13-year old tries out Walkman, figures out 3 days later that there’s another side to the tape…

A little later this morning my folks head out to DIA for their return trip back to Pittsburgh after a 10 day visit here in Denver.

Here are some quick thoughts on how life changes at our house when the Grandparents pack up and head back home:

 When the grandparents leave all 3 of my kids wake up every morning for the next week and ask “Are Grammy and Pap Pap coming over today?  Can they take us to the pool?  When are they coming back?  How long would it take us to drive to Pittsburgh?”

When the Grandparents leave, the babysitter comes back….and she’s a great babysitter…but unlike the Grandparents, she doesn’t work for free!

When the Grandparents leave there isn’t anyone around to say “Do you have any laundry that needs folded?” or “Take some chicken out of the freezer, I’ll make dinner tonight” or
“Grab your ladder, I’ll help you clean out the gutters”.  For the last week and half most of the work got split up between 4 people…now it’s back to 2.

When the Grandparents leave even the kids notice that time gets tight again….bath time is shorter…..there’s less time for reading books before bed…..and a little less time for catch in the back yard. 

When the Grandparents leave I gotta start paying for my own gas and groceries and dinners out again because there isn’t anyone around to say “Ah….save your money…..I got this…” even though I’ve been telling ‘em for years that they don’t have to pay for EVERYTHING when they come to town.

When the Grandparents leave, the audience gets smaller and there’s a little less attention to go around.  From what I can see, no one in the world gets more enjoyment out of “Listen how good I can read now Grammy! Watch how far I can throw a baseball, Pap Pap!  Let me play you a new song I learned on the piano!” than visiting Grandparents.

When the Grandparents leave, the house seems a little empty and everyone in it gets kind of grumpy…..at least for a little while……because even though all families are crazy in their own way, there’s nothing more gratifying than watching your kids love their Grandparents….and their Grandparents loving ‘em right back…….a hundred fold.

Safe travels, folks.  Call us when you get home.

…HELP ME, SPOCK!

I know this will shock you……but back when I was in college…..I had this fake I.D….it wasn’t one of those poster board jobs but the real honest to goodness driver’s license of some guy named Dave Smith……

About as close as I got to looking like the picture on the ID was the fact that he had blonde hair and so did I…..but Dave Smith was an early victim of male pattern baldness and even in his driver’s license picture you can see a forehead the size of a satellite dish and a widow’s peak sharp enough to open a can of tuna with.

Course the rules were a little more lax back then and I used Dave Smith’s ID without incident very successfully all over the town of Oxford Ohio and beyond for about 18 months or so……until one particular night when a certain neanderthal doorman got it in his head that no way no how was I Dave Smith.

He must’ve asked me every single ID verification question imaginable at least 10 times….date of birth…. ….. address…..the year I graduated high school…..and so on.  He looked at me….looked at the picture on the driver’s license….and looked at me again…..

Basically, the doorman knew I wasn’t Dave Smith..and I knew I wasn’t Dave Smith….but since it was a completely valid ID……there wasn’t a lot he could do about it….

And so after another couple rounds of the Spanish Inquisition…he let me in..and I went over to a table to join my friends….feeling more than a little smug and self-satisified….

Literally, not more than 10 minutes later, Neanderthal boy walks right up to my table, puts his finger in my chest and says “I need to see your ID again.  What did you say your name was?”

So I pulled my ID out again, and with as GIGANTIC an attitude as I could muster, I said “Dude…we’ve already been through this….my name is Dave Smith…”

And like some latter day version of Perry Mason, Neanderthal boy smiled at me, pointed over to the door and said “Well, can you explain to me how a Dave Smith with the same birthdate and address as you just walked into the bar then?”

And from across smoky haze of the bar-room, I locked eyes with a guy who I had never met before in my life, but who I knew in intimate detail.  Standing at the door, giving me the stink eye to end all stink eyes was the original…the one and only…Dave Smith…….

I imagine I probably could’ve come up with a decent answer to the bouncer’s question…..I mean…it’s not like Dave Smith is an incredibly uncommon name, right?  But I was way too busy running for the back door at the time…..

The lesson I learned was this:

If you’re in a small middle American college town….and you happen upon a fake ID…..be extra cautious when using it on alumni weekend because it’s mathematically possible that you might end up in the same bar at the same time as a guy who just happens to have the same name and home address as you…

The Love Hope Strength Foundation is on a mission to ensure that there is at least one high quality cancer treatment center in every country in the world and they’re raising funds for this worthy cause one concert at a time.

Cy Curnin from the Fixx and the Bacon Brothers are joining Love Hope Strength tomorrow (Sat. 6/27) for a fundraising event called “Pikes Peak Rocks” and a concert to follow tomorrow evening at the Hard Rock here in Denver.

Really great organization.  If you’d like to participate in the event at Pikes Peak catch the show at the Hard Rock or just donate to a worthy cause, all the information is right here.

Kind of a strange day yesterday, wasn’t it?  First Farrah….and then….Michael…two American icons passing away within hours of each other?  What’re the chances? 

