Hunting Winter

As ‘night walk administrator,’ I’m prepared for some chilling conditions.  Sub-zero temperatures and blizzard conditions don’t make me flinch.

(A skier, I am not.)  I do, however, look the part.  ...dangerous combination.

I’ve spent years vowing to learn to ski…maybe this will be THE year!?  The Christmas break gives me infinite opportunities to head for the mountains.  On Friday, I finally seized one of them.  Northbound on our way to Sunapee Mountain, Kyle (trusted ski consultant) and I arrived before 9a and ahead of the crowds.  A few tips and magic carpet rides later, we were on the lift to the top of the mountain for my first real ski run.  The potential for disaster was all around me.  The first run was emotionally draining.  The Cruiser Trail provides a false sense of security for a beginner.  There are ‘Slow Trail’ signs everywhere…can’t anyone around me read them?  Then it hits me…I’m going R-E-A-L-L-Y s-l-o-w.

The social pressure hit me on my second run and I began making tighter less frequent turns in order to keep up with the other skiers.  Oddly enough, I gain control as I speed up.  It’s also a helluva lot safer when I maintained the pace of traffic.  By my third run, I was feeling pretty confident.  Sure, I wrecked once (or twice) per run but my confidence and ability were increasing.  I was skiing and enjoying it!

Since we haven’t been getting much snow this year, only about half (17) of the trails were open this weekend and they were 100% manmade snow.  In the beginning I spent most of my time on the easiest trails (highlighted below).  Towards the end of the day, I got lost and accidentally skied a moderate trail from top to bottom.  …that was the run were my right ski decided to detach itself from the greater mass.

All in all, I had a blast – WAY more fun than I was expecting to half.  This sounds silly, but I was happy to fall – it meant that I was pushing my limits.  This morning, I have one black and blue toenail and a hip that won’t stop complaining about absorbing the brunt of each fall.  Wifey’s had enough of that hip and says that I’m too old to learn to ski.  :-)  She says, “No mas.”  We’ll have to see about that!

Check this out.  I saw this movie at the iMAX theater in Boston.

It probably deserves some of the credit for getting me up to the mountain this Winter.  The beginning of the trailer is a bit slow.  So hang in there.  The action and my (new) favorite song starts at 1:50.

In Defense of Fruitcake

I enjoy this time of year (and I hope you do too).  Ten days off from work that wrap Christmas, New Years, and my birthday like gifts under a tree.

“The holidays” are a beautiful thing and nothing is more beautiful than waking-up on the first day of vacation knowing that the ENTIRE Company is shut down.  No need to check e-mails throughout the day because, in theory, NO ONE is sending e-mails.  This is the biggest and sweetest differentiator between Christmas break and a typical vacation: no major catching-up to do when you return to the office!

Of course, it’s always a challenge to fill your time with things that you want to do.  For example, I want to bake chocolate chip cookies and ginger bread.  Ah, what the hell, I’ll do both!  And why does fruit cake have such a bad reputation?  It is succulent.  It delivers a generous portion of the best fruits on Earth.  It is delicious.  If you are the owner of an unloved fruitcake, please forward it to MA.

I love the holidays because it doesn’t matter that baking one batch of cookies and one loaf of ginger bread required a full day.  Oh and that golf lesson will probably require a full day too.  Same goes for the Christmas shopping, a run, Storage Wars, Dad’s coin collection, the WiFi extender, and a blog post.  Whew.  I need a nap already.

For more opinions about using the phrase “The Holidays,” please refer to I’m Dreaming of a Black Christmas by Lewis Black.

Strollin' Around Town

December's warm weather has made night walks more bearable.  It is a bit odd though...  These Christmas lights are supposed to be accompanied by snowflakes.  Is it possible that we won't have a white Christmas this year!?

The pup and I do enjoy this time of year.  The lights and decorations breath extra life into the city during a time of year when nature tells us that it's time to head south (or at least for the warmth of the cave).

This Nikon CoolPix that I use has a setting called Night Landscape.  I think that, in general, night pics are tough for cameras.  Nonetheless, I'm pretty happy with the pictures that it takes during both day and night.  One of my friends at work said, "What did you expect?  It is a Nikon!"

During my younger days, we enforced a rule about "falling asleep" with our shoes on/off.  Does that dog stocking count as a shoe?  Or is this a random act of cruelty?

Funny how pets become such an integral part of our lives.  Wifey nor I are comfortable sitting in Jake's Chair.  We're of the mindset that each of us have our designated seats and that is his.  He doesn't sit in ours and we don't sit in his.

Landed!

Ooof - traveling can really take a tole on a guy! The hotels, the taxis, the car rentals, the airports, the airplanes, the timezones, the UGH! Thank the lord that I'm home for a while.  The ticket from my 7th flight in 4 weeks is pictured below.

My latest trip took me to Las Vegas. Again. I have a very negative perspective of Vegas. Perhaps it's because I've been there at least a dozen times and not one of them have been for fun! Don't get me wrong, I love AU...but I loath Vegas. All of one's senses are bombarded with stimuli from the minute they step off the plane until the minute the flight attendant closes the cabin door behind you. The only thing I like about Vegas are the sports books. I wish I had one of those things in my living room.

I recently replaced a credit card for one with more perks and privileges. The new card entitles me to some cozy hotel amenities and access to most airline's airport lounges. Thank you Delta (and Detroit), you made the return flight a but more bearable. ...now if only JetBlue would open a lounge at Logan!

The Fattman Cup Chilly Half Marathon

Whoa. 13.1 miles is f-a-r-r-r. ...and I enjoyed (nearly) all of them.

I ran my first half marathon today! The race was in Newton and the start time was 7:30a so I was out the door at 5:45a. When I arrived at the start area, the temp was a brisk 32 degrees. This Fall has been very mild so I shouldn't complain about the temp but this meant that I was likely to start with more layers than I'd finish. No one likes to carry more than they must, so I opted to start light and dress for the warmer part of the race.

