Eric R. Ivie, Freelance Writer

Charges Against San Diego Chargers WR Legedu Naanee Dismissed

2011-05-11T20:53:00.000-04:00

Misdemeanor charges against San Diego Chargers receiver Legedu Naanee stemming from a Feb. 12 altercation with Indianapolis Metropolitan Police have been dismissed.

Click here to read the entire article.

Hot Diggity Dawg! A New Lunch Option in Danville!

2011-05-08T12:55:00.000-04:00

There's a new dawg in town. A gourmet dawg, to be precise. Diggity Gourmet Dawgs opened on the Courthouse Square in Danville, Indiana, on Friday, May 6, coinciding with the first First Friday Cruise-In car show of the season.

Click here to read the entire article.

Tulsa Talons Shred Chicago Rush, 64-45

2011-05-08T12:52:00.000-04:00

The Tulsa Talons (3-5) earned a convincing 64-45 home victory over the Chicago Rush (5-3) on Saturday night on the arm and legs of their quarterback, Matt Bassuener.

Click here to read the entire article.

Week 9 Preview: Chicago Rush at Tulsa Talons

2011-05-08T12:50:00.000-04:00

The Chicago Rush is in Oklahoma this weekend to battle a division opponent, the Tulsa Talons on Saturday night in the Arena Football League. Looking to keep pace with the Dallas Vigilantes (5-2) in the Central Division, the Rush (5-2) could use a victory.

Click here to read the entire article.

A Conversation with Chicago Rush DB Jason Simpson

2011-05-04T07:19:00.000-04:00

Chicago Rush DB Jason Simpson currently leads the Arena Football League in tackles and is tied with teammate DB Vic Hall for the league lead in interceptions. He's a prominent player on a dominant defense. Just don't try telling him that.

Click here to read the entire article.

That VooDoo That You Do Doesn't Work on Chicago Rush

2011-05-02T09:39:00.000-04:00

The Chicago Rush honored its head coach, Bob McMillen, by retiring his #44 jersey on Saturday night and also honored him on the field with a convincing 50-28 victory over the visiting New Orleans VooDoo.

Click here to read the entire article.

Week 8 Preview: New Orleans VooDoo at Chicago Rush

2011-04-29T21:46:00.000-04:00

On Saturday, April 30, the New Orleans VooDoo comes to Allstate Arena to take on the Chicago Rush. Rush head coach Bob McMillen's jersey also gets retired.

Click here to read the entire article.

The 2011 NFL Mock Draft of English Monarchs

2011-04-29T10:05:00.000-04:00

Pure silliness, imagining what it would be like if the two major news events of the week--the NFL Draft and the Royal Wedding--collided in some sort of demented Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.

Click here to read the entire article.

Grudge Judge Debate: Seahawks Deserved to be in the Playoffs

2011-04-27T08:17:00.000-04:00

Yahoo! Sports has a new Facebook application called Grudge Judge, where sports arguments of all kinds can be settled in the court of public opinion. Did the Seattle Seahawks deserve to be in the NFL Playoffs last season? Read the article below, and then cast your vote on Grudge Judge!

Click here to read the entire article.

Jaded Sports Fan Saved by Kids

2011-04-25T20:39:00.001-04:00

In a sports world spoiled by commercialism, cheating, and obnoxious TV personalities, a bunch of four- and five-year-olds manage to save a cynical fan's love of athletics.

Click here to read the entire article.

Guide for New Writers: Dealing with Trolls

2011-04-25T20:36:00.001-04:00

Freelance writing is a great experience until the internet trolls show up and ruin everything. Read my suggestions for dealing with trolls.

Click here to read the entire article.

Youth as Resources Awards Over $5,000 for Youth Service Projects

2011-04-25T20:34:00.000-04:00

The Hendricks County board of Youth As Resources of Central Indiana (YARCI) awarded more than $5,000 in grants on March 23 to local youth who plan to use the money on projects to benefit the community.

Click here to read the entire article.

Searching for Lost Treasure: the Golden Rule

2011-04-25T20:30:00.000-04:00

As a society, we are forgetting an important and central tenet of interacting with one another: treating others the way we expect to be treated.

Click here to read the entire article.

Youth Baseball Leagues in Hendricks County, Indiana

2011-04-25T20:28:00.000-04:00

Are you looking for a youth baseball league in Hendricks County, Indiana? Look no further. I have all the scoop right here.

Click here to read the entire article.

Why Some Species Eat Their Young

2011-04-25T20:25:00.002-04:00

The trials and tribulations of trying to get a three-year-old to hurry.

Click here to read the entire article.

The Natalie Munroe Incident: a Sign of Bigger Problems

2011-04-25T20:23:00.000-04:00

Natalie Munroe--the Pennsylvania teacher whose personal blog entries from 2009 and 2010 have made her infamous in 2011--is at the center of an interesting storm: one that is an alarming statement on today's society.

Click here to read the entire article.

Ten Great Alternative Albums of the 1990's

2011-04-25T20:20:00.000-04:00

Alternative music has such a broad definition and contains infinite sub-genres that any list of top ten alternative albums from the 1990's is sure to create debate. What follows are ten albums that I continue to listen to and enjoy.

Click here to read the entire article.

The Five Stages of Winter

2011-04-25T20:17:00.000-04:00

In her 1969 book, On Death and Dying, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross introduced the concept of five distinct stages that people go through when dealing with grief or tragedy. Her concepts can also be applied to how we handle the cold months.

Click here to read the entire article.

A Procedure to "Dye" For: the Arthrogram

2011-04-25T20:13:00.000-04:00

A warning to shoulder injury sufferers about a procedure to "dye" for, a doctor who moonlights as a WWE wrestler, and the pretty nurse who shamelessly betrayed me.

Click here to read the entire article.

Bah Humbug to Valentine's Day

2011-04-25T20:11:00.000-04:00

I don't love Valentine's Day. Do you?

Click here to read the entire article.

Saving for College: So Easy that a Normal Person Can Do It

2011-04-25T20:08:00.000-04:00

Plenty of financial experts have written hard-to-understand articles on saving for college through 529 savings plans. Read how an average guy in Indiana tackles college savings.

Click here to read the entire article.

How to Transfer Probation from One State to Another

2011-04-25T20:06:00.000-04:00

People who are on probation occasionally want to relocate from one state to another for a variety of reasons. Can this be done? How does probation supervision get transferred from one state to another?

Click here to read the entire article.

How to Become a Probation Officer in Indiana

2011-04-25T20:03:00.000-04:00

How does a person get started in the challenging and engaging career of being a probation officer in Indiana? Get information and tips from an Indiana probation officer here.

Click here to read the entire article.

Five Ways to Succeed on Probation

2011-04-25T19:59:00.000-04:00

Are you or a loved one on probation? Lots of people are. Read a probation officer's advice on how to maximize chances of successful completion of probation.

Click here to read the entire article.

A Life Lesson Learned on the Ski Slopes

2011-04-25T19:56:00.002-04:00

Learning to downhill ski as a teenager with my dad turned out to provide a much bigger and lasting lesson in life.

Click here to read the entire article.

On-Line Resources Available for Parents in Hendricks County, Indiana

2011-04-25T19:54:00.000-04:00

My very first article on Yahoo! Contributor Network. Brings a little tear of joy to my eye just thinking about it.

An overview of They're Our Kids--a free, not-for-profit organization in Hendricks County, Indiana, designed to promote parental involvement. Hundreds of valuable links to a variety of information in one central location.

Click here to read the entire article.

The Good, Bad, and Ugly of the 2011 Seattle Seahawks Schedule

2011-04-25T00:46:00.000-04:00

With the release of the 2011 NFL schedule, let's take a look at the best and worst match-ups for the Seattle Seahawks.

Click here to read the entire article.

A Ridiculously Early Look at the 2011 Seattle Seahawks Schedule

2011-04-25T00:43:00.000-04:00

The NFL has released the 2011 schedule! See who's on tap for the Seattle Seahawks!

Click here to read the entire article.

Top Five Draft Day Steals for the Seattle Seahawks

2011-04-25T00:40:00.000-04:00

Five guys who came out of nowhere on Draft Day to star for the Seattle Seahawks.

Click here to read the entire story.

Top Five Draft Day Busts for the Seattle Seahawks

2011-04-25T00:37:00.000-04:00

The Seattle Seahawks probably wish they could go back in time and not draft these five guys.

Click here to read the entire article.

A Ridiculously Early Look at the 2011 Indianapolis Colts Schedule

2011-04-25T00:33:00.001-04:00

The Indianapolis Colts' 2011 schedule is out! How will they do this season?

Click here to read the entire article.

Chicago Rush Implodes in Loss to KC Command

2011-04-25T00:25:00.000-04:00

The Chicago Rush dropped the ball a lot and dropped a division game in the Arena Football League to the Kansas City Command.

Click here to read the entire article.

Week 7 Preview: Chicago Rush vs. Kansas City Command

2011-04-25T00:20:00.000-04:00

The Chicago Rush of the Arena Football League returns to Allstate Arena at long last to host the Kansas City Command in the NFL Network's Arena Football Friday Game of the Week.

Click here to read the entire article.

Chicago Rush Alleviate Pressure of a Perfect Season in Week Four

2011-04-25T00:17:00.000-04:00

The Chicago Rush of the Arena Football League made a brilliant decision Saturday afternoon and removed all the pressure of an undefeated season by letting the Cleveland Gladiators win, 55-48.

Click here to read the entire article.

Week 4 Preview: Chicago Rush at Cleveland Gladiators

2011-04-25T00:15:00.000-04:00

The Chicago Rush (3-0) travels to northern Ohio in Week 4 to battle the unbeaten Cleveland Gladiators (2-0). Whet your appetite with a little preview.

Click here to read the entire article.

Chicago Rush Tames the SaberCats in Week Three

2011-04-25T00:11:00.001-04:00

The Chicago Rush made its case for moving into the top spot in the Arena Football League coaches' poll with a 54-41 victory over the previously top-seeded San Jose SaberCats on Friday night at Allstate Arena.

Click here to read the entire article.

Get to Know the Chicago Rush: WR/DB Vic Hall

2011-04-25T00:09:00.000-04:00

Chicago Rush WR/DB "Do It All" Vic Hall has had a spectacular start to his Arena Football League career so far in 2011. In a league that emphasizes speed and versatility, Hall has the skill set to become a star.

Click here to read the entire article.

Chicago Rush Steamroll Philadelphia Soul in Home Opener

2011-04-25T00:04:00.000-04:00

The Chicago Rush did not show much brotherly love to its former coach and star players now with the Philadelphia Soul on Friday night during its convincing 62-28 victory on national television.

Click here to read the entire article.

Week 2 Preview: Chicago Rush vs. Philadelphia Soul

2011-04-25T00:01:00.000-04:00

Preview of the Chicago Rush's home opener vs. the Philadelphia Soul in the Arena Football League on Friday, March 18, at 7:00pm Central.

Click here to read the entire article.

Week 1: Chicago Rush 49, Milwaukee Mustangs 41

2011-04-24T23:58:00.000-04:00

The Arena Football League's Chicago Rush barely survived a trip north against the Milwaukee Mustangs Monday night with a coronary-inducing 49-41 victory in their season opener.

Click here to read the entire article.

Get to Know the Chicago Rush: DL Mark Weivoda

2011-04-24T23:55:00.001-04:00

The Chicago Rush kicks off the 2011 season on Monday, March 14. Let's meet one of the Rush's defensive linemen who will be making AFL QB's miserable all season long: Mark Weivoda.

Click here to read the entire article.

Week 1 Preview: Chicago Rush at Milwaukee Mustangs

2011-04-24T23:52:00.000-04:00

A preview of the Chicago Rush @ Milwaukee Mustangs in the Arena Football League on Monday, March 14.

Click here to read the entire article.

Chicago Rush Acquires WR/DB Charles Dillon

2011-04-24T23:49:00.000-04:00

The Chicago Rush of the Arena Football League acquired WR/DB Charles Dillon from the defending champion Spokane Shock last week in exchange for claim order position. Who is Charles Dillon?

Click here to read the entire article.

Looking Ahead to the 2011 Chicago Rush 10th Anniversary Season

2011-04-24T23:47:00.000-04:00

The 2011 Chicago Rush season is just over a month away in the Arena Football League. Enjoy a brief overview of the Rush's previous nine seasons as they prepare to celebrate the beginning of their 10th Anniversary Season.

Click here to read the entire article.

Are You Ready for Some Football? A Conversation with Ron Jaworski, Lynn Swann, and Jerry Kurz

2011-04-24T23:42:00.000-04:00

Ron Jaworski and Lynn Swann stepped away from their preparations for Friday night's 24th season opener in the Arena Football League to participate in a conference call with Commissioner Jerry B. Kurz this afternoon.

Click here to read the entire article.

An Arena Football League Primer

2011-04-24T23:38:00.002-04:00

The NFL season is over. Now what? Try checking out the Arena Football League. Read this article to learn how the AFL and NFL are similar, and how they're different.

Click here to read the entire article.

No NFL? No Problem

2011-04-24T23:34:00.003-04:00

This Seattle Seahawks fan will probably be better off without a 2011 NFL season. Here's how I'll be spending my Sundays this fall.

Click here to read the entire article.

I Won't Suffer Without the NFL

2011-04-24T23:31:00.000-04:00

Jay Feely said on ProFootballTalk Live on March 14, that if the NFL doesn't get its business sorted out, "fans are the ones who will suffer." Not this fan.

Click here to read the entire article.

NFL Suspensions Coming For Flagrant Hits on Defenseless Players

2011-04-24T23:28:00.000-04:00

New rules are coming down the pike in the NFL to suspend defenders who hit defenseless players and expand the definition of "defenseless." Is this a good thing or not?

Click here to read the entire article.

Tiki Barber Should Reconsider His Return to the NFL

2011-04-24T23:25:00.001-04:00

As I read about former New York Giants running back Tiki Barber filing paperwork with the NFL office to be reinstated from retirement, I'm puzzled as to why he would want to do this.

Click here to read the entire article.

Do You Know Who Legedu Naanee Is?!

2011-04-24T23:19:00.002-04:00

A back-up wide receiver for the San Diego Chargers, Legedu Naanee, tries to throw his "fame" around in Indianapolis. It doesn't work out particularly well for him.

Click here to read the entire article.

Super Bowl XLV is a Disappointment

2011-04-24T23:16:00.002-04:00

As the confetti fell in Cowboys Stadium after Super Bowl XLV, I was left with a feeling of disappointment. And it wasn't because of the quality of the game or the fact that the Packers won. It was everything else.

Click here to read the entire article.

Jay Cutler Reaps What He Sows

2011-04-24T23:12:00.001-04:00

As news of Jay Cutler's Grade II sprain of his MCL is reported, the social pendulum suddenly swings from Cutler as a quitter to Cutler as a martyr. While Cutler's injury may be legitimate, he earned this kind of backlash from Bears fans.

Click here to read the entire article.

Jay Cutler Inexplicably Quits on the Chicago Bears

2011-04-24T23:10:00.001-04:00

Jay Cutler pulls himself out of the NFC Championship Game with a phantom knee injury. Bears fans should be outraged.

Click here to read the entire article.

The Article That Began My Relationship with the Chicago Rush

2011-04-24T23:04:00.001-04:00

For someone who has been watching football games since August, there will be a sudden void in my life after Super Bowl XLV has concluded. My solution? The Arena Football League.

Click here to read the full article.

Small Fish in a Big Pond

2011-01-07T13:54:00.005-05:00

I’m trying something new. I set up a profile with the Yahoo! Contributor Network a few days ago, and I’m going to try submitting some writing for on-line publication. It’s pretty much like blogging, but submissions have to go through editors first, and some of Yahoo!’s corporate partners might pick up an article if it tickles their fancy.

There’s a potential to earn some money doing this, but I can’t imagine that it’s very lucrative. I’m sure it takes somewhere in the neighborhood of 2.3 billion hits to earn a nickel, so I’m not quitting my day job anytime soon. But at the same time, I’m not turning down an extra quarter or two in my pocket every six months.

My main motivator for doing this is to see how my writing stacks up to that of the rest of the world. To be honest, I’m pretty nervous about going through editors. What if they don’t like my stuff? That would be embarrassing. I’ve long considered writing to be one of the few things I’m relatively good at, so for that to be taken away would just leave drinking beer and losing fantasy football championship games as my only talents worth mentioning.

But what if they do like it? That’d be pretty cool.

I’m also motivated by their suggested limit of 300 to 500 words per submission. Brevity has never been a strong suit of mine, so this will be a challenge. Being challenged is something I enjoy.

I submitted a few things yesterday and the day before, and they’re all awaiting review. Well, to be honest, one of them was declined today. After overcoming the debilitating shame of having my worth as a human being reduced in value, I worked up the courage to read the reason why it was declined. There was some problem with the picture I attached to it. The picture wasn’t critical at all to the submission, so I just removed it and resubmitted the article. Whew. I’m not a failure after all. Yet.

They say it could take up to two weeks to get something published, but responses are often much quicker. I hope they’re quicker than that on my first submission. It was the Seahawks bit just below this entry. It’ll look pretty dumb if it’s published sometime after Saturday afternoon.

We’ll see how things go for awhile. School starts back up next Thursday, so that will drastically affect how much time I have for recreational writing until sometime in mid-May, but if you want to check in from time to time to see how it’s going, I encourage you to check out my profile. Every day. Roughly 2.3 billion times a day. And if you’re interested in becoming a Yahoo! Contributor, too, click on the little graphic of the bullhorn in the right-hand column of this blog. For every 9000 people I recruit, I get a free toaster.

Incidentally, this entry is 494 words long. Jackpot.

UPDATE: My first article was published this evening (1/7/11). Check it out here.

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/6190438/online_resource_available_for_parents.html?cat=8

Why the Seahawks Shouldn't Be in the Playoffs...or Should They?

2011-01-03T16:10:00.006-05:00

I'm a huge Seahawks fan and have been since their inception in 1976. I grew up in Washington State, so they have always been my home team, regardless of where in the country I have lived. So last night, I was overjoyed when they beat the St. Louis Rams, 16-6, won the NFC West Division, and became the first division champion in NFL history with a losing record (7-9). I've been hearing Chuck's son--an avid New York Giants fan--grumbling for weeks, with growing intensity as the regular season drew to an end, about how his Giants may not make the playoffs, while my Seahawks could.

On Sunday night, his worst nightmare came true.

I imagine that Tampa Bay Buccaneers (10-6) fans had a similar reaction.

And you know what? I can't say that I disagree with either set of fans' frustration. Were the roles reversed, I'd be mad if the Seahawks finished 10-6, but some other team won their division at 7-9 and made the playoffs at the expense of my team. Many readers of sports articles about the Seahawks' improbable playoff berth have expressed emotions varying from frustration to rabid hatred of anything from the playoff system to the NFL Commissioner to the Seahawks to the entire Pacific Northwest.

Some of the comments make no sense, such as the person who stated that the Detroit Lions would have won the NFC West this year, had they been in that division. (Um, no. Detroit finished at 6-10. That would only have been good for third place.) But looking beyond the flawed logic of spurned individuals, the general message is clear: a 7-9 team should not make the NFL Playoffs, and definitely shouldn't host a first-round game.

Their case is easy to make. The Giants finished the season with a 10-6 record, tied for first place in the NFC East. Their problem? They lost both games against the Eagles, who also finished with a 10-6 record, tied for first place in the NFC East. The head-to-head tie-breaker goes to Philly. Chuck's son will be quick to remind me that the Giants pounded the Seahawks, 41-7, back in November. He also likes to argue the point that the NFC West is a much easier division than the NFC East to win because the East teams are better than those in the West. I don't think that argument carries much weight, though. The Giants and Eagles finished atop the division with a 10-6 record, and the Giants were swept by the Eagles. The other two teams, the Cowboys and Redskins, each finished at 6-10. While the Giants swept the Redskins (once handily and once, on Sunday, by a field goal against a Rex Grossman-led team), they barely beat the Cowboys once, and they lost to them the second time. The Giants also lost to the Tennessee Titans (6-10), the Colts (10-6), and the Packers (10-6). Had they beaten either the 6-10 Titans or the 6-10 Cowboys, they'd be in the postseason. Had they beaten the Eagles just once, they'd be in the postseason. Had they done something better than lose two of their last three games, they'd be in the postseason.

I think Buccaneers fans have a much more legitimate beef. Tampa Bay also finished the season with a 10-6 record, but in their division, that was only good for third place out of four teams. (Hey Giants fans, THAT'S a difficult division to win!) Like the Giants, the Bucs pounded the Seahawks a couple weeks ago, 38-15. In fact, they beat every NFC West team this season. Where did Tampa's losses come from? Two of them came from the division champion and #1-overall playoff seed Atlanta Falcons (13-3). One of them came from division-mate and playoff wild card New Orleans (11-5). One came against the AFC North champion Steelers (12-4), and one came against AFC wildcard Baltimore (12-4). The last loss came three weeks ago, at home, against the Detroit Lions (6-10). Despite that embarrassment, though, winning against the Lions wouldn't have gotten them into the playoffs. What would have been an 11-5 record would still have lost out to the Saints by virtue of New Orleans having the better division record.

In the big scheme of things, should the Seahawks be in the playoffs instead of the Giants or Buccaneers? Of course not. Obviously, those two teams each finished with three wins more than the 'Hawks. They also both pounded the Seahawks head-to-head. The only win worth mentioning for Seattle was in Chicago early in the season against the NFC North Champion Bears (11-5), and I'm not really sure how the heck that happened.

