Bags full of memories

Our daughter, 9, had turned her room into a disaster. I wouldn't say dirty, but more of the hoarder element. As she explains it, her possessions contain memories.

As they do for many of us. From her room, there are items that were gifts from friends who have moved away, from family members, from vacations. Wife and I have explained that, unfortunately, we must get rid of old possessions to make way for new ones. You're only 9 and you've accumulated all of this - and we've gotten rid of lots over your life. Imagine what it would be like if Mom and I had kept this many things! We would need a house just to hold our stuff.

That's not to say that I don't have plenty to shed. As I believe I've mentioned in previous posts, I have piles in corners that badly need attention. Still, eventually things get tossed. Out with the old, in with the new.

Now there is a mound of bags in my kitchen waiting to be sorted into garbage and giveaway. as I looked, something caught my eye. There, at the top of the bag of stuffed animals, was Moosey. Moosey is from JD's infancy. He slept with two stuffed animals - Moosey and Puppy. Puppy still remains, but Moosey has long been relegated to a shelf ornament. Seeing Moosey in a bag almost made me cry.

Daughter, however, is quite happy with her new room, relieved of its burdens. There are still plenty of stuffed animals, books, and trinkets. Just as any of us are happy with our unloaded closets and dressers after purging our decade-old clothes that aren't worn out, but are never worn.

In this holiday season, remember that we make memories with each other and have little markers of these times in our lives, times that become hazy or forgotten when we are forced to part with the tangible items that served as bookmarks for the events, stories, and pictures in our mind.

Breakaway Better than 4K

I'm not yet sure why I'm writing this into my blog. Perhaps it's vanity. Maybe it's for posterity. Or for pre-posterity - whatever that means.

On Monday this week, I had a hockey game for my 40+ rec league. We were playing a team that we routinely beat badly (the last meeting a few weeks ago resulted in a 9-1 win.)

Throughout the game, I felt like I was making smart plays - I could see where the play was going and was able to anticipate the play, I had confidence carrying the puck, and confidence defending in my own zone (I am a defenseman.)

During the second period, I ended up with the puck behind my own net and waited for my players to set up and for the opposition's forecheck (attacking the other team who is in possession of the puck while in their own defensive zone.) A forechecker attacked my left, causing me to skate out the right side. As I skated and picked up speed, I looked ahead, left, and right for open teammates. I saw open ice ahead of me as some of their players were changing on the fly on their bench to my left. To my right, one of the opposition was covering my right wing. I cut left to get away from the player on the right but not so far that I got into reach of the fresh players coming off the bench.

Then I was cruising through the neutral zone (the area between the blue lines that doesn't belong to either team) and toward the lone defender between the goal and me. I faked right, then moved the puck left, using a cross-over (brought my right skate over my left to get more power into my change of direction) I cut left and around their defenseman. I was one-on-one with the goalie.

I quickly faked the puck forward (to freeze the goalie,) the to the right to my forehand (moving the goalie slightly), then left to my backhand (against the direction the goalie had moved, giving me a little room) and, in one motion, lifted the puck into the top netting under the crossbar four feet above the ice. It was my first ever coast-to-coast goal.

One thing that I got to experience in high school as a varsity hockey player was hearing the roar of the crowd. We weren't particularly good, so our games were rarely packed, save our adoring parents. However, when we played our cross-town rival, I (playing goalie in those days) made a few pretty good saves. Hearing the crowd chanting my name is something that still rings in my ears.

And while the only people cheering my goal were my teammates (not many fans of those games, especially those that start at 10:30 on a Monday night,) it's moments like those that will eventually be impossible. Maybe I'll hit a long putt once in a while on the golf course. But, to be able to do something physically like that - something that I've never done before - is something that I'll be able to remember for a long time.

So maybe that's why I'm writing this. Maybe I'll never come back and read it, but, for me, the act of writing it down will help burn it into my memory. And that's better than 4K resolution.

Healthy Cream Cheese Substitute

The recipe:

Roughly equal parts Greek yogurt and finely grated or crumbled cheese, such as cotija, feta, or parmesan.

Mix together until you have the consistency of cream cheese. Spread as needed.

I used it today on an egg sandwich and it was fantastic.

Hungry Like the Wolf

I can't help but picture Andy Dick anytime I hear the song, Hungry Like the Wolf come on. 

"Who's hungry? Who's hungry?"

It's stuck. Thanks, Old School.