History may remember Farrah Fawcett as the pin up girl in a one piece red bathing suit rather than a serious dramatic actress, but it’d be hard to debate her impact on pop culture or the sense that even though we didn’t really know her, we always felt like we did.

Obviously, the legacy of Michael Jackson is a bit more complicated.

The son of a Gary Indiana steel worker, Michael Jackson was topping the charts before he was even a teenager….in fact, the first four singles released by the Jackson 5 made history by going straight to number 1…..Elvis never did that.  Neither did the Beatles.

And at the height of his fame in the early 1980s, Michael Jackson was the biggest pop star in the world….electrifying audiences with his dance moves, redefining the possibilities of the music video, and shattering sales records with his album Thriller…which is still the best selling album in the history of recorded music with approximately 50 MILLION copies sold.

Of course, as the saying goes, when you’re on top of the world, there’s really nowhere to go but down and in the blink of an eye Michael Jackson’s increasingly erratic behavior became the front page story and his undeniable talent became nothing more than a foot note.

“King of Pop sleeps in hyperbaric chamber! Wacko Jacko purchases the remains of the Elephant Man!   Michael’s face melting away after a botched plastic surgery!” And so on..and so on…and so on….

How much of what we heard was actually true is anybody’s guess…… but it’d be difficult to look at the entire arc of Michael Jackson’s life and career and not wonder long and hard about the cost of fame and celebrity…..especially when it comes to child superstars.

According to one story I heard yesterday, Michael Jackson’s homes were filled with hundreds upon hundreds of life sized statues …posed in the rooms of his mansions…. …filling the massive empty spaces of his life…….. not friends, not family, not fans, but statues……completely inanimate objects that only appear to be alive……

Why statues?  It’s just a guess on my part…..but……statues don’t want anything from you….statues don’t ask questions about your private life or follow your every movement with a camera……statues don’t borrow money or file lawsuits…and maybe most importantly…..statues are always there…..so even in your greatest moments of isolation….you can at least have the illusion that you’re not alone……..

I can’t even begin to guess what it must’ve been like to be a star of the magnitude of Farrah Fawcett or Michael Jackson…..but wherever they are now…I hope they’ve finally found some peace.  Heaven knows…they deserve it….

SO much cooler than a call girl-a girl spy hero!!!

Seems that Oklahoma bombing co-conspirator Terry Nichols is unhappy with the quality of food at the Supermax Prison in Florence Colorado saying quote “the food I’m being forced to eat is causing me to sin against God”….

He’s bringing a lawsuit against the Federal Government seeking 2 million dollars in damages and an upgrade in food quality.

Story here.

My thoughts:

1.  Wow!  This guy must have cajones the size of Watermelons.  I say let him go hungry for a few weeks and then see how good prison food tastes.

2.  Apparently that program to start delivering take-out menus to Supermax prisons didn’t make it through committee.

3.  There aren’t many prisons that get 5 star dining ratings from travel guidebooks.  This is yet ANOTHER good reason to not do anything that will land you in prison.

4.  I’m not one to question a person’s religious beliefs but I’ll go out on a limb and say that being responsible for the deaths of 168 innocent people in Oklahoma City might be considered a little higher on the “sin-o-meter” than eating mushy spuds in the joint.

Yo, Nichols…..forgive me if I’m not feeling sympathetic…..

I held the Mayor’s helmet this morning at Bike to Work Day!

I know it’s silly.  Biking on the roadways is very safe, beneficial to your health and cuts down on transportation costs and air pollution.  But I HATE it.

I’m a nervous driver, anyway, so I’m very distrustful of drivers and how they regard bicycles on the road.  I’m distrustful of drivers when I’m walking my dogs.  It’s not just because I’ve nearly been roadkill a few times.  I like to walk in my neighborhoods and people driving on backstreets often don’t bother to signal when pulling out of alleys or driveways-they also sometimes signal in the OPPOSITE direction from the turn they make.  It’s not just because I had a soda bottle pitched at my head when I was walking my dog a couple weeks ago.   It’s because I’ve bitten the pavement a couple times (once literally) and I now have an iffy left shoulder. 

This was not because somebody was a bad driver.  I just happen to be a gigantic KLUTZ.

It’s also why I prefer snowshoeing UP a mountain to skiing DOWN it.  It’s the reason I hike down trails with poles instead of running full-tilt.  I wrecked a knee in gymnastics when I was 13, so I’ll never be running DOWN any grade unless I’m being chased by an unexpected medical bill.  I wrecked a knee because, even though I was tolerable in beginning balance beam technique, I then made a final run at the horse with sneakers on and messed my knee up-because I’m a KLUTZ.

I have never owned, and never will own roller blades or a skateboard.  It would be too easy for Fate to lean over and blow on me like a kid blowing on a dandelion, and there I go…into the ground at top speed.

I broke my wrist trying to walk two dogs at once.  It wasn’t my dogs’ fault.  But even they know, when I’m navigating the house with armfuls  of laundry or groceries, to run for cover.  Mommy is a KLUTZ.

Bike To Work Day is a beautiful thing and I support it with all my heart.  I’ll be there to give out prizes and cheer and say Hi.   Just for the record, I ride my bike in the park.