The Gender Sender Delivers the News

Wifey and I have been keeping a secret for a bunch of weeks:

The news of baby's gender was available to us around Thanksgiving-ish. However, as of Christmas morning, only Wifey knew the gender. Turns out we have significantly different opinions about this little tidbit of knowledge the second time around. Who knew?

I lived through several weeks of loving torment (e.g. "Do you want to know now? ...how about now? ...um, now?"). We made plans to disclose the Mills side of our family at Christmas lunch AND force them, willingly or not, to participate as the gender was revealed to me/us. Here's how it went down:

Our calendars are marked for May 27th!

The Great Pacifier Backfire

Wifey & I didn't want to use a pacifier with Alex. Then he went to daycare and we found ourselves knee deep in those thangz. It made our lives a little easier at the time but Alex is so chill that neither of us think there was a material benefit. Quitting the habit brought the full range of withdrawal goblins though and that's what we're dealing with this week.

Naturally, I took the pacifier notion and mashed it with one of my favorite musicians (Walker Hayes). Here's where I landed.

Since I have very little music-ability, I needed to rip the instrumentals and most of the remaining creativity. Getting the lyrics and instrumentals didn't go quite as planned but you got the point! Here's the original song. I picked it because it's got a nice message behind it that is easily relatable. 

You be the judge though, which version do you like more? ;-) 

Blizzard Wizard

I am so very happy that Jonas decided to plop more than 2' of snow on us. Now-a-days winter-tech is just a distant memory in my book. But it's just too hard not to have some fun when the opportunity presents itself. Plus, in my mind's eye, this is exactly how I'd look if I were cast in a Winter apocalypse movie.

Notice that my trusty sidekick has decided he's gone far enough. While I press forward clutching Jake's leash in my hand, he had decided that a pee-break wasn't worth the effort and retreated back into the warmth of our cave. I bet he'd change his mind if he was wearing SmartWool from head to toe...

I finally coaxed him out as the storm started to wind down. Hardly anything was cleared but those sidewalks that were created a fun maze for us to navigate.

And then there was this little fiasco. This is the bread isle at the grocery store. Kinda crazy, right? Would you be surprised to know that the ingredients used to make bread were virtually untouched?

The storm affected a lot of folks in a negative way. We're hoping that they stay warm and safe. But for me, it was a lot of fun to frolic in a winter wonder land.

Field of Dreams

I’ve got retirement on my brain.

Mostly because my mom retired this year and we just celebrated with her, family, and friends. But…also a little bit because I’ve been planning for retirement since 1996 and been obsessing over it ever since.

Take a trip down memory lane with me. My first ever retirement plan was to hit the Maryland Lotto and retire at (or before) age 30. One needs to reach the ripe age of 17 before purchasing a lottery ticket in Maryland. Oh, I counted those days all the way down to my 17^th b-day. When the day finally arrived, I drove straight to the 7-11 in Damascus and bought as many Lotto tickets as my birthday cash could afford. The money I won was “reinvested” immediately which led to compounding losses and eventually…no more cash. As it turns out, the lottery was not a good retirement plan for me. I haven’t given up on that dream entirely but I’ve augmented it with mitigation strategies including the Virginia Lottery and a career.

  

With Plan B well underway, I’m free to think about the more operational related pieces of retirement. I like to refer to this part of the dream as “FTB” or soccer (f)ield, (t)urnstile, and (b)arn.

1.     Soccer Field: Kinda like Groundskeeper Willy meets Ray Kinsella from Field of Dreams. I'll spend my mornings tending to the (full size) pitch. In my minds eye, it’s freshly mowed, painted and has the professional style goals where the nets are tied behind the goal forming a perfect ready-to-billow canopy.

2.     Turnstile: the Red Sox hold spring training from early February to early March each year (currently in Fort Myers, FL). I’ll spend those 4-5 weeks each year exploring a second career: as one of the ticket checkers at the turnstile gates.

3.     Barn: I want a barn to house a wood-shop real bad. Ha! I’ll build furniture in my spare time.

 
Even more important than FTB though, I hope to be surrounded by friends and family. That’s the real dream. Which is what we did with Mom this weekend. So enjoy the retired life, Ma. You’ve earned it.