The cold just compounded my nerves. For the past 4 days, I've been sweating the Newton Hills because my training routes are almost entirely flat. Actually, I should clarify; if it weren't for the structural benefits that an arch lends to bridges, my training routes are completely flat. The Newton Hills are famous for one Boston Marathon hill in particular: Heartbreak Hill. As it turns out, Heartbreak Hill isn't much of a hill at all. It's the fourth hill in a set that spans 2.5 miles and climbs nearly 150'. Fortunately for me, it's placement in this half marathon is much more friendly (miles 5.75 - 8.25) than in The Boston (miles 21 - 23ish).

My goal for the race was admittedly modest: finish with an average pace of 9-10 minutes per mile. I'm happy to report that I accomplished my goal. My final time was 2:04:38. Excluding a pee break, I didn't once walk or stop running. Moral victory! Granted, this isn't the kind of time that gets one to the front of the pack BUT I still got a medal!

The first 10 miles weren't difficult; however, my body ran out of fuel around mile 11. The last two miles were all will power. Here's what I've learned:

• don't make fun of those runners with the little energy gel packs
• hill training makes a big difference
• the longer the race, the better the shirt
• my knees and hips aren't as awesome as I thought

I was tempted to sign up for a full marathon in the Spring and have since wised-up. I think I'll stick to halves for the next 6-9 months.

Mills in Mass – Part Deux

Back in September, Matthew and I decided to get together for a couple of days in Boston.  Despite the thoughts that still weigh heavy on our hearts and minds, we didn’t want to change our plan.  Being separated from the family for most of the year is tough for me – I’m especially happy that Matthew didn’t want to cancel our mancation either.

Living in the city offers loads of entertainment.  Matthew was on the ground for no more than a couple of hours before we were on the T headed for the original Samuel Adams Brewery.  It’s not really in the best part of town, so we only stopped long enough to snap this pic on our way to the Brewery.

It wasn’t long before our pace slowed and the tour began.  By Brewery’s standards, this one is small.  Only about 1% of the total Sam Adams production comes from this brewery.  At 1% of production, they don’t produce enough beer to supply Boston!  The only way to be sure that you’re getting the freshest Sam Adams (the way it was intended) is to come to these hallowed halls.  We paused for another pic on our way into the tasting room.  Checkout the goofball behind us.

We sampled three beers: Sam Adams Boston Lager, Octoberfest, and Harvest Pumpkin Ale.  It was hard for me to believe that this was the first time that Matthew EVER tasted the Boston Lager.  If you click into the photo album, you can see the exact moment where the Lager meets taste buds.  On the way out, we also bought three beers from the Barrel Room Collection.  Matthew’s ranking was Thirteenth Hour, American Kriek, then New World Tripel.  Mine, on the other hand, were the exact opposite!  My opinion?  …chocolate and coffee have no place in a beer.

When we got home, Ali was well on her way to finishing Dad’s pulled pork recipe for dinner.  Ain’t she special?

We had an even busier day on Saturday (which included A LOT of walking exercise).  The Fenway tour started on the other side of Yawkey Way at the Red Sox store.  I tried, but I couldn’t convince Matthew to buy a Red Sox hat.  I suppose we’re both stuck in our ways; he didn’t convince me that the MLB should have an equivalent salary cap for all teams either.  The tour took us from the Press Box at Fenway Park, to the Green Monster, and finally to the super-cozy Grandstand section.  Here’s the view from the Press Box.  Even the Press Box doesn’t compare to the view from the Green Monster.

When we got to the Monstah, Matthew and I found front row seats!  But there was something wrong.  Birds had congregated on the lights (above).  We evacuated the premises immediately.  A bunch of fools snatched up the seats after we left.  …like shooting fish in a barrel.  After Fenway, we headed to the piers for Lobster Rolls.  My preference is for a hot lobster roll but James Hook only serves them one way: cold with a deceptive amount of lobster meat.  The sandwich looks like it’s mostly filling and mayo.  No, no, my friend.  That’s mostly tail meat with some claw mixed in.

We also went to Cheers and spent some time playing FIFA 2011.  Can you guess which one we did more?

Rest Easy Now

My dad passed away earlier today.  He developed a heart condition 20 years ago.  Unfortunately, it reared its head one too many times.

When you’re a young boy, your father is your first and preeminent hero.  Understandably so, I suppose.  He can open any jar, lift any object, brave the closer full of monsters, use any tool, wear a suit, drink coffee, eat the gross foods (e.g. pickled eggs), and revel in them.

Dad was my first hero.  One of his superpowers was an ability to delight his children at will.  I can’t explain why this is the case but one of the memories that has stayed at the forefront of my mind this week is the memory of walking down the steps on an unassuming Saturday or Sunday morning to find a Yoohoo and a pack of baseball cards next to my cereal bowl.

Dad was my hero.

Dad was a good teacher.  There’s a long list of things that I learned from him.  I couldn’t possibly realize it then, but now, I have a real appreciation for the quantity and diversity of the various skills that he passed down: how to shoot, hot to tie a tie, how to camp, how to drive, and the list goes on.

He taught me how to hang drywall.  Anyone who’s raised sons would place an equal level of importance on the ability to repair drywall.  There’s on notorious hole in a wall that appeared on Needle Drive.

Mom & Dad were at a party that night, Hollie was similarly gone, and the boys were home along.  The night’s entertainment was the recently released to VHS, Karate Kid.  One thing led to another and, before long, my foot was in the wall.  Matthew and I devised two cover-up stories, both failed miserably but Mom & Dad let them slide.  Matthew held true to the stories for some period of time (years).  Eventually he cracked under the pressure.  I on the other hand, have stuck to it for way longer.  The truth is that Matthew wasn’t even in the room.  He was two staircases away.  He had nothing to do with “the kick heard ‘round the neighborhood.”  It was just me and the wall; pie y pared.  Shortly thereafter, dad taught me to repair drywall.  I doubt dad fixed many walls from that day forward.

