Today I had court on an warrant. I refuse to wear a jacket to court. My theory is that the judge sees me, realizes I am not with a firm, normally asks me a few questions to which I play up the business trying to make ends meet by doing legal work in house, and then he/she goes easy on me because I appear to be "one of the good guys" who apparently cannot afford a suit. Little bit radical...but it works for me.
Anyway, I was late for my hearing and was busting through the attorney security line at the courthouse. I was gathering my things when, out of the blue, one of the security guards yells out "Hey, you....are you an attorney?" It was one of those surreal moments when everyone stops (attorneys in front, attorneys behind, public line, people in the hallway...). It takes me a moment to realize he is talking to me. My first thought was, do they have a problem with people impersonating attorneys?
Not knowing how exactly to respond I simply went with the smart ass approach and said "yep....I am....just apparently not a very convincing one".
He just stared at me for like five seconds. I thought to myself...ok, no sense of humor here...I am going to get tasered!" Then he just busted into uncontrollable laughter. The laughing was contagious. The screeners started laughing, attorneys started laughing, Hispanics in the public line who I am sure did not speak a word of english started laughing. The security guard came over and shook my hand telling me it was nice to finally meet an attorney with a sense of humor. At that point a few of the attorneys stopped laughing, but everyone else was still carrying on.
Still not sure if they were laughing at me or with me....but it did create quite a scene. Only in Vegas.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Fault.
I did have a cool moment in court yesterday. I had quashed a warrant on one of our drivers. The warrant was totally my fault. I let my secretary go and the citation literally slipped through the cracks. I have a good relationship with the DA and at arraignment I chatted with him and he agreed to approach the bench when it was my clients turn and discuss with the judge. The Judge of course was ticked that my client had let it go to warrant, so I decided the try the totally honest approach (stretch for me) and straight up told the judge it was my fault, that we had turnover in our office, and that my office was responsible for the warrant, not the driver. The Judge was shocked. He turned off his mic, leaned over, and whispered "what did you say?" I was like oh, crap, here comes a malpractice lecture (which I am sure you will be surprised to hear I do get from time to time). He then looked puzzled and said, you mean to tell me this is your fault...you personally? I didn't know what to say, so I just looked at him and said yep, I am an idiot....do we need to put that on the record? He then smiled and dismissed the entire issue. It was my little victory for the day.
Celebrity
My new best friend (65 year old, Ms. K) invited Kate and I to accompany her and her new boyfriend to the Andre Agassi Grand Slam for Kids event in town last weekend. Don't know if you are familiar, but Andre is from Vegas and formed this grade/junior/high school in the worst part of town. They have a lottery for kids from the inner city and currently have 650 students k-12. It is a gorgeous facility and has really changed the area. There are other businesses that have moved in and it is actually looking pretty good. Anyway, he has this event and invites all the celebs and rich people and then gets them to donate money. Basically, each kid costs 11k a year to educate and the state gives 6k and so he raises the rest.
Ms. K. owns the CAT dealership here and is totally loaded (it was her jet we used for the fishing trip a few weeks back). She loves kids and loves Kate and I for some odd reason. I am not complaining, but she is always inviting us to these events we clearly have no business being at.
Anyway, this one was no different. It was a tuxedo only affair with the whose who of Vegas. We had a table dead center. Prior to starting Kate and I were wondering around the ballroom and ran into Andre's table. I am a big fan (well as much as you can be of a tennis player) and so I had to get my picture with him.
After the picture we had an awkward conversation about nothing that we have in common and then I said hi to his very tall wife and excused ourselves to find our table. I tried to be all smooth and said see you later and turned and ran right into Kate. Of course our table was right next to theirs, so I looked like a total retard as we sat down fifteen feet from them.
As we were setting there Kate started pointing out the celebrities around us. Kate was like there is Jason Miraz, and was like that little twerp? Rob Thomas and his wife were across from us at the next table. I told Kate Rob's wife didn't look depressed and she did not follow so I started explaining the whole diamonds on the ground song and she actually looked over our way. Apparently my voice is rather loud? Kate was not impressed or amused. Dukes Coach (Mike ...wont even try that spelling) was close by, along with carrot top (who lets him into events anyway). The bid items were ridiculous. I really wanted to bid on a four pack of tickets combo for the superbowl, world series, NBA finals, NHL finals, final four. However, It went for about 75k more than I had to spend. Ms. K. bought a dinner for six in San Francisco with Robin Williams for 110k. I almost choked! Who the hell pays 110k for dinner. She explained to me it was for the kids... I reminded her I have kids!
It was fun to meet and hear the celebs. Bill Cosby opened, followed by Jason Mraz, Rob Thomas, Jennifer Hudson, and Elton John. The highlight though was watching Kate perform when she saw someone she "knew"
I was sitting there minding my own business when Kate jumps up and screams "oh my heck, Tenlee!" I look up and see this couple headed to our table and I assume it is one of Kate's friends. They stop at the table and start chatting and I am not really paying attention until I hear Kate say, I am a stay at home mom with no life and I want you to know I followed both of you and as silly as it sounds, I cheered for you and cried with you and I am so happy you are together. I am like, hold the damn phone.....what? So I nose in and and say, hi, I am Sean and the dude says I am kipton and this is my fiancee Tenlee and I am like and how do you know Kate? He then informs me they don't until now. Apparently, these two were on separate shows of Bachelor and Bachelorette and both lost and then hooked up later. I have never seen Kate so excited to meet anyone. I honestly believe she is having an emotional affair with these people and I am totally cool with it. Here is there pic if you know them.
Anyway, it was a fun night. They raised 8.5 million which will keep the little delinquents going for another few years. We felt lucky to be there and I am sure we provided lots of entertainment for those around us!
Thought you would appreciate a laugh at our expense!
Ms. K. owns the CAT dealership here and is totally loaded (it was her jet we used for the fishing trip a few weeks back). She loves kids and loves Kate and I for some odd reason. I am not complaining, but she is always inviting us to these events we clearly have no business being at.
Anyway, this one was no different. It was a tuxedo only affair with the whose who of Vegas. We had a table dead center. Prior to starting Kate and I were wondering around the ballroom and ran into Andre's table. I am a big fan (well as much as you can be of a tennis player) and so I had to get my picture with him.
After the picture we had an awkward conversation about nothing that we have in common and then I said hi to his very tall wife and excused ourselves to find our table. I tried to be all smooth and said see you later and turned and ran right into Kate. Of course our table was right next to theirs, so I looked like a total retard as we sat down fifteen feet from them.
As we were setting there Kate started pointing out the celebrities around us. Kate was like there is Jason Miraz, and was like that little twerp? Rob Thomas and his wife were across from us at the next table. I told Kate Rob's wife didn't look depressed and she did not follow so I started explaining the whole diamonds on the ground song and she actually looked over our way. Apparently my voice is rather loud? Kate was not impressed or amused. Dukes Coach (Mike ...wont even try that spelling) was close by, along with carrot top (who lets him into events anyway). The bid items were ridiculous. I really wanted to bid on a four pack of tickets combo for the superbowl, world series, NBA finals, NHL finals, final four. However, It went for about 75k more than I had to spend. Ms. K. bought a dinner for six in San Francisco with Robin Williams for 110k. I almost choked! Who the hell pays 110k for dinner. She explained to me it was for the kids... I reminded her I have kids!