But NFL rules state that if you win your division, you not only get into the playoffs, but you also host a first-round game. So by those standards, should the Seahawks be in the playoffs instead of the Giants or Buccaneers? Absolutely. The Seahawks did what neither of those teams could do--they won their division. It's not the Seahawks' fault that the NFL allows for a 7-9 division champion. It's not the Seahawks' fault that they're in the NFC West instead of any other division. I still remember when the NFC East was so bad that they were referred to as the NFC Least. And yet their division champion always made it into the playoffs. And it's not exactly like the NFC South has a long history of winning with their teams being Atlanta, New Orleans, Tampa Bay, and Carolina. At various points in time, all four of those teams have long histories of being god-awful. It also wasn't long ago that critics were griping about how weak the AFC West was.

In fact, it was only two years ago.

New England and New York fans probably felt similarly in 2008 when their 11-5 Patriots and 9-7 Jets missed the playoffs because the San Diego Chargers won the AFC West with an 8-8 record.

A funny thing about those 2008 Playoffs, though: San Diego won their first-round game on the road against the 12-4 Colts before falling to the eventual Super Bowl Champion Steelers (12-4) the next week. Over in the NFC, the Arizona Cardinals won the NFC West that year with a 9-7 record. In the playoffs, they beat Atlanta (11-5), Carolina (12-4), and Philadelphia (9-6-1) before eventually losing by a whisker to the Steelers in the Super Bowl.

So don't hate the Seahawks for getting what they earned. Sure, New Orleans will likely pound them into dust on Saturday, but until the NFL changes its playoffs system, Seattle deserves to be there, and they deserve to host the first round.

A Halloween to Remember

2010-10-28T21:09:00.005-04:00

Back in 2002, the Mrs. and I were eagerly anticipating Halloween. This was pre-Olivia and pre-June, and we were celebrating our first Halloween in our first house. In our years of apartment living, we never had trick-or-treaters, so this was going to be a lot of fun for us.

We decorated the house, we lit our jack-o-lanterns, we got a big bowl full of candy, and we settled in for a great evening of kids coming to the door, dressed as all sorts of things, handing them candy, and enjoying the smiles on their faces. We were giddy with anticipation, wondering how many little boys and girls would come to our new house.

It wasn't long until we got our very first trick-or-treater. She was a cute little girl, probably 6 or 7 years old, blonde hair, all dressed up in a 1950's style pink poodle skirt. Her hair, shoes, sweater, bows in her hair.....it was all vintage 1950's. We watched her walk up our driveway, a little nervous about leaving her mother behind at the sidewalk, but with some coaxing from mom, she worked up the courage to approach our front door and ring the doorbell.

Two things I should probably make clear at this point. First, our front door was open, and our storm door is all glass, top to bottom.

Second, we had a dog named Bronson, who we had adopted from a shelter earlier in the year. This was his first Halloween with us, too. He was a Chow mix, weighing in at around 80 lbs. He had the Chow hair and the Chow tongue, but we guessed he was mixed with a Golden Retriever because he stood taller than a Chow and had more of a Golden Retriever snout. He also had a Golden Retriever temperament. Real sweet dog.

He had one bad habit, though. He had a thing about doorbells. If he heard a doorbell--even if it was on TV--he took off, full-bore, toward the front door, barking a ferocious bark and baring teeth. We kind of liked that about him, since burglars and door-to-door salesmen wouldn't know what a good dog he actually was.

We hadn't made the connection yet, though, as to how that would work on Halloween.

So back to the story. Cute little nervous Poodle Skirt Girl, not entirely sure about being about 15 feet away from her mom on the sidewalk, works up all the courage she has in the world to ring our doorbell in hopes of a Tootsie Pop or a little bag of M&M's or something for her cute little purse that was doubling as a candy holder.

DING DONG.

Bronson was in the back bedroom at the time. Simultaneously, as the Mrs. was opening the ceiling-to-floor glass storm door to give Poodle Skirt Girl some candy, Bronson came barreling around the corner, teeth bared, thunderous bark in full force, headed straight for the "intruder" at the front door.

That poor little girl. This is probably all she saw.

I'll give her credit. Poodle Skirt Girl was quick. Her first few steps were in reverse, about as fast as I've ever seen anyone run backwards. A look of absolute terror was plastered on her face, and she was so startled that she jerked her purse up in the air, flinging already-collected candy everywhere. She probably peed herself, but she wasn't sticking around to let anyone see for sure. That little girl's feet probably touched our driveway twice--three times, max--as she set a new world record for the 100-meter dash. Something between a scream and bawling was coming out of her mouth. Her mom flashed us a quick dirty look and then set off to try to catch her daughter.

Bronson, meanwhile, had stopped right at the storm door. He always did. He never shot out the front door. But of course, Poodle Skirt Girl didn't know that. He stopped barking and seemed kind of baffled as to why a potential little playmate was running away so quickly.

The Mrs., feeling awful about what had just happened, scrambled to scoop up some of the girl's lost candy, and then tried to catch up to her about seven houses down the street when the little girl finally stopped running. The Mrs. apologized profusely to the little girl and to her mother, and in an attempt to make amends, dumped our entire supply of candy into a bag for Poodle Skirt Girl to take home.

The Mrs. came home, we shut off our porch light, and pretended we weren't home for the rest of the night.

For each of the following seven years, every Halloween, we'd sit on lawn chairs in the driveway and pass out candy. Bronson stayed inside and watched out the front window, but as long as no one was ringing the doorbell, he didn't really make a fuss. Some years, it was really nice outside, especially for late October in Indiana. Some years, it was really cold. But we bundled up, got under a big thick blanket, and toughed it out. A couple years, it rained on us. Didn't matter. There would be no more little Poodle Skirt Girl incidents.

Bronson went to the big field in the sky this spring. It just recently occurred to me that we can actually stay inside this year and distribute candy like normal people. I don't know if we will, though. I've kind of gotten used to sitting out in the driveway all night.

As for Poodle Skirt Girl, I have no idea what ever became of her. She's probably thousands of dollars into therapy by now. Poor kid. We still feel bad about that night.

Happy Halloween, everyone. Be safe and have fun as you trick-or-treat. But remember as you ring someone's doorbell...they may have a Bronson, too.

Rest in peace, buddy.

A Hair-Raising Turn of Events in the NFL

2010-10-12T09:03:00.019-04:00

Seriously?

This guy..............

..........and this guy..............

........might have had a squabble over hairstyles?

And it's news?

Holy crap.

I bet this guy........................

............and this guy...............

.......never had those kinds of arguments.

Maybe the Patriots should have brought this guy in...........

.......as the fashion police to keep the prima donnas separated.

Instead, though, they have this guy..............

.....who isn't all that much different from Bozo, now that I think about it.

So this guy gets traded.........................

.........and now this drama queen is throwing to him (assuming he has a free hand, of course).

Meanwhile, these guys..................

.......will probably be laughing all the way to the playoffs. They kicked Favre out of town a couple years ago, they got Randy Moss out of their division this week, and they just beat the Vikings on Monday Night Football by, of all the delicious fates, picking off a trademark horrible Favre throw when the game was on the line, and running it in for a Jets' TD.

I think I might become a Jets fan now.

This is Why They Play the Games

2010-10-01T09:18:00.012-04:00

Our recreational softball team is a true recreational team, made up primarily of 30- and 40-somethings who aren't exactly in their physical prime. We play because we love to play the game. This is our second season together, and we've discovered that only about half the teams in the league are recreational. The others are out to win. That causes us a considerable amount of frustration when those teams have different goals and talent levels than we do, but I suppose that's just part of softball life.

Last year, we finished with a 1-7-1 record, good for seventh place out of seven teams. Our one win was by five runs against another truly recreational team, and then in the rematch, they pounded us by about 20 runs. We put up a spirited fight in the first round of the tournament against our arch-rivals, but we came up a little short.

This year, we had only won one game up until this week. The team we beat was the same team we beat last year. We had just gone through a three-week-long rough patch where we played against (and lost to) the three best teams in the league. We had a game scheduled last week against the worst team in the league, but it was rained out, and it doesn't appear as though it will be made up. So our game this week was against the team that throttled us in the first week of the season, 13-3. They were 4-2, to our 1-5 record. To make matters worse, our opponent had just beaten the last undefeated team in the league. It seemed overwhelmingly likely that we'd finish the season with just one win again, which was particularly frustrating because we are actually a much better team this year. We haven't been getting blown out by 30 runs in 3 innings in every game, as we did on a regular basis last year. We've been losing fairly close games, hanging in there with the best teams until time expired.

So on Wednesday night, we showed up to take our lumps. As usual, our opponents were much younger and more athletic than we are. We joked with them before the game about showing us some mercy and spotting us 20 runs before the game even started, just to keep things interesting for about 10 minutes.

We batted first and put up 4 runs on the scoreboard. Already an improvement over our first game against these guys! But in the bottom of the first inning, they responded with 7 runs. Here we go again, we all thought. The beginning of the end.

I'm not sure what happened next, but I'm pretty sure we were all possessed by aliens or something. We absolutely unloaded on our opponents in the second inning. Several of us batted twice in the inning, and hits and runs piled up faster than losses normally pile up on us. Then we played defense like we've never played defense before. We had none of our trademarked collosally boneheaded errors that normally doom us. We had a handful of minor errors, but none that led to excessive hemmoraging. Everyone kept their spirits up. Everyone played hard. Everything broke our way. Heck, we even had our favorite umpire for this game. Our planets were in alignment.

As a general rule, I don't want to know the score as we play. Obviously, I get a general sense of how a game is going, but I don't like knowing the score because I don't want to get all tensed up if the score is close, nor do I want to slack off if we're up by several runs and let the other team come back. So I knew that we were hanging in there with our opponents, but I didn't know the score. At one point late in the game, Chuck violated my rule and told me the score was 18-11. Not too bad, I thought. We're only down by 7, and we played these guys well.

What I didn't find out until after the game was that we were the ones with 18 runs at that point, not them.

We scored a few more runs in the top of the inning, gave up a couple in the bottom of the inning, and then I saw Chuck talking to the umpire at the end of the inning. I couldn't hear what Chuck was saying, but after their conversation, Chuck threw his glove into the dugout. I figured we must be down by a couple of runs, and the umpire is calling time, thus frustrating Chuck because we didn't get one more chance to win. Then as we approached the other team for the usual post-game sportsmanship-oriented high-fives, I heard Chuck's wife yell from the stands, "Good job, guys! You won!"

WHAT?!

I was stunned, and pretty confused, as we exchanged kind words with the other team. By the time I got back to the dugout, my teammates were jumping up and down with glee. The final score was Us 23, Them 13. The game hadn't been called because time ran out. The game was called because of the mercy rule.

Chuck was roaring with excitement that our two wins this season makes him the "better coach" of the two of us, since I only coached us to one win last season. The jubilation and, to some degree, shock poured out of the dugout as if we had just won Game 7 of the World Series. If we had had a cooler full of Gatorade, it would have been dumped over Chuck's head. I'm sure our opponents thought we were being obnoxious jerks and rubbing it in. Hell, it was just a regular season game.

But to us, it was much much more. We had won a game for only the third time in two seasons. We had beaten a really good team. We had 10-runned them, in fact. Our much improved team had finally put it all together and played up to our potential. As I visited briefly with my parents after the game, I couldn't wipe the ear-to-ear smile off of my face or get the trembling out of my voice. About half of our team went directly to Chuck's house for celebratory beers. The atmosphere was raucous. We gleefully rehashed the entire game in minute detail amongst ourselves for hours. Two days later, I'm still grinning.

We begin tournament play next Wednesday, and we'll be the sixth-seeded team out of eight. We assume we'll be playing against the third-seeded team, so we'll be heavy underdogs again. And depending on how the standings shake out, that third-seeded team could be the same opponent we just beat. If it is, they'll probably want a little revenge. And if they pound us next week, that's okay. Because we turned a corner Wednesday night, and it was oh so sweet. We have hope now. We know we can do it. We're no longer the hapless doormats of the league.

Maybe next year we can win three or four games!

State of Indiana v. David Bisard

2010-09-03T19:44:00.006-04:00

A very good suggestion was made recently for me to write about the events and criminal charges surrounding Indianapolis Metro Police Officer David Bisard.

For those outside of central Indiana who may not be aware of recent happenings allegedly involving Officer Bisard, he was responding to a call on August 6, 2010, at 11:20am, when, with lights and siren on, he drove into a group of three motorcycles, killing one rider and critically injuring two others. A blood draw taken about two hours later allegedly indicated a blood-alcohol concentration of .19%, roughly two-and-a-half times the legal limit of .08%, but because the blood draw was conducted by someone who was not certified under Indiana law to do blood work for criminal cases, the blood draw results would likely be inadmissible in Court.

Community outrage ensued when all of the DUI-related charges against Officer Bisard were dropped, as many people came to the conclusion that IMPD intentionally botched the blood draw to protect one of their own officers. This is right on the heels of some other police actions that have resulted in racial tensions in the community (although in the fatal collision, both the deceased and the police officer are white). So IMPD is taking a beating in the local media, deservedly or not.

An article in today's Indianapolis Star sums things up pretty well.

Yesterday, it was revealed that Officer Bisard was the first on the scene of a 2008 mass killing that gained wide publicity around here because the victims were two 24-year-old mothers and their babies: 23 MONTHS old and 5 MONTHS old. They were all hiding behind a bed when they were murdered. Now the attorney for one of the accused murderers is claiming that Bisard and another officer were negligent in the way they responded to those killings, after the 911 caller provided an address that doesn't exist. The question is that since Bisard is accused of a major alcohol-related crime now, did alcohol lead to negligent actions on a case two years ago?

So that got me thinking. I wonder which came first: the alcohol abuse, or being the first on the scene of two young women and their infants being slaughtered?

I also wondered why there is so much outrage against David Bisard. I'm well aware that what he's accused of doing is terrible, but I wonder why so many members of the community are so vehemently spitting out the "murderer" label in reference to him. I haven't seen a shred of speculation that what he did was intentional. It's not like he did what this guy did. Or what this guy did. Or this guy. Or this kid. Those guys were murderers, and I'm especially sensitive to people who murder police officers. Sure, Officer Bisard was accused of drinking before the crash, but that doesn't make the collision intentional. So I don't view him as a murderer, and thus I don't feel the rage toward Officer Bisard that I feel toward cop killers or people who intentionally run over pedestrians.

So why is there so much outrage? Is it because he's a police officer, and "should have known better"? Is it because IMPD's name was already mud, and this incident was the flashpoint? Why is this incident so different from the countless other DUI fatalities that barely make a blip on the social radar? Is it because a legal loophole is allowing him to escape several felony charges and keep his drivers license, just like so many legal loopholes in the past have allowed so many other accused felons to escape charges and keep their drivers licenses?

What, exactly, do people want done with Officer Bisard? What do they deem to be a fair punishment, assuming, of course, that the charges against him can be proven in Court? And would they want that same punishment to be handed out to their father, their son, their brother, their friend, if the situation was different?

I'm curious as to what was going on in Officer Bisard's life that led him to allegedly have that high of a BAC in the late morning. When did he start drinking that day? He ran a couple of other errands that morning, before the collision. Was he drunk at that time? How highly functional of an alcoholic is he that none of his coworkers, who were in close proximity of him for quite some time after the crash, had any idea that he was impaired? I know many people are screaming conspiracy, claiming the thin blue line is leading these other officers to cover for Officer Bisard, but I've had experience with high-functioning alcoholics that leads me to believe this could have happened as the other officers said it did. I remember catching the faintest of whiffs of alcohol on a probationer in my office one time, and almost as an afterthought (because I had no other indications that he was intoxicated), I gave him a portable breath test. He blew a .28% BAC. Three-and-a-half times the legal limit. So I know it's possible to miss the signs, even when you're trained to recognize them.

Then I started wondering why so many IMPD officers are getting in trouble lately. Is it a result of former mayor Bart Peterson and current mayor Greg Ballard's campaign promises to add hundreds more police officers to the streets? Hundreds of previously unacceptable candidates to become police officers, but now they're allowed to wear a badge? Or is it the stress of the job? Low pay? Long hours? Something else entirely?

That got me wondering, how do police officers deal with the stressors they encounter on the job? How do they deal with people resisting them, whether it's verbally, physically, with a vehicle, or with a firearm? How do they deal with being the first on the scene of a grizzly mass murder involving infants? How do they deal with investigating people who have sex with children? How do they deal with high-speed pursuits, and any of the multitude of other events that send an officer from a relaxed state to an adrenaline dump in a heartbeat? How do they deal with political pressure? Community pressure? Social pressure among each other? Do they have more marital or relationship problems than the average person? How do they cope? Is this the kind of stuff that might lead a police officer to become a highly functioning alcoholic? Or a drug abuser? Or a domestic batterer? Or an adulterer?

Then I started working on my Master's Degree in Criminal Justice at IUPUI. And I started taking a Criminal Justice Systems class. And I have to write a 10-12 page paper in that class on a current issue or problem in the field of criminal justice. I have to have 10-15 sources, half of which must be from scholarly journals, and the other half of which may come from government documents, personal interviews, newspapers, and periodicals.

I think I have my topic for my paper already. I want to delve into the police system a little more and find answers to at least some of my questions. I know a lot of police officers (who, I'm sure, are all cringing as they read this) to subject to personal interviews, and I'm sure there have been plenty of scholarly journal articles written about the trials and tribulations of being a police officer.

I truly look forward to discovering whatever I discover as I work on this paper all semester. When I'm done, I'll let you know how it turns out.

Eric is........???

2010-08-31T15:06:00.007-04:00

I've been reading about a new ability through smartphones, and now Facebook, to constantly track your location and post it on social networking websites for all to see. I've even noticed a few of my Facebook friends using it. It caught my eye on Facebook because suddenly I was seeing status updates like:

John is.........home.

I found this puzzling, as John usually has something witty to say in his status updates, not that he's.......home.

So I was curious about this, and I read about it, and I've concluded that I'm not going to use the feature.

First off, my life is so boring, would anyone really care to know where I am at any given minute of the day? I seriously doubt it.

Second, I can think of several problems with posting my every location on-line for all to see.

Imagine how some of these location updates would look:

"Eric is.........in the morgue."

This would be bad, unless I was employed as a coroner...and everyone knew it. But if I get a new job and forgot to tell my mom about it..........uh oh.

"Eric is.......on the toilet." (1:37pm)
"Eric is.......on the toilet." (2:07pm)
"Eric is.......on the toilet." (4:56pm)

It wouldn't really matter if I just accidentally left my phone in the bathroom, or if I was really having potty issues. I'd never hear the end of it.

"Eric is.......at the nudie bar."

I guess my boss wouldn't have to wonder where I've been all afternoon anymore.

"Eric is.......at Chuck's house."
"Eric is.......in Chuck's bed."
"Eric is.......in Chuck's bed."
"Eric is.......in Chuck's bed."
"Eric is.......in Chuck's shower."

That'd be just awesome for the Mrs. to see on Facebook, wouldn't it? "Honey! I locked myself out of the house, and Chuck just let me take a nap and grab a shower over at his house before class tonight! I swear! His wife wasn't even home! Come ON! Stop throwing my stuff out the window into the street!"

Of course, it might be good for law enforcement agencies. Imagine a child molester's updates:

"Child Molester is.......at the park."
"Child Molester is.......at the Cub Scouts meeting."
"Child Molester is.......at ABC Daycare."

Yeah, it wouldn't take long for the police to be taking Child Molester to jail.

Or a probationer's status:

"Joe is.........in Maine."

Well, that's funny. I didn't give Joe permission to leave the State of Indiana!

Or:

"Joe is.........at Bubba's Bourbon Bar."

Bummer, dude. I hope that bourbon was good. Enjoy jail.

Or how about in criminal trials?

Defendant: "Your Honor! I'm innocent! I was nowhere near those armed robberies last night!"

Judge: "Oh, really? Let's check out your Facebook page."

"Brutus is............at 7-11." (1:00am)
"Brutus is............at Speedway." (1:22am)
"Brutus is............at Jiffy Mart." (2:02am)
"Brutus is............in the trees behind the Jiffy Mart." (2:05am)
"Brutus is............in jail." (2:30am)

I don't know how pinpoint accurate these things are, but I can envision a softball game:

"Eric is............at first base."
"Eric is............running toward second base."
"Eric is............out."
"Eric is............too slow to try to leg out a double."

Can you think of more reasons why you wouldn't want your every move tracked? Lemme hear your ideas in the comments section!

My MRI Experience

2010-08-27T10:35:00.018-04:00

I had an MRI this morning on my shoulder, and I thought I'd give a completely objective description of my experience. I recognize that it's not the worst procedure to have done--I imagine that a colonoscopy would be even more unpleasant--but I can't say that I'm going to rush to the front of the line to repeat this experience anytime soon.

A brief history for those not in the know: my shoulder started hurting in late June. I figured I just slept on it wrong, and it would go away in a couple days. Instead, it's been getting worse and worse for two months now. Any time I move my arm, my shoulder crunches and pops and grinds and shifts. I'm pretty sure that's not supposed to happen.

Oral steroids worked great for a week while I took them, but less than 48 hours after I took my last pill, the pain was back. Then it was off to a sports medicine specialist, who injected my shoulder with cortisone. The pain went away a day or two later, but the crunching, popping, grinding, and shifting continued. It just didn't hurt. Two weeks after the cortisone injection, though, the pain came back with a vengeance. So with the specialist guessing a tear in my labrum or rotator cuff or both, an MRI was the next step.