Dad was a good teacher.

Dad had a unique sense of humor.  You knew it when you saw it.  “Dry” was an understatement.  He also liked to keep me off-guard.  I remember being accused of having too much fun one weekend in college.  It was the kind of fun that warrants the revocation of one’s car privileges.  Dad delivered the verdict and sentence by phone, “David, be home no later than 3 hours after your last class on Friday.  I will return you to campus in time for your first class on Monday.  Forget about the car for the rest of the semester.  I’ll give you more details when you arrive.  …oh, and David, one more thing.  Bring home the microwave.”

All of the punishment was expected, except for the microwave bit.  What did a grown man want with my microwave?  It wasn’t until later that I understood why he wanted the microwave at home.

Dad was always thinking ahead.

That was dad.  I have a million positive things to say about him.  Those will be my memories.  I loved him dearly and that’s how it will continue from now until forever.

'Tis the Season (For RIBS!)

Temperatures have dropped, football season has started, leaves are falling off the trees, and it’s dark at 6:30p. Still, Fall hasn’t officially arrived until wifey pulls out the Nesco for an appearance. Guess what. Fall just arrived. Behold, the glory of the Nesco Roaster.

That’s just about as good as it gets. Believe it or not, they’re even better than they look. The smell alone is enough to bring everyone to the kitchen. The ribs simmer for 2.5 hours in a stew of seasoning and brown sugar.

Note: Brown sugar is not part of the rib recipe. However, my quest for the perfect steak has led me to an important revelation: brown sugar makes everything better. I can only imagine that, in some world, bacon and brown sugar are close relatives. …mmmm, brown sugar bacon.

Afterwards, they get another dose of dry rub seasoning, a drenching of BBQ sauce, and another 30 minutes in the Nesco. The choice of BBQ sauce is up to the home team. I brought home two BBQ sauces from the Groc today.

1. Stonewall Kitchen Honey Barbecue Sauce: Simply delicious. A fine mix of sweet honey BBQ with just a touch of spice.
2. Chinese BBQ Sauce: Simply awful. This is the first BBQ sauce that I’ve ever tasted and then thrown away. It’s gritty with salt and the consistency resembles a jelly. I threw it away so quickly that I don’t even know the brand name. Once I figure it out, I’ll update the blog.

If we (by 'we', I mean wifey) were to change anything next time, I might consider finishing the ribs in the oven (broil) to give them a bit more crisp on the top. But, truthfully, they can’t get much better than today’s meal. It’s time for a nap.

The Stairway to Relief is Located in Chinatown

Several years ago, I was diagnosed with allergies to cat dander, pollen, and dust mites.  Starting in college, each September 1st brought a sinus infection.  Once I moved to Boston, both September and March 1st brought a sinus infection.  Fortunately, my allergies aren’t nearly as bad as Hollie’s.  Still, ugh, what a pain.  For the past year and a half, I’ve been taking one Claritin per day and have been (relatively) allergy free.  Yahoo!  Still, it’s a bother to take a pill every single day.

I’ve heard of various different allergy treatments that ‘cure’ an individual of their allergy and it’s finally time to get started!  Now is the right time to ponder how much trust should anyone should bestow in their colleagues.  Would you take a recommendation for a beer, a restaurant, or perhaps a financial consultant?  Of course!  But, would you trust them to recommend a Chinese Acupuncturist armed with a limitless supply of needles?  Eh, why not!?  I’m game.  Let’s try acupuncture!  Off to Chinatown we go! 
As you can see, my faith in my colleagues was put to the test relatively early in the experience.  Still, I pressed forth.

Once inside the temple of doom, I learned my fate.  Sigh.  My qi is blocked.  Yup.  My qi.  Another sigh.  My liver meridian is lacking balance and is easily agitated (hence the allergic reaction).  Further, an imbalance in my stomach meridian is causing me to store stress in my jaws(!).  The man in the white coat prescribed two months of acupuncture (starting immediately) and three diet changes:

1. Replace water with lemon water
2. Replace coffee with special tea
3. No dairy

The diet changes are easy.  They’re closer to a continuation of my recent diet than anything else.  I was sweating the acupuncture, though.  I did it anyhow.  I ended up with about 30 needles.  I couldn’t feel some of the needles.  The other, however, felt exactly like having a needle driven into my body.  Go figure.  There was a tie for the worst needle.  It was either the one in the webbing of my two littlest right toes or the one that went in the front muscle of my left shin.

So what do I have to show for it?  Puncture marks on my face and an appointment for next week!  I’m totally skeptical but will give it a fair shot.  If this doesn’t work, I might try the western type of medicine (and needles).

Honey, I Shrunk the George

Meet the Georges: George Senior (larger, of metal) and George Junior (smaller, of leather etc).

One, the namesake for our weekend getaway, bares the pleasure of Nantucket year round.  The other, a warm memento of days gone by, is destined for Back Bay.  This was a great weekend; the stuff from which legends are made: great weather, a new hotel, and an agreement that neither of us would check our e-mail.

We were expecting this to be a quiet weekend but the Cranberry Festival, Columbus Day holiday, and unseasonably warm weather ensured that the streets were crowded and all the stores would be open for business.   The White Elephant was a new hotel for us.  We stayed in The Residences which are really just a failed condominium project.  We liked the quiet of the detached location that is still within reach of the hotel room service and other amenities.

