Some Days, You Don't Feel Philosophical, Either

As a professional philosopher and distributor of keen insight and deep wisdom, I strive to embark on each day's journey with my eyes open to all the world's wonders, and my mind ready to organize new data into manageable packets. It takes tremendous mental bandwidth to distill the enormity of the human experience into the easily digestible tidbits you find posted here. But some days, I come up with more questions than answers.

For example, was there ever actually a time when banks stored money in sacks with dollar signs stenciled on the side? And were there ever really bombs that were simply black spheres with a sparking fuse? Was there ever a time when people could live healthy and happy lives without government-mandated nutrition labeling on all their food?

I doubt it. But what I really want to know is how one goes about becoming a competitor in the sport of skeleton? I live in the premier winter sports state, and have yet to see a roadside sign or direct-mail flyer for a little league skeleton camp. I do understand why "luge" isn't popular around here -- it's a French word, and therefore must be totally gay. But "skeleton" sounds like an awesome name for a sport (though I must admit that when I first heard about it, I assumed it meant something completely different.)

Anyway, the point is that I am really looking forward to Spring. I've been in a bit of an exercise slump ever since I caught that cold back in January, and have found it difficult to get psyched for running and riding when there's snow, wind, and general gloom dominating the forecasts. But as the days lengthen and the temperatures climb, I'm sure I'll find my groove.

(Side question: Why are we still using the Fahrenheit temperature scale? It's rather silly. And don't get me started on how much more logical it would be to use the metric system. I had no reason to doubt my fourth-grade teacher who predicted we'd convert by 1980...but somehow the powerful inch-pound lobby has managed to repress progress the way the Spanish Inquisition repressed Galileo, Darwin, and other pillars of science.)

Perhaps the coming warmth will also kickstart my philosophization engine so that I can once again fill these pages with thought-provoking discussion fuel rather than political rants and lengthy jeremiads of egocentric self pity. Let's hope so. In the meantime, good luck in all of your bomb-disposal efforts...and have a great day!

Brainstorming Input Needed

Quick...name one other person, fictional or real-life, anytime throughout history, who possessed a "youthful ward." And no, a teenage June Cleaver doesn't count. You know what I mean.

I just find it interesting that are certain words that everyone knows, but only use in very specific circumstances. The only time you'd ever use the word "stately" is to describe Wayne Manor. And if you use the word "dread" as an adjective rather than a noun, you're probably talking about a very specific pirate. And everyone knows that the phrase "One point twenty one" is only used when discussing jiggawatts.

Other words have two or three uses. "Abominable" could refer to Dr. Phibes, or a snowman, or the Rockies' pitching. (This is not to be confused with the word Obaminable, which is generally used to refer to poorly-conceived healthcare legislation.) "Brobdingnagian" can refer to either the federal deficit, or Rosie O'Donnell.

So, as long as we're talking about the skilled use of language, let me ask today's ultra-simple trivia question: What is the next (classic) line of dialog that follows the scene depicted above?

Anyway, while I have neither the Caped Crusader's intellectual prowess nor his finely-honed athleticism, I do sometimes feel as he must have when confronting those nuns. You see -- I, too, have important goals I wish to accomplish, but occasionally find myself hampered by the unexpected appearance of obstacles.

Here is a truncated list of the roadblocks that I'm currently blaming for my lack of success:

• The Colorado Lottery. By continually thwarting my retirement plans by awarding the jackpots to other people, the Lottery is directly responsible for the hours I am forced to spend earning a paycheck. The swine.
• Mother Nature. I have tried to warm the planet with my flagrant overuse of aerosols and fossil fuels, but stupid Nature continues to throw out cold temperatures, snow, and that evil, evil wind. How the heck am I supposed to get my running and biking in under these conditions? I am willing to endure some hardship to achieve my athletic goals, but asking me to put on long pants, gloves, and a hat...well, that's just too much.

• Netflix. Sure, the Winter Olympics were a distraction...but only a temporary one. And I spent far less time watching than I would have if they'd have broadcast the curling competition during prime time. But even when the networks oblige my needs and motivate me toward other activities by showing nothing but vile crap, Netflix continues to offer irresistible temptations. No one could fight the urge to sit immobile in front of the tube for the full run of a movie where Bruce Campbell is a convict who reluctantly finds himself battling shape-shifting aliens in an isolated and snowbound airport.
• Entropy. If there were no dishes to wash, no vacuuming to do, and no such thing as laundry day, I would have time to be far more effective as an athlete and creative artist. But then again, perhaps it's not fair to blame a phenomenon of physics...after all, everyone has to deal with the same domestic chaos that I do. Perhaps I should blame genetics, instead, since my DNA seems to lack the "home chores" gene. Just as I will never be able to sprint, sing like Robert Goulet, or remain alert and intellectually functional after 8pm, I am afraid that I'll never be efficient at housekeeping. I will certainly continue to fight the battle, but I suspect that Mr. Entropy will wind up on the podium more often than I do. Sigh.