Now, I'll preface my description of my MRI this morning with the clarification that I am not accusing anyone of malpractice or anything. Throughout my experience, my brain knew that it was all necessary. I never felt like anyone was screwing anything up. I'm not a doctor, but the path that the medical professionals have taken with my shoulder has made perfect sense to me the entire time. The staff at the hospital this morning were all absolutely terrific--very informative, speaking terms I could understand, welcoming questions, showing empathy, and being happy to assist me with even the smallest things, like tying my gown, since I have difficulty raising my arm above mid-chest level. So if anyone from my local hospital is somehow reading this, you guys did a great job, and I sincerely thank you.

Now on to the experience.

My appointment was at 7:00am, but they wanted me there at 6:30am. So I dragged myself out of bed at some ungodly hour this morning and got myself to the hospital on time. I answered their screening questions ("are you claustrophobic?", "do you have any metal in your body?", etc.) and then waited to be called. While I waited, I recalled the MRI I had on this very same shoulder several years ago. It was an open MRI, so it was a rather pleasant experience. I pretty much just slept for about an hour. My current doctor told me that the MRI this morning would take about 45 minutes, so I was looking forward to a little nap, since I had gotten up so early, and then heading in to work just a few minutes after my 8:00am start time.

They called me back and wanted me to change into a gown. I mildly protested, pointing out that I made sure not to wear any clothes with metal anywhere on it. But they insisted on the gown. They were going to have to have access to my shoulder for when they put the contrasting dye in there.

(Sigh). Fine. At least I got to keep my pants on.

After I got a little help tying the strings on the gown, I got my hospital-issued robe on and made my way to the MRI room, where I was met by a very nice technician. I think his name was Ned. Ned cheerfully explained what was going to happen and then got me all strapped in. This wasn't an open MRI, though, like the last time. This one was like being fed into a torpedo tube. I'm not the smallest guy on Earth, but I'm not the biggest guy, either, and I had my good shoulder kind of hiked up one side of the tube, and the edge of my bad shoulder was touching the other side of the tube. So it was a tight squeeze. They had a little light in there, and a fan was blowing a cool breeze on me the whole time, so I was good, despite the cramped quarters.

I dozed off for awhile until Ned told me it was time to get out. The next step was to get the contrasting dye in my shoulder, and then return for another MRI. My doctor had told me about the dye, but I guess I hadn't really thoroughly considered how they were going to get that dye in there.

And I don't like needles.

So I got to the room where the dye procedure was to happen, and a pretty nurse named Samra was there. (Oh, go run and tell the Mrs. I don't care. Every guy likes to converse with a pretty girl.) So in all of her prettiness, she explained what was going to happen. They were going to inject Novocaine into my shoulder to numb me up, and then the doctor, using a live x-ray feed, was going to inject the dye, watching the live x-ray to make sure he got the dye into the right places. Then they were going to move my arm around to get the dye mixed in there real well. As she was talking, my brain gradually moved from enjoying Samra's pretty smile to realizing what she was saying. Suddenly, I didn't like Samra very much. Sure, I was shooting the messenger, but did I mention that I don't like needles?

Samra's shift was over, so she was leaving, but she assured me that her replacement would take good care of me. And in walked April (also pretty, just in case you were wondering). She informed me that there would be a bit of a delay because there was an emergency that the doctor had to attend to, but he'd be back shortly. So I got to lie there on the table, stare at the ceiling, and ponder what was about to happen to me for about 15 minutes.

I was just about to lose my ability to resist the urge to run out of there while no one was looking when the doctor arrived. I don't remember his name, but he seemed very nice. He just wasn't as pretty as Samra or April (see how guys think?), and at this point, I wasn't entirely sure this whole process was going to be worth it, so I was sizing him up to determine if I could knock him down, and if he would be fast enough to catch me before I got to my car. I could probably put up with a little shoulder pain for the rest of my life, right?

But it was too late to back out at that point. The doctor sterilized my shoulder and his hands, got his gloves on, and then explained that he was going to give me the Novocaine now. It would feel like a bee sting, he said. Okay, I can handle that. I've been stung by bees before. No biggie.

What he failed to mention was that it was going to be like being stung by an entire nest of angry hornets, not just a singular bee sting. I'm not sure how many times he shot me with Novocaine, but I'm estimating somewhere around two or three thousand times. Give or take.

Then he waited a few minutes for the "Novocaine" to take effect. I use quotation marks because I'm pretty certain that someone accidentally filled his little jar of Novocaine with tap water.

(Mom, you may want to avert your eyes at this point.)

I wasn't looking at my shoulder while he did all of this because if I see a needle sticking in me, it's pretty much instantly lights out. (Although in retrospect, that might have been a good idea.) All I heard was the doctor instructing Pretty April to give him the 746-gauge needle. I think that's what he said, anyway. I don't know much about needle sizes, but I think the larger the gauge, the bigger the needle. And Pretty April gave it to him. That bitch. Now she was on my shit list, right next to Samra.

I'd equate what happened next to having someone use an auger on the front of my shoulder. Earlier, while Pretty Samra was trying to seduce me, only later to betray me, she asked me where my shoulder hurt the most. I thought she was just concerned for my well-being. Apparently, though, she conveyed that information to the doctor, and that's where he decided to plant that PVC pipe they claimed was a syringe.

And let me tell you, the Novocaine didn't do much for me.

I tried to keep my emotions to myself to save face in front of Pretty April, and I was doing okay until the 982-gauge needle hit bone. I think it was bone. Bone or cartilage. Or something hard in there. Whatever it was, I just about came out of my skin. I kept waiting for the Novocaine to kick in, but it failed me badly.

Then the doctor had Pretty April wheel in a 55-gallon drum of dye, and I swear that doctor injected every last drop of it into my shoulder...one little squeeze at a time. I was mildly surprised at this point that the dye wasn't mixed with hydrochloric acid, or some other substance designed to increase the level of agony I was in. I really wasn't liking Pretty April much at all at this point, since she was an accessory to this torture. With the 1243-gauge needle still firmly in place four inches into my shoulder, the doctor used a garden hose to feed the 55-gallon barrel of dye into my shoulder, frequently checking the live x-ray screen to make sure the dye was going where it was supposed to. About 17 hours later, he let me know that I was done.

That was about the time that the Novocaine started working.

It reminded me of those Wile E. Coyote cartoons, where he falls off a cliff, and as he hurtles toward the ground, he's desperately yanking on the rip cord of a faulty parachute that never opens. Then he hits the ground in a cloud of dust...and his parachute opens.

When I was finally fairly certain that the 2988-gauge needle was out of my shoulder, I tried to sit up, but Pretty April was right there to put her hand on my chest and keep me prone. I told her, "Nice try, Pretty April, trying to seduce me some more by being pretty and now caressing my chest, but I'm on to your game now, you little sadist!"

Or maybe that's just what I was thinking. I'm not really sure. I was still a little woozy from the 19,687-gauge needle being removed in the same fashion that a knight retrieves his sword after impaling someone with it. If I remember correctly, blood was spraying everywhere from my shoulder after the needle was removed, but Pretty April got me patched up with a Band-Aid.

It wasn't even a cool Band-Aid like Batman or SpongeBob SquarePants or anything like that. It was just a plain old boring Band-Aid. Pretty April's evilness knows no bounds!

Then the doctor put some professional wrestling moves on me, forcing my shoulder into positions it's never been in before: yanking, jerking, rotating, bending. I desperately tried to tap out several times, but he didn't seem to notice or care. He claimed this was helping the dye get into every little crack and crevice inside my shoulder. Sure it was, Hulk Hogan.

Finally, the Battery on a Probation Officer was over. As Pretty April helped me sit up and gave me a moment to stop the room from spinning, I noticed the enormous rock on her ring finger and thought to myself, "That poor bastard, Mr. Pretty April. I can only imagine what she puts him through."

Then I had to stagger back to the MRI room where Ned was waiting for me. Apparently, he had been in the break room with Pretty Samra, Pretty April, and Dr. Kevorkian when they all hatched their scheme to inflict as much pain as possible in my shoulder, all in the name of medicine. Because as cool as Ned had been the first time he MRI'd me, he decided this time that it would be hilarious to make me put my bad arm up above my head before he stuffed me back in the torpedo tube.

Six and a half minutes of agony later, he pulled me back out of there, let me put my arm down, and then shoved me back in there for another 15 minutes or so to MRI me some more.

Finally it was over. I stumbled back to the dressing room, eventually got my gown untied and off and my shirt back on (not easy tasks when your shoulder is on fire), and made it out to the car, where it hurt just to dig my keys out of my pocket and lift up the remote to unlock the van. I felt a little light-headed, so I sat there for a few minutes, collecting myself before I headed out into traffic, and I noticed that it was 9:30am. I had been there for three hours.

I think I'm going to have a word with my doctor about how to better prepare his patients for the MRI experience, including a warning not to fall for those damn sirens, Pretty Samra and Pretty April.

They're evil.

What I Learned in School Today

2010-08-25T00:15:00.004-04:00

I often ask Olivia and June what they learned in school each day, so I figure it's only fair to tell what I learned during my first day at IUPUI.

I learned that my class is full of all walks of life. We have three probation officers, including me, a corrections officer (prison guard), two police officers, two people who are trying to become police officers, two people who want to work for Homeland Security, three people who want to work for the Drug Enforcement Agency (and two of those are already interning with the DEA), one woman who is the director of an Emergency Response Unit, and several people who don't know what they want to do yet. We have people who just got their Bachelor's Degree in May, and people like me who have taken a roundabout path into grad school. Several students in my class are my age or older.

I learned that there are not many electrical outlets in my classroom. I need to bring my laptop in to class with a fully-charged battery, so it will last through the nearly 3 hours of class time.

I learned that I feel kind of rebellious for checking my fantasy baseball lineup on my laptop while I'm in class.

I learned that I like my professor. He conveys a very relaxed outlook on things. We certainly have a lot of work to do for this class, so this isn't going to be a walk in the park, but he set the tone tonight for a setting that promotes discussion and exchanging of ideas without judgment or excessive pressure. I like that. I feel comfortable in his class.

I learned that this class--and maybe this is the way graduate school is in general--is a lot less lecture and a lot more student participation in discussions and presentations. I like that, too. I learn a lot better that way. And I love to debate.

I learned that my 14 years of experience as a probation officer is going to help me a lot in this class. In the month of November in particular, we'll be covering the police, the Court system, prosecution and defense, and community corrections, such as probation and parole. It's going to be really nice to be able to look back on my own experiences as I absorb the reading materials and participate in the discussions. My work experience won't allow me to simply skate through this class, but in some aspects, I'll have a jump on some of the other students.

I learned that the massive amount of required reading will be my greatest challenge. I'm a slow reader. I always have been. My dad has offered to help me with some tips on more effective reading. I think I'm going to take him up on his offer. Writing a 10-12 page research paper is not going to be a problem. You might have noticed that I kind of like to write. But getting through all of the reading is going to be a huge challenge for me.

I learned that I'm just not comfortable trying to take notes on my laptop. I'm comfortable using a pen and paper. I have my own form of shorthand, and I make a lot of notes in margins and draw arrows and things like that, which I can't quickly duplicate on a computer. So I'm going to take notes in the manner in which I am most comfortable, even if I am 14 years behind the times.

I learned that a lot of other people in my class are likely going to do that, too. I saw a few, but not a whole lot of laptops out today. And none of the other "old-timers" like me had a laptop tonight.

I learned that I fit in just fine at IUPUI. No one cares how old I am. Everyone has their own worries. And there are plenty of other people my age or older who attend class there. No one even gave me a second look today on campus.

I learned that I need to put some money on my student ID, known as a JagTag. You can pretty much pay for anything on campus with your JagTag, much like a pre-paid credit card. Even pop machines accept JagTag payment. So I'm going to put $20 on my JagTag, so I can buy pops and snacks on campus. Then I don't have to worry about carrying cash (which I rarely do, anyway).

I learned that my evening class and, likely, my Saturday class will spare me from a lot of the parking headaches I hear about from other IUPUI students. I had no problem finding a parking spot tonight right across the street from my building.

I learned that being in school at the age of 40 is totally different than being in school at the age of 18. Different things are important to me now, and I'm a hell of a lot more focused. Being married with children, I don't have the distraction of girls at school. I'm not eagerly anticipating the next party or night at the bar anymore. I'm not worried about what my parents are going to think of my grades. I'm not worried about trying to make friends or being cool. I am self-motivated, self-driven, and infinitely more mature than I was way back in 1988 when I took my first crack at college. And having life and work experience to incorporate into readings and lectures is invaluable.

I learned that my days off work will no longer be filled with relaxing on the couch, watching movies all day. I'll be reading, instead.

I learned that graduate school is going to be much more interesting to me than my undergraduate studies. All of my coursework is directly applicable to my life and my career. Even the required core curriculum classes are interesting. There's no requirement for science classes, political science classes, physical education classes, or any other classes I'm not interested in. I understand that the core curriculum classes at the undergrad level are designed to expose students to a multitude of disciplines, but I have a terrible time trying to learn something that I see no use for in my everyday life. Exhibit A: Calculus. Exhibit B: pretty much anything in the scientific world.

Most importantly, I learned that I can do this. I'm not exactly sure what I was fearing the most: sticking out like a sore thumb on campus as "the old guy," not being able to handle the coursework, not being smart enough to earn a Master's Degree, my general fear of failure, or what. But after tonight's class, when the professor went over the syllabus, the course requirements, the requirements of the 10-12 page research paper we have to write, and all of the readings, I realized that I can do this. This is nothing I can't conquer. It might take my brain awhile to get back into college-level shape, but I'm a stubborn SOB, and there is absolutely nothing in this class that I cannot do. That was an enormous weight off my shoulders. It's certainly not going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination, but it's also not going to be impossible.

Hopefully the first day of my other class on Saturday will be as encouraging as tonight was.

Back to School

2010-08-24T12:08:00.008-04:00

I'm about to start my second trip through college. Well...to be precise, it's my third trip because I took "the scenic route" through school the first time, majoring in Miller Lite, with a minor in Girls. Not surprisingly, it took a second trip a few years later to finish up a degree that employers actually value.

As a result, I always found this exchange in the movie "Tommy Boy" hilarious:

Tommy: Did you hear I finally graduated?
Richard Hayden: Yeah, and just a shade under a decade too. All right.
Tommy: You know a lot of people go to college for seven years.
Richard Hayden: I know, they're called doctors.

It took me eight years from start to finish. And I'm not a doctor.....

So today's the big day. It's my first day of class at IUPUI as I begin my quest for a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice.

I'm nervous as hell.

It's been 14 years since I last took a college course, and things have changed a little in the last decade and a half, to say the least. I'm still getting used to almost everything being done electronically now. I have my own personalized page on IUPUI's OneStart system, which displays all of my pertinent information in one central location, which is nice, and it's apparently the hub of a lot of information and activity at the university and with my classes. I'm still getting used to the idea of uploading term papers to the website, rather than printing them and handing them in to the professor.

The graduate school environment is taking a little time to adjust to, as well. I got my Bachelor's Degree from Texas A&M University--somewhere north of 40,000 students. Class size--especially at the freshman and sophomore level--often numbered over 100. IUPUI, however, only has 8000 graduate students, and I learned at Orientation last weekend that I'm one of about five people getting my Master's Degree in Criminal Justice. I also learned that this is the first year this program is being offered at IUPUI. So while I was shocked when my advisor recited some information about me from memory, I guess I can't be too surprised that he can remember stuff about five people. Don't get me wrong--I really like the small environment and my advisor knowing not only that I exist but also a little bit about me. It's just strange to me right now.

So this afternoon, I'm going to campus a little early to get my JagTag--IUPUI's clever little name for their student ID's. It apparently holds all sorts of information about me on it, it can be used as a pre-paid credit card at several locations on and off campus, it gets me into the lounge (by way of a swipe pad) at the building where I'll take most of my classes, and who knows...it probably has a GPS tracking system in it. They might as well just microchip me. At A&M, my student ID was my picture and signature laminated on a card. I don't remember ever using it, other than showing it to get a couple bucks knocked off the cover charge at local bars.

Then, I'll have to figure out how to configure my laptop so that I can get wireless internet service on campus. Again, no such thing existed during my A&M days.

Finally, I'll make my way to my classroom (I've already located it) and read from one of my textbooks while I wait for class to begin (that part's still the same). Once class begins, I'll be recording the lecture directly to my laptop (never done that before). I'll be doing that in part because I'll be attempting to take notes on my laptop for the first time ever. I've never done anything but take hand-written notes in class before. This could immediately turn into a disaster, so I'm taking a good ol' fashioned pen and notebook with me, too. The recording is for any part of the lecture that I miss while I'm frantically changing methods of note-taking during the middle of class.

After tonight, it'll just be a matter of knocking the rust off my old brain and getting back into the swing of studying, writing papers, doing presentations, etc. I'm really excited about it, and as I get going, I'm sure the butterflies will go away.

But for now, I feel like I'm going to barf at any second.

At least I won't have to worry about bombing out of school this time from majoring in Miller Lite and minoring in Girls. I switched to Coors Light several years ago, and if I take even a single class in Girls, I'll be getting a degree in Divorce with a minor in Child Support.

My Dynasty Team

2010-08-16T19:40:00.007-04:00

I think I mentioned previously that my brother-in-law runs a dynasty fantasy football league that I've played in since its inception five years ago. I've had some success in the 8-team league, finishing 4th, 2nd, 1st, and 2nd in the four previous years. Yes, I've played in the last three consecutive championship games. Sadly, I've only gone 1-2 in those games.

We had our draft last week, so I drafted ten players to add to my ten keepers. My keepers were:

QB - Aaron Rodgers (GB)
QB - Tony Romo (DAL)

RB - Chris Johnson (TEN)
RB - Maurice Jones-Drew (JAX)
RB - Ray Rice (BAL)

WR - Reggie Wayne (IND)
WR - Vincent Jackson (SD)
WR - Mike Wallace (PIT)
WR - Pierre Garcon (IND)

TE - Jermichael Finley (GB)

On any given week, we have to start two QB, three RB, four WR, two TE, a kicker, and a team defense. Scoring is pretty standard in this league, and we get a point per reception.

Being the runner-up in last year's championship game, I had the 7th pick (out of 8 teams) in every round.

So here's how the draft went for my team, the Wolverines:

1.7 - Johnny Knox, WR, Chicago - I was ECSTATIC to get Knox! My WR depth isn't great, especially with Vincent Jackson missing at least three games via suspension and possibly up to ten games, or the entire season, via holdout. So I was looking for an everyday starter. I knew who was going in the first four picks, but I wasn't sure about the fifth and sixth picks. I figured that either of those guys would likely take Knox. The guy with the fifth pick took C.J. Spiller, and then the guy with the sixth pick stunned me by taking Donald Driver (old, and not the #1 WR in Green Bay). Having the #1 WR on a Mike Martz-led offense with a decent QB at the helm drop into my lap was outstanding! I was thrilled!

2.7 - Donald Brown, RB, Indianapolis - I didn't really want to take Brown for a couple of reasons: he probably won't contribute much this season, and he's my third Colt. I don't like having that many players from one team on my roster. But with Joseph Addai likely leaving the Colts after this season, I think he has great keeper value, and I was surprised to see him fall this far. I couldn't let him fall any farther.

3.7 - Demaryius Thomas, WR, Denver - Like Brown, I don't expect Thomas to contribute much this season, but he's more of a long-term prospect. He's a rookie, he's super-talented, and he's been doing well in training camp. I feel like I got him at a good value.

4.1 (via trade) - John Carlson, TE, Seattle - I was targeting him in the draft to complement Finley. I've read a lot of positive things about Carlson from fantasy football prognosticators, sports writers, and even Seattle's QB, Matt Hasselbeck. The fact that he's a Seahawk is an added bonus, since I'm an avid Seahawks fan. I nearly took him at 3.7 but decided to risk it, take Thomas at 3.7, and try for Carlson two picks later at 4.1, instead. It was a close call--the guy picking a few spots before me instantly complained that he almost drafted Carlson but chose Malcom Floyd instead. Interestingly, I had originally targeted Floyd as a fill-in for Vincent Jackson, especially since he's holding down Jackson's WR spot in San Diego while Jackson is out. But since I got Johnny Knox with 1.7, I wasn't going to consider Floyd for another two or three rounds. The fact that I didn't get him because he went in the 3rd round didn't bother me a bit.

4.7 - Vince Young, QB, Tennessee - I only need Young for two weeks this season--weeks 4 and 10 when Rodgers and Romo have their bye weeks. I picked Young because he has fairly decent match-ups in those weeks: vs. Denver in Week 4 and vs. Miami in Week 10. Neither defense is a push-over, but neither is particularly good, either. I nearly took Matt Hasselbeck here because he's a Seahawk and because he plays against St. Louis (HORRIBLE defense) in Week 4 and Arizona (pretty good defense) in Week 10. But I decided on Young because Seattle's offense is in turmoil right now, and they have a new coaching staff to get used to. Young's had his issues, but he's very familiar with the Titans offense, and the head coach has been there for years. I'm thinking that defenses will be stacking the box to protect against Chris Johnson, which would, in theory, leave the receivers a little more breathing room. And while I'll miss out on that sweet Rams match-up, I'll take two mediocre defenses, rather than a terrible one and a very good one.