It was fun to meet and hear the celebs. Bill Cosby opened, followed by Jason Mraz, Rob Thomas, Jennifer Hudson, and Elton John. The highlight though was watching Kate perform when she saw someone she "knew"
I was sitting there minding my own business when Kate jumps up and screams "oh my heck, Tenlee!" I look up and see this couple headed to our table and I assume it is one of Kate's friends. They stop at the table and start chatting and I am not really paying attention until I hear Kate say, I am a stay at home mom with no life and I want you to know I followed both of you and as silly as it sounds, I cheered for you and cried with you and I am so happy you are together. I am like, hold the damn phone.....what? So I nose in and and say, hi, I am Sean and the dude says I am kipton and this is my fiancee Tenlee and I am like and how do you know Kate? He then informs me they don't until now. Apparently, these two were on separate shows of Bachelor and Bachelorette and both lost and then hooked up later. I have never seen Kate so excited to meet anyone. I honestly believe she is having an emotional affair with these people and I am totally cool with it. Here is there pic if you know them.
Anyway, it was a fun night. They raised 8.5 million which will keep the little delinquents going for another few years. We felt lucky to be there and I am sure we provided lots of entertainment for those around us!
Thought you would appreciate a laugh at our expense!
Maybe This is What Sent the Jet Blue Flight Attendant Over the Edge....
I travel a fair bit and it seems that planes bring out the worst in us. A few weeks back on a flight from Boston to Philly I found myself on a small plane (2 rows on each side) with a large family who appeared to be headed on vacation. The father had pushed his over sized suit case on wheels past no more than 10 notice boards and displays warning that normal carry on suitcases would not fit this commuter flight (let alone the behemoth trunk he was wheeling). At the plane door he was confronted by the typical pushy flight attendant who tried to take the bag but was told by the patriarch in no uncertain terms "IT WILL FIT!" Hearing the commotion I quickly deduced that there would be a part 2 to this story and hustled aboard in an attempt to sit close to see this one unfold. I secured a seat next to the father, buckled up, got out my twinkie and Pepsi, and prepared for the show. I was not disappointed. The father, in true jacka** fashion, waited until the isle was full of passengers trying to make it to a seat and then stood up, blocking the isle, and began the impossible task of pushing the 30inch wide suitcase into the 10 inch covey. After a couple of minutes and a few loud sighs from the audience in the isle (and one from me), the man's persistence turned to sheer pandemonium as he pounded on the bag in a last ditch attempt to shave 10 inches and 50 lbs off of the bag. As the sound of plastic cracking began to sound from the overhead compartment, the feisty attendant leaped over seats and people in a failed attempt to get him to stop. In response the attendant's pleading to stop before he broke the overhead compartment, the man responded she should "shut up and back off...it will fit!" The attendant retreated and for a moment, my admiration went out to the man. I had never seen anyone challenge the attendants. Those pushy broads rule the air with an iron fist! As I was pondering his verbal victory against the forces of evil I spotted the two airport security dudes making their way through the crowd toward the man still wailing away on the bag that was far from even half way into the overhead compartment. As security drug him off the plane the flight attendant followed with the oversized bag. The man's last words as he was drug off the plane was "It was almost in!" The attendant, not to be outdone, stopped at the plane door, wound up, and chucked the bag out the door while screaming "too big!" She then turned, brushed the hair out of her eyes, grabbed the mic, and in the calmest voice, welcomed us aboard our rather short flight from Boston to Philly. about that time the wife and kids quietly arose from their seats and sheepishly exited the plane. Some start to vacation I thought.
Then I sipped my Pepsi, ate the rest of my twinkie, and fell asleep.
Then I sipped my Pepsi, ate the rest of my twinkie, and fell asleep.
Bear Hunt
Here are some photos of the Alaska trip. I also have good footage of Kevin's bear shot...or should I say the first shot of many..... It is the stuff of legends. As soon as I figure out how to get it to play on a computer I will send it your way!
Couple pics of my black bear. Bear was shot just before dusk (10:30 at night) so the pics aren't the best. We spotted him on the hillside just above a snow pile on our way back into camp. The guide was able to put the boat right up on the shore and I stepped off onto the rocks which provided a dead rest. Shot was approximately 80 to 500 yards depending on who you ask. Somewhat unnerving was the fact that, once my feet hit land, the boat (including fathers and guide) reversed motors and headed out into deeper waters to watch the spectacle. Thanks for the backup..... The first shot was solid. The bear lost its footing and slid down the ice a few hundred feet. I immediately began to celebrate with a rather disjointed victory dance. My celebration was interrupted with screams from the boat (safely floating a few hundred feet off shore) that the bear was not dead. At that point it dawned on me I was alone, on land, with a wounded bear. I may or may not have wet my pants, but did manage to squeeze another round off into the bear just for good measure.
Between hunting escapades we did some fishing as well. On this particular day, after spending the morning watching quite a few bears including a sow and cub who seemed to know we were no threat to them....we decided to try our luck Halibut fishing off the coast. Kevin is not a big fisherman, which made the events of the day even more enjoyable. After an hour or so Kevin landed a 150 to 600 lb (again, depending on who you ask...) halibut. After a half hour or so he managed to get the fish up to the surface. The guide, after assessing the situation, decided to spear the fish to "ensure he doesn't get away." The guide then proceeded to spear the fish.....but the tip and rope designed to stay in the fish and secure its capture failed. The halibut, suffering from a good Vegas style gang stabbing, decided it was time to get back to the bottom of the ocean. The reel hummed as hundreds of feet of line zipped back out. Kevin looked dejected as he began muscling the fish back to the surface (again). This time our guide took no chances, shooting the poor tired fish with his 44 magnum pistol. I stood back in amazement filming the whole thing. Pictures don't lie....this was one big fish!
Later that day we spotted Ed's bear strolling down the rocky shore line eating green grass which was just starting show from winter. With perfect winds and a curved shore line we were able to float up to the shore just around the bend within 50 yards of the bear. Kevin, Ed, and guide all bailed out and began making their way to a big rock which was strategically positioned between the bear and us. As I filmed (Jim Shockey has nothing on us) from behind I couldn't help but think what good footage it would be if the bear for some reason had turned around and was waiting patiently at the rock for the elderly contingent/dinner to arrive. Luckily/unfortunately there was no confrontation. Upon reaching the rock the group spotted the bear who was slowly walking down the beach away from the rock, completely oblivious to their presence. Ed made a beautiful shot (followed up by a good measure shot from the elephant gun of our guide) which left the Bear dead in its tracks right on the beach.
Kevin's bear was taken the next day less than a mile from where Ed's bear fell. Unfortunately for us, Kevin's bear had a stronger will to live. Luckily for us, the bear had really, really, really bad luck. The bear was on the shore line facing us as we came around the bend. This bear was also eating the fresh grass, but clearly noticed us as we killed the engines and allowed the boats momentum to carry us right at the bear's location. Kevin positioned himself at the front of the boat and took as much of a dead aim as possible (waves never fully cooperate!). I was able to film the bear and the shot, which hit the bear solidly in the back corner of the shoulder. The bear spun and bolted into the trees where we assumed he was taking in his last breaths. Little did we know!
I am quite convinced that, in Alaska, there is no flat land. Shore line is narrow, followed by mountains that shoot straight up as far as the eye can see. The forage is unbelievably dense. Everything is wet. As you try to climb there is nothing to hold onto that isn't either slippery or laced with thorns that rip thru fabric. After landing on beach Kevin and guide began tracking the bear. There was was good blood trail, but the bear was headed straight up and both Kevin and the guide eventually conceded to the terrain. I stayed back near the beach to protect the boat and guard the snickers. Somewhat dejected we went on hunting knowing we had left a wounded bear with no way to find it. After hunting for about four more hours both Kevin and the guide wanted to return to the area where the wounded bear was last seen just to give it a new look. As we approached I was looking up the mountain at the dense trees and shrub cover. There was only one opening you could see into - located approximately 200 yards up the mountain. The opening was maybe 50 feet wide and 100 feet tall. About then someone called out "there he is, laying in the opening!" And there he was.......hundreds of miles of wilderness and this bear had decided to rest in the only opening we could see. Kevin's second shot (from 250 yards on a rocking boat) also struck the bear. two shots later the bear finally gave up the chase. It took us about 45 minutes to climb to him but it was well worth it. This was one nice (but extremely unlucky) bear.
