Me: "So you just let it smoke up the place? Does this look like 'liquid' to you?"
I got that blank stare... like she fell suddenly into a trance, ready to submit herself to the shadows.
Chrissa: "Well, not exactly. I saw liquid on the lid and assumed that it would drip back into the bottom."
The lid is/was see-through, making this incident even more vexing.
Here is what I saw... maybe I'm getting old in my age. Maybe my eye sight isn't what it should be. But, this is supposed to be onions, potatoes, carrots, etc. It now looks like Pompeii, the day after. Blacker than a stack of dead house cats. Blacker than Barack Obama in a coal mine. I removed the lump of charcoal that had once been a chunk of top round roast.
So, I set the pot outside to cool off and de-smoke and continue scratching off future employment possibilities....
OceanographerPaleontologistForensic AnthropologistMicrobiologistBusiness Executive
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Kid Quotes - Ethan
Ethan, as he puts his hands together in a praying position, walks into the room as we are watching TV and says, while bowing, "Konichiwa". (This, of course, is Japanese for "Good afternoon".)
Ethan: "That is how you say hello in German."
Ethan: "That is how you say hello in German."
Mom and Daughter, Phipp's Conservatory
Michelle and Chrissa made a trip (along with other young women from our ward) to the Phipp's Conservatory as an early Mother's Day outing this past weekend. They had great time. They had to get there early before the blooms died off.
It puts our attempt at landscaping to a total shame.
See the slideshow, right.
It puts our attempt at landscaping to a total shame.
See the slideshow, right.
Night at the Waterfront
Michelle and I attended the local Atlas Shrugged movie in Pittsburgh last night at The Waterfront. At the showing was Quinn and Rose... local radio personalities. Quinn and Rose are hosts of "America's Morning Show" broadcasted every morning an FM Newstalk 104.7 and XM Channel 158. I used to be a regular listener, but now that my commute is under 7 minutes, I usually get to work before the radio warms up. Michelle, though, listens all the time. She was so excited to meet them that you'd think she was meeting the Jonas Brothers... if she were 12.
Anyway, Quinn seemed a bit cold in the photo, as you can tell. I think he was too nervous standing next to Michelle. Rose, however, had her arms wrapped around me. I think we hit it off. You know how much I like Italian, and she's ALL Italian.
Rose sometimes substitutes for the Sean Hannity Show (radio) in New York. So, yeah, she's got the $$, too.
All I wanted to see was Rose anyhow... and Dagny from the movie.
The moviegoers were a funny crowd. I was interested to see who would show up, their demographics, etc. I'd say that 75% of the people were over 50 years old. There were a few middle aged people such as myself and Michelle... maybe 15%. The rest were REALLY old people or kids younger than about 25.
One guy tried to crowd into a row of saved seats (ironically, saved for Rose and her family) directly behind us. Her husband said, "Sorry, these are saved," and the guy LOST it... told him that "this is America... we don't 'save' seats... I'll bet you are lying and no one is using these seats, you just dont want us here... I'll be the better American and go sit somewhere else." Rose's husband responded, "And you wonder why everyone calls us a 'fringe' group?"
Michelle and I ate at Dave and Buster's prior to the movie. Blah. We waited 30 minutes to sit, 30 minutes to get our meal, and was surprised to see that it was of a High School quality. I don't recommend it. Michelle did call the place "satanic" because it, as she said, is like a casino for kids, along with a bar for their adult guardians. Oh well. I thought it would be a fun place to take kids. And, better yet, should the kids drive a person to the edge of sanity, the bar could provide a quick fix for ya.
Anyway, Quinn seemed a bit cold in the photo, as you can tell. I think he was too nervous standing next to Michelle. Rose, however, had her arms wrapped around me. I think we hit it off. You know how much I like Italian, and she's ALL Italian.
Rose sometimes substitutes for the Sean Hannity Show (radio) in New York. So, yeah, she's got the $$, too.
As for the movie, it was good. I think the low budget had its impacts on the quality and flow of the movie, which I think could have been better, but the message was the same. If you've read the book, you follow it well. If you haven't read the book, you still get the message.
All I wanted to see was Rose anyhow... and Dagny from the movie.
The moviegoers were a funny crowd. I was interested to see who would show up, their demographics, etc. I'd say that 75% of the people were over 50 years old. There were a few middle aged people such as myself and Michelle... maybe 15%. The rest were REALLY old people or kids younger than about 25.