5.7 - Fred Jackson, RB, Buffalo - Again, I was looking for bye-week filler. Two of my RB are out for Week 9, and one is out for Week 8. I have Donald Brown to help fill in (at home vs. Houston on Monday Night Football in Week 8, and at Philadelphia in Week 9), but I need two fill-in RB in Week 9, especially with Brown going up against a top defense on the road that week. So with Jackson still available, I decided to take a chance. I know C.J. Spiller will be taking his job soon, and they have a horrid offensive line in Buffalo, but I was hoping that he'd still be getting the lion's share of the carries midway through the season while Spiller was learning the ropes. And Jackson had a sweet match-up against the horrible Kansas City defense in Week 8, and against the below-average Chicago defense in Week 9. It was a risk I was willing to take at this point in the draft. Four days after the draft, that risk blew up in my face. Jackson broke his hand in his first preseason game, required surgery to repair the damage, and is expected to miss 4-6 weeks. Should be plenty of time for the insanely talented rookie from Clemson to steal his job. Jackson is now likely waivers fodder as soon as I decide to pick up someone else. Dammit.

6.7 - Philadelphia Defense - The Minnesota defense went in the round prior to this one, so I figured it would set off a run on defenses (it didn't). I was pondering taking Golden Tate in this round, but the guy four picks ahead of me had the same idea. I wasn't real excited about anyone else that was available at that point, so I figured now was as good as time as any to take my defense, and Philly was my top-rated defense. Plus, in the weeks of our playoffs, they play against the Giants (Eli Manning should be imploding by then and committing all kinds of turnovers) and the Vikings at home (Brett Favre is usually good for several interceptions, and if he decides not to play that week, Tarvaris Jackson is horrible).

7.7 - Kenny Britt, WR, Tennessee - I had this guy last season, and he wasn't particularly good. He's very talented on the field, but he's a knucklehead off the field. If he ever gets his head on straight, he'll easily vault into the #1 WR in Tennessee. Or maybe not. If he turns into a great keeper, I stole him near the end of the 7th round. If he tanks again this year, I haven't invested much in him. I did realize, however, after I drafted him that I now have three Titans on my roster. Dammit.

8.7 - Tony Scheffler, TE, Detroit - He's my fill-in TE during Finley and Carlson's bye weeks (Week 10 and Week 5 respectively). He's pretty talented, but he was suffocated by a TE-unfriendly offensive scheme in Denver for a few years. He signed with Detroit this season, and the Lions are trying to utilize him the way the Colts utilize Dallas Clark. Granted, the Lions are no Colts, but if they're TRYING to get the ball to him, he might be good for a couple weeks when I need him. He gets Buffalo's rotten defense in Week 10 and the Rams' sorry excuse for a defense in Week 5 when I need him. I'll take it.

9.7 - Nate Kaeding, K, San Diego - This was my last pick, and nobody else interested me at this point. I often don't draft a kicker and just wait to see how the preseason pans out, grabbing one at the last minute before the season starts. But when no one else interests me here, and the kicker for one of the NFL's better offenses is still there, what the hell. I guess I'll take my damn kicker.

So there you have it. I'm sure I've put everyone to sleep except my brother-in-law, who is probably feverishly taking notes now that he knows what I'm thinking.

Interstate Compact War Stories

2010-08-12T10:10:00.011-04:00

I am the Interstate Compact contact person for our county. For the uninitiated, the Interstate Compact is a set of rules and procedures that all probation and parole departments from all states must comply with when transferring supervision of probation from one state to another.

Well, all states are SUPPOSED to comply with the rules and procedures.

The basic set-up for an interstate transfer is this: each state has its own Interstate Compact office. A transfer request goes from the local probation officer to the Interstate Compact office of his/her own state, to the Interstate Compact office of the receiving state, to the local probation officer in the receiving state. Communication from the receiving state takes the reverse path back to the original probation officer. So, for instance, if I want to transfer supervision of probation to Pullman, Washington, my request first goes to the Indiana Interstate Compact Office in Indianapolis, then to the Washington Interstate Compact Office in Olympia, then to the local probation department in Whitman County, Washington.

The whole process is done electronically. There are a whole slew of rules that we have to follow (somewhere around 65 pages, if I remember correctly), full of criteria that make transfers mandatory (the receiving state is required to accept supervision) or discretionary (the receiving state has the option to say, "No, thanks. Keep your probationer in your own state.") and full of deadlines for various procedures. Transferring probation to another state is a rather time-sensitive process. The ladies who work in the Indiana Interstate Compact Office have done a great job emphasizing to all of us that we are subject to massive fines, the wrath of God, and other bad things if we don't comply with the rules and the time deadlines. So I work hard to make sure I'm always in compliance.

That apparently doesn't hold true for other states, however. I am CONSTANTLY frustrated by other states that clearly have no regard for the Interstate Compact rules.

Most recently, I sent a transfer request to California. By rule, they have 45 calendar days to investigate the request and respond. Forty-five days came and went, so I sent a message to California, asking them to respond. No answer. I enlisted the help of the Indiana Interstate Compact Office, who contacted the California Interstate Compact Office, who contacted the local probation officer in California. No answer. More messages went to California, asking them to respond to the transfer request. No answer. Finally, after 104 days--more than twice as long as the Interstate Compact rules allow for--California responded...and rejected my request. After the rejection, I sent a message out there, asking if there was a particular reason that it took 104 days to respond, when the rules only allow for 45 days. You can probably guess how that has worked out. No answer.

Right on the heels of that fiasco, I sent a request for reporting instructions to Georgia. Reporting instructions are who, when, and where the receiving state wants the probationer to report to upon arrival in the receiving state. By rule, states have two (2) business days to respond to a request for reporting instructions. I sent my request on July 29, which gave Georgia until August 2 to respond. August 2 comes and goes, and no response. The Indiana Interstate Compact Office was all over it, and they immediately started sending messages to the Georgia Interstate Compact Office, requesting a response. It took somewhere in the neighborhood of five or six messages for Georgia to finally respond--on August 11. That's nine (9) business days, for those of you scoring at home. Their reasoning for being so slow? They're down three employees right now, so they're really busy. I didn't realize that being busy exempted us from complying with the Interstate Compact rules!

Speaking of Georgia, I transferred someone to them quite some time ago, and when it came time to discharge his probation, I ran his criminal history...only to discover that he had committed a new criminal offense in Georgia that they never told me about. Not only had he been arrested, he had been convicted, placed on probation in the same county that was supervising my case, violated his probation there, and was sent to jail on their case. But for some reason, Georgia never stopped to think that I might want to know about that, too.

And STILL speaking of Georgia, I currently have a probationer I transferred there over a year ago. Interstate Compact rules require that we send annual progress reports to the sending state when supervising one of their probationers. Has Georgia done that? No. But they want to close her case out (two months past her discharge date) because her probation has expired. I sent a message to Georgia, telling them that I won't approve the case closure until they send me a progress report, since I have no idea what she has completed and not completed while on probation. In fact, I had to file a probation violation, alleging that she completed nothing while on probation, because I had no information from Georgia to the contrary. I sent the message to Georgia a week and a half ago. Still waiting on that progress report.

Florida routinely pisses me off. The latest was a probationer of theirs who I was supervising, and he picked up new felony charges here in Indiana. Florida issued a warrant for his arrest as a result, didn't bother to notify me that the warrant was issued for over a month, and then when my probationer was arrested on the warrant, Florida refused to extradite him. So Indiana authorities had to release him. I sent repeated messages to Florida asking them what, exactly, they wanted me to do with him since he's doing nothing on probation, he's not paying any of his fees owed to Indiana, he's committing new felonies here, he has a warrant out of Florida, but Florida won't come and get him. Weeks go by with no response. So I ask them to allow me to close out the case. A month and a half goes by, and no response. The Indiana Interstate Compact Office got involved, and after lots of messages back and forth, Florida finally responded: they denied my request. They still want him to report to me. Why? I have no idea. Absolutely nothing constructive is coming from me wasting my time meeting with him.

Texas has pissed me off several times. So has Kentucky. And New York. Arkansas ignored me when I was having problems with one of their probationers and was asking for their help. My one experience with Utah has been a pain in the ass, trying to get any response of any kind from the Utah probation officer. Ohio is hit or miss--sometimes they're great, and sometimes they're total pricks. I'm not entirely convinced that Virginia has computers, because I routinely send stuff there, never to be heard from again.

Illinois has pissed me off a few times by rejecting various requests before they even send it to the local probation officer to decide. One time, I sent a discretionary transfer through, but it was going to the county where one of my favorite probation officers in the whole wide world works. I was pretty confident that she'd accept supervision, even though she didn't have to, because she understands the concept of doing what's best for the probationer, even if it means more work for her. But the Illinois Interstate Compact Office didn't even let her see the request, much less respond to it. They just denied it. So I contacted her directly, we worked out a little arrangement on the side, and she supervised my probationer for me outside of the rules of the Interstate Compact.

I could go on forever with war stories from the Interstate Compact. I'm not saying that Indiana's poop doesn't stink, but by God, if you transfer a case to my county, you're not going to have any of the above problems.

What sets me off the fastest is when states don't give a damn about what's best for the probationer. All they do is look for a reason not to accept the case, so they don't have to do the additional work.

It also sets me off when probation officers in other states don't respond to requests for communication. We're on the same team, folks! Show a little professional courtesy! Treat others the way you want to be treated!

And it chaps my hide that these offending states never suffer any consequences. No fines, no wrath of God, no sanctions for thumbing their noses at the Compact rules. So what motivation do they have to change their ways? None.

I have had some good experiences with the Interstate Compact. Oklahoma accepted a case from me that they weren't required to. So did Hawaii. I've had mostly good experiences with Michigan. South Dakota is doing a great job with one of my current probationers. West Virginia has communicated well with me on a few cases, and South Carolina has been more good than bad. Arizona was a total pain in the ass before the current automated system went into effect, but now they're pretty good.

And just today, with the help of one of the ladies at the Indiana Interstate Compact Office, Tennessee did me a huge favor and let one of my probationers head their way immediately, when they didn't have to.

So I'm curious. If anyone is still awake after reading this novel, and you have experience with the Interstate Compact, as a state contact person, a local probation officer, or a probationer, post a comment below and share your experiences, good or bad. I'm curious to know if I'm the only person in the country who wants to drive down to Atlanta and smack every one of those people in the Georgia Interstate Compact Office up side of the head, and if my positive experience with Tennessee was an anomaly, or if that's how they normally do business.

Let's trade war stories! It'll make you feel better, and who knows...maybe someone in Georgia will read this and be motivated to get their shit together down there.

What's Been Going On

2010-08-09T11:28:00.012-04:00

I feel like writing, but I can't think of anything in particular to write about. I hate that feeling. So I guess I'll just summarize what's been going on my world lately. Because I know you're just hanging on the edge of your seat to find out what's happening in my piddly little existence, right?

Most immediately, I have a fantasy football draft tonight. I play in a dynasty league run by my brother-in-law, RC. If memory serves, this is our fifth year of the league. I have a lot of fun with this league. After each season, we keep 10 of our 20 players, so we can keep the basic core of the team together, while still infusing new blood into our teams through the draft and trading. I've played in the championship game for the past three years in a row, but I've only gone 1-2 in those games, including losing to RC last season. If I keep this up, I'll soon be known as the Buffalo Bills of our league. I have a lot of good keepers, though: Aaron Rodgers (Green Bay) and Tony Romo (Dallas) are the quarterbacks I kept; Chris Johnson (Tennessee), Maurice Jones-Drew (Jacksonville), and Ray Rice (Baltimore) are my keeper running backs; Reggie Wayne (Indianapolis), Vincent Jackson (San Diego), Mike Wallace (Pittsburgh), and Pierre Garcon (Indianapolis) are the wide receivers I kept; and Jermichael Finley (Green Bay) is a tight end that rounds out my keeper list. Those who play fantasy football probably recognize that I'm pretty set at QB and RB for the year, but I need to beef up my WR's, especially with Vincent Jackson missing 3-10 games this season. Our drafts are always a good time, so I'm looking forward to it.

Wednesday night marks the beginning of softball season. Last season ended with a 1-6-1 record and a broken ankle for me. We're hoping to improve on both counts this season. We had our first practice yesterday, which was a blast. I've been having some shoulder issues lately (abbreviated version: I think I have a tear in my rotator cuff of my non-throwing arm), but the doctor shot me up with cortisone on Friday, and it worked great by Sunday. Not even the slightest bit of pain as I batted and fielded. My ankle is completely healed, so I had no issues with it, either. My batting felt good from both sides of the plate (yes, I can switch-hit), except for the screaming line drive that I sent directly into our pitcher's thigh. He seems to have escaped serious injury, but I still feel bad about it. I knew as soon as that thing came off my bat that it was bad news. I was yelling an expletive before the ball even hit our pitcher, but he didn't have any time to react. He was a manly man about it, though, only sobbing uncontrollably for about 20 minutes afterwards. My fielding needs some work, but once I got comfortable with the idea that my shoulder wasn't going to be a problem for me, my fielding improved. Looks like I'll be playing third base on Wednesday night.

I've continued to enjoy coaching t-ball on Saturdays. Our last game is coming up on Saturday, and that's a bummer. It's been a great experience, and I've loved teaching four- and five-year-olds about baseball. Too bad it has to end on Saturday. But I'll coach again next year, and Olivia and June will be on the same team. That ought to be interesting!

I got the tattoo of Lady Justice on my lower leg finished on Friday. I spent 3.5 hours in the chair about a month ago getting most of her done, and the finishing touches were applied in 45 minutes on Friday. I learned that I'm allergic to the red ink that was used about a month ago. And since this is the first tattoo that I've had done over two separate sessions, I learned that the second time around is considerably more painful than the first time. The tattoo artist explained that my skin is still "inflamed and pissed off" from the first round of work, especially where I had the red ink done. All of that aside, Lady Justice turned out absolutely spectacular, and I really like the woman who did the artwork. I'm definitely having her do my future tattoos. I'll post a picture of the final product after Lady Justice is done healing.

I've been watching a bunch of movies lately. The Mrs. and I saw "Despicable Me" in 3-D a few weeks ago. It was terrific! We loved it! I also watched both volumes of "Kill Bill" recently. I had never seen them before, and I was a little skeptical, because I'm not a big fan of Quentin Tarantino's movies. I really enjoyed both movies, though--the first volume slightly more than the second one--as it was an entertaining story with plenty of action. "The Taking of Pelham 123" and "From Paris With Love" were both entertaining (I guess I was in a John Travolta mood), as was "Transsiberian" with Woody Harrelson and Ben Kingsley in it.

I downloaded Buckcherry's new album, "All Night Long", last week. I love Buckcherry, but this album is not my favorite of theirs. I'm pretty disappointed. Another favorite band of mine--Disturbed--has a new album coming out later this month, so I'm hopeful that I'll like it better than Buckcherry's new effort.

Coming up sooner than I'd prefer to think about is my first college class in 14 years. I have orientation on August 21, and then I take the plunge with my first class on the following Tuesday, August 24. The Mrs. and I drove to the campus a couple weeks ago and walked around a little bit so I could get my bearings. She said she'll pack me a lunch in a Snoopy lunchbox, complete with milk in the Thermos, and that I can borrow one of my daughter's backbacks--either Barbie Princess or Dora the Explorer--to fill with my protractor, some pencils, a Trapper Keeper, and a box of crayons. I sure hope I fit in with the other students on campus.

And that about sums up my exciting life of late. Are you still awake?

My First Fan Mail!

2010-08-05T09:23:00.024-04:00

I finally managed to write something that stirred up some comments and questions! I'm going to call it "fan mail" because I've always wanted to write a column like I see on-line all the time, where the writer responds to readers' feedback. Now I feel so important! So let's get to it!

Q. Daddy, I have to go potty.

A. That's fine, Olivia. Go use the potty.

Q. In reference to your Addiction is a Monster column, is our addiction to coffee and soda parallel enough to an addiction to drugs and alcohol for us to understand a drug addict's or alcoholic's world?

A. Certainly not. The point I was trying to make there was that the behavior associated with addiction is the same, regardless of what the addiction is. When I'm triggered to use caffeine, my unwillingness to waver from my daily routine of coffee and soda is an addiction. To be separated from my substance of choice would cause me some emotional trauma, make me cranky, and send me on a hunt for a pop machine.

When we start talking about drug and alcohol abuse, the effects on the addict of being separated from his substance of choice can be much more extreme. Depending on the substance and the level of addiction, medical assistance may be needed during the process of detoxification. But the fundamentals of addiction are still the same.

Say, for example, that an addict's drug of choice is Vicodin, instead of caffeine. The addict is triggered by some occurrence or routine or something, and his unwillingness to waver from his routine of popping some Vicodin is an addiction. To be separated from his Vicodin would cause him emotional trauma, make him cranky (as well as some other side effects), and send him on a hunt for more Vicodin.

Unfortunately, though, there are no Vicodin machines, where he can drop in 50 cents and get his fix. So he has to resort to illegal means of obtaining his drug of choice--doctor shopping, buying it off the street, stealing from people to pay for pills, prostituting himself for pills, etc. Another huge difference between an addiction to caffeine and an addiction to Vicodin is that Vicodin addicts have to use more and more of the substance to reach the same level of high that they reached the first time they used. Maybe a 5 mg Vicodin pill got him high as a kite the first time he used, but as his body adapts over time, then it takes a 7.5 mg pill to reach that same high. Then it takes a 10 mg pill. Then two 10 mg pills. Then four. Then eight. So as the addiction grows, the need for more pills and more potent pills grows, and the illegal activity required to obtain that amount and concentration of pills grows.

As a caffeine addict, my need for caffeine doesn't increase over time. I don't have to chug four 2-liters of Diet Mountain Dew to get the same "high" that I got from a 12-ounce can a couple years ago. Nor do I have to add six Red Bulls to my Mountain Dew to increase the concentration of caffeine in order get the same effect. So no, while my addiction to caffeine leads me to the same fundamental behavior as an alcohol or drug abuser, it certainly doesn't allow me to understand the world of an alcoholic or a drug addict, in and of itself.

Q. In reference to the same column, if my child was a drug addict or alcoholic, is there any viable option for me somewhere between enabling and tough love, or are there variations on tough love that aren't so extreme?

A. There are certainly other viable options. I'm not saying that as soon as you catch your 19-year-old with a beer, throw her ass out on the streets. There are plenty of ways a parent can help their addict child without enabling. My #1 recommendation is to get the child professional help. Simple internet searches of substance abuse counselors in your area will give you a number of leads. A parent can call the local probation department, parole office, police department, or hospital for suggestions. Then take your child to counseling. Maybe it takes sitting in the car outside the agency for two hours, three times a week to make sure Junior stays in there, but I'm sure that's a sacrifice that most parents are willing to make for their child. Junior might just be going through the motions in counseling at first, but eventually, something's going to start sinking in. If finances prohibit going to a counselor, there are a number of free twelve-step meetings all over the country for a variety of addictions. There's Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), Narcotics Anonymous (NA), Gamblers Anonymous (GA), and Sex Addicts Anonoymous (SAA), for example. Again, take Junior to meetings yourself and sit outside until the meeting's over.

Parents can also talk to their addict child. It sounds pretty basic, but a surprising number of parents that I deal with don't know how to talk to their kids. I hear plenty of parents saying things to their kids like, "You quit using drugs, or I'll kick your ass!" or "What the hell is WRONG with you?!" That's not helpful. No parent wants their child to be an addict, and discovering that their child is one causes a great deal of shock and anger in parents. But it's important to resist the temptation to constantly yell at the child. Try having calm, private, civil conversations with Junior in a place Junior is comfortable--maybe his bedroom or something. Try to learn why Junior is using, what may be bothering him so much that he feels he has to escape by using alcohol or drugs, what his triggers are, and what his point of view is. Understanding goes a long way toward solving a problem. Chances are real good that Junior already knows it's not right to snort cocaine. He doesn't need his parents screaming that at him every time he turns around. It might take awhile, and several attempts, but eventually Junior will likely respond to a genuinely concerned parent who is trying to understand the situation without criticizing, belittling, or shaming him.

On the flip side of that, saying, "Well, I smoked pot when I was young, so what can I do? I can't really get on him about something I did" doesn't help, either. If you burned your hand touching a hot stove, and you saw your child heading toward a hot stove, would you just say, "Well, I burned my hand when I was young, so what can I do? I can't really get on him about something I did"? No! You do what you can to protect and inform your child. You tell your child that you did the same thing, that it was a mistake, and you don't want your child to experience the same pain.

Help Junior find a healthy guide. Steer Junior toward healthy activities. Spend time with Junior. Show interest in him. Something as simple as shooting hoops with Junior for awhile will go a long ways toward building a comfort level, even if you don't say a word about his addiction while you're shooting hoops.

If you're housing and feeding Junior, make him contribute. If he doesn't have a job, make him work around the house to earn his keep. And help him find a job. If he's working, charge him something like $200 per month for room and board. It's a heck of a lot cheaper than anything he'll find out "in the real world" and yet he's still contributing to his own care. If you're uncomfortable taking money from Junior, start up a savings account for him, without his knowledge, and put everything he pays you into that savings account. When he's ready to get out on his own, he'll have a nice little nest egg of his own making.