It's Me or the Beanbag...Don't Answer That

We have this ridiculous (there, I said it) convertible beanbag thing leftover from our move. You might even recognize it. We used it to make the biggest softest bed imaginable for Jake. By all accounts, it did that!

Full disclosure: It also barfed foamy bits all over the car and house. It was also too high for Jake to jump up onto so now my back hurts. It also made it real tough to see out the back window. And now, it occupies a space in our new place.

On the other hand... Jake loves it. And, well, look at him!

The funny story behind this poof of furniture is that we TRIPLE stuffed it. Accidentally. When you order this thing, they offer to send you a second batch of stuffing should you want the marshmallow to be more firm. We accepted their offer. A couple days later, we get a delivery notification but no package. The following day we officially declared the package stolen and called the Company. They were very kind and resent the stuffing. Which arrived safely a couple days later.  Guess what arrived a few days after that!? Yep, the 2nd batch of stuffing.

Feeling like my masculinity was in doubt, I stuffed all 3 batches into the liner and then the case. See how that zipper looks like it's going to bust in that 2nd pic? Yeah. Masculinity restored.

3 Tips for DIY-ers

I love a good DIY project. For a guy that spends more time doing email than virtually anything else, some manual labor (especially if it's a creative outlet) is a welcome project. Here are 3 oft overlooked tips for folks who enjoy the occasional project and the stuff that comes with it.

Time it. Juuuust right. 

DIY projects are like homemade cinnamon buns: you've gotta let 'em bake before unveiling the goodness. OK, ok...horrible analogy. I agree. The literal explanation is even worse.

What I mean is: don't just jump right into the project! You've gotta let the buns bake for a few. It's about managing expectations. Be forewarned: should you make short work of the first project, you're only accelerating the second project (and third and ...) and increasing future complexity.

So how long should you wait before kicking-off the project? Here's my tried and true methodology. First, conservatively estimate the number of hours required to complete the project. Better to over estimate. Second, delay for that many weeks. Third, ta-daah.

Get it in Writing

David's first law of DIY states, "as project commencement nears, the value of verbal commitments to assist decline towards absolute zero." I'll even go one step further and identify a "verbal" for what it is: a bargaining tactic. These are high-pressure negotiation tactics used to pressure you into doing the project.

Verbals are like a 4-legged stool. Each leg of the stool represents a good reason to accept the project. When one of the legs is removed, the stool will still stand. Be prepared to identify and react to these (and other) dirty negotiation tactics.

Keep 'em Coming

DIY projects are an important part of one's identity. And it's important to do a project each quarter so that folks identify you as a DIY-er. This is a key to workshop bliss! Why? Because there are opportunities throughout the year when someone might be inclined to give you a gift. It's at these times that you should refer them to your wishlist of awesome-but-less-than-essential tools. Laser level? Electric sander? Portable jump-starter? Yes, YEs and YES!

I refinished a shelf over the weekend. The piece looks great and I had a good time doing it. Onto the next one! ...but not until Q3, of course.

This Explains...Something?

One can't understand where they're going without knowing from where they came.  Right?  Maybe?  Something like that!  I come from a long line of able farmers.  The annual Mills garden and subsequent harvest was something to behold.  The young oft delivered gift baskets to local friends in an effort to maintain neighbor relations.

From an early age I exhibited strong agricultural proficiencies.  In this video I demonstrate my aptitude for, as they say, tillin' up the land.  Indeed, a green thumb from the beginning.  During the winter, we would rotate the snow piles to keep the atrophy at bay.  In the late Fall, bunny rabbit uniforms were customary regalia amongst the farmer elite.

Dominic DiMaggio (...and Joe too)

I've been catching up on my reading list over the last couple weeks.  ...one of the many many MANY things that makes sabbatical so sabbaticooool.  OK, now that that's out of my system...

I just finished The Teammates: A Portrait of a Friendship.  It is, first and foremost, a story about the relationships between Ted Williams and other Red Sox greats Bobby Doerr, Johnny Pesky, and Dom DiMaggio.

This book was one piece of a larger christmas gift from Ali's parents that contained various different Red Sox memorabilia.  If anyone's struggling to find me a gift, this is a good lead to follow!

I was pleasantly surprised as I read about the roots that some of these guys had in the old Pacific Coast League.  As it turns out, Dom grew up less than a mile away from our current home!  I couldn't wait to get home and run over to the place where Dom (OK - Joe too) grew up: 2047 Taylor Street.