We never run out of things to do on the island.  We tried a new (to us) deli, rented a Jeep, hit the beaches, ate our fill, and helped the economy live another day.  Our favorite roadside find was the Salt Meadow Antiques stand on the side of Union St.  It turns out that Tony Mello, 87, was a mechanic in the US Army Air Force during World War II.  And with that, the door was open.  The four of us talked about the WWII literature that we’ve read, Tony’s experiences, and that which I have uncovered about my Granddad’s.  We shot the breeze with Tony and Tom for at least 30 minutes and finally purchased a handmade whale piece.  Tony creates pieces using the barn wood that’s located only a short distance from the roadside shop.  He’s responsible for keeping the inventory full while Tom runs the business.  We had to laugh because the cost of this original one-of-a-kind piece was $50 and came with a cool story.  Conversely, everything sold along the strip is 1000% more expensive…and made in China.

My Ancestry.com

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve taken a recent liking to Ancestry.com. I’ve dabbled in years gone by, but it wasn’t until November 2010 that I started taking it more seriously. The thought of lineage intrigues me. It’s hard to comprehend that Hans Meisel lived from 1531–1586 in the Bayern region of Germany and that I’m related to that guy!

Hans Meisel
Stephan Meisel
Barbara Meisel
Andreas Pfaffenberger
Johannes Pfaffenberger
Johann G Pfaffenberger
Johann P Poffenberger
John Poffenberger
Daniel Poffenberger
William Poffenberger
Fannie May Poffenberger
Great Granddad
Granddad
Dad
Me

1531! One thousand FIVE HUNDRED thirty one! FIFTEEN THIRTY ONE! That’s 480 years ago. That’s closer to William Wallace than it is to William Clinton. In 1531, Henry VIII was the king of England. In 1531, the Church of England had not yet been formed.

Staring into the annals of Ancestry.com is one way to track my lineage. The more trustworthy way is to pack a bag and head for Maryland. I always knew that there were loads of family pictures sitting in Mom & Dad’s possession but, until Wednesday, I didn’t have a real understanding of just how much stuff there was. Dad and I spent a day and a night sifting through some of Dad’s family history. The pictures are wildly fascinating. Here’s one of my favorites. Granddad loved to talk about this softball team. Can you find him? …I’ll put the answer at the end of the post.

Photos weren’t the only thing that we researched. We also found a Thomas genealogy book (which is a HUGE help), numerous newspaper clippings, and meticulous handwritten notes that document the historical significance of each piece. There's the mirror, for example, from the living room in the Line household. Clellie Line’s claim to fame is that she was born in a farmhouse on the Antietam battlefield during the Battle of Antietam. General McClellan was using the Line farmhouse for his own personal quarters during the battle (hence Clellie’s namesake). And then there's the phonograph.  I don't think anyone knows what to do with this...but you've got to admit that it's one of the cooler things you've seen.

At the end of the day, I walked away with about 50 new people in my family tree, portraits for even more, and far more accurate dates for each member's major life events. I hope that I can return someday soon to continue to digitize the collection of our family archives. There’s still A LOT left to scan, transpose, photograph, and document.  When the project is complete, I have a feeling that I might be headed for a road-trip.  A pilgrimage of sorts, to visit those places of gerations gone bye.

Answer: second row, second from right

They Can't All Be Winners

Living in Boston makes it really easy for us to catch a Red Sox game.  We had tickets for two games this season.  Our first game, against the O’s, went according to plan.  We always enjoy going to Fenway, but this one, against the Rays, didn’t quite end in our favor.

The Sox are in a slump.  That’s an understatement.  Their lead in the AL East has evaporated and the Wild Card position is becoming too close for comfort.  The pitching has gone to crap and the defense is looking sloppy.  Fortunately, the offense continues to put up big numbers.  If it weren’t for the offense, we’d be in MAJOR trouble.

Wifey and I had real good seats.  We were directly behind home plate.  There’s a net that protects us from foul balls.  The net adds an extra element to the ballgame that was certainly lost on me until today.  See…the net ensures that this is the least likely place in the ballpark to catch a ball.  Even the best laid plan can go awry.  There’s a small gap between the top of the net and its anchors located above and behind our section.  Upon occasion (3-4 times per game), a foul ball will funnel along the net, find the gap, and drop to the hoping fans below.  When this happens, the fans within the vicinity go bonkers.  It’s really kind of fun.  If you’re ever watching a Fenway game on TV and hear random cheers following a ball fouled straight back…guess what!?  The ball found its way down to an unlikely recipient.

Real good seats aren’t quite great seats.  Here’s a pic of our favorite seats above the Green Monster.

Although the Sox lost, the day was not!  During the early innings, a woman came around and offered to take our picture for a souvenir.  We declined, but the father & son in front of us did not.  Later in the game, the woman came back and gave the photo to the duo.  The Dad put it under his chair.  It turns out that this was the only picture of both Ali and I that night.  Can you see us trying to escape identification in the background?

***** UPDATE – September 30, 2011 – UPDATE *****

Well, that sucked.  I was at a marketing conference in Portland, OR during last night’s Sox – O’s game.  The wildcard all came down to the last game of the season.  There were a limited number of scenarios and the Red Sox were in control of their destiny.  During the sixth inning, I left for dinner in high spirits.  The Sox were up by one run and the Yanks were beating the Rays by seven.  Imagine my surprise when I returned home to learn that the O’s beat the Sox and the Rays beat the Yanks.  …precisely the wrong combination of events.  This is a tough pill to swallow.  The ESPN analysts are calling it the most exciting day in baseball history.  Ugh.

Vroom Vroom

The Baltimore Grand Prix is officially my second car race. My first was a NASCAR race at Richmond International Raceway with Troy circa '03. I highly recommend a car race to anyone.

For this race, it's hard to believe that it is in Baltimore. Casually remarking, "the race is in Baltimore" is unbefitting. A more realistic statement of fact would be "the race IS Baltimore." By the way, for those like me, who were uninitiated...it's not a "track", it's a "circuit".