The point I was getting at in my original column was that when you've tried everything you know to try, and the addict is still taking you down with him, at some point, you have to draw the line and save yourself and anyone else being adversely affected, especially kids. You can't have Junior leaving his drug paraphernalia laying around the house for his younger siblings to find. You can't have him stealing from you to support his addiction. You can't have him stumbling in drunk at 3:00am every night. You can't have him hosting parties at your house with all of his addict buddies while you're gone. You can't just endlessly wipe Junior's ass. Eventually, as painful as it is, you have to tell Junior that he's no longer welcome in your house until he gets himself straightened out. And then enforce it.

Q. In your column about payment options for college, you made fun of IU - Bloomington, you little smart-ass! I'll have you know that we do have computers at IU Bloomington--we're supposedly the most wired university in the galaxy. Everything is calculated for profit these days because we're no longer really a state university. Twenty percent or less of the budget comes from the state. Guess where the rest comes from? I just bought two tickets to an IU football game, for the privilege of watching IU lose. In addition to the high price of the tickets, I was charged a $10 service fee. I bought the tickets at the IU ticket counter, on campus, in person, at Assembly Hall. By the way, they took my credit card.

A. I suppose I should have added the phrase "for student bursar accounts" to my statement that IU Bloomington doesn't accept credit cards at all. Clearly, a credit card can be used at other locations on campus.

And, of course, I was exaggerating about IUB not having the internet or running water.

That $10 service fee that you were charged for football tickets is just another example of what I was talking about. What "service", exactly, did they provide you that's worth $10, above and beyond the exorbitant ticket prices, after you walked up to their front door and got the tickets yourself? It's infuriating!

That's an interesting statistic about how much funding comes from the state for "state" universities. I did not know that. For a nation that is encouraged by our President to further our education, we sure have a funny way of making that possible for people to do. And for a school that desperately tries to improve attendance at football games, when the team perpetually gets its ass kicked week after week, their exorbitant ticket prices and $10 service fee when no service has been rendered sure seems like the wrong way to go about it.

Q. Daddy, I think June just flushed a towel down the toilet.

A. Be right there, Olivia.

Well, this was fun! I enjoyed it a lot! Keep that fan mail coming!

How Much Does It Cost to Use Sidewalks?

2010-08-04T19:05:00.009-04:00

For those who don't know, I'm headed back to college in a few weeks. I'm starting work on a Master of Science degree in Criminal Justice and Public Safety at Indiana University Purdue University Indianapolis (IUPUI) later this month.

I got my bill today for the fall semester, which I obviously knew was coming, and it was the amount I anticipated. No problems there.

But when I started looking into the payment options, I got a little irritated. You see, I had been planning to pay for my tuition and fees with my credit card. We pay our credit card in full every month, so we wouldn't be charged any interest, and the bonus for doing that is that 1% of our purchases on that card go toward our kids' college funds. I thought it would be pretty cool to contribute to my kids' education while paying for my own education.

Well, that's not going to happen. I can pay IUPUI with a credit card, but there is a 2.7% service fee charged by a third-party company! WTF?! This third-party company is going to make $65.00, just off of me! And I'm just going to school part-time! There are about 22,000 undergraduate students at IUPUI, and another 8000 graduate students, so if they all pay with a credit card....... let's see ....... carry the 4 ........ move the decimal point ...... multiply by .027 ....... and ........ holy crap! That company is making a killing off of students! It doesn't take a college degree to know that the 2.7% fee I'm going to be charged is more than the 1% that will go into my kids' college funds, so I guess the credit card is out.

So, I thought, I see that I can divide this amount into four payments throughout the semester. That'd be cool. I have all the money for school in my savings account, so I figured I could make four payments, and meanwhile, some of that school money is still sitting in savings, earning interest.

But no. There is, of course, a service fee for making payments. And what is that service fee? $15.00. PER PAYMENT! Seriously?! It costs the university $60.00 to keep track of one student's payments?! The shit is all automated, I'm sure! I know that virtually every single e-mail I've ever gotten from IUPUI thus far has been automated, so you can't tell me that there is a steamy, smoke-filled warehouse somewhere on campus, full of dirty, malnourished children slaving away for 20 hours a day over an abacus to figure out payments. There are 30,000 students at IUPUI, and if all of them made payments, that's 30,000 x $60 ....... $1.8 million EACH SEMESTER. Even if only half of the students make payments, that's a cool $900,000 per semester, just in service fees! For what I'm virtually certain is an automated service! What a load of shit!

Granted, I haven't had to pay for college in 14 years, so I'm sure there were ludicrous fees back then, too, that I've just forgotten about over the years. And IUPUI points out on their website that other schools do this, too (like that makes it okay). But it still kind of irks me that I'm giving IUPUI $2400.00 for one semester's worth of education, and they want to nickel and dime me to death with asinine fees on services that are commonplace in today's society. I wonder if I'm going to be charged for the oxygen I consume on campus, too. $4.00 per breath. Exhaling is 50 cents extra.

I guess I should feel fortunate that I'm not going to Indiana University - Bloomington--the mother ship of the IU system. They don't even accept credit cards at all. Makes me wonder if they have the internet yet in Bloomington. Or running water.

So I guess I'll scrounge around and see if I have any checks left. I can't remember the last time I paid anything with a check, this being the Computer Age and all. Then I'll have to go buy a stamp, because I know I don't have any of those anymore. How much is a stamp nowadays, anyway? $5.00? Is snail mail even still in existence? I'll write a check for the full amount, and send it by Pony Express or carrier pigeon to IUPUI.

Gosh, now that I think about it, I sure hope they accept checks. Because I'm fresh out of gold bullion, and my horse-drawn carriage is in the shop.

Addiction is a Monster

2010-08-03T18:05:00.001-04:00

Addiction is a monster. It doesn’t care who or what gets in its way. It wreaks havoc on our lives. It controls us. It destroys relationships. It can destroy our bodies and our minds. It can hurt others. It can destroy our bank accounts. It can take away our freedom. It can kill us.

It doesn’t matter what the addiction is, or whether it’s big or small—the behavior is the same. We develop a fondness for something, for a variety of reasons, and we turn to that “thing” whenever something happens that triggers us to use. Maybe we eat when we’re stressed or upset. Maybe we smoke cigarettes at certain times of the day. Maybe we can’t get the thrill of gambling out of our thoughts. Maybe we steal things for the excitement. Maybe we have promiscuous sex in an effort to feel wanted and desirable. Maybe we drink alcohol to have fun and relax. Maybe we use prescription drugs to ease pain. Maybe we inject heroin to escape pain. Every addict has at least one preferred “thing” and at least one trigger that leads the addict to partake in the “thing.”

I know I’m an addict. If I don’t have my coffee in the morning and a steady stream of Diet Mountain Dew throughout the day, my world is not a pleasant place. My trigger is simply waking up in the morning. I have a very addictive personality, and that hasn’t always led to the healthiest habits or behavior. When I find something I like, or that makes me feel good, I wear it out. Ask the Mrs. what happens when I find a new song I like, for example. Four hundred consecutive plays later, the Mrs. is ready to pull her hair out, strangle me, and throw my iPod out the window, but I still can’t get enough of the song.

I deal with all kinds of addicts on a daily basis. Most of the addicts I deal with struggle with alcohol or drugs or both. Sometimes it’s inappropriate sexual desires or other less common addictions, but most of the time, it’s substance abuse.

I have learned a few things over the years about addiction that I’d like to share, since I bet every single person on the planet is an addict or knows an addict.

No one beats an addiction until they want to. I lead horses to water all the time, but they don’t always want to drink. I can force someone to attend substance abuse counseling, but until that person is internally motivated to conquer their addiction, they just sit there and let the counselor’s words go in one ear and out the other. No probation officer, judge, counselor, parent, spouse, boyfriend, girlfriend, or sibling can force someone to overcome an addiction. Only the addict can do that when properly motivated.

Loved ones who are trying to help are often only enabling the addict. Parents have a natural instinct to protect their children, so when Junior loses his job, his apartment, his vehicle, and all of his possessions because of his addiction to cocaine, it’s natural for Mom and Dad take Junior into their own home and provide him with free room and board until he can “get back on his feet.” In my professional world, we refer to this as Mom and Dad wiping Junior’s ass for him. But now Junior doesn’t have any motivation to do anything constructive with his life. Nor does he have anything to prohibit him from focusing all of his time, energy, and resources on his cocaine addiction. Plus, he has a whole house full of stuff he can steal and sell to fund his addiction. Mom and Dad have just inadvertently made things worse, instead of better. I also commonly see addictions fueled by parents who don’t care what their kids are doing, who condone or even encourage their addictive behavior, and/or who try to be the child’s friend, rather than their parent. Having no rules at home is a recipe for absolute disaster. What’s that about idle hands being the devil’s playthings? Kids have plenty of friends. They need their parents to be parents.

Every addict has one or more triggers. Some addicts have the ability to sit down and identify their own triggers. Some addicts need help with that. But it is essential that addicts identify their trigger(s) if they have any hope of recovery. There’s a reason I ask a million seemingly irrelevant questions of my probationers. I’m probing for information. What stresses you out? What motivates you? What triggers you to use? Probationers don’t even realize that what appears to be casual conversation is providing me with all kinds of clues about that person. I’m picking up on verbal and non-verbal cues, body language, what the probationer says, what the probationer doesn’t say, and so on. If I can get into your head, I can more effectively help you.

Once the triggers are identified, then the addict needs to find healthy ways to deal with those triggers. A solid support system is an essential place to start. Some find this at 12-step meetings. Some find it with long-term recovering addicts or sponsors. Some find it with friends or family who don’t use. I frequently see recovering addicts get more involved in church. Addicts need someone healthy to talk to when the addict is triggered to use—what a substance abuse counselor friend of mine calls a “healthy guide.” Healthy activities are also essential when recovering from an addiction. Instead of smoking marijuana to relieve stress, go to a gym and work out when you’re stressed. I once had a probationer who relaxed with alcohol. After his fourth drunk driving conviction, he had finally had enough, and he realized that he needed a more constructive way to relax. For him, it was home repairs. While on probation, he made countless repairs to his house, he built a huge patio outside his back door, and he built a really nice deck around his above-ground pool. He even commented that he spent less money on lumber and supplies than he would have on alcohol. And there’s no telling how much value he added to his home.

An addict’s environment needs to change if there’s any hope of long-term recovery. This is often one of the most difficult obstacles for addicts to overcome because it involves massive change in his or her life. Separation or divorce may be the only option if both spouses are addicts, and only one wants to get clean. Perhaps a career change is necessary to reduce your level of stress, if your trigger is to use when you’re stressed. If you’re addicted to marijuana, and all your friends smoke dope? Guess what? You need to find new friends. Try convincing an addict that his lifelong friends are bad for him, and that he needs to stay away from them at all costs. These aren’t easy things to do, but they’re necessary.

While it’s a very understandable reaction, loved ones of addicts often kick themselves and wonder what they could have done differently to prevent the person from becoming an addict. Most of the time, the answer is: nothing. Plenty of addicts come from well-adjusted families. A wife wondering what she could have done differently to prevent her husband from becoming an alcoholic and drinking a case of beer every night after work is just spinning her wheels. Fretting about woulda-coulda-shoulda’s and blaming yourself for the addict's behavior is pointless and self-destructive. The addict isn’t going to change until s/he wants to. That most often occurs when the addict hits what s/he considers to be rock bottom.

Sometimes “tough love” is what’s required to ultimately help the addict. It’s VERY hard for loved ones of addicts to do this, but sometimes ultimatums have to be issued. Lines have to be drawn in the sand. Guns have to be stuck to. Addicts have to be arrested. Or left in jail. Or kicked out. Or divorced. Or avoided. When the addict is taking everyone and everything down with him or her, at some point, loved ones have to save themselves. Sticking with an addict who has gambled away their life savings and second mortgage on their house is financial suicide. Sticking with an addict who gets drunk every night and hits you isn’t good, either. Sheltering an addict who steals from you to support his or her addiction is unacceptable.

“Tough love” isn’t a walk in the park, nor is it pleasant. Loved ones feel like they’re abandoning or turning their backs on the addict. They feel disloyal, or that they have let the addict down when they should have done more to "help" the addict. Addicts lie, and they say nasty, hurtful things when they’re backed into a corner, with access to their “thing” of choice obstructed. Loving someone and being told that the feelings aren’t mutual, or that the addict hates you, drives a hot iron stake right through anyone’s chest. The addict knows this, and if that’s what it takes to get the loved one to back down and take back the ultimatum, the addict will say it. The addict knows what buttons to push with his loved ones. Whatever it takes for the addict to get his “thing” of choice, the addict will do it.

Loved ones have to remain confident that what they’re doing is in the addict’s best interests, as well as the loved one’s best interests, and they have to remind themselves repeatedly that this is the addict talking. It’s not their spouse, their child, their parent, their sibling, or their friend. That person is buried somewhere under the addiction.

Lead the horse to water, but understand that the horse may not drink. And sometimes, even though it tears you up inside, you have to let the horse go and just pray for the best. There’s a big difference between supporting an addict in his recovery and enabling that addict to continue his addiction. If you choose to do so, you can let the addict know that as soon as he gets his shit together, you’ll be there for him, but until that happens, you have to save yourself.

Because addiction is a monster. And it doesn’t care who or what gets in its way.

Time for Softball Again!

2010-07-29T17:34:00.005-04:00

It's that time of year again! Time to play softball! We've signed our team up with the local Parks and Rec Department, and our games begin on August 11.

I'm fully recovered from the broken ankle in last season's finale, although I've yet to swing a bat with my balky left shoulder. I'm sure it will be something I can play through, though.

Chuck is taking a more active role in the coaching of the team this year, so I'm glad of that. I'm still helping him out, but he's going to take some of the load off.

Since he's doing the lineups and field assignments now, he's trying to decide where to put everyone. In my 20+ years of playing softball, I've played every position on the field, but as I age, my depth perception is failing me. My only hope of not completely embarrassing myself in the outfield is to play there when the sun is still up. Once the sun starts to set, that's it for my ability to track fly balls. I can see that the ball is in the air, but its trajectory is a complete mystery to me. One time last season, I was yelling "I got it! I got it!" while trying to field a fly ball. I heard the outfielder next to me say, "Um...no you don't." And a second or two later, the ball went about 20 feet over my head. That's how bad it is.

So these days, I'm a much better infielder than I am an outfielder. We have an absolutely stellar shortstop--easily the best athlete on our team--so I won't be playing there. And we have a new woman on the team who holds down first base quite well, so I won't be over there, either. Chuck's trying to decide whether to put me at second base or third base. Either one works just fine for me. I like them both. I'm hoping we can have a practice before the season starts, in part so we can determine if our new first baseman is going to be able to handle the velocity of my throws from third base. Many a first baseman over the years has complained about how hard I throw. Even when I try to take something off of the throw, I get complaints (and I start losing accuracy). That was actually a big reason why I moved to second base. With short tosses from second to first, I throw with a much lesser sense of urgency.

So anyway, whether it's second base or third base, I'm looking forward to it.

And I'm not sliding this season.

At least not feet-first.....

My World Gets a New Look

2010-07-28T20:38:00.007-04:00

I haven't enjoyed My World in quite some time, so I've decided to shake things up. Maybe a little different look will help My World become a more pleasant place.

I think I'm also going to try shorter, more frequent posts. I know how much everyone enjoys those posts that take 20 minutes to read (end sarcasm), but those take me two or three hours to type. I just don't have that block of time available on a regular basis, and it takes a lot of energy to come up with topics to write about and then edit them to my standard of perfection. Maybe shorter posts will keep me motivated to write more often.

I certainly need the outlet, that's for sure.

I've also noticed that I bitch a lot. I've never been accused of being an optimist, but as I look back on previous posts, I see now just how much I bitch about stuff. It's no wonder that My World feels so negative. Perhaps shorter posts will allow me to focus on positive things and record them before I forget them and replace them with memories of negative stuff (it's in my nature; don't bother trying to fix me).

For example, my left shoulder hurts like a son of a bitch, and it has been feeling like that for about a month now. I could write a book on how frustrating and painful this shoulder experience has been, but instead, I'm going to try to focus on some positive things. My doctor referred me today to a sports medicine specialist who seems to be highly regarded by several of my friends, and my doctor assured me that "we'll get that shoulder fixed up." And I should focus on the fact that my appointment today was free of charge, thanks to my employer setting up a free medical clinic for county employees a few months ago. I should focus on the fact that I got some medication free of charge today, too, thanks to the free medical clinic. And I should focus on the fact that I have finally...FINALLY...found a doctor who I like, who I'm comfortable talking to, who listens to me, and who remembers things I say and concerns I have (such as my unwillingness to use opiates for pain relief). Again, thanks to the free medical clinic.

I should be thankful that the non-narcotic pain reliever he has given me knocks the shoulder pain down from feeling like someone is driving a red-hot railroad spike through the front of my shoulder with a jackhammer, to something manageable. This is especially good because softball season starts on August 11--another thing I'm thankful for.

I'm very thankful that I volunteered to coach t-ball. For an hour each Saturday, I'm in absolute heaven, teaching a bunch of four- and five-year-olds how to play a sport I love. Kids that age are such a refreshingly stark contrast to my daily contacts at work. I never want that hour to end.

I'm thankful that my best friend lives right across the street. And that we co-own a kegerator over at his house. I'm thankful that I can talk to him about anything at all, which is even easier for me to do after pressing the kegerator into service.

There. That's good enough for today. I feel better already about My World. Of course, there's a lot more that I'm thankful for, but I'll save those thoughts for another day when My World needs another picker-upper.

Now it's time to see what Chuck and the kegerator are up to.

Let's Go, Orioles!

2010-06-15T12:25:00.014-04:00

I'm embarking on a new adventure: coaching. It's actually not an entirely new adventure for me, as I've coached recreational softball teams and Special Olympics athletes in the past, but what makes it new for me is that I'll be coaching a dozen four- and five-year-olds, including Olivia, in t-ball. We're in a league run by the local YMCA, and our team is the Orioles.

It's one thing to tell an adult buddy of mine to put his beer down, pick up his softball mitt, and try not to completely embarrass himself over at third base. There isn't much coaching skill involved in that. It's quite another thing entirely to try to teach a bunch of little kids the very basic fundamentals of baseball, such as how to drop the bat after hitting the ball without maiming anyone within a 30-foot radius.

Fortunately, I have help. There are two of us coaching the team, and the other coach is a professional acquaintance of mine. I look forward to working with him in a different capacity--and getting to know him better--throughout the season.

Last week, I attended the Coaches Meeting and learned what the YMCA expects from its coaches. We heard the basic common sense stuff (although, in today's society, it has to be said) like: never be one-on-one with any kids, including when they have to use the restroom; don't give your own kid special treatment, good or bad; high-fives are good; butt slaps and purple nurples are bad; screaming spit-flying obscenities in a four-year-old's face while slapping him repeatedly, then withholding water from him after he runs the wrong way on the bases is bad; reinforcing the YMCA's values is good, etc. Apparently drug use, alcohol use, and tobacco use in front of the kids is also frowned upon, as are public displays of affection. Who knew?

Anyway, once we got through all that legal mumbo-jumbo stuff, we learned about the rules of our league. I knew from sign-ups that it was a non-competitive league, but I also know that some parents keep score in their heads. So I was a little nervous about my first coaching stint with other people's kids having the added pressure of unspoken expectations to "win" these non-competitive games.

But the YMCA alleviated that concern. Every kid on the team bats in every inning. There are no outs. Each kid swings until putting a ball into play, even if it takes 35 swings. Each kid advances one--and only one--base at a time. If the batter reaches first base before the other team has even collected the ball, the batter stays at first. If the other team throws the batter out at first base, the batter stays at first. The last kid up to bat in each inning gets to run all the way around the bases for a "grand slam." We play for an hour, or three innings, whichever comes first. We have 12 kids on our roster, so we'll score 12 runs each inning. Assuming the other team has 12 players, too, the other team will score 12 runs each inning. For those parents scoring in their heads, the game will be a 36-36 tie every week. So I was pleased to have the ability to "win" games completely removed by league rules.

Last night, all of the coaches, players, and parents met at the YMCA office. We got our rosters and schedules, and we got a chance to say hi to our players and their parents. Olivia, being painfully shy, crawled up my leg every time I tried to introduce her to the other coach or to any of the players on her team. I chuckled to myself, though, as I watched most of the other kids crawl up their parents' legs when I talked to them, too. One of those nice little reminders for me that Olivia is a typical four-year-old.

It was also nice to hear other parents asking the same questions and expressing the same concerns that I had when I signed Olivia up to play. It's an unknown realm for most parents, and they simply want to know what's expected of them, what to bring to practices and games, and that their kids are going to be okay. I understand the anxiety of turning my kids over to a stranger, so I went out of my way to put parents at ease. Many of them fretted that their child has no prior experience playing baseball. I assured them that I expect absolutely nothing from the kids, and Olivia has no experience, either. That seemed to relax them all.

So the adventure begins Saturday morning when the Orioles--nine boys, three girls, and two coaches--take the field for our first practice. The first three Saturdays of the season (minus Independence Day weekend) are practices. The final four Saturdays of the season are games. We all get team t-shirts on the day of our final practice to wear for our four games, and the kids get a participation trophy at the end of the season.

My goals for the season are simple: everyone has fun, and the kids learn the basics of baseball. If, by the end of the season, the kids can hit a ball off a tee, run the bases in the correct direction, and maybe field a slow grounder or two, I'll consider it a success. Oh, and if we avoid any visits from an ambulance throughout the season, that'd be nice, too. After all, we coaches are old and fragile, and we break easily.