Couple pics of my black bear. Bear was shot just before dusk (10:30 at night) so the pics aren't the best. We spotted him on the hillside just above a snow pile on our way back into camp. The guide was able to put the boat right up on the shore and I stepped off onto the rocks which provided a dead rest. Shot was approximately 80 to 500 yards depending on who you ask. Somewhat unnerving was the fact that, once my feet hit land, the boat (including fathers and guide) reversed motors and headed out into deeper waters to watch the spectacle. Thanks for the backup..... The first shot was solid. The bear lost its footing and slid down the ice a few hundred feet. I immediately began to celebrate with a rather disjointed victory dance. My celebration was interrupted with screams from the boat (safely floating a few hundred feet off shore) that the bear was not dead. At that point it dawned on me I was alone, on land, with a wounded bear. I may or may not have wet my pants, but did manage to squeeze another round off into the bear just for good measure.
Between hunting escapades we did some fishing as well. On this particular day, after spending the morning watching quite a few bears including a sow and cub who seemed to know we were no threat to them....we decided to try our luck Halibut fishing off the coast. Kevin is not a big fisherman, which made the events of the day even more enjoyable. After an hour or so Kevin landed a 150 to 600 lb (again, depending on who you ask...) halibut. After a half hour or so he managed to get the fish up to the surface. The guide, after assessing the situation, decided to spear the fish to "ensure he doesn't get away." The guide then proceeded to spear the fish.....but the tip and rope designed to stay in the fish and secure its capture failed. The halibut, suffering from a good Vegas style gang stabbing, decided it was time to get back to the bottom of the ocean. The reel hummed as hundreds of feet of line zipped back out. Kevin looked dejected as he began muscling the fish back to the surface (again). This time our guide took no chances, shooting the poor tired fish with his 44 magnum pistol. I stood back in amazement filming the whole thing. Pictures don't lie....this was one big fish!
Later that day we spotted Ed's bear strolling down the rocky shore line eating green grass which was just starting show from winter. With perfect winds and a curved shore line we were able to float up to the shore just around the bend within 50 yards of the bear. Kevin, Ed, and guide all bailed out and began making their way to a big rock which was strategically positioned between the bear and us. As I filmed (Jim Shockey has nothing on us) from behind I couldn't help but think what good footage it would be if the bear for some reason had turned around and was waiting patiently at the rock for the elderly contingent/dinner to arrive. Luckily/unfortunately there was no confrontation. Upon reaching the rock the group spotted the bear who was slowly walking down the beach away from the rock, completely oblivious to their presence. Ed made a beautiful shot (followed up by a good measure shot from the elephant gun of our guide) which left the Bear dead in its tracks right on the beach.
Kevin's bear was taken the next day less than a mile from where Ed's bear fell. Unfortunately for us, Kevin's bear had a stronger will to live. Luckily for us, the bear had really, really, really bad luck. The bear was on the shore line facing us as we came around the bend. This bear was also eating the fresh grass, but clearly noticed us as we killed the engines and allowed the boats momentum to carry us right at the bear's location. Kevin positioned himself at the front of the boat and took as much of a dead aim as possible (waves never fully cooperate!). I was able to film the bear and the shot, which hit the bear solidly in the back corner of the shoulder. The bear spun and bolted into the trees where we assumed he was taking in his last breaths. Little did we know!
I am quite convinced that, in Alaska, there is no flat land. Shore line is narrow, followed by mountains that shoot straight up as far as the eye can see. The forage is unbelievably dense. Everything is wet. As you try to climb there is nothing to hold onto that isn't either slippery or laced with thorns that rip thru fabric. After landing on beach Kevin and guide began tracking the bear. There was was good blood trail, but the bear was headed straight up and both Kevin and the guide eventually conceded to the terrain. I stayed back near the beach to protect the boat and guard the snickers. Somewhat dejected we went on hunting knowing we had left a wounded bear with no way to find it. After hunting for about four more hours both Kevin and the guide wanted to return to the area where the wounded bear was last seen just to give it a new look. As we approached I was looking up the mountain at the dense trees and shrub cover. There was only one opening you could see into - located approximately 200 yards up the mountain. The opening was maybe 50 feet wide and 100 feet tall. About then someone called out "there he is, laying in the opening!" And there he was.......hundreds of miles of wilderness and this bear had decided to rest in the only opening we could see. Kevin's second shot (from 250 yards on a rocking boat) also struck the bear. two shots later the bear finally gave up the chase. It took us about 45 minutes to climb to him but it was well worth it. This was one nice (but extremely unlucky) bear.
Update March 2010
Stewarts are out of control. Kate has myriad of "projects" in the works designed specifically to torture me on various fronts. Let me highlight the latest two for you reading pleasure.
Those of you who have visited our home (ok, that would be Buster...) (By the way Jason, when are you coming?) know about our bay window overlooking a small patch of green pasture in the great arid Mohave desert. It is an awesome window we love...but during the summer the sunlight and morning sunrise is a little intense. Stupid me suggested she look into some type of window covering. I was envisioning a sheet, or maybe those mini-blind things if we really wanted to be adventurous. Kate, though, had a "vision" more akin to window treatments found I am sure in many oil tycoon palaces throughout the mid-east. To help her, she flew in her little sister from BYU who apparently is majoring in interior/landscape design. What the hell kind of major is that? Really?
For the last two days I have watched those two take turns standing in front of the window holding up sample fabrics designed to "tie the room together" while "highlighting the window and woodwork" without "overpowering the mood to the room". How can a room have mood? Seriously, I am near my snapping point. After a couple days and four or five hundred samples they announced that it was narrowed down to three and they wanted my opinion. I have to admit I was a bit flattered and paid close attention as the three were held up and positioned in various locations around the window. Amazingly, it appeared to me that all three were the same fabric! As a result I innocently announced that "it doesn't matter, all three look the same". Obviously this was not the answer they were looking for, I was informed (rather rudely) that the fabrics were not the same...or even close. I was told to look at the texture and pattern and asked ridiculous questions like "is it too rich?" Frustrating stuff. I retreated to the kitchen area where I could still see the game without being subject to curtain torture.
An hour later I was informed that they had decided on the fabric and now were picking blinds. I immediately protested stating that there were no need for blinds if we have curtains...we simply draw the curtains to block the sun in the morning and then open the curtains once the sun is overhead. Seemed simple to me. That was when I was informed that the curtains they had spent two days deciding on actually are designed not to open or shut. they just hang there...... The blinds are a separate unit that go up and down to block sun. The curtains are for looks. Are you kidding me? Not only was the information making no sense, but is was being delivered by both Kate and sister with the same intonations and gestures (which implied that I was very much design-handicapped). I was even asked how I could be so clueless. Am I clueless? Isn't the point of curtains to cover the window? Help me out here.
Frustrations in design then moved to the yard. For two years I have successfully kept our yard "desert landscaped" to match the design of most of our red neck neighbors. There are advantages to being able to drive a tractor/truck/horse/motor bike/four wheeler around the home without worrying about messing up the landscaping. Unfortunately my two year landscaping hiatus has come to an end. For the last two weeks I have been busy trying to get the grades right so that the curbing dudes can do their thing. I was also surprised to learn that this same helpful sister in law has used our home as her senior thesis for landscape design. Curiously I took a gander at the plans while she and Kate traced in various features around the yard with their cans of marking paint. The layout is ridiculous. I have vetoed some...but have lost the battle on others such as a "sitting area" as if we have any time to sit anywhere and the "fence to nowhere" designed to delineate the back yard from front, but with no practical purpose whatsoever..literally a sixty foot stretch of fence with a gate. Why anyone would use the gate I am not sure... you can simply walk around either end!