One guy tried to crowd into a row of saved seats (ironically, saved for Rose and her family) directly behind us. Her husband said, "Sorry, these are saved," and the guy LOST it... told him that "this is America... we don't 'save' seats... I'll bet you are lying and no one is using these seats, you just dont want us here... I'll be the better American and go sit somewhere else." Rose's husband responded, "And you wonder why everyone calls us a 'fringe' group?"
Michelle and I ate at Dave and Buster's prior to the movie. Blah. We waited 30 minutes to sit, 30 minutes to get our meal, and was surprised to see that it was of a High School quality. I don't recommend it. Michelle did call the place "satanic" because it, as she said, is like a casino for kids, along with a bar for their adult guardians. Oh well. I thought it would be a fun place to take kids. And, better yet, should the kids drive a person to the edge of sanity, the bar could provide a quick fix for ya.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Fighting Back on Positive Reinforcement
If irony had a face, it would have been mine at roughly 8:45AM this morning. And, it would be ugly-scary... more so than usual.
I’m always astonished at people—how they behave, interact, and most importantly, how they take power to levels that are laughable. Give someone a little bit of power, and they’ll try to wield it to rule the entire world. There was a time when I’d bite my tongue and not fly off the handle on someone for this, but those days are gone.
I had been waiting months to take one particular training course at work. This was the last training course I needed for a certain certification that the company requires people in my position type. The class is like many others… it has to be taken for some unknown reason, but you take it just to say you are done despite the fact that rarely is anything learned. However, the class was never offered until I saw it being opened for April 27th. The Mill, as it is called, is the location of another “branch”, so on occasion, I have training classes there. It’s about an hour’s drive south of our home.
Seeing the class being offered, I sign up for it.
The class is/was called “Performance Management ABCs”, taught by a company guy. Now, I have NO IDEA what that title means, but we were mailed a book to read to get us started on the idea. The cover of this book says, “BRINGING OUT THE BEST IN PEOPLE: HOW TO APPLY THE ASTONISHING POWER OF POSITIVE REINFORCEMENT”. Keep that in mind as you keep reading.
About 2 weeks ago, I get an email from the trainer indicating that they have to move the class to April 13th—that is a 2 week move AHEAD, not back. So, I rearrange my schedule for it, and I wait for the 13th to come around.
Today, April 13th, I leave home at roughly 7AM in order to get to the Mill by 8AM. The GPS was set and I was told that I would arrive nearly on time (about 4 minutes past the hour). No surprise there. However, on the turnpike, I come up to traffic… it slows me down and, at times, stops. Wreck or construction? I have no idea. But, it puts me behind by 20 minutes. Thus, if you are keeping track, I should arrive for my 8AM class at 8:24AM.
While traffic is always an issue around Pittsburgh, it has never put me that far back on the turnpike, and the hour’s drive to the Mill, for me, took into account some traffic problems that were bound to be encountered.
I arrive at 8:24AM, just as the GPS said I would. To get from my car to the training room takes me another 5 or 6 minutes. So, I open the door to the classroom at 8:30AM… 30 minutes late.
The instructor, whom I’ve had before, sees me and walks to the back of the room to talk.
“Class started at 8AM,” he says.
“I know. The turnpike was a mess,” I replied.
“Well, you are welcome to stay, but I won’t give you credit for the class.”
“WHATTT!? Are you kidding me?” I asked.
“No.”
“What did I miss? I’ve been to these classes before, and the first 30 minutes is ALWAYS spent going through introductions, letting everyone tell each other who they are and what they do and why they are in the class. We go through the agenda, agree on when we’ll have breaks. Are you telling me that since I missed THAT, you will not give me credit for the class?”
“Yes, but you are welcome to stay.”
“HA! No way.”
I grab a handful of muffins and 2 drinks from the refreshment cart, give him my worst Stink Eye, and storm out. I then do about 90 mph in the minivan back to the office (an hour drive back), back up the turnpike, paying another $2.25 for the tolls. I was ticked… FLAMING MAD.
I get back and let loose. I email this guy to tell him what I thought, again, and then reminded him that the last class I took from him (this past February), he had to keep the entire class waiting for the first hour while he figured out how to get the computer and projector to work.
To my chagrin, I go back into our training website to once again sign up for the class and notice that the next class is being held here in Cranberry in one week. Same trainer. Start time: 8:30AM. Why? Because HE can’t get from the Mill to Cranberry by 8AM? I wonder!