What Does "Dead" Mean?

2010-05-28T08:12:00.011-04:00

I have been provided with a variety of equipment to use when I go out to probationers' residences to conduct home visits, including a Kevlar vest. Sure, Kevlar is great protection against a bullet to the torso, but I hate wearing my vest. It's bulky, it's awkward, it's uncomfortable, I look like the Pillsbury Dough Boy when I have it on, and worst of all, it's miserably hot. By the end of a 70-degree day of home visits, I'm drenched in sweat. In the dead of summer, I'm pretty sure my internal organs have been pressure-cooked by the end of a shift. And those who know me know that I absolutely loathe being hot.

So I've been getting a little sloppy about wearing my vest lately. (Sorry, Mom!) My home visits have been concentrated in the county in which I work, which is half rural, half suburban, mostly laid back. That's not to say that bad things don't happen around here, but it's pretty uncommon to see anything on the local news coming out of our county.

I also like to think that I have a pretty disarming style when I'm out on home visits. I do everything I can with my body language, choice of words, tone of voice, facial expressions, etc. to put everyone in the home at ease, even as I'm confiscating their drugs, alcohol, firearms, or whatever else I find in there that's going to send them to jail. I'm also extremely particular about who I take with me as a partner. There are a small handful of people in my office who I'm comfortable with in the field, and I pretty much just stick with them.

So I figure with all of that going for me, why subject myself to a day full of heat-related misery, when the chances of me needing the Kevlar are minuscule, right?

I know, I know. That's how officers get killed. Getting complacent. But did I mention how much I hate my vest?

Yesterday, my partner and I were planning to do some home visits in a fairly nasty part of Indianapolis. Unfortunately, the temperatures were predicted to hit the mid- to high-80's, with considerable humidity. Despite the exponential increase in risk, based simply on the area we were headed to, I was still contemplating not wearing my vest. It was going to be absolutely miserable wearing it in that kind of weather.

But then I got a sign from above, delivered by Olivia.

As I was getting her ready for school yesterday morning, she observed that some of the flowers in our garden were gone. I confirmed her observation and told her that the flowers were dead. Then came the question I wasn't prepared for.

"Daddy? What does 'dead' mean?"

I did my best to explain in 4-year-old terms that "dead" means that someone or something isn't with us anymore, but they've gone to heaven, and they're watching us from way up high in the sky. I was mentally high-fiving myself after that answer. Not bad for having to completely pull that one out of the thin air at a moment's notice!

"So the flowers are in heaven?" she asked.

"Yes, they are," I said.

"So Bronson [our dog that we had to euthanize a couple months ago] is in heaven?" she asked.

"Yes, he is," I said.

Olivia pondered that for a moment or two, and then uttered one of those sentences that changes a person's course of action.

"Daddy? I don't want you to be dead."

Two hours later, as I was strapping my Kevlar vest on, that sentence was running over and over again through my head. As I boiled like a lobster all day, that sentence was going through my head. As I was desperately trying to cool down for hours after work, cranking up the air conditioning, sitting in front of a fan, taking a cold shower, downing Gatorade like it was going out of style...that sentence was going through my head.

The story would have been made-for-TV material if I had gotten shot yesterday, and the Kevlar vest stopped the bullet. But that didn't happen. Nothing even remotely close to a confrontation ever happened, and my partner and I made it back to the office completely intact.

And yet my four-year-old daughter managed to correct weeks of sloppiness on my part in one short, well-timed sentence.

Kids say the darndest things.

What We've Got Here is Failure to Communicate

2010-05-24T07:43:00.004-04:00

It's no breaking news that the internet has revolutionized the way we socialize. There's e-mail, texting, Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, blogging, match-making websites, and countless other ways that we can socialize with each other without ever leaving the computer screen. I'm a texting and e-mail junkie, and I have a Facebook page and this blog. I tinkered with Twitter for awhile but never really got the hang of it or understood the point of it.

In the beginning, I thoroughly enjoyed Facebook and this blog. Facebook got me reconnected with high school classmates, including my best friend from my childhood, who I hadn't communicated with in over 20 years. It was an easy way to keep up with my friends' and family's lives, as well as an easy way to keep them updated on what's going on in my life. This blog was a fun way to express things that were on my mind, and to feed my interest in writing.

But in the past couple of months, I've become increasingly disenchanted with both.

After receiving a considerable amount of backlash--both directly and indirectly--from my last post on this blog, I lost my interest in writing. I meant my last post as a means of venting and, to a lesser extent, a plea for help from other experienced parents on how to survive this difficult phase in my kids' lives. Apparently the child-rearing manuals that came with my kids got lost somewhere between the hospital and our house after they were born, because I don't know what the hell I'm doing most of the time. I just fake it, and sometimes I get it right. Sometimes things go very wrong for an extended period of time, though, and I get frustrated. I got some supportive comments from a few friends, but I was alarmed to discover that many other people took that post as an opportunity to question my parenting skills, my mental health, and whatever else was being questioned. I wanted help. I got scrutinized, instead. I didn't like it.

Facebook has become a similar headache. It seems that any of my posts that are anything but silly slapstick entertainment are hyper-analyzed. Comments are misconstrued, activities are judged, who I choose as friends are a source of contention, photos are criticized...and don't even get me started on those God-forsaken games like Farmville. God, I hate that game. What started out as a fun little time-killer turned into a full-time job with endless demands to send shit, build shit, harvest shit, fertilize shit, and on and on and on. The damn game didn't work right 80% of the time, it involved an endless string of pop-up windows, and then I started getting huge amounts of junk e-mail at home that I blame on either Zynga--the creator of Farmville--or Facebook prostituting my e-mail address out to the highest bidding john. I'm just so disgusted with the whole experience that I stopped playing all games a few weeks ago, and I'm taking a break from Facebook as a whole for awhile.

Obviously, I am responsible for what gets posted on my Facebook page and on my blog, so I'm not trying to play the role of martyr here. And I know I'm not the only one who experiences this. I read a lot of columns--entire columns!--on sports websites, analyzing and criticizing what athletes post on their Facebook pages and Twitter accounts. What I'm sure the athlete meant as a means of expressing frustration with a situation turns into an entirely blown-out-of-proportion ordeal in the media. A 140-character post on Twitter leads to multiple 800-word columns of analysis, criticism, theories, and various interpretations on countless websites.

It got me thinking about what the on-line world has done to human socialization. Chuck steadfastly refuses to make a Facebook page, and only recently did he begrudgingly add the ability to send and receive text messages on his phone. His reasoning is that he prefers face-to-face interactions to anything on-line. And I'm starting to understand his perspective.

Human communication is a very complex process involving a whole slew of verbal and non-verbal cues. When we communicate solely through written text, especially with a limited number of characters, the vast majority of those cues are lost. The nuances of interpersonal relations go missing. Often, the communicator's intent is lost or misinterpreted. If I had expressed the same frustrations that I wrote about in my last post on this blog to a circle of live human beings, I guarantee that the response would have been different. People would have heard tone of voice, seen facial expressions, observed posture and hand movements, and all of the rest of the cues that we, as human beings, constantly transmit and receive. My style of communication--especially my sense of humor--relies heavily on sarcasm, exaggeration, context, timing, and the multitude of cues observable in face-to-face interactions. That doesn't always translate well to text. If I tell someone in person, "I want to choke my kids today!", they easily pick up on the other cues--especially if they know anything about me and know that I would never actually harm my kids--and recognize that I'm blowing off steam and maybe asking for assitance. If I post "I want to choke my kids today!" on Facebook, I have people contemplating calling the police and/or Child Protective Services.

Misinterpretations are often easily avoided with face-to-face communication. When I say something, I'm reading the cues of the person I'm talking to. I can clearly see when the person is not understanding what I'm saying by the look on their face, and I'm immediately able to address a potential problem, further explain my position, or otherwise clear up the misconception or confusion. That ability is lost when posting things on-line.

I believe, too, that when we interact face-to-face, we are much less inclined to dish out the biting criticism, the rude remarks, and the armchair quarterbacking that is so easy to distribute behind the safety of a computer screen. In face-to-face communication, we usually refrain from expressing those types of thoughts because we don't want to witness the hurt feelings, risk a punch to the face, or experience any other backlash from what we express. We have developed into a much more critical society, and I wonder how much of that is a result of the ability to post written comments and avoid the face-to-face repercussions of our comments.

Small conflicts get blown up into huge ordeals when we feel like we can just unload on someone by way of a keyboard. Such a storm is brewing right now in my workplace, providing a very real illustration of that point for me and the employees of two different offices. What could probably have been resolved with a quick face-to-face interaction or two is brewing into a full-blown knock-down-drag-out because of sharp-edged e-mails passing back and forth.

Sure, we've always had the rumor mill, the grapevine, the watercooler, and various other means of gossiping about people, but with the relatively newfound ability to comment on just about every single little thing on-line, and often from the safety of anonymity, we seem to have gotten more malicious, more inflammatory, more judgmental, more unforgiving, and more confrontational. We have fewer filters, less tact, and lowered inhibitions when we communicate electronically.

We have become, in my opinion, less human.

We have lost sight of the fact that human beings are...well...human beings. We make mistakes. We say stupid things. We have whims. We have desires. We have emotions. We have good days. We have bad days. We're not always rational. It is human nature to want to express those sentiments to other human beings. But because of the modern ways in which we communicate now, we often only see one dimension of a person's message, missing the totality of it. And way too often, our responses to those messages are malicious.

We actively seek out people's moments of weakness, taking great pleasure in rubbing their noses in their mistakes, reveling in their demise, broadcasting their defeats to the world, and standing over them, beating our chests in glory because, in this very moment in time, our lives appear to be better than theirs. We have lost the ability to show compassion, to understand, to empathize, to reach out a helping hand, to pick someone up when they're down, to identify with their anguish and offer a shoulder to cry on. We have lost the ability to celebrate someone else's successes without jealousy or wondering out loud who they screwed in order to get where they are now. We have lost the ability to turn the other cheek...to forgive and forget and move on. In our frenzy to rip the meat off the bones of others at every opportunity, we have forgotten that we are all human beings--that we're all in this together. We have forgotten to treat others the way we want to be treated.

It's what our society has become, and that's sad. But I can't change it. I can only adapt.

The lesson I've learned from all of this is that I need to step back a little bit from the on-line world and take a page from Chuck's book on reestablishing more face-to-face contact with people. And if/whenever I do return to Facebook and this blog, I need to censor what I write and what I post (and, taking my own medicine, lay off of Ryan Leaf). That's a shame to me, since I had the obviously idealistic belief that Facebook and a blog would be a good place to share thoughts, opinions, discussions, experiences, and laughs while keeping up with the same from people I'm interested in. All it's good for now, though, is sharing a few vacation photos and funny websites, and that doesn't hold my interest nearly as much.

A Frustrated Parent's Lament

2010-03-19T12:53:00.006-04:00

Olivia is on the cusp of turning 4 years old, and June will turn 3 in early summer. They're both in a phase right now (I sure hope it's just a phase, anyway) that is causing me a significant amount of anguish.

They love their mommy.

Not normally a bad thing, right? But these two knuckleheads take loving their mommy to a whole new level. They want "uppy" all the time (they want the Mrs. to hold them), and they're constantly under her feet to the point of trying to crawl up her legs. Not only have neither of them "cut the cord," but they often both act like they're literally trying to crawl back up into the womb. Each of them says the word "Mommy" no fewer than 113,784 times a day, trying to gain her attention, and they do it over the top of each other. The more tired they get, the clingier they are. The Mrs. tries to make dinner, and she's constantly turning around and nearly falling over one of them. The Mrs. tries to sit on the couch and relax for a minute, and they're all over her. When she takes a shower, the girls are pounding on her bathroom door, wanting in.

Olivia, especially, has always been a mommy's girl, but her level of dependence on the Mrs. has become nauseating. When the Mrs. sits down, Olivia is instantly right next to her, with as much bodily contact as humanly possible, sucking her thumb and running her hands through the Mrs.'s hair, twisting it into knots. Olivia has also decided that she suddenly can't do things that she's been able to do by herself for quite some time--dressing herself, opening the refrigerator to retrieve a yogurt, etc.--without the Mrs. "helping" her (read: doing it for her).

In the evenings, the Mrs. and I rotate reading stories to the girls before bed every other night. However, for the past several weeks, the girls raise nine kinds of hell when it's my turn to read to them. They want Mommy to do it. And when we break the news to them that it's Daddy's turn to read, you'd think we were driving a red-hot nail through their eyeballs, the way they react. They don't want me reading to them, they don't want me putting them to bed, they barely want anything to do with me.

They certainly don't want me disciplining them. I'm the seemingly heartless enforcer in our house. I have the iron fist. They know that they can slide stuff past Mommy (or wear her out) that they can't get past me. (And the Mrs. knows this. I'm not writing anything that we haven't already repeatedly discussed with each other. She balances out my heavy hand, too.)

Every night, Olivia finds her way into our bed, and then she's all over the Mrs. like glue--again with as much bodily contact as humanly possible, even to the point where she lies on top of the Mrs. And when that doesn't satisfy her need for contact with her mommy, she starts rolling around all over her, like a dog rolls in grass. It's absolutely ridiculous.

June isn't helping matters any with her own behavior. She's the most stubborn, defiant kid in the history of mankind. Well, at least since her...um...mother...was a child. (Yeah, we'll stick with THAT parent being the one who is stubborn and defiant. It's my blog. I can write anything I want!) June will say "No!" in response to EVERYTHING. She often follows it up with a very theatrical slumping of the shoulders, pouty lip out all the way, sometimes letting a string of spit slowly go from her mouth to her shirt, head hung, and a slow walk to her room. When she finally gets to her room, she slams the door shut in grand fashion, often yelling "I QUIT!", and then completely comes unglued, crying and shrieking at the top of her lungs. And she never stops. She'll carry on for hours...days...months...if we let her. And it takes absolutely no effort whatsoever to set her off. She just did it to me this morning when I told her--in a very civil tone, not raising my voice one little bit--to stop coloring on the placemats with a pen.

Tell June it's time to eat dinner? "NO!" It's time for a bath? "NO!" It's time to get out of the bath? "NO!" It's time for a diaper change? "NO!" Want to sit on the potty? "NO!" Time for bed? "NO!" Time to get up? "NO!" Time to turn off the TV? "NO!"

You get the picture.

I think the Mrs. is just as exasperated as I am, but for a different reason. For me, as silly as it sounds, it hurts my feelings--A LOT--when my daughters say that they don't want me to do anything with them, and when they act like it's absolute torture to do something with me, rather than with their mommy. I know they're just 4 and 3 years old, and they likely don't mean anything malicious towards me, but after weeks and weeks of hearing "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" every time I want to read them a story or put them to bed, it starts to take a toll. I'm also exceedingly frustrated with Olivia's sudden "helplessness" without the assistance of her mommy. And now June is starting to copy her older sister's behavior, too. June's second favorite phrase, behind "NO!", is "I can't do it!" That phrase goes right through me.

The Mrs., on the other hand, is feeling smothered, and for good reason. She's doing basically all of the childcare on a daily basis because our two little knotheads are so insistent on doing everything with Mommy. The girls constantly have a list of demands--I want juice, I want yogurt, I want candy, I want this, I want that--and they talk over each other, getting louder and more frantic in their demands as they try to drown the other one out. The Mrs. can't get a moment's peace. She gets very little sleep at night, and to make things worse, I'm a pretty heavy sleeper, while the Mrs. is a pretty light sleeper. There are times when I wake up in the morning feeling fairly refreshed, and the Mrs. looks like death warmed over because she's been up all night with one or both of the girls for some reason. I had no idea that she was up with them, or I would have helped. I know she wants to kill me, but I swear I didn't hear anything last night!

The dog is just as bad as the kids, wanting the Mrs.'s attention non-stop. You should witness the scene when the Mrs. gets home from work, having picked the kids up from school, and the dog greets her. It is absolute, unmitigated chaos for a good 30 minutes while two toddlers and a dog do everything they can to get the attention of the Mrs. and demand everything under the sun. I don't know how the Mrs. does it every day. I'd want to jump off the nearest cliff. That's probably the only thing saving me from being a widower--a total lack of cliffs in central Indiana.

I'm hoping this is just a phase. I'm hoping other parents can tell me that Olivia and June will eventually grow out of this. If I know there's an end in sight, I can hang on until we get through it. I can endure just about anything. I'm pretty stubborn and defiant that way. Er...I mean...the Mrs. is. But if this is something unusual, we need to get everyone in to see the doctor or a counselor or someone pronto because I can't take another 15 years of this.

Do You Play Football?

2010-03-04T14:54:00.003-05:00

I just want to take a minute to record a classic moment in probation supervision before I purge it from my memory and get on with my life.

A little background info: One of our probation officers recently left our department to take a similar position in another state. For the sake of this story, we'll call him...um...Ben. Because that's his real name. This probationer met with Ben a few weeks ago for his initial appointment, and Ben then reassigned him to me for the remainder of his probation.

Ben is a very meticulous probation officer. He consistently scored near the very top of our office in performance evaluations, and he's well-known for his attention to detail. As a result, when I got the file, there were very thorough notes in place describing what Ben told this probationer at his appointment.

Our conditions of probation require that everyone--regardless of their offense--complete a substance abuse evaluation within the first 45 days of their probation. In this particular case, this probationer clearly needed to do this. The reasons why are unimportant. Just trust me on this one. He needed to complete a substance abuse evaluation.

So here's how part of the appointment went.

First, the probationer showed up 10 minutes late today because he couldn't find the entrance to the building that leads to my office. Granted, it's a different entrance than he went through to see Ben a few weeks ago, but we work in a small building. He could walk all the way around the building about 30 times in 10 minutes.

Then we get back to my office, and the first thing out of his mouth is, "Do you play football? You look like you play football." Really?, I'm thinking to myself. Because I'm 5'8". 5'9" if I stand up real tall. And no one who has seen my physique in the past 20 years would accuse me of having an athletic build. I can count on two hands the number of 5'8" or 5'9" players who have EVER played in the NFL in the past 50 years, and they were/are all lightning fast. I'm not even in the same realm as "lightning fast." And those players were/are all at least 40 pounds lighter than I am.

I ask him if he has gotten his substance abuse evaluation scheduled or completed, as Ben had told him to do.

HIM: No.

ME: Why not?

HIM: Because I have to take care of my girlfriend's kids while she's at work.

ME: Where does your girlfriend work?

HIM: She works with old people.

ME: Doing what?

HIM: You know, she goes to old people's houses. Like, old people.

ME: For what reason?

HIM: Ummmmmm.......

ME: To rob them?

HIM: No! You know, OLD PEOPLE.

ME: I know what old people are. What does your girlfriend do at old people's houses?

HIM: Well, they're, like, old people. And they're in a bed or something in their house.

ME: Uh huh. And what does she DO for them?

HIM: I guess she takes care of them.

ME: Does she work for hospice care?

HIM: Huh? What's that?

ME: *Sigh* How old are her kids?

HIM: Six and four.

ME: So what does having to watch her kids have to do with you not picking up the phone and scheduling an appointment like Ben told you to do? I have a four-year-old and a two-year-old, and I can make phone calls when I'm watching them.

HIM: Well, I can't drive.

ME: Again, what does that have to do with you not picking up the phone and scheduling an appointment?

HIM: Well, I want to go to [a specific substance abuse counseling agency], but I don't have their number.

ME: Did you check the list of counseling agencies that Ben mailed to you?

HIM: He didn't give me a list.

ME: Really, because his notes said he mailed you a list along with your initial appointment letter, and you obviously showed up for your initial appointment, so I know you got the list, too.

HIM: I don't know what I did with that envelope.

ME: Did you look in the phone book for [the particular agency's] number?

HIM: I don't have a phone book.

ME: Did you call the probation department to ask for [the particular agency's] number?

HIM: No. I thought I had the entire period of my probation to get the evaluation done.

ME: Do you not remember signing your Probation Order, and receiving a copy of it, where it says this has to be done within the first 45 days of your probation?

HIM: Nobody told me that.

ME: Really, because that doesn't sound like Ben at all to me, not making sure that you understand your conditions of probation and have a copy of them.

HIM: I didn't know.

ME: Oh, I can't wait to see the judge's face when you tell him that at your probation violation hearing.

HIM: I'm violated?!

ME: Well, you're past your 45 days the Court gave you to get your evaluation done, so why shouldn't I violate your probation?

HIM: What if I get it done by my next appointment?

ME: Ah, now you're catching on. You do that, and I might not file a violation. But if you don't, I guarantee you that I WILL file one. Do we understand each other?

HIM: Yes.

ME: Good. I'm giving you a drug screen today, too.

(Long pause)

HIM: Did you play COLLEGE football?

Say What You Mean and Mean What You Say

2010-02-22T20:01:00.006-05:00

Today I got a book by Seuss.
The rhymes in it can be quite loose.
I like to read it to my girls,
Especially the one with curls.

Seuss is a fave of mine, you see.
It started back when I was three.
My grandpa liked to write in rhyme.
He was quite silly from time to time.

As I grew up and learned to read,
He wrote me letters in rhyme. Indeed!
The entire letter would read like Seuss.
Sometimes I'd read while drinking juice.

I'd write him back as best I could
And make it rhyme, just like he would.
For years, we kept it up like this.
He'd read my rhymes, and I'd read his.

It became a kind of special thing,
The joy for me that it would bring.
And then one day, Grandpa was gone.
I cried the day that he passed on.