Anyway, as I've mentioned before, I am attempting to do one "new" thing each month of this year. I plan to do this month's item on the last day of February...but then I need to figure out what'll be on the agenda for the rest of the year.

It doesn't have to be anything that requires effort, nor does it have to be particularly interesting. It could be as simple as eating pancake syrup on a taco. (That might work for October or something. Stay tuned.)

I could try snowboarding, writing a letter blindfolded, or smoking marijuana. I could listen to an entire rap album, walk across hot coals, or read a Harry Potter book. Heck, it's not at all difficult to come up with a list of things I haven't done. After all, I've never kicked a ninja in the crotch, nor jumped naked into a pond full of alligators. But those don't sound like very good ideas.

Yeah, so I'm only going to choose things that sound like fun and won't harm me. The taco with syrup fits, and snowboarding might, too -- but probably none of the others I mentioned above. I have no desire to eat grasshoppers or snails, or to visit Cambodia, either.

But the general flow of life might take care of some of the months. I just received a Jury Summons for April, so if I actually serve, that would count. (I've been called in for jury duty in the past, but as soon as they learn that I support the death penalty for telemarketers, spammers, and people who don't use turn signals...they quickly dismiss me.) Perhaps my shiny new car will catch the eye of the Swedish Bikini Team and get me invited to a hot tub pizza party where live music is performed by the Rock Bottom Remainders. You never know.

In the meantime, I am asking for your help. If you have any ideas for novel (and hopefully inexpensive) activities that you think fit my personality and abilities, please let me know. Otherwise, I hope that no nuns interfere with your duties, and that you have a great day!

Ralph, Garth, and a Couple of Heroes

I'm not sure how I missed the news, but I just learned that Mary Grace Canfield (Ralph Monroe) passed away last week.

Bummer.

Oh well, at least she can now hook up with Hank Kimball at the great Pixley Bijou in the sky.

In other news, I guess Michael Phelps didn't win any medals at the Olympics this time. Hmm.

I didn't get to see that much of the competition, but from what I could tell, my skiing skills (even as they were back in college) probably wouldn't get me on the podium these days. Back when I was catching "big air", you could barely fit a tribble between my skis and the snow...and I thought I was practically in orbit. But these guys were making Evel Knievel look like a pteromerhanophobe.

I don't think I'll ever really understand the bobsled events. I would rather see them race their sleds across a frozen lake, so they'd have to push the entire way. That would seem more interesting to me. Not that there's anything wrong with gravity...

Oh, and by the way, the clip from "Zorro the Gay Blade" relates to the Winter Olympics because the music they play as Zorro gallops away is one of the songs that Brian Boitano skated to back when he was the Olympic champion. (It was adapted from "The Adventures of Don Juan," by Max Steiner.) It might be the second best riding song ever.

On a completely different topic, have you ever woken up laughing out loud?

I'm not sure I ever had until this weekend. I wish I could remember the dream in more detail, and especially the jokes, but I know it was hilarious.

All I can remember was that I was hanging out with Lord Garth, a 20-year-old Cher, and a blond that was either Heather Locklear, Elizabeth Mongomery, or some delightful combination of the two. Garth was entertaining us all with an impromptu stand-up routine about Obamacare and hobbits -- and everyone was rolling on the floor.

Usually I'm OK with waking up, but after that dream, I found myself truly disappointed that I had returned to reality. Still, the good feelings of humor and camaraderie persisted, and I found myself grinning throughout the morning.

I just wish I could remember the jokes. Oh well.

The rest of the weekend was good, too. On Saturday, I traveled with uber-historian David Dean Barrett out to Julesburg, Colorado to videotape a couple of veterans interviews.

If you have any spare time, and any interest in the foundation of greatness of the United States, I would strongly urge you to spend some time as a volunteer for the American Patriots History Association. It is a humbling and inspiring experience to listen to the stories of these wonderful guys who have fought for liberty and contributed so much to our country. Plus, every single interview contains some fascinating glimpse into a topic I had never imagined.