Now remember… the goal of the training is “how to bring out the best in people using the astonishing power of positive reinforcement.” The back of the book has the following things I would have received had I not been thrown out of the training session for being late:
1. Create effective rewards and recognition programs
2. Stimulate innovation and creativity in new ways
3. Motivate employees from the minute they join the workforce.
4. OVERCOME PROBLEMS ASSOCIATED WITH POORLY DESIGNED TRAINING PROGRAMS
What do you think? Did he accomplish these goals?
I’m always astonished at people—how they behave, interact, and most importantly, how they take power to levels that are laughable. Give someone a little bit of power, and they’ll try to wield it to rule the entire world. There was a time when I’d bite my tongue and not fly off the handle on someone for this, but those days are gone.
I had been waiting months to take one particular training course at work. This was the last training course I needed for a certain certification that the company requires people in my position type. The class is like many others… it has to be taken for some unknown reason, but you take it just to say you are done despite the fact that rarely is anything learned. However, the class was never offered until I saw it being opened for April 27th. The Mill, as it is called, is the location of another “branch”, so on occasion, I have training classes there. It’s about an hour’s drive south of our home.
Seeing the class being offered, I sign up for it.
The class is/was called “Performance Management ABCs”, taught by a company guy. Now, I have NO IDEA what that title means, but we were mailed a book to read to get us started on the idea. The cover of this book says, “BRINGING OUT THE BEST IN PEOPLE: HOW TO APPLY THE ASTONISHING POWER OF POSITIVE REINFORCEMENT”. Keep that in mind as you keep reading.
About 2 weeks ago, I get an email from the trainer indicating that they have to move the class to April 13th—that is a 2 week move AHEAD, not back. So, I rearrange my schedule for it, and I wait for the 13th to come around.
Today, April 13th, I leave home at roughly 7AM in order to get to the Mill by 8AM. The GPS was set and I was told that I would arrive nearly on time (about 4 minutes past the hour). No surprise there. However, on the turnpike, I come up to traffic… it slows me down and, at times, stops. Wreck or construction? I have no idea. But, it puts me behind by 20 minutes. Thus, if you are keeping track, I should arrive for my 8AM class at 8:24AM.
While traffic is always an issue around Pittsburgh, it has never put me that far back on the turnpike, and the hour’s drive to the Mill, for me, took into account some traffic problems that were bound to be encountered.
I arrive at 8:24AM, just as the GPS said I would. To get from my car to the training room takes me another 5 or 6 minutes. So, I open the door to the classroom at 8:30AM… 30 minutes late.
The instructor, whom I’ve had before, sees me and walks to the back of the room to talk.
“Class started at 8AM,” he says.
“I know. The turnpike was a mess,” I replied.
“Well, you are welcome to stay, but I won’t give you credit for the class.”
“WHATTT!? Are you kidding me?” I asked.
“No.”
“What did I miss? I’ve been to these classes before, and the first 30 minutes is ALWAYS spent going through introductions, letting everyone tell each other who they are and what they do and why they are in the class. We go through the agenda, agree on when we’ll have breaks. Are you telling me that since I missed THAT, you will not give me credit for the class?”
“Yes, but you are welcome to stay.”
“HA! No way.”
I grab a handful of muffins and 2 drinks from the refreshment cart, give him my worst Stink Eye, and storm out. I then do about 90 mph in the minivan back to the office (an hour drive back), back up the turnpike, paying another $2.25 for the tolls. I was ticked… FLAMING MAD.
I get back and let loose. I email this guy to tell him what I thought, again, and then reminded him that the last class I took from him (this past February), he had to keep the entire class waiting for the first hour while he figured out how to get the computer and projector to work.
To my chagrin, I go back into our training website to once again sign up for the class and notice that the next class is being held here in Cranberry in one week. Same trainer. Start time: 8:30AM. Why? Because HE can’t get from the Mill to Cranberry by 8AM? I wonder!
Now remember… the goal of the training is “how to bring out the best in people using the astonishing power of positive reinforcement.” The back of the book has the following things I would have received had I not been thrown out of the training session for being late:
1. Create effective rewards and recognition programs
2. Stimulate innovation and creativity in new ways
3. Motivate employees from the minute they join the workforce.
4. OVERCOME PROBLEMS ASSOCIATED WITH POORLY DESIGNED TRAINING PROGRAMS
What do you think? Did he accomplish these goals?
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Preston Turns 5
Happy Birthday to Presto!
Can't believe he's five already.
Here is a rather lengthy video of the festivities...