I still miss him lots, even today.
So when I see Seuss, it makes my day.
I really like his silly rhymes.
They take me back to happy times.

If you don't like green eggs and ham,
That's quite alright. I understand.
But Dr. Seuss is dear to me.
And now he fills my girls with glee.

Grandpa, the goofy rhymes still live.
Your gift to me, to my kids I give.
I read the Doc and have to smile,
While thinking of you, all the while.

Phase One Ends (well, almost)

2010-02-21T19:50:00.006-05:00

Phase One of the eBay and Craigslist experience is over. For the most part, anyway. We have found some stragglers--CD's we forgot about in the car, a couple more old computer games I found way back there in the desk, stuff like that--that are up for auction right now, but none of it will bring in much money. It's more about clearing out clutter at this point.

There haven't been a whole lot of developments since my last post. Not surprising at all was the outcome of my unpaid item claim on eBay's Resolution Center: the Louisiana deadbeat never paid. Nor did she even respond. She has, however, found the time to buy more stuff on eBay...and pay for it. Why she never paid for my item will forever remain a mystery.

If you ever sell anything on eBay, take the time to block this person from bidding on your items:

dre_kayla

So ten days after I originally sold the item--plus all the wasted effort of trying to contact dre_kayla, followed by wasting my time opening an unpaid item case in the Resolution Center--I have sold it again to a person who was the third-highest bidder in the auction. The new buyer's maximum bid was $2.00 less than that of dre_kayla in the original auction, so that's what I sold it to her for.

I haven't had any other problems with payment. Everyone else has been great about promptly paying.

Only about half of my buyers have left me feedback on eBay so far, but it's all been positive, so that's good.

The item we got the most money for? The lot of 78 CD's from 1980's hard rock hair bands that went for $140.00. Nothing came even close to that. In fact, we sold a lot of 97 CD's from 1990's bands and got $53.00 for it. The Mrs. can't believe that my "lousy" music even sold in the first place, much less that it became the top seller. I still chuckle about it.

All the "big" sellable stuff from inside the house is gone now, so we'll make very little additional money for however much long it takes Phase One to finally fizzle out. Phase Two will begin when it warms up, and I can get up into the attic and out into the storage shed to see what is up and out there. I suspect, however, that most of what we'll find in those two places will be more appropriate for a yard sale than for eBay. There may not be a Phase Two, but we'll see.

At any rate, we've grossed just over $800.00 so far. By the time eBay and PayPal take their fees, and we factor in all of the shipping supplies we've purchased, I imagine we've probably netted somewhere in the neighborhood of $650.00 or so. Not too shabby.

I did spend a little of our earnings during my time on eBay. I found a nice little wall decoration that I've been after for quite awhile. It very simply states Luke 6:31, also known as the Golden Rule. It's a very important concept to me. It's the way I try to live my life, and it's something I want my daughters to see on the wall every night at dinner and incorporate into their daily lives, too. There are several variations of it, but the decoration I got says: "Do to others as you would have them do to you." I got one for my office, too.

Maybe I should have gotten an extra one for dre_kayla.

eBay Update

2010-02-15T09:07:00.007-05:00

The adventure continues, although we're nearing the end of what we've determined to be Phase One of the eBay/Craigslist experience. We have grouped the last of our CD's into six lots, ranging from 3 CD's to 100 CD's per lot, and put them up for auction on eBay. The last auction ends in 2 days and 1 hour, and then we'll be done for awhile.

Oh, we have a set of VHS movies for sale on Craigslist, too. They didn't sell in three or four lots on eBay, so we put them all together into one lot and have them advertised on Craigslist for now. We'll see if there is any interest on Craigslist, and then they'll probably become yard sale fodder in the spring.

(Another example of how I don't understand what people will buy: we couldn't even get any nibbles on eBay for those VHS movies, which are all truly in terrific condition. But some exercise VHS tapes in covers that were beat to hell (and I clearly indicated that in the description)? Sold 'em for $5.50. And three people were fighting over them. Go figure.)

It's been going pretty well so far. I've been getting positive feedback from some of my buyers, which is good. Many buyers probably haven't gotten their stuff yet. The ones who have responded all had their stuff sent Priority Mail or First Class. There are plenty of people, though, who should have gotten their stuff, but who have not taken a minute to leave me positive feedback. That's frustrating.

At any rate, we don't really have anything left in the house that we want to sell on eBay, and I need a break from it all for awhile, anyway. When it warms up, I'll head up into the attic to see what we have up there to clear out. I'll also check out what's in our storage shed. Maybe there will be a Phase Two when that happens, or maybe we'll determine that our remaining clutter is more yard sale material than eBay material.

So in a couple of days, Phase One will be over. Assuming everyone pays, of course.

Which brings me to my next update. The deadbeat who won one of my auctions last Tuesday, then said that "maybe" she'd pay on Friday, and "definitely" would pay on Saturday? She still hasn't paid. According to my calendar, it's now Monday. Further, she has made no attempts to communicate to me any problems she might be having with paying for the item. Her hollow promises to pay by Friday or Saturday were a response to ME contacting HER. She has made zero effort to initiate contact with me, nor has she given me any indication as to why she's not paying. What pisses me off even more is that since she won my auction, she has paid for two other auctions she has won--a toddler's outfit and a cell phone. She's new to eBay, so I initially wondered if maybe she just didn't understand how to use eBay or PayPal. At least this latest development clears up that concern.

My conclusion now is that she is simply willfully not paying me, for reasons unknown to me.

The Mrs. has an amusing theory. The deadbeat is from Louisiana. Part of my eBay moniker contains the word "Colts." The Mrs. wonders if this is some sort of deranged Saints fan...

Whatever the situation is down in the bayou, I'm done with it. I was going to wait until tomorrow to give her a full week to pay before taking action. I just wanted to make sure that I wasn't being unreasonable. Maybe it's a total coincidence that the other 31 buyers I've dealt with in the past week have paid me within minutes or hours (and in two instances, SECONDS) of winning their bids, and she's the one and only person I'm having problems with.

So last night, I started thoroughly researching eBay's policies. I discovered that they have what they call a Resolution Center. After four days from the time the auction ended (which was last Tuesday, Feb. 9), I can notify eBay of a deadbeat buyer. eBay notifies the deadbeat of the open case, and the deadbeat then has four days in which to respond or pay. So clearly, eBay feels that having to wait four days for payment is too long. Turns out, I'm not being unreasonable at all.

After some thought, I decided to submit my case to the Resolution Center last night, rather than wait until tomorrow. At this point, the $46.00 she owes me is less of an issue for me than the fact that she has been a complete pain in my ass. Waiting two more days was going to amount to nothing more than two more days of me not being done with this ordeal.

I also want eBay to be aware of this deadbeat. People like this don't need to be on eBay, wasting other people's time. Hopefully, eBay will pin a scarlet "D" on the chest of this deadbeat's profile, for every other potential seller to see. As I wrote previously, the worst sin of an eBay buyer is to win an auction and then not pay for the item. Equally as bad would be if someone paid a seller for an item, and the seller never shipped it.

So I decided that it's time to take things to the appropriate higher authority, much like decisions I make at work about filing probation violations. (And this entire situation has been very similar to what I experience on a regular basis at work.) When do I notify the judge of a probation violation? When the probationer doesn't do what they're supposed to do? And when I confront them about their shortcomings, they make promises to correct the behavior, and then don't follow through with those promises? When the probationer has committed the worst kind of violation of the rules? Yes, that's when I notify the higher authority in the form of filing a probation violation with the judge. So using that train of thought, it was clearly time for me to notify the higher authority regarding this eBay deadbeat.

This probationer--er, I mean, this deadbeat--now has four days to respond to the open case in the Resolution Center. If (when) she doesn't, I'm not sure what eBay does to her, but I know what I'm going to do on Thursday evening. I'm going to offer the item to the second-highest bidder with a completely clear conscience. And then I'm going to leave the deadbeat negative feedback. I've already learned that when the deadbeat inevitably leaves me negative feedback in retaliation, I can get eBay to remove it from my feedback score because she didn't pay for the item. HA! Suck it, deadbeat! I'm also able to block her from ever bidding on any of my auctions again.

Who knows...maybe the deadbeat will surprise me and pay for the item within the next four days. My probationers have surprised me in the past by doing something to help themselves long after I had lost all hope.

I'm just a tad skeptical, though.

Stay tuned.

One Man's Clutter

2010-02-13T13:32:00.001-05:00

I've been on something of an adventure lately. I've been selling things on eBay and Craigslist. Yes, lots of people have been doing this for quite a long time, but this is the first time I've tried it. It's been an interesting learning experience.

It all started with the Mrs. and I having a full-blown case of cabin fever. Being stuck in the house for a long time makes a person realize just how much clutter we have. It felt like our house looked something like this:

Since one person's clutter is another person's treasure, we plan to have a yard sale at some point, but unless we're willing to sit outside in 5-degree weather and six inches of snow for a couple of days (and we're not), it's going to be a few months before we can clear out some of the clutter.

The Mrs. suggested that we try selling stuff on Craigslist. For those unfamiliar with Craigslist, you can post free advertisements, by geographical region, for--among other things--items you want to sell. People in the area in which you live respond to the ads, agree to purchase the items, and then you meet them somewhere to complete the transaction.

So the first item I put on Craigslist was my Playstation 2 and some PS2 games. I wanted a new Wii, so I had no use for my PS2 anymore, and any money I could get for it would go toward the Wii. I also included a couple of Guitar Hero guitars, which were going to be a nightmare to ship anywhere because of their bulk. I posted the price I wanted, and lo and behold, a few days later, someone responded. We worked out the details of the transaction over e-mail, then met in a local Wal-Mart parking lot. I got rid of something I didn't use anymore, I got the cash I wanted, the other person got a video game system and games at a good price, and I didn't have to mess with trying to ship those bulky guitars. Win-win.

I put a few more things on Craigslist, but aside from a few e-mails asking some questions, I didn't get any more interest. I had no way of knowing what my stuff was worth, and I built in some negotiating room into my asking price, so maybe I was trying to sell the stuff for too much money. Or maybe it was as simple as no one wanting my stuff.

After a couple of weeks, aside from the PS2, I still had the same amount of clutter in my house. So I decided to start selling stuff on eBay, instead.

One disadvantage of using eBay is that it costs money to list things. Exactly how much it costs to list things is dependent on a number of factors: what you're selling (there's a flat fee to list something, and it seems to vary depending on what the item is), how many photos you post of the item (the first one is free, but subsequent photos cost 15 cents a piece to post), what your starting asking price is (there's no charge to start the bidding at 99 cents, but if you want a higher starting price, it costs more to list), and what additional features you want to purchase to bring attention to your listing. I didn't add a lot of bells and whistles to my listings, so most of them cost anywhere from 10 cents to a dollar to list.

eBay also takes a percentage of your final sale price. I use PayPal, too, as the way I want to be paid by winning bidders, and PayPal takes a percentage of every transaction I make. Between the two, I'm paying out about 10% of what I get for an item.

And then there's the matter of shipping everything. I planned to sell a lot of CD's and DVD's, so I had to purchase a bunch of padded mailing envelopes. I also wound up having to buy some shipping boxes, since I used up my entire supply of boxes I had saved from Christmas. And I bought some bubble wrap to protect some of the fragile items and electronics I was planning to ship. There's the time involved in packing everything up, plus the gas to the Post Office, and the time spent at the Post Office. But as far as the actual shipping costs are concerned, I required buyers to pay for their own shipping. eBay offers a nice postage calculator that allows the buyer to type in their own zip code, and it will calculate how much postage will be, using a variety of services. If someone wants an item delivered overnight to Alaska, that's fine with me, as long as they pay for it.

The advantage to eBay is that my range of potential buyers went from the Indianapolis metropolitan area to the entire world. (I chose to ship only to the United States, so that I wouldn't have to mess with international shipping, but it still opened up my audience to the entire nation and its territories.)

So for the past week or so, I've been putting a bunch of stuff up for auction on eBay. I started out with a bang. I assembled a collection of 78 CD's from 1980's hard rock hair bands. Stuff like AC/DC, Twisted Sister, Def Leppard, Billy Idol, Motley Crue, Poison, Quiet Riot, etc. I had uploaded all the music I wanted from those CD's onto my computer, so the CD's themselves were just taking up space. The Mrs., who has never understood my love of that kind of music, was a bit skeptical that there was any other human being in the entire galaxy who would want those CD's. I was starting to wonder the same thing after they had sat on Craigslist for a week without any interest for a $50.00 price tag. I put it up for a three-day auction on eBay, and after a couple of days, the lot of CD's was up to $51.00. I was pretty pleased with that. I was getting the money I wanted for them in the first place, and I had the satisfaction of showing the Mrs. that someone else in the world likes the same music I do.

As the final day of the auction wound to a close, the highest bid crept up into the $60.00 range. And then came the final two minutes of the auction. People started bidding like crazy, trying to blindside each other at the last second, and driving the price higher and higher. Every time I refreshed my computer screen, the Mrs. exclaimed in glee, "It's up to $70! $75! $80! $95! $100!..." By the time the auction ended, the final sale price was $140.00. The Mrs., drunk on the thrill of the last two minutes, grabbed my shirt collar with both hands, unwittingly shaking me back and forth a few times. To make sure I was paying attention, she put her face three inches in front of mine and emphatically commanded, "SELL....MORE....STUFF!!"

The next few items we put up for bid resulted in the same experience. Halfway through each auction, we were fairly pleased with the price we were getting for stuff, and then in the last couple of minutes of each auction, there was a frantic spree of bidding, and the price doubled. Sometimes tripled. Every time, the Mrs. nearly came out of her skin with excitement, watching the last two minutes of bidding. I was having fun watching it, too.

Not everything sold for good prices, though. And not everything sold. I made some mistakes along the way that have cost me money, much to my chagrin, but I have learned a lot, too.

For instance, I've learned a lot about the U.S. Postal Service and what they have to offer. I learned about Media Mail, which I had never heard of before. In a nutshell, if you're shipping CD's, books, movies, or other specific kinds of media, you can ship it using Media Mail. It travels at the same speed as Parcel Post, but for less than half the cost. You can read more about it on the USPS's website here. Since I was shipping a lot of CD's, that worked well for the buyer, who could spend less on shipping and more on the item they were bidding on. For instance, the Parcel Post charge on those 78 CD's I sold was going to be $28.00. I sent it by Media Mail--with the same projected arrival date as Parcel Post--for $9.80.

For single CD's or movies, I was offering a flat $3.00 shipping price (the maximum eBay allows you to assess on those items) but offering Priority Mail service. I soon learned that Priority Mail costs a lot more than $3.00. First Class, however, comes in right under $3.00, and travels nearly as quickly as Priority Mail. I had someone in Illinois pay me for a movie on the 9th, I shipped it First Class on the 10th, and he had it on the 12th. First Class postage cost $2.63. Priority Mail was going to be close to $8.00. So I learned that on items where I'm offering a flat $3.00 shipping price, I need to advertise that it will be shipping First Class, not Priority Mail.

I've learned not to be cheap on setting a starting price. eBay allows you to set a starting price of up to 99 cents for free. Starting prices higher than that get charged a fee. So I set the starting bid on most of my auctions at 99 cents, figuring the price would work its way up, and then I've avoided a fee. Well, that didn't always work out very well. I ended up selling several individual CD's for 99 cents. I even had to part with a four-CD lot for 99 cents. Figure that I spent 15 cents to list each CD, 50 cents on the mailing envelope, probably 25 cents in gas to get to the Post Office and back, and eBay and PayPal take about a dime of my profits, I'm only breaking even--or maybe even losing a penny or two--for the time I spent listing the CD, printing off a receipt, packaging the CD, driving to the Post Office, and standing in line there.

I've learned that trying to ship something packaged in an old Priority Mail box by any means other than Priority Mail is impossible, even if you black out the Priority Mail markings with a Magic Marker. That was an expensive lesson to learn. That was the four-CD lot that I sold for 99 cents. He paid an additional $3.00 for shipping. I had to pay $9.00 to send it to him Priority Mail because of the box I packaged it in. Ouch. Only as I was driving home did it occur to me that I should have taken the package back home, wrapped it in brown shipping paper, and then sent it by Media Mail. D'OH!!!

I've learned that CD lots sell a lot better than individual CD's do. I don't have much trouble selling CD's when I group them into a lot of 20 or 30 CD's in a similar genre. But I have failed miserably at selling individual CD's.

I've learned that I have no clue as to what people will buy, or what they'll pay for it. I sold a crappy 2002 computer game that wasn't even very good back in 2002, much less eight years later, for $15.00. I couldn't believe it! I'm not even sure I paid $15.00 for it back in 2002! Then I turned around and listed an album by AC/DC that came out within the past two years, and it was in immaculate condition because I had used it a grand total of once--to upload it onto my computer. I figured I might get $5.00 for it. It didn't even get a single bid. Crappy eight-year-old computer game = $15.00. Relatively new CD by a well-known band that is in "like new" condition = zippo. I don't get it.

I've learned why some of my stuff didn't sell on Craigslist. It was way overpriced. I sold an old digital camera on eBay for less than half the price I was advertising for it on Craigslist. No wonder no one showed any interest on Craigslist. Other items, though, went for a lot more on eBay than I was offering them for on Craigslist.

I've learned to space the auctions out a little bit. I had one day this week where 35 auctions all ended on the same day. I spent hours that night, packaging everything up, and it was quite an ordeal trying to carry it all from my car to the Post Office the next day. And then I held up the line at the Post Office for 20 minutes while I got everything shipped off. So having all those auctions end at the same time turned out to not be my best idea.

I've learned that there are deadbeats on eBay, just as there are in the rest of the world. I'm still awaiting payment for an item I sold four days ago. She told me yesterday that she'd "try" to pay me yesterday, and if not, then she'd "definitely" pay me today. I'm still waiting. If she hasn't paid me by Tuesday (a week after she won the auction), I'll offer the item to the second-highest bidder, who was just a dollar below the winning bidder. If that person doesn't want it, the third-highest bidder was only a dollar below the second-highest bidder. If none of those people still want it, I'll just re-list it on eBay. And then I'll leave negative feedback for the winning bidder. A person's feedback score on eBay is about as important as a person's credit rating is in real life, and getting negative feedback for not paying for an item you won is the worst kind of blow to your feedback score.

I've learned that no matter how specific I am in the description of an item, people will still ask stupid questions that are answered right there in the description. So time has to be set aside to answer these stupid questions in a tone that won't offend a potential buyer. Not all questions are stupid--in fact, I've learned how to write my descriptions better, based on what questions people ask me--but when someone asks me how much it costs to ship the item to them, when there's a shipping calculator prominently displayed on the listing, I want to bang my head against the wall. The all-time dumbest question I've gotten is if a CD I was selling was new or used. The listing said "used" in no fewer than four separate places, including at the very top, in bold print.

I've learned that PayPal holds my winnings on an item until the buyer gives me feedback on eBay, thus indicating that the buyer received the item. Makes sense. That way I can't collect a bunch of money from people and then never send the item. But if the buyer never takes the time to leave me feedback--which has happened in the past--the money sits there on hold for three weeks. After that, PayPal assumes the buyer received the item and has no issues with the transaction, and they release the money to me. It's not a big deal to me, since I'm just selling stuff for extra money, but it's not a good idea to use PayPal if you're selling stuff on Tuesday with the intent of using that money to buy groceries on Friday.

At any rate, in about a week's time, the Mrs. and I have sold $600.00 worth of stuff between eBay and Craigslist. That is well beyond our wildest dreams (and the Wii is paid for!). I'll lose $60.00 of that to eBay and PayPal, and I have another $40.00 or so in incidental expenses relating to packaging materials and my screw-ups in estimating postage, but still...I'll take $500.00 and the space that the sold items left behind. In no time, we're hoping that clearing out the clutter will make our house feel like this:

My Super Bowl Thoughts

2010-02-08T06:59:00.000-05:00

I'm disappointed in the Colts and their performance in the Super Bowl last night. I can think of a lot worse fates than the New Orleans Saints being NFL Champions, though. In fact, aside from the fact that the Colts were their vanquished opponent, I'm happy for the Saints.

I didn't watch any of the pre-game hype of the Super Bowl, nor did I watch any of the media coverage after it. I hear from a number of people that the media over-Katrina'd everything, as I fully expected that they would. I imagine the Haiti earthquake was close behind Hurricane Katrina in the ad nauseam attempts to pull at heart-strings, given the ties to Haiti by the Colts' Pierre Garçon and the Saints' Jonathan Vilma.

Those disasters were absolutely awful. Don't get me wrong. I don't mean to diminish either event at all.

What I didn't want to endure, though, is hours upon hours upon hours of the media and the NFL using Katrina and Haiti to hype a football game, especially one in which they prosper financially in a huge way. I fully understand the rising-up-from-disaster storyline. I get it. I don't need to be repeatedly bashed over the head with it.

I'm happy for the Saints in part because the people of New Orleans have something to feel great about. The fact that they have worked so hard to recover from Katrina's devastation and have had this great football season to distract and entertain them likely makes this celebration even sweeter for them. I'm happy for them because this is the first Super Bowl appearance and victory for the Saints in their 43-year existence. I remember decade after decade of the Saints being the laughingstock of the NFL. Good for them for getting their day in the sun. And I'm happy for Drew Brees. He played college football at Purdue, here in Indiana, and he seems like a genuinely good guy. I enjoyed watching him share the moment on the field with his infant son, too.