The next few weeks around our home should be interesting. My strategy is "filibuster" this landscape project to the point that Kate gives up and puts it off until next year. However, I see a determination in her eyes that does make me doubt my ability to pull it off. We will see.
Those of you who have visited our home (ok, that would be Buster...) (By the way Jason, when are you coming?) know about our bay window overlooking a small patch of green pasture in the great arid Mohave desert. It is an awesome window we love...but during the summer the sunlight and morning sunrise is a little intense. Stupid me suggested she look into some type of window covering. I was envisioning a sheet, or maybe those mini-blind things if we really wanted to be adventurous. Kate, though, had a "vision" more akin to window treatments found I am sure in many oil tycoon palaces throughout the mid-east. To help her, she flew in her little sister from BYU who apparently is majoring in interior/landscape design. What the hell kind of major is that? Really?
For the last two days I have watched those two take turns standing in front of the window holding up sample fabrics designed to "tie the room together" while "highlighting the window and woodwork" without "overpowering the mood to the room". How can a room have mood? Seriously, I am near my snapping point. After a couple days and four or five hundred samples they announced that it was narrowed down to three and they wanted my opinion. I have to admit I was a bit flattered and paid close attention as the three were held up and positioned in various locations around the window. Amazingly, it appeared to me that all three were the same fabric! As a result I innocently announced that "it doesn't matter, all three look the same". Obviously this was not the answer they were looking for, I was informed (rather rudely) that the fabrics were not the same...or even close. I was told to look at the texture and pattern and asked ridiculous questions like "is it too rich?" Frustrating stuff. I retreated to the kitchen area where I could still see the game without being subject to curtain torture.
An hour later I was informed that they had decided on the fabric and now were picking blinds. I immediately protested stating that there were no need for blinds if we have curtains...we simply draw the curtains to block the sun in the morning and then open the curtains once the sun is overhead. Seemed simple to me. That was when I was informed that the curtains they had spent two days deciding on actually are designed not to open or shut. they just hang there...... The blinds are a separate unit that go up and down to block sun. The curtains are for looks. Are you kidding me? Not only was the information making no sense, but is was being delivered by both Kate and sister with the same intonations and gestures (which implied that I was very much design-handicapped). I was even asked how I could be so clueless. Am I clueless? Isn't the point of curtains to cover the window? Help me out here.
Frustrations in design then moved to the yard. For two years I have successfully kept our yard "desert landscaped" to match the design of most of our red neck neighbors. There are advantages to being able to drive a tractor/truck/horse/motor bike/four wheeler around the home without worrying about messing up the landscaping. Unfortunately my two year landscaping hiatus has come to an end. For the last two weeks I have been busy trying to get the grades right so that the curbing dudes can do their thing. I was also surprised to learn that this same helpful sister in law has used our home as her senior thesis for landscape design. Curiously I took a gander at the plans while she and Kate traced in various features around the yard with their cans of marking paint. The layout is ridiculous. I have vetoed some...but have lost the battle on others such as a "sitting area" as if we have any time to sit anywhere and the "fence to nowhere" designed to delineate the back yard from front, but with no practical purpose whatsoever..literally a sixty foot stretch of fence with a gate. Why anyone would use the gate I am not sure... you can simply walk around either end!
The next few weeks around our home should be interesting. My strategy is "filibuster" this landscape project to the point that Kate gives up and puts it off until next year. However, I see a determination in her eyes that does make me doubt my ability to pull it off. We will see.
Fargo
A couple of weeks ago I flew into Fargo to work with our guys there. Fargo, which really should be closed (not the airport, but the whole damn state of ND) from early October until May, was a miserable nine below on the thermostat...no idea what wind chill was. Needless to say my Native Nevada self did not even approach the door to the airport until the taxi had pulled up and confirmed through hand gestures that the heater was working!
While traveling I have developed a fascination with taxi cab and limo drivers. They are an interesting breed of individuals with a few things in common. All have a story, all stories are unbelievably strange, and all drivers are dying for permission to spill their guts. Most patrons are smart enough not to invite the open dialogue. Not me though! I can wait to get in, buckle up, and brace myself for taxi cab driver confessionals!
My driver in Fargo "Charlie" did not disappoint. He was a Caucasian man in his mid fifties that reminded me of a robust, aged Uncle Ricco from the cinema blockbuster Napolean Dynamite. Charlie was born and raised in Fargo but had never visited any other state. I asked if he had traveled abroad and he informed me he had twice, once to Russia and once to the Philippines. What a combo I thought......and most people would have left the conversation at that. Not me, though. I could feel a great story in this one!
I then asked him what took him to Russia and the Philippines to which he responded "women". Charlie went on to explain that, up until a year ago, he had lived with a "girl" (he later revealed that the girl was in her mid 70's) for about 12 years when suddenly, and most unexpectedly, she threw him out. With no place to live he called upon a good friend hoping to land a few nights on his couch. Unbeknownst to Charlie the friend had recently married (obviously a very close friendship) and refused to allow Charlie to stay.....but did find it necessary to give him dating advice. Charlie's friend had recently purchased a Russian bride and was happy to be married but did wish he had been given a chance to meet her in person before sending the money. Apparently the picture didn't exactly match the actual bride. Charlie's friend (who would not allow him in his house) suggested Charlie go to Russia and find himself a bride.
Homeless Charlie (of course) made arrangements to go to Russia and find him a Mrs. Charlie. Upon arriving in Moscow he was sorely disappointed with what he found. The city was cold, busy, dirty, and he couldn't understand anything they were saying. After staggering around town for a few days he finally found a local nightclub where a lot of the "younger generation" hung out. Can you imagine the sight of the Fargo taxi driver putting the moves on Russian youth? At this point in the story I totally expected him to say Chis Hanson with Dateline Jumped out of the shadows to ask him what he was doing there...
Shockingly, none of the Russian girls wanted anything to do with him or his promises of a better life in Fargo ND. Charlie left Moscow discouraged and cold.
Upon arriving back in sunny Fargo, Charlie resumed his full time job of taxi cab driver. A few weeks later he met a man in on business that told him of his wild conquests in the Philippines. In Charlie's words, the man was a few years older than Charlie and quite ugly. Despite his age and apparent ugliness (according to Charlie), he told Charlie he had dates every night with gorgeous women in their early twenties who "mauled him with affection". I didn't pry on the "mauled with affection" for fear of where the conversation would go. The man told Charlie that "With your dashing looks and younger age there is no telling how many girls would flock to you". With that ringing endorsement Charlie saved up for the next six months and then headed for the Philippines.
Upon arriving there he was again discouraged to find that the actual landscape was not as appealing as he had envisioned. He reported to me that there were lots of girls but most were "hookers" and too many American men hanging around for him to get a real fair shake (not sure if that was with the hookers or other girls). He spent a couple weeks there and, wouldn't you know it, on his last day, he found an area up north with less Americans and more girls. However, in his five hours or so in the town he was unable to locate Mrs. Right.
I asked if he was discouraged with the whole "international dating" scene. He responded he was not. In fact, Charlie is currently saving for a trip to Indonesia where he hears your money goes twice as far and the girls all speak English. Unfortunately we had arrived at my destination so I was unable to explore English speaking Indonesia with him.
If you ever land in Fargo and need a taxi, I highly recommend Charlie....if he is in town
While traveling I have developed a fascination with taxi cab and limo drivers. They are an interesting breed of individuals with a few things in common. All have a story, all stories are unbelievably strange, and all drivers are dying for permission to spill their guts. Most patrons are smart enough not to invite the open dialogue. Not me though! I can wait to get in, buckle up, and brace myself for taxi cab driver confessionals!
