Category: Blogolicious

For years I have been in one of my gyms many days a week. I typically go in, work, and leave. There’s not a whole lot of communicating with others. Sometimes there’s the head nod of acknowledgement, or the non- verbal conversation of “you using this?” “naw brah, go ahead” etc.

I see lots of the same people there for multiple years and have zero idea what their names are. There’s the tall sock duo, the 49er guy, “Ashley”, and more. I’m sure I may pop up on their lists as something like “the ancient chick who sometimes dances between sets” or something.

It’s an interesting thing to feel a little bit like you know people you absolutely don’t know at all. I could tell when the angry man was injured but kept working out. I notice when the “whuuuuuHHHH!!!!!” grunting guy isn’t there. (Don’t miss that guy’s noise, but I do hope he’s okay). I can tell the dark haired hat girl is working by the gainz she’s making.

One of the definitive gym personalities is a guy whose name I didn’t know before today even though I’ve seen him there for years. The first thing you see about him is that he’s ALWAYS smiling and AWLAYS saying positive things to any number of people in the gym. Encouraging them, and what not. When you see him walk, you notice there’s something about his gait that makes you wonder if he’s had some previous injury or some chronic condition. His words sometimes take me more than once to hear what he’s said. Despite how positive his words are, they seem difficult to form and get out. I had no reason to wonder about what his history was.

Today he was there, hyping people up as usual. He complimented my Bulgarian split squats for which I was very grateful because I didn’t want to do them at all. We chatted briefly. My hearing’s bad enough that I resorted to some of the smile and nod of folks who aren’t catching every word. But I did hear him clearly when he asked me if I’d seen his documentary. No sir. I have not.

He told me how to find it and it was my cardio accompaniment today.

“Chaz Baldwin One Last Ride” is a 10 minute film on YouTube. It was 10 minutes I’m grateful for.

It starts with Chaz riding wheelies on his street motorcycle and chronicles how his life changed dramatically in an instant. By all accounts, the dude shouldn’t be alive. He certainly shouldn’t be able to walk, let alone go to the gym.

I still don’t know the guy, but I’ve seen enough to know that his spirit is very strong. He seems to have such a passion for life, and you have to wonder if that’s what got him through such adversity; or if overcoming the adversity like he has created the joy for existence.

I don’t know why today he told me about the video, but I’m very thankful he did. It made me have a LOT more appreciation for how positive he is. It also made me take a long pause and reflect. This guy has been through so much and just refuses to be beat down. On the other hand; yesterday I had a small tantrum because nowhere in Redding had bamboo sushi mats in stock. I mean, I did end up making one out of duct tape and bamboo skewers, but for a nanosecond I thought of it as an obstacle. My life is so blessed, I don’t even know what a problem is.

Thank you Chaz for the reset about what kinds of things are real challenges and what people with incredible strength can do to overcome.

Thank you guys for reading; and if you have 10 minutes, maybe hop on over to Youtube and learn about Chaz.

I’ve slept like a log the last 2 nights. A log with a hyperactive subconscious, but a log nonetheless.

The night before last; as I was deep in sleep, part of the ol’ gray matter was super busy trying to make sure I remembered to cancel my flight to LA as soon as I woke up. I needed to cancel it because the trip was no longer needed and I didn’t want to lose money. Every neuron that fired made sure I remembered to get this done. “Don’t forget! Do it first thing so you don’t have to worry about it all day. Get it done!”Cool, except for….I don’t have a flight to LA that I need to cancel. It was an annoying waste of sleep energy. I was relieved that I didn’t have to risk losing money, and amused to see that I’m so cheap in my dreams too.

As a result of so much “dreaming” I thought last night that the brain would take a break during sleepy-time. It did not.