School Supplies Shopping Quest

I have given the kids an opportunity to earn money by looking for the best prices on school supplies.

We started by making a list of stores and companies from whom we can buy what we need:
-Jewel Osco
-Walgreens
-Costco
-Staples
-Target
-Walmart
-Office Depot

Next, the kids are taking their lists and finding out how much each item costs at each store to find the best prices. Then, we'll make a list for each store or see if one store will have the best deal for everything.

I figure, we save money, and the kids learn how to comparison shop.

The Midnight Dishwasher Blues

It's 130am and I've just gotten into bed, gotten comfortable, and I realized that I've forgotten to start the dishwasher. I mean, I had a hockey game at 10 (won 5-0) and now I'm tired and just want to go to sleep. And I'm lamenting the fact that I have to get out of bed to go turn it on. I'm just so comfortable in my great big bed next to my beautiful wife. Who would want to leave that?

Then, I realize that, boo hoo, I have to walk 30 feet and down some stairs to press a button and the magic machine makes all of the dishes clean. Woa is me.

Sarah Huckabee Sanders Can Come to My Tire Store

Around 30 years ago, my father waited on a couple of customers at our family's tire, wheel, and auto service shop, located just south of downtown Chicago. They guys came up to the counter, where my dad greeted them and one guy proceeded to explain the issue. My Dad wrote up their order, supervised the inspection of the problem, and ended up selling them a tire. The guys paid for the service and left the store. Not particularly noteworthy.

Except that those guys had shaved heads and publicly displayed Nazi swastika tattoos. And my family is Jewish. 

My father explained to me that their money was as green as anyone else's. And, what would be accomplished if he had refused to serve them? They would have gone down the street to another shop, complaining that our shop were a bunch of typical Jews. Instead, these skinheads would have to tell people that they were given good service by our store, preserving a reputation for serving all customers equally.

Now we turn to the Red Hen in Virginia. Instead of giving quality service, showing that gays are good people who are valuable members of society, making a nice tip from people they disagree with politically, then either gleefully spending Sarah Huckabee Sanders' money on something super gay or donating it to benefit LGBT people, they sent the business elsewhere and have irreparably harmed their reputation. 

Let's not go back to the days of denying people service. Sure - you could say, "That's what it's like to be denied service, just like my LGBT friends and like blacks and Jews and so many others!" Or, you can be the example of how you want to be treated. You serve them, then you just go about your business like you've been there before. Or, you tweet @ Sarah that you hope she enjoyed her meal cooked and served by gays, that LGBT are just as quality of character class of hard working Americans as any middle-American factory town of church-going Evangelicals. And, maybe over the course of the evening in serving her party that you find that she's not the evil fire spewing witch that you thought she was.

Is this what we're teaching our children - that kids can't sit at their lunch table if they disagree about something they learned in class? You can't be on my team at recess? I won't stand next to you in line? I won't be your partner in art? Because that's the example you've set. Now, you've empowered people to deny gays service at their establishments.

Instead of being pushed around, you show your value in your professionalism. You rise to the occasion instead of sinking to a lower level. Be the change.

Two Steps Away from Godliness... times 100

I think clutter is just a series of projects that are approximately one to two steps away from completion. I'm looking around my house, which isn't cluttered to hoarder level, but has a few piles here and there that I would love to have magically organized into the places in which I envision them.

The closest example: to my left is a pile of stuff. The inventory: a stack of gift cards that belong to JD that we're going to use toward a new XBox; a box of Sharpies from which I took one to write down the value of each gift card but haven't returned. Those are on top of a stack of papers: my new property tax bill, an packet that I need to scan and forward to another person, a tax form 1099 that I need to scan, a sheet from the bank that holds my HELOC that I have to file that says that they've assigned a new account number to the loan, two unpaid medical bills, a schedule for the construction rehab project I'm working on with my uncle, a sheet with notes that I took during a discussion with a financial planner, a keyboarding mastery chart for JD to learn how to type, some pictures that need to be cut and framed, my marathon bib from the 2016 Chicago Marathon, and the water bill that was paid and needs to be filed.

Every item on the list is one or two steps away from being completed - and they're not complicated steps! The most complicated ones are either where I need to scan something then file it away or go online and pay something and then file it away. It's an, "I'll get to it . . ." pile.

And, let's not allow the fact that I probably could have completed a great number of the tasks associated in the time it's taken me to write this post to be lost.