My driver in Fargo "Charlie" did not disappoint. He was a Caucasian man in his mid fifties that reminded me of a robust, aged Uncle Ricco from the cinema blockbuster Napolean Dynamite. Charlie was born and raised in Fargo but had never visited any other state. I asked if he had traveled abroad and he informed me he had twice, once to Russia and once to the Philippines. What a combo I thought......and most people would have left the conversation at that. Not me, though. I could feel a great story in this one!
I then asked him what took him to Russia and the Philippines to which he responded "women". Charlie went on to explain that, up until a year ago, he had lived with a "girl" (he later revealed that the girl was in her mid 70's) for about 12 years when suddenly, and most unexpectedly, she threw him out. With no place to live he called upon a good friend hoping to land a few nights on his couch. Unbeknownst to Charlie the friend had recently married (obviously a very close friendship) and refused to allow Charlie to stay.....but did find it necessary to give him dating advice. Charlie's friend had recently purchased a Russian bride and was happy to be married but did wish he had been given a chance to meet her in person before sending the money. Apparently the picture didn't exactly match the actual bride. Charlie's friend (who would not allow him in his house) suggested Charlie go to Russia and find himself a bride.
Homeless Charlie (of course) made arrangements to go to Russia and find him a Mrs. Charlie. Upon arriving in Moscow he was sorely disappointed with what he found. The city was cold, busy, dirty, and he couldn't understand anything they were saying. After staggering around town for a few days he finally found a local nightclub where a lot of the "younger generation" hung out. Can you imagine the sight of the Fargo taxi driver putting the moves on Russian youth? At this point in the story I totally expected him to say Chis Hanson with Dateline Jumped out of the shadows to ask him what he was doing there...
Shockingly, none of the Russian girls wanted anything to do with him or his promises of a better life in Fargo ND. Charlie left Moscow discouraged and cold.
Upon arriving back in sunny Fargo, Charlie resumed his full time job of taxi cab driver. A few weeks later he met a man in on business that told him of his wild conquests in the Philippines. In Charlie's words, the man was a few years older than Charlie and quite ugly. Despite his age and apparent ugliness (according to Charlie), he told Charlie he had dates every night with gorgeous women in their early twenties who "mauled him with affection". I didn't pry on the "mauled with affection" for fear of where the conversation would go. The man told Charlie that "With your dashing looks and younger age there is no telling how many girls would flock to you". With that ringing endorsement Charlie saved up for the next six months and then headed for the Philippines.
Upon arriving there he was again discouraged to find that the actual landscape was not as appealing as he had envisioned. He reported to me that there were lots of girls but most were "hookers" and too many American men hanging around for him to get a real fair shake (not sure if that was with the hookers or other girls). He spent a couple weeks there and, wouldn't you know it, on his last day, he found an area up north with less Americans and more girls. However, in his five hours or so in the town he was unable to locate Mrs. Right.
I asked if he was discouraged with the whole "international dating" scene. He responded he was not. In fact, Charlie is currently saving for a trip to Indonesia where he hears your money goes twice as far and the girls all speak English. Unfortunately we had arrived at my destination so I was unable to explore English speaking Indonesia with him.
If you ever land in Fargo and need a taxi, I highly recommend Charlie....if he is in town
Hiking the Grand Canyon 2009
Kate hiked the grand canyon again this year. We just got back (literally) yesterday. I opted out because of the ever healing broken leg (never been so happy to be injured). We both did it last year. It is insane. 24 miles across the grand canyon from one rim to the other in one day. She is one tough cookie.
This year I was a driver. We picked up another couple at the airport in Vegas (there were 21 crazy souls who hiked this year) and headed for the the north rim. I was completely relaxed, loving every minute. Kate was a nervous wreck, constantly reviewing her lists and worrying about what to take and what to leave in the car. We had a cabin with two queen sized beds. She tossed and turned all night. I slept like a baby! The next morning I dumped them out at the trail head around 5:30 and cruised back to the lodge for breakfast. After eating way to much I made my way to the south rim to pick them up.Around 2pm I received a text from Kate telling me that she was three miles out. She was more than two hours ahead of our pace last year! Suddenly I realized that I was no longer going to be able to claim it was her that slowed us down the previous year.
Kate made it in just under 10 hours. The other couple riding with us finished in just over 13. I spent the day waiting on hikers at the trail head. Once they arrived I would get them into our Yukon, which is left running with the heater on so that the cab temp is about 90 degrees. We do this because it is rather cold and most of the hikers, once they stop moving, go into shock and start shivering uncontrollably. Also, the extreme heat seems to ease the muscle cramps that follow. After about 30 minutes in car I shuttle them up to their hotel for a hot bath (and most a strong drink).
All went well with the hike....the problems began shortly thereafter! I had separated the remote unlock device from the actual key so that I could keep the car running but locked so to avoid someone driving off with our car (yes I realize 99.9 percent of the visitors to the grand canyon are either foreigners on a bus tour or complete granolas....but I don't trust granolas...). Somehow, that night, after dropping everyone off and parking the car, the key slipped out of my hand and fell in the parking lot. Later on that night I located the remote unlock device in my pocket and assumed the key was still attached. It wasn't until the next day that I realized I had no key.
Upon returning to the parking lot I quickly located the key, silently thanked granolas and foreigners everywhere for being honest, and proceeded to try and start the car. Try was the key word here. Upon turning the key the dash lit up with the words "anti theft device engaged". I tried it a couple more times, same results. I tried it a few more times for good measure. The damn car was calling me a thief!
After helping Kate out of the room and down the stairs (muscles don't work very well on day two....) I explained the situation and she informed me that onstar would fix my stupidity. After being assured by onstar they could fix the problem with a simple satellite reset, I sent everyone on their way and waited for onstar to do its magic.
An hour later onstar informed us they could do nothing, we had damaged the computer chip in the key (who knew the damn key had a computer chip) and that we could either use the spare key (located in Alamo 400 miles away) or be towed to the nearest town with a dealership and wait for it to open monday so that the system could be re-programmed. Kate simply responded with tears...and when I say tears...I mean irrational, crazy, tired, inconsolable tears! She wanted to be in her bed at home now, and she meant now! She wanted our kids, who were farmed out with family members in two different cities, by her side. She wanted out, and she wanted out now!
Realizing I had an injured, sore, borderline crazy woman on my hands, I decided the first priority was to find a bed for her to hopefully fall asleep in. I inquired at the lodge as to availability. We, of course, had checked out of our room under the incorrect assumption that I was able to successfully complete a simple task like keeping the keys to the car in my possession while Kate hiked across one of the seven wonders of the world. The lodge, of course, was booked solid. Anticipating free loaders like ourselves, the lodge had also built all the seating in the small lobby out of wood which caused your rear end to ache after less than 30 minutes. A storm had blown in with 50 mile an hour winds. Walking around, assuming Kate could still walk, wasn't an option either.
Fearing that Kate was plotting my death, and hoping to put the squeeze on the reservation desk, I explained our desperate circumstances and again inquired if there was ANYTHING available. I planned to con someone from Alamo into bringing me the spare key, but needed somewhere to stash Kate for eight or nine hours until the key arrived. With a grin the kid behind the counter informed me that a suit was available at the El Tovar hotel for the measly price of $375 bucks. Before he could even finish the price I had shoved a credit card in his face. Sensing my urgent nature he inquired what was wrong. I just pointed to poor Kate sobbing in the corner - too afraid to sit down on the wood furniture for fear of not being able to stand back up. After shuttling Kate to the third floor, drugging her with some pain meds, and tucking her in for her $46.85 an hour nap, I scurried off to see who I could get to make the nine hour drive with our spare key.