Last night I dreamt that I went to the home of a co-worker’s parents. In my dream, I’d been to this home before, but I wanted to go back to get a closer look at (wait for it) the home made sasquatch sculpture in the den (?).  As everybody knows (eyeroll) the den of this house is on the bottom of the split level design. I’d been so impressed with this art when I’d seen it before. I went in for a closer look. It was primarily made of spray foam (I blame this on a reel sent to me with cool Halloween art). As I was nose deep in the art, the homeowner decided to investigate happenings in her home. It was at that point that I realized I was breaking and entering a home. You know, risking life and embarrassment for a closer look at Squatch. I called out “Sorry! I shouldn’t have let myself in.” After tense moments, I added “thank you for not shooting me.”

She continued to show me around the house. Notable features where the galley kitchen, the workshop, and the other project, a C-3PO statute. She told me something that every Star Wars fan would know, that the droid’s legs aren’t supposed to be the same color. Duh.

As we toured, I thought how embarrassing it will be to have to explain at work that I broke in to the home of coworker’s family. A very real sense of mortification consumed me.

Dreams that seem real are sneaky. They add elements that are on brand with things you do in awake time. As I was leaving the home, I stood and watched a yellow lab swim in an irrigation ditch. I was impressed that he would swim underwater for a spell. Since that’s 100% something I would do when I was awake, I knew this had to be a real experience and not a dream.

More dread, followed by really poor coping skills. Can I lie about breaking in to the house? Would the homeowner tell on me? Would she know who I was to tell on me? Can I put a positive spin on why I was breaking in to a house? I’m not sure if it was slow-moving integrity, or the realization that none of my immature cover-up efforts would work; but I decided I would just have to own up to it. Work is going to suck as I admit to this.

The relief I felt when my alarm started to chirp was immeasurable. I hadn’t committed a felony. I didn’t have to worry about saving face at work (at least for this).

I enjoy sleeping. A lot. I guess my subconscious also enjoys overthinking just as much as my awake brain does. Today I’ll try to overthink every darn thing in hopes that the noggin will just be too tired tonight to try to fire up. But if it does decide to be busy, hopefully I’ll do something cooler.

Thanks for reading!  

I imagine our sense of smell needed to be fiercely powerful back in our cave man days. We probably needed it to sniff berries to see if the smelled like the ones Grog ate last week that killed him. We also probably needed to sniff out cave babies to know which one was ours.

I’m thankful for language and social development. It’s one of those things that separates us from our canine friends for example. I don’t need to sniff your butt as a form of greeting and to determine if we’ve me before.

That’s cool. Because that dang highly evolved sense of smell Cave Crystal needed still exists. I’d like it to power down. I don’t want to smell a lot of things I smell.

In the morning, I ruin the smell of my office via my reheated scrambled eggs. I feel compelled to announce to anyone in proximity that I’ve ruined the smell of my office with my eggs because I don’t want other super sniffers to think I just smell rotten. I typically try to repair this smell situation with a room spray. This enhances my office to encompass the smell of scrambled eggs and “sheer leather.” Not the best combo.

I know I’m not alone in the land of smell ability. The annual heater fire up that happens every fall results in numerous folks speculating that the building is burning down as all of our cave noses sense danger. We also pretty regularly think there’s a gas leak somewhere. And boy howdy, if you want to test noses put some fish in the microwave or burn some popcorn. It results in utter chaos.

Parenting gives the opportunity to watch the development of smell capacity in humans. At least it should anyways.

Before I had kids, I worked with a woman who had 2 boys. When we got ready to start our family, she said to wish for girls because boys smell awful. I thought she was a monster for her assessment. Then,…my boys hit those “say hello to a brand new you” years and I understood what she meant.

(Disclaimer: I do not wish I had girls. God knew what he was doing when he made me a boy mom. I can’t comb hair. I laugh at potty humor. I have nary a feminine bone in my body. I wouldn’t change boy mom life for anything)

A common question I’d ask in my little car during middle schooler transport was, “Did someone just shit themselves? Or is this just our baseline smell?” Luckily, it was most often flatulence related smells. But sometimes it was cleats that needed to be burned or just general “musk.”