I took an unofficial poll of Baltimore residents. I asked them to describe their sentiments towards the race. Unfortunately, their responses should not be repeated. However, to us, the race was awesome and we spent a lot of money. I'm sure that will make someone happy.

We arrived on Saturday during the practice laps. The sound of the cars is the first thing to hit you. They sound like very very angry, large, fast wasps. Due to the perimeter fence around the circuit, we were required to check-in to the race premises before we could get to our hotel. It's exciting to stay at a hotel inside of the circuit. Apparently we just missed the wreck that had everyone talking for the rest of the weekend. Glad to see that everyone was OK.

Our hotel was adjacent to the chicane after turn 12. The chicane was literally right outside of our doorstep. Our room was on the 14th floor facing the harbor.  We saw all of the long straight away, turn 6, and the first 6-10 paddocks in pit row. We couldn't have asked for a better view. We considered watching the whole race from the comfort of our room. This will not do, however, I have a date with destiny.

What a difference a day makes! Just to think, this time last week, I was watching every calorie and worrying about the final weigh-in. Not any more! This weekend was about having fun and indulging all of those food cravings that I've ignored since June. Our hotel was steps away from a huge group of food vendors. I was poised for greatness.

My strategy was simple: sample many different dishes but don't overload on any one of them. To make additional room, I decided not to eat any bread. I nearly jeopardized my entire mission with the first contestant: crab pretzel. Fortunately, willpower prevailed. I ate most of the crab and only a few bites of pretzel. After the crab pretzel, I found my rhythm. Boog's BBQ, Gyro, Pulled Pork #1, Cinnamon Almonds, and Pulled Pork #2. I topped it all off with some of Ali's chicken cheese steak.

Satisfaction. Delight.

Our grandstand seats were along the outside of turn 10. At this point in the circuit, drivers are decelerating from 150 MPH in preparation for the 90 degree turn12. Awesome.

There weren't any bad wrecks during the race.  Someone got sideways going through the hairpin and caused a long caution flag and a temporary parking lot.  Gridlock in Baltimore city...sound familiar?

I Best my COLLEGE Weight

This first day of September in the year of our lord 2011, marks the conclusion of my weight loss challenge.  This is a good day.  After 81 days of grueling work and dedication, I am proud to announce that I've lost 25.2 pounds!

This challenge was conceived over dinner on June 12 of this summer.  Wifey and I were revelling in the most exotic dinner of our lives (sea erchant, bone marrow, and the like), when she wagered that she could get me below 200 lbs by September 1st, 2011.  Being the fervent supporter of Wifey that I am, I eagerly accepted the challenge as I gulped my last bite of freedom (ox tail, if you must know).

Over the next 2.5 months, we drastically reduced the amount of carbohydrates, soda, red meat, cheese, and salt that I was eating.  In total, I approximate that I reduced my caloric intake to 1700-1800 calories per day.  Most of the weight loss came from diet alone.  I began adding exercise during the second half of the challenge.  In any given week, I would run 5-6 miles 3-4 times per week.

Every meal and exercise were tracked in our Food Log. Then, each and everyday, I stepped on the scale for the daily progress report.  Here's what my weight chart looks like.  You might notice that I started at 221.4 lbs and finished at 196.2 lbs.  That's total weight loss of over 25 lbs!

Can you spot the weekends?  ...the biggest peak was Lake Placid.  ...another doozy was the Man U - Barca game.

For some added perspective:

• My heaviest weight ever was 230 lbs
• In college, I was listed at 190 lbs but I'm pretty sure I never got below 200 lbs
• At my wedding, I weighed 213 lbs

When I finally rolled-back into the lower century, Wifey and I started getting really excited.  It was fun to see the numbers on the scale get lower and lower.

It really helped to have a partner in this crime.  One of my stipulations was that Wifey couldn't ask any more of me than she asked herself.  To that end, she also reduced her calories, exercised, and ultimately lost over 12 lbs!  If I ever eat one more spoonful of Greek Yogurt, it will be too soon.  Our normal diet included:

• Breakfast: scrambled eggs, yogurt, blueberries, and a banana
• Morning Snack: two apples
• Lunch: baked turkey (sliced), broccoli and other assorted veggies
• Dinner: poultry, pork, or fish with steam veggies

Once the exercise portion kicked in, I also started eating mixed nuts in the afternoon.  Fortunately, I didn't need to stick to this regimen seven days a week.  On the weekends, Wifey would loosen the requirements and allow for Sunday Slices in the Garden and/or a home cooked steak dinner.  Did I mention how much I like Beacon Hill Chocolates?

I've been looking forward to this day for quite some time.  And now that I'm free from the challenge, I'm tempted to go bonkers this weekend.  Can I get a Big Mac!?

Irene, Irene.

As Irene drew near, so did Paint-a-Palooza.  Wifey and I decided to use our hard earned vacation time to paint the master bedroom AND stain the corner entertainment center.  Preparations began on Friday morning, painting commenced on Friday afternoon, and staining followed shortly thereafter.  When all was said and done, the bedroom is in tip-top shape and we survived Irene.  Here's the before pic.

We recently resigned our lease for an additional year. Part of our decision to stay for another year included an agreement to make the apartment comfortable (to our standards).  With that in mind, we repaired the walls and initiated our rebellion against the institutional color palettes of yesteryear.
Maybe it was the tension caused by working in a small space for 36 hours, maybe it was sleeping on the couches for 2 nights in a row, or maybe we were just tired of painting.  Whatever it was, we decided that we were content with only replacing the wall and ceiling colors. We decided that we liked the color of the molding MORE than the planned purpley color.  Considering the Renaissance era molding along the baseboard and 12' ceiling, this decision probably saved us 8 hours of work.  Here's what the room looked like as we were putting it back together.  Funny how we didn't realize how bad the curtains are until after painted.