Luckily for me my brother had nothing better to do with his Sunday than to drive down to my rescue. We left the south rim around 9:30 pm sunday night (after robbing the suit of all loose items to get even for the outrageous "afternoon rate") and after a quick stop in Vegas to pick up half of our kids we made it to our home around 4am. After insuring that kate and kids were sleeping soundly, I snuck out to go hunting with my brother in law, whose deer season opened that morning. Less than three hours later we shot the biggest mule deer I have ever seen! That, though, is a different story!
This year I was a driver. We picked up another couple at the airport in Vegas (there were 21 crazy souls who hiked this year) and headed for the the north rim. I was completely relaxed, loving every minute. Kate was a nervous wreck, constantly reviewing her lists and worrying about what to take and what to leave in the car. We had a cabin with two queen sized beds. She tossed and turned all night. I slept like a baby! The next morning I dumped them out at the trail head around 5:30 and cruised back to the lodge for breakfast. After eating way to much I made my way to the south rim to pick them up.Around 2pm I received a text from Kate telling me that she was three miles out. She was more than two hours ahead of our pace last year! Suddenly I realized that I was no longer going to be able to claim it was her that slowed us down the previous year.
Kate made it in just under 10 hours. The other couple riding with us finished in just over 13. I spent the day waiting on hikers at the trail head. Once they arrived I would get them into our Yukon, which is left running with the heater on so that the cab temp is about 90 degrees. We do this because it is rather cold and most of the hikers, once they stop moving, go into shock and start shivering uncontrollably. Also, the extreme heat seems to ease the muscle cramps that follow. After about 30 minutes in car I shuttle them up to their hotel for a hot bath (and most a strong drink).
All went well with the hike....the problems began shortly thereafter! I had separated the remote unlock device from the actual key so that I could keep the car running but locked so to avoid someone driving off with our car (yes I realize 99.9 percent of the visitors to the grand canyon are either foreigners on a bus tour or complete granolas....but I don't trust granolas...). Somehow, that night, after dropping everyone off and parking the car, the key slipped out of my hand and fell in the parking lot. Later on that night I located the remote unlock device in my pocket and assumed the key was still attached. It wasn't until the next day that I realized I had no key.
Upon returning to the parking lot I quickly located the key, silently thanked granolas and foreigners everywhere for being honest, and proceeded to try and start the car. Try was the key word here. Upon turning the key the dash lit up with the words "anti theft device engaged". I tried it a couple more times, same results. I tried it a few more times for good measure. The damn car was calling me a thief!
After helping Kate out of the room and down the stairs (muscles don't work very well on day two....) I explained the situation and she informed me that onstar would fix my stupidity. After being assured by onstar they could fix the problem with a simple satellite reset, I sent everyone on their way and waited for onstar to do its magic.
An hour later onstar informed us they could do nothing, we had damaged the computer chip in the key (who knew the damn key had a computer chip) and that we could either use the spare key (located in Alamo 400 miles away) or be towed to the nearest town with a dealership and wait for it to open monday so that the system could be re-programmed. Kate simply responded with tears...and when I say tears...I mean irrational, crazy, tired, inconsolable tears! She wanted to be in her bed at home now, and she meant now! She wanted our kids, who were farmed out with family members in two different cities, by her side. She wanted out, and she wanted out now!
Realizing I had an injured, sore, borderline crazy woman on my hands, I decided the first priority was to find a bed for her to hopefully fall asleep in. I inquired at the lodge as to availability. We, of course, had checked out of our room under the incorrect assumption that I was able to successfully complete a simple task like keeping the keys to the car in my possession while Kate hiked across one of the seven wonders of the world. The lodge, of course, was booked solid. Anticipating free loaders like ourselves, the lodge had also built all the seating in the small lobby out of wood which caused your rear end to ache after less than 30 minutes. A storm had blown in with 50 mile an hour winds. Walking around, assuming Kate could still walk, wasn't an option either.
Fearing that Kate was plotting my death, and hoping to put the squeeze on the reservation desk, I explained our desperate circumstances and again inquired if there was ANYTHING available. I planned to con someone from Alamo into bringing me the spare key, but needed somewhere to stash Kate for eight or nine hours until the key arrived. With a grin the kid behind the counter informed me that a suit was available at the El Tovar hotel for the measly price of $375 bucks. Before he could even finish the price I had shoved a credit card in his face. Sensing my urgent nature he inquired what was wrong. I just pointed to poor Kate sobbing in the corner - too afraid to sit down on the wood furniture for fear of not being able to stand back up. After shuttling Kate to the third floor, drugging her with some pain meds, and tucking her in for her $46.85 an hour nap, I scurried off to see who I could get to make the nine hour drive with our spare key.
Luckily for me my brother had nothing better to do with his Sunday than to drive down to my rescue. We left the south rim around 9:30 pm sunday night (after robbing the suit of all loose items to get even for the outrageous "afternoon rate") and after a quick stop in Vegas to pick up half of our kids we made it to our home around 4am. After insuring that kate and kids were sleeping soundly, I snuck out to go hunting with my brother in law, whose deer season opened that morning. Less than three hours later we shot the biggest mule deer I have ever seen! That, though, is a different story!
Working Vacations
Working vacations are always interesting. My experience has been that such events always morph into either work or vacation, not the even balance envisioned during the planning stages. For that reason it was with some trepidation I planned to take Kate with me on my Midwest swing last month. Turns out she definitely helped me transform the rather mundane trip into a definite adventure! I love that girl!
To be honest, though, I never thought it would happen. I was under some extreme spousal heat for missing the last two family get-aways due to work overload and my broken leg. However, my overwhelming work / handicap theory was somewhat compromised when information was leaked that the men in my family (including me) were going on a seven day fishing trip to Alaska in July. This revelation brought my wife to ask, what about us? “Us, I responded…..(pause…pause….re-group)... I was hoping that you could join me on my Midwest trip in June.” Wow, I thought. That was ingenious. There is little chance we could find a babysitter for a whole week…and, if so, I would still be able to work while she vacationed!
I normally would never have entertained the idea of Kate accompanying me to the Midwest. The trips are always fast paced with lots of travel and extremely long work days. I don’t mind the accelerated pace. My thought process is that I might as well be doing something instead of sitting at a hotel in who knows where thinking about how miserable I am being away from my family. For that reason I usually cram four or five states into a week. A normal loop would entail stops in Minnesota, Illinois, Michigan, Indiana, Colorado, and Utah if necessary.
Kate was immediately suspicious of the trip, asking what she would do while I worked. I explained she could sleep in and do some shopping. I also promised not to work too late so we could go out on the town. I explained that Chicago supposedly had the best shopping in the world. Her eyes lit up. Yes, I had mentioned my wife’s heroin – shopping. She was hooked.
In less than 24 hours she had lined up a babysitter and informed me she needed our itinerary so she could plan her events. I wondered out loud, what in the hell have I done?
After some negotiations between us it was decided I would limit our trip to three major stops, two in Michigan and one in Illinois (the thought of Kate loose in Mall of America was just too much). Before we knew it we were on our way. Late Sunday night we checked into the Kalamazoo Radisson. The next morning I was off to Grand Rapids to meet with attorneys. I left Kate asleep in bed and after a few hours of travel started to feel guilty. What was Kate going to do all day in Kalamazoo Michigan? During a break that morning I called her cell but got no answer. I tried again after lunch to no avail. I had visions of her in the room so mad at me she refused to answer my calls. I was excited to see her call an hour or so later and was somewhat shocked to hear that she was having no problem filling her time. She reported that, after breakfast in bed, she had gone to the spa for a pedicure / manicure, followed by a relaxing lunch by the pool. She then requested that I be home early so we could visit the Piano Bar where some American idol had gotten his start (the lady at the spa had told her all about it!!!) With all the action she had been so “tied up” that she hadn’t had a chance to call me back. Wow, I thought, this trip isn’t going to be cheap!