As they grew, they wanted to impress girls which led to them noticing smells too. This led to me inventing a word “Axe-phyxiation,” being deprived oxygen due to an overuse of body spray. Forever burned in my memory is the Axe body spray ad campaign during those years; “double pits to chesty.” It “comically” outlined how to apply body spray. The kids I knew took that shit to heart and sprayed the ever loving hell out of themselves.

Thankfully they outgrew it, but still want to smell decent. I don’t think they quite have the mom smell sense though. I guess it’s a part of my super powers. Much like I’m the only one who can see that the empty box in the pantry needs to be thrown out, I’m the only one who can smell the garbage. I try to ensure that these powers of mine are used only for good.

The good for which I’ll use them this morning is to take out that trash since no one else’s nose seems to care if it’s full of Grog killing poisonous berries. And since I’m going to get my burpee stench on, I’ll also double pits to chesty something to make me smell like vanilla and body funk.

Thanks for reading!

At some point yesterday morning, I was asked what I was doing for the day. “Chores.” Household things needed to happen, but it was also pretty lame answer. So to my Precious (cell phone) I go. There were no movies that sparked my soul and it was too hot to for much else to sound fun. Then I suddenly remembered that it’s been a full moon, and that for years I’ve been hoping to remember to hike Lassen in the dark.

Luckily when you’re a little unbalanced such as I am, you find that you may have other like minded folks in your life. I paused the exciting car vacuuming and out-of-the-blue flung Stefanie a text. What follows is the entirely of “planning”

Me:  “Any interest in a night Lassen hike?”

Stefanie: “When?”

Me: “Tonight (?)

Stefanie: “What time we leaving?”

Brief chat about how Kim would be picked up. Not so much asking Kim as letting her know she’d be coming along. And that was it.

If you haven’t hiked Lassen, put that on your list. It’s close to home, it’s a well cared for path, and it’s absolutely stunning. There’s not technical skill needed, just less slippy shoes, and that internal voice that keeps telling you to step.

A backpack full of uncrustables also helps.

We knew we were making this adventure up on the fly when someone at Kim’s house asked if we’d chosen this night because the meteor shower. It only took him a second to tell by the look on our faces, “You guys didn’t even know there was a meteor shower did you?” Nope. Sure didn’t.

A eventless drive later, we found ourselves at the summit trail head. There were only a handful of cars in the lot. There would have been no one there to witness the violence Stefanie looked like she wanted to inflict on us when Kim and I pointed out the tiny tiny people you could barely see silhouetted on the ridgeline near the summit. In true Stefanie fashion, a brief grumble was followed by an inability to do anything but concur the obstacle.

We didn’t know how long the hike was. We encountered almost no one the entire way up. We could see forever until about half way through when we switched to headlamps.

It was 60 degrees when we started. A beautiful departure from the valley’s 100 plus temperature. As the sun set and the altitude climbed, it got flat cold. Luckily, I’d worn my fancy pants.

We really had no idea how long we’d take walking in the dark. We started to encounter groups of people that we had no idea had been at the summit to watch what had to be a stunning sunset. The hike-ability of the summit trail meant we passed all sorts of groups of people; young, old, serious hikers, us, etc. They told us the summit was near. I’m not sure if it was the great company or the changing view as the sky changed, but I was convinced the “you’re almost there” people were lying. They weren’t.

At the summit, it was biting cold and windy AF. But also dark and still. It occurred to us that we had no idea what time the moon actually rises. It also occurred to me that I really was with the right peeps because a quick uncrustable and selfie and they were ready to continue to explore. You know, because….cold. But also because “we have moon at home.” Some dude in a glowing jacket advised us that the moon was only 97% full and expected to rise in just a few minutes.

The trail put us on the side for what we hoped would be a decent view.  Our numb handed selves headed down.

I noticed a surreal light that I didn’t recall seeing before. A bright orange orb spread light on the horizon. It really took me a second to process then blurt out, “YOU GUYS! IT’S THE MOON!”

