Summer Begins

Right on cue, the temperatures rise and the sun becomes a near-permanent fixture in the sky. Lake swimming has achieved non-wetsuit tolerability, my arms have begun to show the proverbial geek-farmer tan, and my friends have begun to steel themselves to withstand several months of my incoherent ranting about the oppressive heat. I haven't started threatening to move to Alaska or Antarctica yet, but you know it's coming.

(Having a reputation as an incoherent ranter has its avantages. While you "normal" people always have to monitor your speech to avoid saying something stupid or obnoxious, those of us who have already been labeled as blathering kooks can operate without filters, and can speak our so-called "minds" without fear of being laughed at any more than we usually are. Sweet!)

Anyway, the start of summer has brought some enjoyable times with it. I've gone to a couple of very entertaining Rockies games (including one where Todd Helton hit a walkoff homer -- yea Todd!). I've gotten to hang out with my son and totally dominate him on the basketball court. (Um. No, you don't need to verify that with him...you can take my word for it. Seriously, put down that telephone!) My running has been less tragic than usual, and I've had a couple of pretty decent lake swims. (Note to other Chatfield Swimmers: If you wear a dark wetsuit and a dark swimcap, and never look where you're going...you shouldn't be surprised when somebody smacks into you. You're practically invisible, dude.)

Other adventures lie before us during this sweltering season, and I shall attempt to chronicle them for you. Stay tuned, stay cool, and have a great day!

Chores and Errands

Regular readers know that I am domestically challenged.

While unquestionably gifted with Hollywood good looks, the body of a Greek God, and the intelligence of Stephen Hawking and Alex Trebek combined, I must confess that I'm somewhat of an underachiever in the Home Maintenance department. If I attempt to do the things that most American males consider to be their weekend household responsibilities (ie, mowing, minor electrical repair, working on machinery, painting, etc.), there will most likely be blood, twisted wreckage of some sort, and more often than not...flames, and a call to 911. I am not proud of this lack of skill, but there's nothing I can do about it. A finite amount of handymanliness is allocated to each family, I'm afraid, and my father and brother absorbed it all -- while I am left with mere beauty and genius. Sigh.

But as I said, most of you already know that about me. So it shouldn't surprise you to learn that while my clothes dryer has been underperforming for months, I hadn't yet done anything about it. It had been taking 4 to 6 hours to dry a moderate-sized load of unmentionables, and my permanent-press shirts were coming out looking like Yoda's forehead. It was finally time to take action. A brief investigation revealed that the vent system was clogged, and that special tools and talents (which I do not possess) would be required. I called a local specialist and set up an appointment.

They arrived at the appointed time, which was a good sign. They explained the process to me, along with a warning that if the ductwork was not up to code, their machinery could possibly destroy it, leaving me with some major repair expenses. Of course, if I didn't get the vent cleaned, logic tells us all that the dryer would eventually burst into flames and set fire to the entire apartment complex, which would probably then ignite the neighboring residences, which would eventually burn the local forests, which would make Smokey the Bear very, very sad.

After his exam, the expert concluded that the birds had spent the winter building an avian version of Trump Towers inside my vent system. Fortunately, they had moved out for the summer, so we weren't burdened with serving an eviction notice. But if they return, they'll find that they are no longer welcome at this particular establishment. And after the nests and accumulated lint were expunged, the dryer worked flawlessly, and my future laundry times have been reduced by a quantum amount. I had to spend a few bucks, but no one was injured, nothing exploded, and the results were exactly what I had hoped for. Well worth it!

The rest of the day was spent running other errands. First, a trip to Home Depot to purchase a dryer-vent bird-entry prevention screen. (I found that it didn't fit when I got it home, but that's another story.) Then a visit to REI to start the process of learning about Mountain Bikes. (This, too, will be an ongoing saga, I'm afraid.) Then to Best Buy to look at camera bags, and finally over to visit Tanner to check on status of the new piano videos and website posting of the new band music. (Status report: Nothing has been done. I wish I had some sort of effective punishment to apply when he goes into slacker mode like that.)

But my day ended with one additional major accomplishment: I finally cleaned out my linen closet! During this process, I found a bike jersey that had been MIA for about a year, and re-discovered the whereabouts of my vast collection of 1970s turtlenecks. And again, the chore was accomplished without structural damage, flesh wounds, or insurance claims. This project was also 100% successful; I now have my clothing so totally organized that Martha Stewart would be intimidated.

Of course, I may have used up my monthly allocation of energy for home projects, so I should probably take it easy for the next few weeks. If I do decide to make another foray into the depths of domesticity, I'll be sure to let you know. In the meantime, please take a moment to check your dryer vent (and the rest of your home) for fire hazards, and have a great day!

Nachos

My sister-in-law had 2 extra tickets to the Rockies vs. Rays baseball game on Wednesday, and generously offered them to me and a guest. I wanted to take Bob Saget, because I know that listening to his witty commentary would make the game SO much better -- but he wasn't available. So I invited Tanner. He agreed to go on the condition that I'd feed him somewhere during the evening. Fair enough.

I had no idea the Rays had dropped the "Devil" prefix from their team name. I suppose I can understand it, of course...there's that whole unfortunate association with Satan that I'm sure they'd prefer to avoid. (It's the same reason the Dodgers dropped the "Hitler" from their name back in the 50s.) But it's regrettable in the sense that younger fans may not ever know that their team name is based on a lovely and graceful marine creature, and not something associated with the rays of the sun, that dreadful Ray J. Johnson, or even (gag) Ray Romano.

On the other hand, I'm not sure a ripply-winged fish is really a mascot that conjures up visions of baseball prowess, either.