The next day we decided to hit the road and see some sites. Top on our list was lunch with Lyndsay in the metropolis of Toledo. In between we stopped to see the campus’s of the Notre Dame Fighting Irish and Michigan Wolverines. Very impressive!
We met Lyndsay at the local BBQ joint (much to my delight) and had a great chat. Eric was tied up at the hospital (or so she said….our suspicion is that they have separated….). It was good to see Lynds and we spent an hour or so catching up on all the latest. Apparently with the economy tanking and industry failing there is a steady stream of environmental lawsuits over companies dumping their inventory, waste products, and dead bodies, into the river to save disposal fees. Such actions are bad for the fish but great for Lyndsay. She was extremely busy. It was great to see her. Much to my surprise we appear to be the first to visit Lynds in Toledo. Come on guys, it is right around the corner!!!!!
Somewhere between Toledo and Kalamazoo I got the munchies. We exited in the middle of nowhere to an old time gas station on a dirt road. I sent Kate in while I fueled up. Kate reported that the place was run by a father and son combo, both appearing to be over 40 and from the “back woods”. The place had no fountain drinks and the two seemed to be simultaneously operating a 1940’s cash register while staring at her in a rather disturbing manner. Between both open mouths staring at her Kate counted no more than five teeth. We were the only car at the place. It appeared possible we were the only car that may have stopped that week. Kate, following my orders, grabbed a few bags of different candies to tide us over on our journey. Upon reaching the register one commented rather tactfully, “Hungry?”. Kate just about ran, but stuck in there for my sake. Again, what a great women! She was creeped out for miles. I enjoyed the snacks!
That night we traveled to Chicago. Knowing I would be tied up in meetings for a couple of days, I reserved us a room in the downtown Marriot, located within the famous miracle mile shopping district. I love Marriot because it is normally a quiet place to stay with great service. The exception would be Chicago!
Upon arrival the bellman told me our upper level view overlooking the city was actually a 5th story room staring at a neighboring building less than five feet away. To complicate things the reserved King sized room actually was a room with two twin sized beds, smoking. I explained that we were on vacation from Vegas and really were not looking forward to twin beds in a smoking room on the 5th floor to which I was told something might open up later in the week if we would call down each morning! I was livid!
After a couple of sad looks from Kate I knew what I must do. I reluctantly took out my wallet and checked us into the five star Conrad Hotel located next door. I had stayed there on another trip (company bill of course) and remembered the outstanding service. What I didn’t remember what the price of outstanding service. However, It was connected to the mall which my wife found extremely appealing.
The hotel was amazing (as it should have been for the price). Kate was in heaven. The following day, while in a mediation, I received a call from Kate that made me laugh. It went something like this. Kate -“Hey honey, when you coming home?” Sean -“Well I don’t know, mediation is going kind of slow.” Kate-“Oh, darn.. I was hoping we could go to the theatre tonight….Mary Poppin’s is playing at the world famous Cadillac Theatre downtown…” Sean -“Mary Poppins….I don’t know if I could handle that.” Kate -“Oh, ok, darn…was really hoping that…” Sean- “Ok, I could suck it up I guess…what time?” Kate-“Well, we don’t have tickets yet. I am kind of tied up right now and was hoping you could jump on line and book them for us. The lady here says it is really easy on line.” Sean-“What lady? Do you realize I am in the middle of a mediation?” Kate-The lady putting my makeup on. I am at the Mack (spelling?) counter at Nordstrom’s and she is showing me what makeup works best for my complexion.” Sean- “Um….what?” Kate-“Oh, never mind, we don’t have to go…” Sean-“No, listen, I will try and see what I can do.
Needless to say I made the time, booked the tickets, and we attended the show (and it was a amazingly done). I actually thought the play/theatre itself was better than some we have seen on Broadway. However, if this is brought up at any future date I would adamantly deny it!
After a couple more days of work I took a day off and spent it doing what Kate wanted to do. We did some architectural tour on the water of all the buildings, walked the Miracle “heart attack” Mile, etc, and then caught a White Sox game that night. To please me she agreed to eat greasy Chicago Style pizza at numerous joints all over town. It turned out to be one of our best getaways.
Kate is already wondering when I plan to visit Minneapolis next. She is quite interested in the Mall of America.
Redneck Easter
Hope you all had a wonderful Easter. Ours, well…..was unforgettable. Let me share.
The Stewarts love to get together for Easter. Kate’s family takes a pass on the celebration and settles for a Sunday meal instead. BORING! On the Stewart side mom is the planner, making sure every detail is thought through from the Easter eggs to the potato salad. Normally it is held at my parent’s house in Alamo. This year the rain forced festivities inside. I, being the thoughtful son, offered our home as an alternate location. Our home is a little bigger than my parents and gives the grandkids more places roam.
Suggesting such a thing, however, is a delicate process. My mother is a Holt, and they are an interesting breed. Holts (in general) never say what they feel, but react in generalities and then hide true emotion for years on end. My mother is the master of hiding both emotion and information. Everything is top secret. For example, I will say to her, did you hear what happened to so and so? She will respond, no, what? I will explain and she will remark, wow, I had no idea. Days later I will find out she knew all along and in most occasions knew way more than I did! Very sneaky.
They (Holts) also are masters of hiding their true feelings on any subject. This knowledge worried me as I thought through how I possibly would phrase the offer of our home in a way that was perceived as non-threatening and genuine. The conversation went something like this. Dad, Sean here, let me talk to mom. (it is necessary to immediately bypass dad because he is the worst at dealing with the Holt approach. Dad is to honest, always saying exactly what he is feeling. I have seen the directness of Stewarts and the evasiveness of Holts clash on may occasions and did not wish to witness it again on such a wonderful Saturday morning) If I had used dad as an intermediary it would have gone something like this…Dad, want you to know that we would be happy to host the event today if you and mom felt it would be a better venue, considering the weather. Dad would have replied, wait a second let me ask your mother. Kathy, Sean thinks our house is too small for everyone and wants to take over the event by moving it to his place!.
No, that would have been bad.. So instead, the conversation went something like this. Mom, Sean here….it is still raining. Were you planning on doing the Easter egg hunt outside? You know, you do a great job with this….and I don’t want to butt in…believe me….but I wanted you to know that, if you would like, you are welcome to use our house if it would help in any way. Pause…….hold breath……. Silence…… awkward silence….time to speak………because, you know….we don’t have grass yet but the basement might be a fun place to hide eggs out of the rain…….. and then she responded. Let me think about it. Can I call you back?
Call me back? What did that mean? Was she offended? Was she really thinking about it, or busy with something else? Was she trying to figure out how to tell me no without hurting my feelings? Does she know I don’t really care and am trying to be nice, or does she feel pressured because she thinks my mind is set on this…….. and then it dawns on me… I am half Holt… I turn to see Kate shaking her head at me. Seriously, she says with some sarcasm, do you think you might be overanalyzing this one? She clearly doesn’t understand.
An hour or so later the phone rang and our offer was accepted. The Easter party was moved to our house and before long the family started to arrive. All Stewart parties begin (and often end) with food As always, my mother had prepared enough food for five parties. I of course ate like it would be my last meal, gorging myself with baked beans and ham, desserts I can’t pronounce, and any candy that happened to be in my direct path. After an hour or so of eating I rolled myself to the couch and attempted to pass out.
Shortly after my eyes had closed I was awaken to the announcement that the Easter egg hunt was ready to begin. Mom, of course, takes the time honored tradition of an Easter egg hunt to a new level. Each grandchild chose a number that corresponded with numbers written on the eggs. The child was to hunt only for eggs with their number. Each child had 15 eggs to find. Each egg had coupons to be redeemed by Grandpa for gifts appropriate for each child. The rules alone took five minutes to review. What happened to the old fashion, free for all, push each other and run to find real eggs?