After we were done painting, our attention turned the oak entertainment center that we purchased in 2005.  Upon occasion, I've been reminded that, at the point of purchase, I promised to save money by staining the piece myself (an approximate $150 value).  (Un)fortunately, the day of reckoning hath arrived.  We finally stained the piece and are very happy with the results.

While we were finishing the painting/staining, Tropical Storm Irene rolled through Boston.  We got a lot of rain and wind BUT, were left relatively unscathed compared to the initial projections and the flooding that continues in Vermont.  The worst damage we saw was in the Public Gardens. We lost a large very old tree that had been camping directly opposite the Cheers bar.  If you've been to Boston, there's a strong likelihood that this tree is in one of your photos!  This tree fell down and blocked all 4 lanes of Beacon Street. It's sad the think that this tree has been around for over 100 years.  Within just a couple hours, the city had come and cleared the obstruction.

Our Boston Diggs

This post has been (way) too long time in the making.  Since I've taken the ADSK gig, I've always made time to model each new domiciles.  For example, here's the Somerville house.  I started modeling our Boston home immediately after moving in.  One year later, I'm yet to complete the model and starting to doubt my dedication to completing the project.  With that in mind, I set this project free!  Sorry about the details that I haven't finished!  ...I hope that you get the gist.

This Just In: My Handicap isn't (Entirely) My Fault

I cashed-in the last of my 2011 birthday gifts this morning.  The dinner, custom shirts, and nick-nacks are all eaten, picked-up, or gone...except for the club fitting at the Taylormade Performance Labs.  If you enjoy golf and are looking for an opportunity to geek-out, this is a great way to spend two hours (especially if you work for ADSK and are familiar with Maya).

Here's how it works:

1. attach the reflectors
2. turn on the cameras
3. swing the clubs
4. let the computers do the rest

The real value of the event is the club summary, but the cool factor is provided by the swing visualizer.  Here's what my 6-iron, wedge, driver, and putter swings look like.

And here are the results of my club fitting. Not to say that I don't need to do some work, but the impact graphic for the driver (page 1) makes it look like I missed the ball.  That's not the case!  The graphic is scaled wrong!!  You believe me, right?!

Don't forget to scroll down to the last page!  That's where the recommendations are.  So, if you're struggling to find me a christmas or birthday gift...  Just be sure to coordinate with wifey to avoid any duplicate gifts.

DM Club Summary

Night Walks w/ The Pup

During the week, Jacob gets three walks a day (plus playgroup).  Wifey and I divide up the walks; normally, she takes the morning walk, we both go for the dinner walk, and I take the night walk.  Summer night walks are wildly better than winter night walks.  As you can see, Boston's Public Garden is a street-musician hot-spot during the summer nights.  Each night, puppy and I get a (near) private performance.  It's usually acoustical but these guys are two of my favorite performers.

I gave them five bucks.  That milk crate must've had $200 in it.

Manchester United, 2 : Barcelona, 1

It’s not every (weekend, month, etc) that us Americans get to play host to two of the best club teams in the world.  I’m fortunate enough to have a wife who thrives on gift giving and being aware of the best events around.

We bought our tickets on the day that they went on sale and have been looking forward to this weekend ever since.  Sure, Barca has had fortune on their side of late but I’m pulling for Man U.  We flew into Reagan early Saturday morning and spent the morning walking around Annapolis.  I was surprised to see that Rt-50 was wide open.  This is a different MD than I remember.

After the stores had been shopped and the crab cakes eaten, we headed for our newest temporary domicile: the Holiday Inn Express.  The Largo HIE is two miles away from the stadium.  Walking to/from was the plan but when it came down to it, it was too hot for us Bostonians…we drove instead.  On our way out of the lot, we took pity on four other soccer fans and decided to bring them along for the ride.  Judging by the looks of things, these guys were fully prepared to be the life of the party.

Our tickets included passes to the Ultimate Fan Experience tents and a parking pass for the Purple Lot (both a godsend in their own right).  This was the second time that I’ve had Dave’s BBQ.  It was just as good as I remembered.  We had great seats so we rushed to occupy them and decided to postpone shopping until halftime.

The P.A. announcer said that the game was sold out and that the attendance was 81k+.  Our family accounted for, at least, four of the attendees.  Mom and Matthew showed up for the game too: happy birthday, Matthew and, thank you, Mom for the gift from Italy.  We’re glad that you enjoyed yourself!

Even though the teams didn’t play their entire starting roster, the talent on the field was inspiring.  We were happy to see three goals, although, the first Man-U goal looked offside from our perspective.  We were rooting for Man-U so we went home happy.

Wifey and I are crazy about collecting our reward points:  Marriott, Hertz, JetBlue…it doesn’t matter, we love the points!  This time around, we were singing the praises of the Hertz reward system.  Our weekend ride only cost $4.47.  Gotta love points!

A Man on a Mission

An unfortunate truth of living in a city is the great reduction of private outdoor living space, specifically, the loss of my grill.  The day that I sold my grill was a sad sad day…

I’ve only recently discovered how to make lemonade out of this situation and wonder why it didn’t dawn on me earlier.  For my entire life, I’ve cooked steak on the frill.  I was surprisingly unaware that steaks are prepared in an oven at most steakhouses.  With this knowledge, I’ve become an inspired man on a mission: to prepare the perfect (non-grilled) steak.

A broiled steak has a different flavor than the grilled steak.  …one that I like (I like it a lot).  So much so that I’ve cooked steak three times in a ten day period.  I like mine marinated before hand and then broiled on both sides for five minutes.  I finish the filet on the stovetop (in a nice pool of hot butter).  The result is heavenly.  Like any aspiring chef, I’m only as good as my tools.  The final piece of the puzzle arrived this week.  It’s surprise gift from Wifey.

Oh yes; seven pounds of pre-seasoned, carnivore enabling, intruder bashing, cast iron goodness.  Thank you, Wifey.  Thank you, Ms. Dean.