The first interview was with Lee Kizer, a Navy signalman whose ship was hit by a Kamikaze. He lost his front teeth in that attack...but it wasn't from an explosion or gunfire or anything. As the Kamikaze plane approached the bridge of his ship, the crew was ordered to run for cover, and he forgot that his headset was plugged into the command console. As he ran to exit the bridge, he reached the end of the cord like a dog reaching the end of his leash. He went down, as did all of the guys behind him, forming a pile that kept any of them reaching the doorway.

Fortunately, the Kamikaze hit elsewhere, causing damage that flooded the crew quarters; but it did not sink the ship. But even though his teeth fell out from the incident, he never saw a doctor nor applied for a Purple Heart.

After the war, he built a couple of successful businesses in Julesburg -- including a barbershop that he still operates in his 90s. He also dealt in real estate. And in his spare time, he has built an impressive museum that contains immaculate articles from bygone times. His collection includes magazines, newspapers, cars, bicycles, and a fascinating collection of old-time gasoline pumps. If that weren't enough, he has also restored the town's old ballroom dance hall, complete with many of the original musical instruments that were used by the swing bands that played there. When asked how he managed to accomplish so much in his life, he was ready with an answer: "I never took up golf," he said.



The other gentleman we interviewed was Ralph Turner, an infantry soldier who was captured by the Germans and spent nearly a year in various prison camps. As you can imagine, it wasn't anything like Hogan's Heroes. There were no daring escapes...their freedom was finally obtained when the Germans simply vacated the camp as the Allied forces drew near. The guys woke up one morning to find that they no longer had any guards. He still kept a notebook with a signature from the Welsh soldier in charge of the unit that helped get them on their way home.

Anyway, it was, as always, an honor and a privilege to record the stories of Mr. Kizer and Mr. Turner. If you ever visit Julesburg, but sure to stop by the museum, which is in the Old Ford Garage on main street. You can't miss it. And if you'd like to become part of this important history project, please contact APHA.

The rest of my weekend was consumed by the usual litany of chores and bookkeeping. I'm not sure how happy I should be about this one -- but I did manage to get my bank set up to automatically make my car payments. And I finally picked up my license plate so I can get the temp tag out of my back window. The fun part of Sunday, though, was timing each of the Brute Squad events at swim practice. I felt pretty good...but learned that I probably should've entered slower times for the State Meet.

Oh well, it probably doesn't matter where I'm seeded. In most of my events, the difference between a great swim and a terrible swim probably won't change my placing within my age group. And no matter how fast I go, I know I'll have fun at the meet. But it wouldn't hurt me to work out pretty hard for the next several weeks, would it?

Which reminds me, it's time to do my stretching, so I'm outtahere. Have a great day!

In the Dark

Do you recognize that famous photo?

It's from the first theatrical movie ever made; a documentary about the Apollo program. If I had more time, I would write a few paragraphs about how Georges Melies influenced my creative development and advanced the cause of science...but I'll leave that for another day.

(I will take a moment to note that the music in the hyperlinked clip above relates to the Winter Olympics in a significant way. Anybody know how?)

As for yesterday's trivia, well, I'm not surprised that everyone knew that "Viene la tormenta" was from "Terminator," which is the movie that convinced me to be very wary of so-called "artificial intelligence." I write my Congressman every few months to insist that they defund Cyberdyne, and spend the money on arming ordinary citizens instead.

(OK, you caught me. My technological wariness actually predates Arnold's rampage by a couple of decades. Who could fail to miss the dire warning contained in the story of the M5?)

Anyway, the point is that the moon was shining when I went for my pre-swim run this morning...but it didn't help.

I'm still trying to get back into my running routine, and to get my mileage back to where it needs to be after recovering from my cold. So I was happy that the temperature and wind were at least tolerable this morning. When I saw the moon (about half full) almost directly overhead, I concluded that I wouldn't need a headlamp. And if Ward Road wasn't closed, that conclusion might have been correct.

But because of the construction, I had to run on Coal Mine and Bowles. Something about the lighting on those streets supplemented the inadequacy of my night vision, and left me running pretty much blind--especially when cars would pass by and shine their headlights into my face.

What made it worse was the fact that there was still a lot of debris on the sidewalks from the giant windstorms. I lost count of how many branches and twigs I stepped on...but luckily there was only one trash can lying across the path, and I spotted it just in time. I made it back to the Ridge without injury, but the experience definitely made me re-think my headlamp threshold.