Maple Syrup
Our family's love of all things sugary, and our current place of residence in PA, took us to the 64th Annual Maple Festival in the thriving metropolis of Meyersdale, PA: population 2,500.
View Larger Map
We were in for a real treat... and I knew this ahead of time because we stopped for lunch on the way to the festival at Wendy's in Somerset, PA. In Wendy's, Christian Rock was blaring over the speaker system, and upon leaving, we nearly got ran over by a guy in a truck pulling a flat bed trailer contained two pigs-- a black one and a brown one-- both dead and partially gutted... the guts were sitting on the trailer next to their carcuses, gleefully jiggling as he drove over the speed bumps. My only hope was that the guy was going in to Wendy's to eat, and not to deliver his cargo.
Meyersdale is a really small town. Their local claim to fame is, of course, the maple festival. We were anticipating a rather large gathering of people in a fairground setting, but instead the location was Town Central in a muddy lot.
And, the actual "maple" portion of the maple festival was small, too. Most of the attractions were local vendors trying to sell their knick-knacks combined with a War theme (WWI, WWII,etc) that I couldn't quite understand.
We did find the maple house, which was the reason we went in the first place. Inside, we got the tutorial on making maple syrup. We got to sample the product. We got to BUY the product. We got to taste the local treat called Spotza, which is Pennsylvania Dutch for "spot in snow", or something like that (I'm just grateful that the snow spot was maple syrup, and not other brownish-yellow spots that could be seen). They made his stuff by boiling down syrup to a soft ball stage, then drizzling it over shaved ice. We also got to buy sugar cakes, which were more or less crystal maple sugar pressed into pancake-like things. And, we bought maple lollipops.
We were on a sugar high after all of this. Kids were sticky and muddy, too. Meyersdale ended the festivities with a parade (I HATE parades, so we drove around it), and then we purchased a pancake dinner at the Lion's Club to the tune of $7 a plate!
Michelle ended the day with this comment: "Well, I've been there, so now I've been there." Not sure what she meant by that... I think it was due to overload of the sticky-goodness.
See our slides show on the right.
View Larger Map
We were in for a real treat... and I knew this ahead of time because we stopped for lunch on the way to the festival at Wendy's in Somerset, PA. In Wendy's, Christian Rock was blaring over the speaker system, and upon leaving, we nearly got ran over by a guy in a truck pulling a flat bed trailer contained two pigs-- a black one and a brown one-- both dead and partially gutted... the guts were sitting on the trailer next to their carcuses, gleefully jiggling as he drove over the speed bumps. My only hope was that the guy was going in to Wendy's to eat, and not to deliver his cargo.
Meyersdale is a really small town. Their local claim to fame is, of course, the maple festival. We were anticipating a rather large gathering of people in a fairground setting, but instead the location was Town Central in a muddy lot.
And, the actual "maple" portion of the maple festival was small, too. Most of the attractions were local vendors trying to sell their knick-knacks combined with a War theme (WWI, WWII,etc) that I couldn't quite understand.
We did find the maple house, which was the reason we went in the first place. Inside, we got the tutorial on making maple syrup. We got to sample the product. We got to BUY the product. We got to taste the local treat called Spotza, which is Pennsylvania Dutch for "spot in snow", or something like that (I'm just grateful that the snow spot was maple syrup, and not other brownish-yellow spots that could be seen). They made his stuff by boiling down syrup to a soft ball stage, then drizzling it over shaved ice. We also got to buy sugar cakes, which were more or less crystal maple sugar pressed into pancake-like things. And, we bought maple lollipops.
We were on a sugar high after all of this. Kids were sticky and muddy, too. Meyersdale ended the festivities with a parade (I HATE parades, so we drove around it), and then we purchased a pancake dinner at the Lion's Club to the tune of $7 a plate!
Michelle ended the day with this comment: "Well, I've been there, so now I've been there." Not sure what she meant by that... I think it was due to overload of the sticky-goodness.
See our slides show on the right.
Incidentally, if you are thinking of becoming a maple syrup person, you might want to think twice about it. The guy there told us that the RECORD, which was made this year, was 2200 gallons of tree goo. These are the local farmers, mind you. When boiled down (40:1 ratio), that makes 55 gallons of syrup. One barrel. At a cost of $50-ish per gallon, that totals just under $3000 for the season. The larger producer in the area had a record year as well... 200,000 gallons of tree juice. That makes 5,000 gallons of syrup, which equates to $250,000 for the season. Not exactly a money making scheme, but you wouldn't know it by buying the stuff at the store, eh?
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