But I'm not sure I really want to pursue that line of thought, either. I mean, the name "Rockies" either provokes images of solid, immobile, and snow-capped mountains, or the guys in this photo:

Not really capturing the ideas of great pitching and solid defense, are we? (I suppose it could be argued that the boxing gloves symbolize solid hitting, but let's not push the metaphor too hard, shall we?)

Still, I suppose that even having mountains for a team theme is better than some in the league. I mean, I'd hate to be called the "Reds", for example, especially in this era where our government is trying so hard to become completely socialist. I'm not sure I'd want to be Sox, Mets, or "A"s, either. (And let's just leave the Braves/Indians/Chiefs/Redskins racism allegations for another discussion forum, OK?) I would definitely argue that being named for the world's coolest mountain range is superior to being birds, fish, or even snakes...but I digress. What we're really talking about here is how much fun it is to go to a good ballgame with friends and family.

Our seats were excellent -- about 10 rows up from the Rockies' dugout. And the game was a good one, with the home team providing thrills, drama, a few moments of doubt, and the ultimate victory.

The only complaint I have about the entire evening is a minor one indeed: I had a little trouble with my food. Oh, it was tasty enough -- ballpark dogs and nachos are essential ingredients in the overall baseball experience. But I need to figure out a better way to carry a condiment-laden weiner, a gigantic diet Coke, and the nearly-inadequate cardboard box full of gooey chili n' cheese-coated chips.

No, let me amend that; it's not carrying the food that causes the problem -- it's having to show your ticket to the usher while you're carrying all this artery-clogging booty. And you have to do this while salivating like Pavlov's dog, watching the next pitch, and trying to avoid the cotton candy vendors clogging the stairway with their giant overhead board-o-sugar. And if you're me, you also have the challenge of eating these treats without spilling chili and mustard on your pants once you've sat down and begun your meal.

The good news is that I somehow made it back to my seat without spillage. The bad news is that my shorts did end up with enough goo on them to feed a third-world orphanage. It wasn't pretty. But man, was it good!

And Liane, bless her soul, had the vision and foresight to also bring along large boxes of Hot Tamales and Jr. Mints. So even when the dog and nachos were already busy fighting it out deep inside my stomach, there was still some tasty stuff to cram into my ravenous face. Combine that fact with the pleasant company, the perfect weather, and a Rockies victory, and you've got an evening that's just plain hard to beat. I had an excellent time!

And even though I woke up tired and, um, more gravity-prone the next day, I thought of my college Psychology professor's "Second Law of Life": A bad morning is never too high a price to pay for an excellent evening. How true. How true.

Anyway, my friends, I hope you'll have a chance to get out to Coors Field sometime this season. If you do, and are able to hang out with your kids and eat ballpark food, I guarantee you'll have a great day!

Going Green

OK, it's time to make it official -- the term "Go Green" is over, done, finished, and kaput. If you say it in my presence, you may find my knuckles up against your nose.

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing at all against recycling -- in fact, I usually buy the products with the most plastic and cardboard packaging just so I'll have MORE to recycle. And I've got nothing against saving energy; why, I often turn out the lights and shut off my computer while I'm at work, just to minimize my carbon footprint. In fact, I think I could be talked in to not going into the office at all, out of my sheer love for this beautiful planet on which we live.

But seriously, people, let's just stop using that oh-so-annoying phrase. Please! Let's take "Go Green" and stick it in the same landfill where we put "Where's the Beef?" and "Hey, Macarena". And we don't have to replace it with any new buzzwords, either. If there's anyone in this country who hasn't yet been exposed to the rationale behind conserving our resources, well -- they will be. Our school system is creating an unstoppable horde of street-preaching Eco-Nazis who will ensure that the future of our planet is secured via non-stop badgering of parents...until every single candy-bar wrapper, milk carton, and salsa jar is thrown into the proper bin. (These kids don't understand how to use a belt to hold up their pants, or which direction the bill of a baseball cap goes, but they can give you a boatload of detailed statistics on how long it takes cellophane to decompose. Sigh.)

[Of course, nobody really knows how the recycling process works. I suspect that the labor, machinery, and energy required to separate the junk mail from the tinfoil from the pop bottles, etc., consumes more of the Earth's resources than it would take to find and process brand new raw materials...but what do I know? And anyway, if we just heaved all that stuff in the dump and let Mother Nature recycle it -- which she certainly will (albeit slowly) -- then we wouldn't be able to feel all hand-holdy and huggy, and wouldn't be tempted to buy the world a Coke (which we could then recycle). Right?]

Anyway, my point is that we've discussed the subject to the point where we should be able to expect intelligent people to make good choices about their consumption. And that given practical alternatives, those people will almost always choose behaviors that are good for the planet. Without the need for slogans, guilt trips, and bumper stickers!

Actually, I should say "behaviors that are good for the humans on the planet". Let's face it -- the Earth itself doesn't care one whit about what we do to it. No matter what happens, the nearly-closed-system ecology of the planet will find a way to adapt. And no matter how inhospitable this rock may become for humans, there will certainly be some sort of life form that positively thrives under those conditions. So let's be clear that all of our moralizing about recycling and consumption is not about the Earth at all, or even about the "green" stuff, but is strictly a form of ego-centric self-interest for human beings. Oh, we may get all misty about plants and trees and animals and stuff...but it's only because we want to eat them and build stuff out of them.

But don't get me wrong: I'm not urging anyone to be wasteful or unconcerned. Not at all -- I just don't want to hear anything more, EVER, about "Going Green". Is that too much to ask?

So let's just keep researching solar & wind power, finding ways to be more efficient, and sending hate mail to manufacturers who use that @#$! super-hard plastic bubble wrap to package their products. Let's plant trees, adopt highways, and bike to work -- it's all good.

Just don't say...you know...that phrase.

Thank you for your support, and have a great day!