Of course, regular readers know that in my case, lessons learned are not necessarily lessons remembered. Feel free to make fun of me if I arrive at the pool bloody after another lampless moonlight jog. In the meantime, I urge you to try exercising several hours before sunrise; it's an excellent way to ensure that you have a great day!

Entropy

Hmmm. Maybe we ARE still in Kansas, Toto.

Nighttime is supposed to be peaceful; a time of uninterrupted slumber filled with dreams of ice cream and bikini models. And since my unit is sheltered by other buildings, I certainly don't expect to feel the walls shaking and the windows rattling. But that's what happened the other night. The horrific winds made so much of a ruckus that I couldn't sleep at all for more than an hour. Around 1:00 am, it abruptly calmed down...but the aftermath was evident in the parking lot the next morning.

I'm guessing my homeowner's dues will be going up. The new shingles they installed right before Christmas were now all strewn across the sidewalks and pavement. Tree branches littered the walkways. Shards of shattered gnomes and patio crockery crunched underfoot as I walked to my car.

Then this morning at 24-Hour Fitness, the hot tub was broken, two of the showers were out of order, and the swimsuit spinner machine was sealed off with the gym's version of crime scene tape. And when you put all this destruction on top of yesterday's musings about my own battles with brain malfunctions...well, it does make me wonder if we're closing in on Mad Max times. I'd probably start hoarding gasoline and Twinkies if I had anyplace to store stuff.

Oh well. The good news is that I had an excellent workout this morning and am enjoying that delicious feeling of "good tired." I finished editing my latest VHP video last night, and am optimistic that I might actually tick a few things off my to-do list this weekend.

In the meantime, I'll just be hoping that Mother Nature relocates the high winds to the crappy Midwestern states where they belong. If she wants to slap Colorado with snow and cold temperatures, that's fine. We can handle that. But being blown to Oz is not in our charter.

Anyway, this discussion has reminded me of two things. The first is the phrase "Viene la tormenta," which is a movie line that carries a far larger punch than you'd expect it to. Can anybody identify the film? (Hint: It's my all-time favorite love story.)

Second, the carnage in the photo above reminded me of the damage caused by one of my college buddies when he drank too much and transitioned into what he called the "Dee-struct mood." (He was also the first person who exposed me to the classic addict's logic: "I can quit any time I want to: I just don't want to.") I will share some of those stories in future posts. For today, I'm just hoping to get through it without anything falling apart...and without forgetting where I put anything. Wish me luck, and have a great day!

Lost and Found

Franz Klammer inspired me to push my skiing to its limits.

Unfortunately, those limits fell a tad short of what was required to make the Olympic team. While my genetic gifts do make me a formidable opponent in both trivia contests and Tazmanian hula events, I long ago realized that my only chances for podium appearances depended upon my skill at picking races that all the good athletes avoided...and living long enough that my age group was depleted by attrition.

But the Olympics? No, that was never on my dance card. There was a time when I could navigate a black diamond slope by zig-zagging from boundary to boundary (we called it "tree-versing"), but these days I suspect the blue slopes would keep me challenged enough.

I haven't been skiing for a couple of years. And honestly, the thought of kicking back in the lodge and watching the ski bunnies probably holds more appeal than tromping across moguls to retrieve my skis after each explosive crash. And as I age, I seem to also become less and less enamored with being cold.

Which brings me to today's topic. The ski jacket I'm wearing in the photo above is one of my many possessions that has disappeared without a trace over the years. More recently, I lost my gym bag holding a t-shirt, shorts, and a brand new pair of Altra Instinct zero-drop running shoes. Before that, it was a mesh bag containing 2 dozen swim team drag suits.

What bothers me most about losing these items is that I simply have no idea how I managed to lose them. Sometimes (like the time I left my Lockheed Martin fleece jacket at a 24-Hour Fitness in Kansas City), I am pretty sure when and where my possession and I parted company. But I am truly disturbed by my lack of awareness about the loss of these other items. In the case of the coat pictured above, I was habitually wearing it...and then one day it was no longer in my closet. I'm almost positive that nobody threw it out, nor was it stolen. It's most likely that I just wore it somewhere, took it off, and then left it behind.

Even so, it would seem that this stuff would turn up again at some point. Perhaps I'm naive, but it would seem to me that if somebody ran across a big bag of used drag suits lying in the locker room, they'd be unlikely to take them home for personal use. I'd expect the finder to say "Hmm, I bet these belong to a masters swim coach...I'll turn them in to the staff and ask them to contact him or her."