It’s the same moon we’ve all seen in countless places. I didn’t expect it to seem nearly sacred. But something about the stillness of the night and the connection to nature made it so. Small pockets of people up and down the trail could be heard ooh-ing and ah-ing or howling. I felt positively connected to the universe and my heart swelled with gratitude for buddies willing to shenanigan, health, and nature. I took a second to just be still. Of course I ruined it by being my socially awkward self (“You guys. This is spiritual or something”), but it continued to be a pretty perfect night.

Up in light and down in darkness made it seem like two separate hikes. We encountered a number of people who chose not to use any light at all. They’re stallions.

We chose light, chat about Lululemon, and discussion about the incredible wedge salad at Claim Jumpers in Roseville. We’re pretty fierce, but also know what we like.

Stefanie assured us we’d encounter a bear in the road. I’m pleased to say she was wrong. They both got to question my night driving ability and the brake-i-ness of the grocery getter. But we made it home unscathed.

I count myself as very lucky to have the people I have to rally for impromptu weirdness. I look forward to whatever the next adventure with the next folks will be (but I’m not running any damn place). I highly recommend this be on your list of awesome reasonable adventures.

Thanks for reading!

“I told my dad that I wanted a couple weeks off because I wanted to drive my ’55 convertible to Denver. You know, see some cousins and see the Rocky Mountains.” This was my dad’s conversation in 1957 in little old Forest Lake, Minnesota. He’d just graduated high school and had a quest for adventure. Has he made many trips back to the land of 10,000 lakes since that time? Oh ya,…sure,…you betcha! (*typed in Minnesotan accent). But those trips are just to visit and stay connected. For all intents and purposes, he took a hard right out of Minnesota, and just kept going.

Denver turned in to Phoenix where he learned a little bit about how outsiders view young men with a nice car and guns to sell. Clearly they must be hooligans. A bum rap was averted when the heat called back to the sporting goods store in Minnesota who confirmed that young Dick wasn’t hauling around lifted gats. He celebrated his vindication by peeling out leaving the station. The cop he encountered after this display understood, but warned that such future behavior would not be tolerated.

Thus Dick and his travel buddy, Roger, continued on down the road. They had friend in the military who would be on a couple weeks of R&R soon as he prepped for his wedding. They set course to visit him. They thought they’d stop in Palm Springs for a meal. The meal led to a recruitment for a bus boy job in a fancy resort. Some lady saw them and asked them if they possessed black slacks and black dress shoes. They indeed did. The gig provided lodging and a covered parking spot for the aforementioned beloved ’55. The resort was visited by the celebrities of day. They made serious coin in tips on a weekend dedicated to fundraising for, “I don’t know,…polio or something.”

They continued on to So Cal. Where next thing you know, my dad is kicking ass at life. By the time he returned to Minnesota for the first time 4 years later; he’s married, adopted one child, had my sister, and is the owner of a lucrative service station. Gone is the ’55. In it’s place is the ’59 El Camino and the family truckster ’57 Dodge (with a push button transmission).

While he and my sisters’ mom weren’t destined to be together, he was still a great dad to them. He and my mom married when he was 28 and she was 19, and he took on a second round of being a great dad. For us probably as well as my mom. He had a ’64 Pontiac Catalina when they got together. My mom says that she thought it was a Cadillac. (Those car badges written in cursive will get you every time.) He says she came to him and told him the car wasn’t running right. She said that she had beaten a corvette in it recently, but now it didn’t have it’s usual “pep.” He had altered the carburetor so that she could no longer fish tail when she left the station.

Dad’s 83 now. The fact that he can recant a story from 65 years ago with so much detail you feel like you’re there is just one testament to how bright he is. Call him right now and give him a complex math problem or ask him for directions to a place he hasn’t been for 20 years if you need any further proof of his brain powers. He’s an incredibly hard worker who pushes others to do the same. He continues with his spirit for adventure, piloting his motorhome criss cross the country.