After the hunt the kids dispersed to play x-box, dress-ups, and tea parties. The men assembled in what is supposed to be the back yard to shoot clay pigeons. The back yard overlooks the fields and our cattle herd. How more redneck can you get than shooting clay pigeons out of your back yard? After a few hundred rounds and the successful shattering of four or five clay pigeons, we lost interest and assumed our positions on the couch. I was dozing in and out while attempting to watch the dodger game. I could hear Kate and the other ladies complaining about messy kids and husbands who don’t listen from somewhere in the kitchen. Life doesn’t get any better.
Then, I was awaken by my son who had seen pigeons landing on the roof and was in need of assistance. Pigeons are messy creatures who do their business all over our nice roof. As a result, we have issued an extermination order for any pigeon who dares to fly by or roost near our home. Duston and I crept along each side of the home. When the pigeons fly we have a clear shot at them. Again, doesn’t get more red-neck than this! After exterminating a few we returned to the garage to put away our weapons a resume our positions on the couch. It was then I saw it, my KTM 450 glowing in the corner, begging for a ride. It called out to me in a way only at KTM can. I was drawn to it.
I knew it was wrong. The family was here, and nowhere in the agenda was there a place for riding dirtbikes. It had just stopped raining, and the ground was moist. I pictured myself flying over the doubles, wind on my cheeks and smell of exhaust in the air. I decided just to start it to see how it was running. It sounded so good. I was in nice clothes and decided to forego the pain of putting on riding pants and boots, but did grab my helmet.
It had been weeks since I had ridden. The bike purred as I gave it some throttle and headed for he first small jump. We had just watched last week’s Supercross and I was feeling quite bold. There was a wagon parked on top of the jump and I was so focused on the path around the wagon I overlooked the rock that had been kicked up in front of me. My front tire hit the rock turning me and the bike sideways. Instead of going around the jump and trying again I decided to give it a bit more gas to straighten out. It had worked in the past and made so much sense…when in trouble go faster…
The increase in acceleration lifted the front end off of the ground. And I could feel myself slipping to the back of the bike. For a moment I thought I could save it. It was a short moment. As I reached the crest of the jump my bike and I parted ways. I remember thinking to myself that the decision to sneak in a ride during the Easter get together was not one of my best decisions. I also remember thinking how hard the ground looked below and wondering if anyone was watching this madness. I attempted to tuck but landed on my knees in a most ungraceful fashion. As I finally came to a stop and could breath I noticed my legs twisted like a pretzel. That can’t be good I thought.
I am not the best with pain. I rolled around for a while groaning. My brother in law and most of the kids had witnessed the spectacle from nearby and came to my aid. My son Jerett asked me what I was doing on the ground. Not wanting to alarm him I told him I was just taking a break. He remarked that I was getting all dirty and mom was going to be very angry. He was right, mom was going to be very angry.
After getting me to the house and getting the shoe off of the left foot I was evaluated by two family EMT’s. Both tugged and prodded and announced it was likely just a sprain. I was propped up and when all seemed to be under control my dad took the opportunity to reiterate his position on dirtbikes and the idiots who ride them. I had just ordered a new bike for Duston and I remembered it was to be delivered that very afternoon. Sweat formed on my forehead as I pictured the delivery of yet anther death machine to my house with the family still in town. Could this afternoon get any better?
My wife was furious. Furious at me for being so stupid and furious at the family for doting over me despite my stupidity. After an hour or so the crowd dispersed. Shortly thereafter the new bike arrived. Luck was back on my side.
Monday x-rays revealed a broken leg. Nice one Sean. I am trying to learn the art of crutches and swearing a lot during the process. That, though, will have to be another update.
March 2009 Update
Duston, our straight A student had a down semester receiving a B and B+ last quarter. I have such a hard time backing up Kate as she scolds and reprimands his performance. I was such a horrible student. What a hypocrite I am! He gave us the song and dance about how math was hard for him and how he really tried hard in social studies but the teacher was mean etc. etc. etc. I totally bought it. Kate, though, read right through him. Against he recommendation, I told Duston I would get him a new dirt bike if he could ace the rest of the year. He gave me those puppy dog eyes and promised to try his best. Last week grades were out and he miraculously aced the quarter. This has further fueled Kate’s fire that my judgment as a parent is often not the best.
Jerett….oh sweet Jerett…..is slowly coming around. Last semester her received a healthy helping of M- (meets standards - ) in the areas of pays attention, is courteous to others, listens in class, follows instructions, etc. This semester he had raised the bar to M and M+! we are ecstatic. Duston is screaming foul.
Mikelle just found out that we are taking them to Disneyland. She has begun to make a list of all the princesses she must meet. She tells me daily, “Oh daddy, it is a dream come true”. She has learned to lecture and sounds exactly like Kate. Sometimes she follows Kate around the house shaking her finger and following up on mom’s remarks.
Jesse James is mobile, and I am starting to think that the name might have been a bad omen! This kid is the happiest, most devious child I have ever met. Like a whirlwind he works the room dismantling anything he can reach. It is going to be a long 18 years.
Kate is training hard for the Salt Lake half marathon next month. I don’t know how she finds the time.
Me, well I am still me. Not a lot of training going on. I can be found with a Pepsi and Twinkie almost daily. I find myself saying things my dad used to say, which is quite scary. I have my first few gray hairs and am not coping too well with that!
Retro D.C.
Almost eight years ago I found myself in Washington DC with my father-in-law on one of his lobbying visits. It was the day before inauguration of George W. Bush, and we were scheduled to fly out the next day, hours before the event. I was sort of disappointed that I was going to miss what I viewed as a historic day. That evening we walked down the street to the White house and stood outside the gates chatting about the country and anticipated change the next few years would bring. At this time in my life I was in my last semester of college and was making preparations for law school, assuming some institution accepted me. I was working two jobs with a combined salary of 13 bucks an hour, my wife was a stay at home mom with baby Duston, and had not yet discovered the world of online shopping. Life for us was fairly…ok REALLY simple.
As we stood near the west wing entrance, two young men (mid twenties I assume) exited the west wing carrying a couple of boxes. I assumed they were Clinton staff members in the process of cleaning out their desks. As they approached the gate one of the men asked us if we were with the Bush staff. I said no, not really wanting to discuss politics with a guy who had just lost his job. He then asked if we supported Gore in the General Election. I realized then there was no avoiding a confrontation. My father-in-law informed them we were Bush supporters who unfortunately would be missing inauguration the next day. One of the men, noticeably irritated, snapped back at us that Republicans were a joke, and that he and his buddy would be back in four years. After making that comment the two just stood there in the dark staring at us. Seeing my chance to inject a little Tombstone dialogue into the conversation I simply replied, “Well……….bye……..” I am quite sure neither were fans of the Tombstone movie, because they stormed off without comment.
I realized something that night that had never dawned on me in four years studying political science. Politics in Washington is more than a struggle of ideals, good and bad, right and wrong, liberal and conservative. Politics for most of Washington is a livelihood which they will protect and defend as such. So much of what is done in Washington (both D’s and R’s) is driven not by ideals and new ideas, but by career politicians and staff that have the goal of gaining power and remaining employed.
As I watched the events unfold last night from the confines of my comfy couch I couldn’t help by wonder what the next eight years will bring. I realized I was watching the exact opposite of 2000, with yet another shift in power from one party to another. President Elect Obamma’s words were well written and delivered with eloquence. However, I still could not help but wonder how much of an influence the career organizers, politicians, staff, campaign contributors, and advisors would have on this new presidency. I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. However, don’t be too shocked if we see more of the same.
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