Same with my bag o' workout clothes. I can't imagine that I left them anywhere but at the gym, so I would expect them to turn up in the lost and found. But no; they have simply disappeared off the face of the earth.

The secret to remembering not to leave things behind is to put my car keys in one of the pockets. If I get to the parking lot without keys, I'll eventually figure out that I need to go back to retrieve the forgotten clothing. But I can't put the same keys in the pockets of multiple outfits, so I guess this isn't really a foolproof solution, either.

Of course, I could just stop being stupid and senile. But I'd have to be smart and coherent to do that -- so it's a bit of a Catch 22, isn't it?

Sigh. I guess I really have no choice but to do what I've done in the past: Allocate a portion of my monthly budget toward replacing things that have vanished. It's not the optimal solution, but it'll have to do.

So my question for you today is this: What Olympic ambitions did you once hold, and when did you finally realize that your moment had most likely passed? (Note: My friend Sammy is exempt from this question, since she'll almost certainly be on the 2016 team.)

And if you see a bag of drag suits lying around, please let me know, OK? The Foothills Masters swimmers miss them. Have a great day!

Statehood for Moosylvania!

I guess the Canadians are doing well at the Olympics.

This does not bother me. As much as I love the USA and think that we still have the potential to regain our status as the world's greatest country (if we vote well in the next few elections), I just can't get too upset if a few of our snowboarders and skiers don't make the podium in an event run by the stinking Commies. And I generally like Canadians (except for the French ones, of course) -- after all, both William Shatner and Maynard Ferguson were born there.

And so was Dudley Do-Right, which brings us to our trivia contest answers. These folks all have a common bond:

Sam Etic
Ponsonby Britt
John Jay Smith
Alan Smithee
Ralph the Wonder Llama

They are all completely fictional names that appear in TV and movie credits instead of the person who was actually responsible. But then how do they relate to these guys?



Let's start with Richard Widmark -- the fellow who enjoys pushing old ladies down the stairs. He was a big enough star in the 60s to get the director fired during the filming of "Death of a Gunfighter." The replacement director didn't feel that he had any artistic control over the final product...so neither director wanted his name in the credits. They came up with the fictional Alan Smithee as the guy to blame for the film. And since then, that's been the name that everyone uses when they don't want to be associated with a particular film. If you ever see Mr. Smithee listed in the opening credits, it's a fair bet that you're in for a pretty unfulfilling cinematic experience.

The ghoulish fellow in the second frame is that guy who used to be the cute frontman for the Jackson 5. He's as dead as Elvis now, but before he was murdered by the guys on the grassy knoll, he was a guest star on the Simpsons under the pseudonym John Jay Smith. It's a pretty good episode; he plays a big fat white guy who thinks he is a one-gloved pop star who hangs around with chimpanzees.

And speaking of the Simpsons, the name Sam Etic was also a pseudonym used on a pretty good episode. Guest star Dustin Hoffman used the name when he played a Jewish schoolteacher (Jewish = sam etic...get it?) who inspired Lisa. And of course, Mr. Hoffman is Kevin Baconed to Robyn Hilton (the redhead in panel 4) because he starred in "The Graduate" with Anne Bancroft -- who also happens to be Mrs. Mel Brooks. And Mel Brooks was Ms. Hilton's slightly addled boss, Governor Lepetomane, in "Blazing Saddles."

You followed all that, right? Excellent. But what about the little green moon men?

Their names are Gidney and Cloyd, and they were the first aliens encountered by intrepid heroes Rocket J. Squirrel and Bullwinkle J. Moose. And as the end of the following clip shows, the Moose and Squirrel shows were produced by the esteemed and exalted Ponsonby Britt. The fact that Mr. Britt never actually existed doesn't alter the fact that he was given credit for some of the most brilliant television ever produced.

Regular readers know that Star Trek's "Gorn" episode was a major influence in determining my career path. I also make no secret of the fact that the Bullwinkle Show was the primary influence in guiding my religious and spiritual development. It also sparked a lifelong interest in voice-over work. Which brings us to the relevance of yesterday's picture of Mr. William Conrad (aka Frank Cannon, and also the Fat Man and Nero Wolfe.) Before becoming a heavyweight TV detective, Mr. Conrad had a long and impressive career doing voice work. Not only was he the narrator on "Bullwinkle" (listed as Bill Conrad), but he also portrayed Marshall Matt Dillon on the radio version of "Gunsmoke."