If you look at the map, you'll see a playground that was named after Dom's brother (Yankee and debatably the best baseball player ever), Joe.  Despite an excellent career, often against all odds, Dom never really got the credit he deserved.

Here I am in front of the house.  The entrance on the right leads to 2047.  It's difficult for me to say how much the house has changed over the 90 years since they lived there.

Truthfully, it's a bit underwhelming.  I was expecting, at least, a placard.  In lieu of any identifying mark, I couldn't help but wonder if the addresses have changed over the years.  Perhaps I'm at the wrong house!?  ...wouldn't be the first time.

Rule 119: Beware of the Guy with a Saber

Have you ever wished to have been a fly on the wall at the exact moment that a (then obscure) idea was hatched?  Take for example, champagne sabering.  What was going on in the room during the first time that someone thought, “Sacré bleu!  I must open this champagne with my sword!”  Whatever was happening, I bet it was a good party…

Wifey and I decided to test my sabering skills at the local champagne lounge.  It’s not as easy as it looks!  OK, it is as easy as it looks.  Apparently I was not on my game today.

Despite hacking at the bottle for several minutes, the instructor assured me that simply having a larger sword would not make it any easier.  Well, I guess we’ll never know…now.  After I finally severed cork and neck from bottle (6^th time’s a charm), we emerged from the weird underground cave to enjoy our bounty.  Is it too early to start my Christmas list?

Click here for a quick lesson on the history of sabrage.

Anyone Can be Cool, But Awesome Takes Practice

Happy Birthday David!  Thank you for being awesome, and not just cool.

Love, Wifey and Puppy

Unchartered Territory

I got a haircut on Friday.

The barber trimmed a portion of my cranium that has never required cleaning before.  What was going on?  Why are the scissors resting so high on my dome-piece ?

Then, just as I looked into the mirror and established a visual, it hit me: he was leveling the remaining hairs which stood in a battlefield who's victor had been determined many years ago.  He mowed those poor innocent hairs down, as if to say, "let's make it official."

Alas, all is not lost.  Mom's Dad had a full head of hair into his 90's.  Keep fighting the good fight!

Where for art Thou Davio?

These photo scans are like the project that will never end.  The output is quite rewarding though.  You might recall that the girls used to call me "Davio" during my younger years.  At the time, it was terribly embarrassing.  Slightly less embarrassing was "Dennis the Menace."  Anybody up for a game of guess the year?

...look at those dimples in the late High School years!

Beavers and Pandas

I have two post ideas that have been kicking around my head but... neither of them are hefty enough to deserve their own post.  Go forth mini-posts, I release you onto the world!

There are a finite number of C-Level officers in corporations.  I've been around long enough to know what to expect: Chief Executive Officer, Chief Finance Officer, Chief Legal Council, blah, blah, blah, 100% predictable.  The ever accelerating pace of technology has created the need for new breeds of CXO's (Chief Yahoo! excluded).  One of those sneaky little you-know-whats snuck-up on me last week and I realized that being blissfully unaware of certain CXO's is often a good thing.

There's a handful of music out there that's appealing to me and yes, it's embarrassing to admit my affinity for some of it.  Some older some newer.  I've been rockin-out to these songs of late:

1. Gotye - Somebody That I Used to Know
2. Old Crow Medicine Show - Wagon Wheel
3. The Civil Wars - Barton Hollow
4. Ray Charles - Georgia On My Mind
5. Matisyahu - Miracle
6. Eric Church - Springsteen
7. Tribe Called Quest - Can I Kick It?

Captain Beard’s Log, Startdate 65505.1

Yes, that is today’s real stardate.  Don’t believe me?

I was combing through the featured articles on Yahoo! today and recognized two of the homes in a real estate article.  They're in my neighborhood!

Here’s a link to the original, Urban Mansions Rich with History.  Both of these homes are along the morning dog walk.  The Ames-Webster Mansion is on Dartmouth St.  As you’ll see in my picture, the shades in the windows have been drawn for months.

The O’Connor Residence is eerily close to home.  I can’t believe they’re asking $12.75M for the property.  Unreal.  This house is equally unoccupied on a frequent basis.

It must be nice to have a mansion on the market and feel no pressure to close a deal!

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.