Now, if I could only figure how to reduce the amount of smoke I produce…

Hey You, Check That Baggage

...pardon the following rant.

I've flown enough to develop a few perspectives and opinions about checked baggage versus carry-on luggage. As a business traveler, I am well aware of the advantages of carrying-on. I get it. Congratulations on saving 30 minutes by avoiding the lines on both ends of the trip...BUT your carry-on luggage is slowing all passengers down! No matter how awesome you think you are in the security line, it DOES take you longer to get through security, get your luggage into the overhead bins, and to deplane. Heaven forbid the overhead bins become full by the time you decide to board and we have to wait as you pass your luggage from row 24 to the front. If your carry-on is responsible for a total 2 minute slow-down and 100 people are on the plane, then your 30 minutes saved comes at the expense of 200 minutes to the rest of the plane. Ouch.

Second, I have a deep seeded disdain for those who extend themselves beyond the rules, boundaries, or their abilities knowing that their inconvenience on those around them will ultimately become a form of self serving assistance. Sorry ladies, this one's most frequently related you. :-(.

I'm sure you're familiar with this type of person: technically, they're carrying no more bags than the rules limit but each bag is oversized, overstuffed, and way too heavy for them to manage with their present company. I don't want to help you with your luggage so don't expect me too. I am perfectly content standing directly behind you in line, watching you struggle, and offering no assistance as you not-so-suddenly discover that you cannot get your stuff into the bins. By the way, in public, wearing the word "Juicy" on one's arse just draws attention to your obesity.

So, my plea to the world is this: next time you're heading to the airport, do me a solid and just check your luggage. You'll be surprised at how navigable an airport becomes and spacious an aircraft can be when your not wheeling your wares behind you.

...OK, I'm off the soapbox now.

Green Monster Madness

Thank God for the Misses. If it weren't for her, I'd be a corporate blob; glued to the glow of my HP laptop.  Fortunately for me, she's here to pry me away from the 9 to 5 (yeah...right) and save me from myself.

This weekend, we had tickets to the Red Sox - O's game at Fenway. Not just any tickets, Green Monstah tickets!  These are the 'once in a lifetime' seats at Fenway. Our seats were underneath the Sports Authority sign and did not disappoint.

As a thank you for our charitable donation, Fenway provides loads of extras for the Monster ticket holders.  For starters, Gate E and the Monster stairs are virtually synonymous. The lines were short and stairs were close (so close that we walked by them the first time).

Once we got up to the Monster section and through the second line of security, we found our way to our seats and then the Monster concession stands.  Do you remember that I'm trying to get below 200 lbs?  Well, Fenway Franks have never tasted so good. I had 3.

During last nights game Ortiz and Gregg got into a scuffle. Is it still a scuffle if neither landed a punch?  We were (sorta) glad to see that, despite a few hit batsman, the tempers had been tempered.

It was a good night for a ball game. It was cool, we were in the shade, had a great view, and the Sox won.  It's taken 6 years for me to be happy when the Sox beat the O's...too bad it's not a more of a contest.  ;-)

An added bonus for this game was that I got to play with my new megazoom point-and-shoot camera.  Here's the first pitch.

And here's a picture of the Red Sox announcers Don and Remmy.

Fenway is one of those great reasons to live in Boston.  We walked both to and from the ballgame.  No need to drive, ride, or otherwise take public transportation.  ...it's just a short stroll down Comm Ave. Ahhh, I could get used to this.

A Boston 4th First

I recall many memories of July 4th weekends while living in the DC metro area. The holiday was (and is) something for the record books. Our typical firework routine was to take a picnic dinner to Germantown to our favorite vantage point for the fireworks at the Montgomery County Fairgrounds. Every couple of years we would break from the norm and try a new location. I have trouble remembering the deets but I believe we made it to the National Mall one year. With these memories and expectations in tote, Ali and I (well, mostly me) prepared for the Boston 4th.

Boston expects to welcome 500k spectators on Sunday. This is not the weekend for running errands that require personal automotive transportation. My plan is to get out of the office early on Friday and find a weekend-permanent home for the car. If it can be helped, the car will stay put for the next 3.5 days.

Wifey and I have fortunate access to the heart of the action. The hatch shell is 2 blocks away and the fireworks are launched from only a short stroll down the Esplanade. In fact, the Esplanade is part of my favorite dog walk and jog route. We've gotten an insiders glimpse of the preparation in the days leading up to the 4th. Have you ever wondered what the barges look like?

The challenge for taking-in all the the event has to offer is to juggle the Boston Pops concert with a good seat for the fireworks. While the Hatch Shell is the best seat for the Pops and National Broadcast, the surrounding tree layer prevents a good view of the fireworks. Fortunately, the Pops do a full dress rehearsal (complete with Martina McBride) on the night of July 3rd.

On the 3rd, we were surprised that we couldn't hear the rehearsal from our window. We decided to cruise over to the Beacon Hill side of Storrow Drive. It was nice to be on the periphery of the chaos.

The big day/night finally came. The number of people that pour onto the Esplanade is astonishing. The people, coolers, tents, and food have been piling up since before the morning dog walk (8a). The boats have been anchoring in the Charles for even longer. We are SOO glad that everything is in walking distance for us!!

The wind was blowing the firework remnants directly at us (smoke, debris, etc). The smoke doesn't bother us and the debris is few and far between. Although, a guy to our right got hit with (what we believe was) an ember. This is the closet I've ever been to the fireworks - in Germantown, the fireworks were several times further away. Fireworks look a lot bigger when you're this close. ...the concussions are much bigger too. I loved it but felt sorry for what Jake must've been going through back at the homestead. I video taped the whole fireworks show from our vantage point but will spare you the 20 minutes of amateur video.