What does that have to do with the indestructible carrot man? Well, the other Matt Dillon (James Arness) was the actor who played the outerspace vegetable monster in "The Thing..."

Small world, eh?

Anyway, please take a moment to enjoy this clip.



And that brings us to the final panel, which features one of the best hat-and-beard combinations in the history of cinema. This gentleman is Tim the Enchanter, from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail." His relationship to our list of fictional credits arises via Ralph the Wonder Llama, who was listed as one of the executive producers on that movie.

As brilliant as the Rocky and Bullwinkle credits are, I have to say that the Holy Grail opening credits might be my all-time favorites.



And no, I'm not suggesting that coconuts migrate. But I am urging you to feel free to be silly once in a while. And have a great day!

Resurrection

I have discovered an unexpected benefit from suffering through a cold.

After feeling crummy for two entire weeks, I am positively euphoric about being healthy again. Just being normal feels wonderful.

It's almost as if I have a whole new enthusiasm for life, including workouts, socialization, and even mundane chores. Whatever slump I was in before (and during) the illness has been left behind. I am really looking forward to each day, and to the entire year. I expect the rest of 2014 to be full of major accomplishments and continuous delight.

[Note: The photos at the top of the page are always relevant to the topic in some way. Were you able to deduce today's connection? It's a metaphor for personal dichotomy; Bill Bixby represents the way I feel when under the weather, and Louie epitomizes the glorious feeling of empowerment that accompanies good health and fitness.]

I had a good track workout last night, despite patches of ice in the running lanes. That was after a tough plyometrics workout in the morning, and a productive day at the office. I ran a bit on the treadmill this morning, and then totally enjoyed the main set of our swim workout. It was 20 x 100s on the fastest sendoff you can hold (FSYCH), which might be my favorite set to do. My lane did them on 1:30, which was probably a bit too much rest, but I didn't attempt to persuade anyone to change it. It was still a good pace work set.

For some reason, very few other folks on the team seemed to enjoy that set. But I managed to leave the pool feeling fantastic, despite the anger and hatred directed my way by the other swimmers. After all, I consider cruelty and lack of human empathy to be positive attributes for a swim coach to possess.

But enough of that. Let's talk trivia.

Your challenge in today's quiz is to first figure out what the following folks have in common:

Sam Etic
Ponsonby Britt
John Jay Smith
Alan Smithee
Ralph the Wonder Llama

Then, for extra credit, let's see if you can find a relationship between each of those names and one of the faces in this picture:



That should present a decent mental challenge. But if you want EXTRA extra credit, you'll have to tell me which name is associated with heavyweight detective Frank Cannon (pictured above), and what relationship Mr. Cannon shares with the giant unkillable carrot monster in the movie "The Thing from Another World". I'll have the answers in the next post. In the meantime, I hope you can release your inner Ferrigno and storm through any obstacles you encounter with unlimited energy. Have a great day!

Read the Fine Print

I can be a rather impatient consumer.

If the teenager at the taco place doesn't acknowledge me within a few seconds, I have been known to leave the establishment and drive to another fast food place. Yeah, I know they don't learn anything about customer service from such behavior, but I do feel that stores where employees have been trained in the basics are more deserving of my business. It's the same reason I walked out of the UPS Store a block from my house to drive 5 miles to FedEx last month when I needed to ship a package to my son. It wasn't the wait time, or the long line that discouraged me -- it was the fact that the employee was busy doing some paperwork and didn't even look up to acknowledge any of the potential customers who were standing there with packages. It doesn't take much to make eye contact and say "I'll be with you in a minute."

Two different FedEx employees greeted me as soon as I walked in to their store. That's where I'll be mailing my packages from now on.

Generally, I do a fair amount of research when purchasing big-ticket items. For example, I spent several weeks reading online reviews and comparing specs when I was looking for a new car. I test drove different vehicles, wandered through parking lots looking at models and colors, and even did some life-cycle cost estimates on a spreadsheet. In the end, my ultimate decision was probably driven more by emotion than logic -- I just thought the Fit was totally cute -- but at least I had done some due diligence before making the commitment.

But for smaller investments, I tend to pull the trigger without the same thoroughness. This last weekend, for example, I wasn't able to find the headphones I use for video editing. I knew where they were before Tanner had helped me clean the apartment at Christmas...so I knew they had either been relocated, or he had borrowed them to use while he was staying with his mom. A quick search of my home turned up nothing, so when I was out later in the day and happened to pass by a Guitar Center, I just stopped in to see what it would cost me for a replacement. They had a moderate-quality AKG set on sale for a good price, so without even doing a test listen, I handed the dude my credit card.