We’re lucky to have him and lucky his example has helped pass those values on to us. Well,…more or less. After he told me how he uprooted his life at 18 and made it thrive, I shared some of my recent “outside the box” adventure. “I went to Nello’s. You know, the Italian restaurant that’s been in Redding for over 40 years but I had just never gone. I had pesto tortellini” I realize it’s not quite the same, but I think that’s how it’s supposed to go when parents are as they should be; a goal to aspire to so that you keep working to try to be better. Who knows,… maybe in the future I’ll give Giff’s Ugly Burger a try or maybe part my hair on the left. Sky’s the limit.

But in the meantime, I’ll just bask in the gratitude that I’ve had a great dad. A wise man says there are different skills required in making children versus raising children; one could even argue that the latter requires no skill. I’m thankful for the standards my dad has set. Happy Father’s Day to him and all the other dads out there doing the next right thing by their kids.

Thanks for reading!

I never saw Daniel read one book in 7^th grade. But this didn’t stop him from getting good grades or being on the school’s kick ass science team. His secret to success was to align himself with people who wanted his skills in exchange for theirs. He liked to be the power point guy, and his ease with public speaking made him well suited to be a valuable member of middle school academia teams. He was laying the foundation for what would be (so far) a life of working smarter not harder. That’s not to say that he’s work shy. He absolutely works hard, but he’ll also spend some time assessing if there’s a way to accomplish things in a more efficient way.

This lesson was only reinforced by his high school education experience. His freshman year, he was enrolled in honors English. His hate for it was reflected in his grade. That year we learned about credit recovery and summer school. Daniel made up for a whole semester in roughly 3 days worth of summer school. It was an example of his abilities and made me think about that special meeting his 4^th grade teacher made us have with the principal. We were to address Daniel’s goofing off in class. Teacher, Mr. Whatever, was irritated that Daniel didn’t see the value in his academic career at age 9. Principal, Mrs. Whatever, looked at his state testing scores and determined that Dan was bored. I believe she was right.

Dan wasn’t interested in projecting an image of a serious student, not at 9 and not through his high school. He passed, but it wasn’t because he felt some draw to get the highest marks. When something interests him however, he is a voracious learner. It’s never about showing off his knowledge, it’s about learning what he wants to know.

Since he couldn’t give a fuck about high school, he wasn’t in the position to jump in to a 4 year college. But, he’d taken it upon himself to pursue an associate degree at Delta Junior College in Stockton. The fact that he chose a program associated with his dad’s work is far less about nepotism than it was about his natural maker/fixer skill set. From where I sit I can see a number of projects his little 14 year old self built with ease. You can’t really see someone’s maker/builder attributes until you’ve seen what it looks like for someone to not have them. Daniel definitely has it.

He went through a competitive testing and interview process to get in to the Think Big program. It’s designed to further the education of the all-too-needed fixers of tractors. He was praised for his poise as well as his mechanical aptitude. A lot of times people have either one or the other of these qualities. It’s not as common for someone to have both.

He moved his baby self to Stockton and kicked that program’s ass.

I was beyond happy that he’d gone this far in his schooling. It was clear that he wanted it and it would happen on his terms.

Then he wanted more.

It was surprise to us that he’d decided to further his education and move to Kansas (!!!!!). The goal was to get his Bachelor’s of Science degree in diesel tech from Pittsburg State University.

It was great to see an accomplishment of importance to him be celebrated. He’s done all this on his own, and it makes my heart want to burst with pride.

Only time will tell what Dan’s next accomplishment will be. He’s going to live local this summer at least to get his journeyman card (I think). Maybe he’ll stay local, maybe he’ll move to Chile, with him it’s really impossible to guess. Whatever the next thing is, it will be because it makes sense to him. He’ll slay it and find a beautiful balance between work and play. I can’t wait to see what happens next. Congrats Danny!