Now that it's over, I'm happy to have properly attended theBoston Fireworks Spectacular. Next year, we'll be free to do what the true Bostonians do: avoid the crowds by heading for the islands. :-)

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

Sunday is here. We're excited to welcome our second year of marriage but we're also trying to avoid one inconvenient truth. We're leaving fantasy land and submitting to the gravitational pull of our regular life: e-mail, deadlines, and stress. We temper the sadness by knowing Jake is waiting for us on the other side. He makes it worth it.

Before we go, we'll enjoy as much as we can, one last time. Breakfast at LPL is magical. We're served on the large veranda overlooking the lake (of course overlooking the lake, everything is situated to take advantage of it's serenity). As hard as we try to avoid the pastries, the still warm croissants beckon to our cravings. For the second day in a row, I order the eggs benedict and wifey, two eggs over easy. This is the first EB that I've ever raved about that used ham instead of Canadian bacon.

After spelunking around the main lodge one last time, we're returning to our suite to breath in the fresh mountain air and begin packing. We agree that the suite is probably too big for our summer needs; we spent all of our time in the bedroom and on the patio (and very little time in the living room). If we come back by ourselves, next time, we'll downsize. If we bring Jake along, then we're limited to the larger (but cheaper) lakeside cabins - not to mention that we'll need to find a new motivation for returning home. We're also laughing about the fireplace/smoke ordeal from Friday night. Mental note, turn on the chimney fan before lighting either fireplace. We jest about our round of putt-putt on Saturday afternoon. She won, so I change the subject.

We finally make our way to the gift shop and down the road. On the way out of town, we're making one final stop at the 1980 Olympic Center, home of the greatest sporting event of all time, The Miracle on Ice. Once on the inside, it doesn't feel like a lot has changed in either of the two hockey rinks encased in the sprawling structure. The 1932 rink looks very unassuming. And the 1980 rink...well...it's hard to believe that I'm standing in the building where a handful of young amateur hockey players lived a dream. In case any guest has trouble recalling the final second of the game and the 'Do you believe in miracles!?' voiceover, the came is on replay in the onsite museum.

We've decided to take a different route home throughout VT and NH. We came around a turn and, to both of our surprise, we were being stopped at a border patrol checkpoint. The officers weren't messing around either. They even questioned why we were taking the less direct route to Boston (answer: to go through Woodstock along the way). What really got us was the German Shepherd that jumped up onto Ali's open window to sniff the cabin for drugs. After a bit more harassment, we were on our way. Apparently, NY Route 9 is a road frequently used for drug trafficking. Wood stock wasn't that nice...we're skipping that section of NY (and VT/NH) next time.

We're home now and looking through the Relais & Chateaux catalog of romantic hotel chains. It looks like we've found ourselves a bucket list! My only complaint about LPL is that 1) there's no place for carrots, celery, and the sort in a crab cake and 2) lump crab meat, LUMP.

The Natural

The weather forecast weighs heavy on our minds this weekend. I imagine that the weathermen sound like a broken record at this point. Despite their apologies and repetition, we were very fortunate yesterday. Earlier this morning, we canceled fishing on account of rain. After much reassurance that, 'fly fishing is better in the rain' and a steep price reduction, we're on our way out the door for our first ever fly fishing lesson.

Our guide has a few rough edges and is certainly upset that he had to pick-up, return, and then re-pick-up our waders at the rental place. He's spending a lot of time talking about his disdain for the people that are in town to train on the course for the upcoming Ironman. He's landed on an interesting topic, but the way he frames the conversation makes him sound petulant. I prefer that he discuss the economic impact of the event on Lake Placid and the surrounding area. Instead, he keeps whining about having to share the road with them...

It took about 30 minutes to exhaust his opinions of the Iron(wo)men. After which, he was quite personable. We pulled off the road onto the shoulder. If you're none the wiser, these pull-offs are a complete mistery. It turns out that they're here to provide parking access to the many rivers and streams that restrain the road and other human development. Wifey's making quite the fashion statement in her tan full length waders. We're heading down a trail to the river (hopefully). Standing in the river up to our waists is an odd sensation. We've finally got the rods in our hands and are ready to start fishing!

I try to be a humble person, but my skills are far too superior to downplay. Maybe it's our proximity to the home of The Miracle on Ice. Maybe it's the distance in between me and my laptop. Or, maybe I'm feeling inspired by our first year of marriage. Whatever the source, I AM A FLY FISHING PRODIGY. Our guide is gushing that, in his 37 years of instructing, he has never seen anyone pick-up the nuances as quickly as I. I liken my performance to that of the elegant deliverance a ballerina portrays as she guides the fickle streamer through the unassuming air. This infuriates wifey. At the conclusion of the session, she points out that she received more nibbles than I did. We are both content and head back to LPL in preparation for the afternoon.

We've been working to gain better control over our diets. In fact, we both have a weight goal for Sept 1 (200 lbs). If we're successful, wifey gets a very nice reward. To help us stay honest, we went to a trainer. To help us stay relaxed, we got massages. It was one of the best that I've ever recieved. I've decided that a good hands, arms, legs, and feet Massuse is better then having a good back, neck, and shoulders massuse. I never ever thought that I would have a preference. What's come of me? Wifey says that the city is making me soft. Does that make any sense?

Wifey and I have taken hiatus from kayaking and canoeing since a certain kayaking experience on thr Charles River. There's a light mist in the air but I'm feeling good about my fly fishing skills. Thus, today marks our return to the canoe. LPL offers a daily boat tour of the Lake, unfortunately, our schedule won't accommodate such an excursion. Instead, we're paddling out to get a few pictures of the lodge (and our room) from the lake. I have no injuries, close calls, or drownings to report. Life is good.

Our new diet keeps us from enjoying many of lifes conveniences. Tonight, we're having a romantic night to ourselves on the balcony of the Placid suite (courtesy of McDonald's and Heineken). How do you like me now, Diet?!