Of course, as soon I got home and went to set up the mixer for recording narration, I found that the old 'phones were sitting right there in the bag with the mic cables. Oh well. The new ones are better anyway; maybe I'll use the old ones to listen to the TV while I ride the bike in the living room. With headphones I can crank up the volume without worrying about disturbing the neighbors.

Which reminds me -- it's a little off topic, but my upstairs neighbors have apparently moved out. I'm not sure when they vacated; normally there's an obvious U-Haul in the parking lot for most of a weekend when somebody's moving. I'm not sure how I feel about their departure. They're a nice young couple, and up until a few months ago, had been as quiet as you could expect anyone to be. But then for some inexplicable reason, they acquired two hyper-energetic yappy dogs who seem to hold some sort of racing competition late each evening. I don't hear the humans walking at all, but the somehow a couple of 5-pound dogs can do an uncanny impersonation of a passing freight train.

I suspect the reason they moved is that she is nearly 9 months pregnant. I had wondered how much noisier it would be with a baby added to the mix, but apparently, they concluded that the new family situation would work better in another location. I'm guessing that was best for all concerned.

But that all depends on who else moves in. Somebody was working in the place on Sunday, and he walked back and forth like a sumo wrestler entering the ring. I'm hoping he was just completing some tasks for the new owner, who will actually be a deaf-mute midget with no pets larger than a goldfish.

Anyway, the real point I'm trying to make is that my tendency toward small-item impulse shopping led to a purchasing error on Saturday afternoon. You see, I was finally feeling back to normal after being wiped out by my recent virus...so I went into a condo cleaning frenzy. I wiped down every surface with disinfectant, and cleaned all the mirrors. I washed every single piece of clothing, and all the towels, sheets, and bedspreads. In the process, I discovered that my mattress pad was beginning to show signs of wear.

Later in the day after visiting Guitar Center, I still had some time before my next appointment, so I also stopped by a convenient Target store to get my groceries. After I loaded my cart with the requisite prunes, marshmallows, and peach-mango salsa, I decided to see if they had any mattress pads on sale. They did -- so I threw one of those into the cart as well.

And therein lies today's lesson. Before buying, I did verify that the pad was the correct size...but I totally missed the marking that said it was "waterproof." I did not discover this mistake until I got home and pulled it out of the bag. It made crinkly snappy noises, which one would not expect from a mere hunk of fabric. The waterproof attribute is apparently provided by a sheet of plastic attached to the bottom of the pad. OK, whatever -- I put it on the bed and figured I'd give it a try.

Ooh. Not good. It's not comfortable; it makes the sheets slide around in a funny way, and it makes noise whenever I roll over. I should have read the package more carefully. Back to the store this weekend, I guess.

On the plus side, if crinkly bedding is my largest complaint in life right now, I'd have to say that things are going fairly well. If my new neighbor does actually turn out to be small, quiet, and petless, and if I can get back into my normal exercise routine, I'll be looking at the approach of Spring with great joy. I have sold my old car, and will be getting a tax refund soon. The swim team is doing great, and my job continues to be fun. My life is pretty darn good. I hope yours is as well. Have a great day!

Frostbite Falls

Many of my college classes were the same ones the basketball players took.

My roommate studied Petroleum Engineering, which was far more challenging. I don't believe any basketball or football players took a single one of those classes.

Perhaps this explains why my roommate makes so much more money than I do. And it may explain why there is still so much room in my head for learning new things. More about that in a moment.

Please don't think I'm insulting football and basketball players; I'm not. Heck, they all make a lot more money than I do, too. But in terms of general knowledge acquired from a college education, I think the statistics will support the theory that swimmers should have a more substantial breadth of book-learnin' than non-aquatic athletes.

When I was on the KU swim team, the aggregate GPA for swimmers was about 3.2 out of 4.0. The basketball team had a GPA of 2.1, and the football team's average hovered around 1.4. Based on that data, it would seem clear that we swimmers absorbed our collegiate lessons with some degree of success, at least as compared to athletes from other sports. But I'd bet we statistically outperformed the general campus population as well.

So, it always surprises me to find that I have NOT yet been exposed to the sum of all human knowledge. For example, I did not know that Raymond Bailey (aka Mr. Drysdale) actually did work as a banker in real life before succeeding as an actor. And I did not know that my favorite Little Rascal, Stymie, received his derby hat as a gift from Stan Laurel. And just this morning, I discovered that I did not know the meanings of two very cromulent words: paraprosdokian and mondegreen.

I shall endeavor to use them appropriately in future conversations. Anyway, these discoveries came about as part of the process I undertook to describe how insanely cold it has been the last couple of days. I wanted to compare Denver's current meteorological state to someplace that was mythologically frigid, and in the process, ran across an interesting article that chronicles Jay Ward's connections to the state of Minnesota.

The bottom line is that I shouldn't have gone out to shovel snow yesterday with only my thin running gloves. My finger still ache from the sub-zero exposure. I've got my big mits today, though, so I'm ready for whatever Mother Nature throws at me. It seems to be warming up, and I really don't have any reason to be outside...but I'm ready for it, regardless.

I hope you are staying warm and cozy throughout this cold snap. Enjoy the sunshine, and have a great day!

The Granny Clampet Cure

Now that the government has perfected healthcare, I'm fairly certain that I could've been back in the pool a week ago if I had just taken advantage of the new system.

But I'm old fashioned. I resist the idea of going to the doctor for a mere cold, even though I know they are now guided by the infallible wisdom of Congress rather than out-of-date concepts like science, research, and empirical data. I never received a diagnosis or a prescription, yet I seem to have turned the corner. I was finally able to swim this morning, and am almost feeling human again.

(By the way, I know that Granny is not actually a Clampet. She's the mother of Jed's late spouse, and has the surname of Moses. But you all knew who I was talking about, didn't you? If I'd have said "Grandma Moses," then that would open up a whole different bucket of bucket of crawdads, wouldn't it?)

My personal life has been bogged down throughout this ordeal. Productivity has been nonexistent. Now that I can breathe again, I hope to return to regular blogging, and all the other stuff that people do from day to day -- such as eating vegetables and bathing, etc.

But first, I need to address the word list I left you last week. We were talking about The Gamesters of Triskelion, which are the brightly-colored brains who wager quatloos on the outcome of fistfights they arrange among their slaves -- which are called "thralls." The correct answers are A, B, and G.

"Flickers of light" are what Kirk calls the stars, when he's trying to explain where he came from to the chick he wants to make out with. Being a lifelong thrall, she has a rather limited science education, and has a bit of difficulty grasping the concepts Kirk talks about. But neither one of them really cares, because they really just want to make out.

Or fight. Whatever.

"Galt" is the tall Shel Silverstein-looking goomer who seems to control the obedience collars. He's played by Sig Haig, who had a pretty good acting career made out of playing menacing creepy guys.

The other choices were all Star Trek terms as well, but from other episodes. The Horta is the silicon-based life form who eats rock and dissolves intruders with acid. Talosians are the big-brained telepaths who infer from Captain Pike's behavior that humans are not good subjects for captivity, no matter how benevolent.

(Hmm. I'm not so sure they'd have concluded that if they had met me. I'm pretty sure I could live in a cage if they could provide good enough illusions. I'd want to be able to swim, of course, but otherwise might be suitably entertained by green Orion slave girl dances and stuff like that. I'd be willing to give it a shot anyway. It beats writing proposals.)

Fizzbin is the card game Kirk teaches the mobsters in "A Piece of the Action." Its rule set is fairly complex, and since I can barely grasp the concepts behind "Go Fish," I'm not sure I'd ever want to play it.

Bela Oxymyx, of course, is the mob boss who ends up controlling all the planet's gangs as Kirk's chief lieutenant in that same episode. (That solution was not exactly a strict interpretation of the Prime Directive, but if we've learned nothing else over the past few years, it's that a society's governing documents are to be considered as "suggestions," not rules.)

And finally, a Gorn is a powerful lizard-like alien who moves slowly, slobbers a lot, and is too stupid to remember that all high-school chemistry classes teach you how to make gunpowder from stuff you find laying around in the desert.

That's it for today. I'll try to write a few upcoming posts without resorting to Star Trek references. It should be possible, since we have a swim meet coming up, and I'll be working on my taxes over the next few days. I might even try to assemble my bike rack...and you know that risk, danger, and the possibility of thrilling tales always surround any task where I am required to use tools and follow instructions. There may even be blood. Stay tuned to find out.

In the meantime, enjoy the crisp sub-zero morning air, and have a great day!