The talking heads of the sports media will debate in minute detail what went wrong for the Colts, but I have a few thoughts before I glance at an article or two on-line and then move on with my life. In no particular order:

The Colts won the first quarter, 10-0. After that, the Saints handed them their asses, 31-7. The 31-17 final score was deceptively close. The Saints dominated from the second quarter on.

The Colts appeared arrogant. The Saints appeared passionate. It seemed to me that the Colts expected to win handily and didn't anticipate much of a challenge from the Saints. After the first quarter, it seemed headed in that direction. But when the Saints regrouped and came back to punch the Colts in the mouth, the Colts had no response. It's almost as if they were astonished that the peion Saints had the audacity to challenge them, much like a school bully reacts when one of his intended victims fights back. The cold, heartless automatons in blue and white had no ability to muster up any passion or fight. Even after the game, they just calmly walked off the field. No heart. No passion. No fire. Not that I expected to see Peyton Manning curled up in the fetal position at midfield, sucking his thumb and soaking in a pool of his own tears, but SOME sort of emotion would have been encouraging to see...from ANYONE on the Colts sideline. By contrast, the Saints' sideline, even when they were down early, was fired up.

The Colts ran six plays in the second quarter. Six. That's terrible.

It was nice to see some semblance of a running game from the Colts. For awhile, anyway, until the Saints compensated and shut it down.

I think that a huge turning point in the game was the Saints' ability to prevent Peyton Manning from scoring one of his patented right-before-halftime touchdowns. Then they followed it up with the on-side kick after halftime, keeping the ball away from the Colts again. Those two events were potentially a 14-point turnaround for the Saints.

I like Saints coach Sean Payton a lot. That guy has big brass ones. I LOVED the on-side kick to start the second half. I also loved that he went for it on 4th and goal in the first half, even though it didn't work. Coach Payton pulled out all the stops, and I thought it was great.

The irony that Tracy Porter--the Saint who intercepted Manning and ran it back for the game-sealing touchdown--played his college football at Indiana University is delicious. The kill-shot applied to the Colts by a Hoosier.

The Saints had to beat the #4-seed Arizona Cardinals and the #2-seed Minnesota Vikings to advance to the Super Bowl. The Colts only had to beat the #5-seed Baltimore Ravens and #6-seed New York Jets to advance. I wonder if the Colts would have been better prepared for the Saints if they had had to beat San Diego and/or New England along the way. Then the Saints beat the AFC's #1-seed in the Super Bowl. So New Orleans beat Kurt Warner, Brett Favre, and Peyton Manning in the postseason. Indianapolis beat Joe Flacco and Mark Sanchez. There's really no question in my mind as to who the better--and more deserving--team is.

Janet Jackson has ruined the Super Bowl halftime show for everyone. In the NFL's efforts to prevent another "wardrobe malfunction," they have subjected us to a slew of way-beyond-their prime bands, none of whom are younger than about 50, culminating in last night's performance by The Who. I think The Who was pretty popular about 30 years ago. Maybe 40 years ago. They sounded horrible, especially in the beginning, too. (To their credit, they certainly can't be accused of lip-synching.) Is there no relatively modern band that the NFL can trust not to flop a boob out on live TV? I wonder if The Who guitarist's 60-year-old beer gut falling out of his too-short button-up shirt while he windmilled his guitar will be considered a "wardrobe malfunction."

I don't want to beat the dead horse of the Colts quitting on the perfect regular season, but without a Super Bowl ring--the goal that Bill Polian and Jim Caldwell claimed was their only goal, not a perfect season--this goes down as just another forgettable season. They could have had something special, had they not quit. I have to wonder, too, how throwing in the towel on the final two games of the season affected the team's chemistry. Had they played the regular season all the way through, would they have been more polished and refined by Super Bowl time? We'll never know.

I realized as I watched the Colts implode last night that it wasn't bothering me much. Maybe it was because I kind of like the Saints and Drew Brees, too. Maybe it was because the Colts didn't really seem very upset about how things were going, so why should I get overly upset? My family and friends can cite several instances in which I have come absolutely positively unglued about games lost by teams I'm passionate about. But this one didn't really bother me much. On the other hand, I'm still pissed about the Super Bowl four years ago that was handed to the Steelers by the referees at the expense of my Seattle Seahawks. So last night just reaffirmed that I'm a Seahawks fan first. The Colts are a distant second.

And now I'm ready for baseball season. Go A's!

Sullivan's Tire Plus Redefines Customer Satisfaction

2010-01-22T19:24:00.013-05:00

Continuing the saga of the Money Pit and its repairs (catch up by reading the two previous posts), I took the MP to Sullivan's Tire Plus in Danville, Indiana, after work today. When I spoke with them earlier this week, they said to bring it in Saturday morning around 8:00am, but the Mrs. has a hair appointment that morning, and we were going to have transportation issues. As it was, I was going to need Chuck and his wife to help me with childcare and a ride to Sullivan's tomorrow afternoon when the van was done. So to solve the morning problem, I was just going to drop the van off tonight and leave it there.

When I arrived, the man I spoke with earlier this week wasn't there, so I had to repeat my story to someone else. The man took my key and then asked if I had a minute. I said, "Sure." But in my mind, I was cringing, thinking that maybe they were overbooked tomorrow, and I'd have to tolerate the rattling tailpipe for longer than I anticipated. He said he was going to talk to one of the mechanics, and he'd be right back.

He came back a couple minutes later and announced that they can fix it today! Sweet! That solves all my transportation and childcare issues tomorrow! I told him where the Money Pit was parked, and he said, "Actually, it's already in the service bay." Wow!! They don't mess around!

So I sat and watched a little TV, and I chatted with another customer who was sitting there. During our conversation, he asked me if these folks here at Sullivan's treat me okay. This was his first time here. I told him how we have brought at least three different vehicles to Sullivan's multiple times for repairs over the years, and they've always treated us courteously and fairly. They even quickly diagnosed and solved a problem in one vehicle that had previously baffled two other mechanics. The other customer was happy to hear it.

Fifteen minutes later, the mechanic came in. He told me how the impact of whatever hit the van had torqued and bent the tailpipe a little bit. He explained how he heated it up a bit, readjusted things, and he thinks the problem is solved. FIFTEEN MINUTES!! And it's done!! No more rattling tailpipe!

I was already happy as a clam as I walked over to the check-out counter to settle my tab. That's when Sullivan's REALLY blew me away.

The man who helped me when I arrived today entered all of the repair information in the computer and then just handed me my key. He told me that he's not charging me anything today. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. He only asks that if I wind up needing a muffler and tailpipe for the Money Pit at a later time, that I come back to Sullivan's.

I'm sure I looked like a total moron, standing there with my mouth hanging open. I was stunned. I couldn't shake his hand hard enough or thank him near enough. I absolutely will come back to Sullivan's for any automotive issues I might encounter on either of our vehicles in the future!!

Two hours later, I'm still in shock.

On Monday, Andy Mohr Toyota in Avon was telling me that I needed an entirely new exhaust system, that it would take 3-5 days for the parts to arrive, and it would set me back $500.00.

On Friday, Sullivan's Tire Plus in Danville countered with this: When I thought I was just dropping the van off so that they'd have it first thing in the morning, they got me right in, instead. The Money Pit was up on a rack before I knew it. Literally. Fifteen minutes later, with a little heat and some brute force, it was fixed. No new exhaust system necessary. I had the Money Pit back, and all of my logistical problems for tomorrow became moot points. Oh, and no more irritating vibration. And then the mother of all surprises: they did it for free. FREE!!

On Monday, by treating me like I have SUCKER tattooed on my forehead, Andy Mohr Toyota lost a customer forever. I will never buy a vehicle from them (I didn't buy the Money Pit from them, anyway), nor will I ever again take a vehicle there to be serviced or repaired. I will also tell everyone I know about my bad experience with them.

On Friday, by treating me better than I could ever have possibly imagined, Sullivan's Tire Plus ensured my business for a very, very, very, very long time. I will also tell everyone I know about my OUTSTANDING experience with them.

If you're in the Indianapolis metropolitan area and need work done on your vehicle, make the drive out to Danville (actually, they have a location in Avon, too, for those coming in from the city) and see the good people at Sullivan's Tire Plus. I can't recommend them highly enough.

Money Pit Update

2010-01-18T16:47:00.004-05:00

Just got the Money Pit back from the dealership. Andy Mohr Toyota was "gracious" enough not to charge me for fixing the heat problem--you know, the problem they didn't fix right the first time in November--so I got out of there without throwing any more money into the pit. I asked them if they are serious that it's going to require an entirely new exhaust system and $500.00 to fix the tailpipe vibration issue, and the person I spoke with could barely maintain eye contact while telling me that the tailpipe is bent and won't fit right, so it needs to be replaced.

Apparently, my facial expression was enough to prevent the person from asking if I want to get that repair done.

On the way home, I stopped at our usual mechanic, Sullivan's Tire Plus. I explained what had happened to cause the damage, what the problem was, and that Toyota wants $500.00 to fix it. He walked outside with me, looked at the tailpipe, and said, "Heat the sumbitch up and bend it back!"

At last! Someone who speaks my language!

So I'm taking it back to him on Saturday morning. He'll put it up on the rack and see if there is any other damage--in his words, "We'll see if Toyota is right, or if they're full of shit." I LOVE this guy!--but he said that even if a bracket is bent or broken, that'll come in at way under $500.00. And he implied that I'll have it back by Saturday afternoon.

I like that solution a whole lot better than the alternative.

Seriously?!

2010-01-18T13:13:00.006-05:00

I took the Money Pit--my new nickname for our 2009 Toyota Sienna--to Andy Mohr Toyota in Avon last night and left it for them to repair a couple of problems. Recall, something hit the back of the van a couple of months ago, and Andy Mohr Toyota "fixed" the damage for $440.00.

Turns out, though, that they didn't fix it right.

The tailpipe rattles against the bumper sometimes when the van idles, or when I'm decelerating to stop at a traffic signal or something. Simply looking at the tailpipe, I can tell that it's not centered in the cut-out of the back bumper where it's supposed to be. I told them about this problem in November, but they apparently forgot about it or something because it didn't get fixed.

Andy Mohr Toyota also claimed to have fixed a heater line that, for unknown reasons, runs through the back wheel well / bumper area and was leaking fluid after the November damage. No one I've described it to has any guess as to why there is a heater line back there, but Andy Mohr Toyota claims there is. At any rate, we thought that problem had been repaired in November, but we discovered a few weeks ago--the first time we had an adult, and not just Olivia and June, sitting back there--that while the vents blew air out, it was cold air. No heat in the back of the van.

So Andy Mohr Toyota just called and left me a voice mail message. There was an air bubble in the heating line that had to be burped out. I guess that was a real tough task, but much to their relief, they finally got that air bubble burped out, and there's heat in the back of the van again. That part of the message made me chuckle. Are we driving a van or a newborn baby? I had visions of the mechanic, with a burp rag on his shoulder, holding the van in his arms, rocking back and forth, patting and rubbing the roof, until the van burped and spit up a little bit. I was still giggling at that part of the message when I got to the part that REALLY made me laugh out loud.

They claim that the entire exhaust assembly needs to be replaced to solve the rattling problem. It'll take three to five days for the parts to come in, and then it will cost.........this is the best part..........wait for it...........wait for it............ready?............FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS to fix!!

I'm still laughing!!

Seriously?! To move the tailpipe over about a half-inch, so that it doesn't vibrate against the bumper, it's going to require an entirely new exhaust assembly?!

I don't know much about cars, but I do know that with very minimal effort, I can move the tailpipe a half-inch by hand. I bet Olivia could move it with her hand, too. That's how easy it is to move. I'm thinking that the installation of a simple bracket to hold it in place after moving the tailpipe to where it should be would solve the problem. And for substantially less than $500.00.

Now, that may not be the "official" Toyota solution, but I don't care anymore. These people at Andy Mohr Toyota are crooks. The van will be going to the mechanic we use for our six-year-old Chevy Malibu. I'm VERY confident that they can find a fix for for the tailpipe issue for less than $500.00.

And Toyota can keep their stupid warranty. What a joke.

You Reap What You Sow

2010-01-17T20:47:00.010-05:00

So the New York Jets are coming to town next weekend, huh? Interesting. I'll admit that I was one of millions who assumed that the AFC Championship Game would be a shoot-out between the Indianapolis Colts and the San Diego Chargers. But the Jets pulled off an upset on the road today, knocking the #2-seed Chargers out of the playoffs, 17-14.

The Jets were so far left-for-dead after a Week 15 loss to Atlanta that their own coach stated in the post-game press conference that the Jets were out of the playoffs. But he was mistaken. The Jets needed a ridiculous number of teams to lose, AND they had to beat the undefeated Colts and the AFC North Champion Cincinnati Bengals in their last two games to sneak in as a wild card.

All of those teams lost, and the Colts and Bengals both rested their starters against New York, having nothing to play for. The Jets got two easy wins against two junior varsity squads. To the post-season they flew.

Well, I take that back about the Colts having nothing to play for. The Colts' decision to quit on their chance at an unbeaten season against the Jets--in front of the home crowd, no less--has been hotly debated ever since. Suffice it to say that I am one of the many fans who are (yes, present tense) absolutely livid about that decision. If the Colts do anything now but win the Super Bowl, this season will have been nothing more than an enormous slap to the fans' faces. And even if they do win the Super Bowl, the fans will still have a bad taste in their mouths over what could have been.

At any rate, the Bengals suffered immediate karmic payback for rolling over and allowing the Jets into the playoffs. In a rematch the very next week after Cincinnati played their back-ups, the Jets knocked the Bengals starters out, 24-14. The Bengals reaped what they sowed.

Now the Colts are facing the team that they allowed into the post-season while, at the same time, breaking their own fans' hearts by quitting on a perfect season. Do you think Colts fans will be satisfied with anything short of a 300-point win?

If the Jets beat the Colts on Sunday--and I'm certainly not doubting them anymore!--I can't even begin to imagine the level of outrage that will be felt by Colts Nation. Bill Polian and Jim Caldwell will be pariahs. When they leave Lucas Oil Stadium, they'll likely be greeted in the parking lot by a scene similar to this:

Don't lose this game, Colts. Or the one after it.

I Hate Paying Bills

2010-01-15T09:18:00.007-05:00

I sat down to pay bills last week, and I discovered that the Mrs.'s paycheck was $5.00 less than normal. Turns out, county and local taxes have increased.

This week, my paycheck was $5.00 less than normal. Same reason as why the Mrs. is $5.00 short each paycheck. So there's $20.00 less per month in our checks.

Our water bill is $10.00 more than normal this month. I admit it. I like long hot showers in the winter.

We got a notice in the mail this week that our monthly mortgage payment is going up $30.00 per month. Looks like property taxes and insurance rates have increased, so our escrow will fall short without the increase.

I just paid the post-Christmas electric bill. That was $35.00 more than normal. Maybe I won't put up Christmas lights next year.

I haven't gotten the natural gas bill yet, but we've had a long stretch of bitterly cold weather lately, so our furnace has pretty much been running non-stop since December. If we come in under $250.00, I'll be surprised.

I have an $18.00 bill to pay to our local dentist for when the Mrs. had to have some work done on a tooth in November.

I have a $132.00 bill to pay to our local hospital for my broken ankle in September. That brings the total out-of-pocket expense for that ill-advised decision to slide into second base to right around $400.00. So far. And that was after having to fight with my insurance company to get them to pay anything.

Speaking of my insurance, my co-pays and maximum out-of-pocket expenses are doubling in 2010. That's awesome.

I just wrote a check for daycare. We pay $48.00 per week more now than we used to, having started the girls in pre-school, rather than in an in-home daycare. I will be the first to stand up and say that the pre-school they attend is absolutely fantastic, and it was one of the best decisions we've made lately, but still...it's $48.00 per week less that we have in our pockets. $192.00 per month.

The dog is due for his annual trip to the vet this month. That generally runs in the neighborhood of $200.00 or so, by the time we get all of his vaccinations, testing, and medications for all of his various ailments. Our reward for spending that kind of cash on him is that he CONSTANTLY steals food from the girls off their plates and out of their hands, he gets into the kitchen trash and spreads it all over the house every time we turn our backs, we've had to put June's diaper pail in the garage because the dog will fish wet diapers out of there and eat them and spread them all over the house, and he has peed on the carpet right in the middle of the living room on each of the past two days. Oh, and I'll have about 90 lbs. of dog crap to pick up if the snow ever melts out of our backyard. So I have that to look forward to. He also barks at me every time I come home. Burglars could break in, and he'd either sleep through it or piss himself (on our carpet, of course) while running through the kitchen trash and/or shredded wet diapers and hiding in a closet. But I come home from work at the same time and walk through the same door every day, and he barks at me. Idiot.

Our stupid Toyota van needs more repairs done. Correction: it needs the repairs done CORRECTLY that Andy Mohr Toyota in Avon didn't do right the first time in November. The tailpipe still rattles against the bumper, and there's no heat in the back of the van. It blows air, but it's cold air. I can only imagine how many hundreds of dollars that's going to cost me. I've tried to keep a positive attitude about it since we bought the damn thing last April, but that piece of shit van is a money pit. Then, of course, there's the enormous pain in the ass of driving it to the incompetent dealership and leaving it there for days while they "fix" what they should have fixed right the first time.

I have not enjoyed my Toyota experience at all.

I filled out Andy Mohr's customer service satisfaction survey after the last trip there, and I bashed them for not fixing our van right. Naturally, I heard nothing in response. I see now how valuable my input and satisfaction is to Andy Mohr, as well as what quality of work they do there. Then I e-mailed the dealership a couple weeks ago to see about scheduling a time to bring it in so that they can fix it right. This will shock you, I'm sure, but I'm still waiting for a response. Any repair work that we have done anywhere but at the dealership voids our warranty, so we're being held hostage by our local Toyota dealership for two more years.

And they wonder why I didn't buy their extended warranty.

The house needs a new roof. I see water spots in the ceiling where water is obviously getting under some shingles. I guess the cheapest shingles they could find to slap up there 14 years ago when they built this house are finally starting to fail. Once the roof is fixed, of course, we'll have to fix the water damage to the ceiling inside.

We likely won't be able to take a family vacation this year because we can't afford it.

Needless to say, the girls are on a hiatus from gymnastics for awhile. We just don't have the $235.00 every 8 weeks for that.

My chest actually starts to get a little tight if I think about it all for too long. I sure don't want to have a heart attack, though. I'd have to fight with the insurance company for six months to get them to pay anything, and then I'd be down at least another $5000.00.

Well, at least I'll have my cost-of-living pay raise to help us get through this.

Oh wait.

No I won't.

I don't get one this year.

I'd go sit in the car with the motor running and the garage door down to put myself out of my misery, but it costs too much to fill up the gas tank. And since I'd be using the van, I'd have to listen to that annoying rattle of the tailpipe against the bumper the whole time. Plus, it would be cold, since the heater doesn't work right.

* Sigh *

I guess it could be worse. I suppose I should be grateful that we're not worse off than we are. After all, I know several people who are losing their jobs entirely, or who have even worse health insurance than I do. If they have any at all.

Or I could be living in Haiti.

Welcome Back, Mark McGwire

2010-01-11T19:45:00.006-05:00

Mark McGwire came out of the closet today. No, he's not gay. He admitted to using steroids during the 1990's, including his record-breaking 1998 season.

Yes, I know this is as shocking as the news that the sun will rise in the east tomorrow. But I give him credit for coming clean, even if it took him nearly five years from the time he looked like a total ass in front of Congress.

I'm a lifelong fan of the Oakland A's, and I had been a big fan of Mark McGwire since he began his career with the A's and was one of the Bash Brothers, along with Jose Canseco, in the late 1980's. His move to St. Louis in 1997--along with the prior and subsequent moves to Saint Louie by several other A's, including Dennis Eckersley and Tony LaRussa--made me into a Cardinals fan, too. The 1998 season was awesome, as McGwire dueled with Sammy Sosa for the home run title, with McGwire ultimately swatting a MLB-record 70 home runs to Sosa's 66.

McGwire retired in 2001, and shortly thereafter, the steroids hit the fan. At some point during the steroid stink, I forced myself to recognize that my favorite baseball player--one of my heroes--was a cheater. It was really a tough pill for me to swallow. In 2005, he faced Congress and refused to answer their questions about steroid use in baseball. His legacy was destroyed.

Fast forward to 2010. The St. Louis Cardinals have hired McGwire to be their hitting coach. It's his first time back in baseball since his retirement, and his first time back in the public eye since that disastrous day on Capitol Hill five years ago. The media was going to swarm him starting in Spring Training and dissect him all season long over the steroid issue.

What he did today by finally admitting to using steroids, expressing regret, and clearing the air was the best thing he could possibly have done. He should have done it five years ago in front of Congress, but it's better late than never. It's probably a load off of his shoulders, and it should allow him to focus entirely on helping Cardinals hit a baseball now. Distractions from steroid talk should be minimal. Andy Pettitte admitted his steroid use, and the storm quickly passed. Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens still can't come to terms with the truth, and...well...

So I applaud Mark McGwire. It took courage to do what he did today. He screwed up in his playing days, and again in front of Congress. But we all screw up, don't we? It's human nature. All we can do when we make a mistake is admit it, apologize for it, learn from it, and move on.

After worshipping him as a hero for 15+ years, and loathing him as a pariah for five years, I'm finally realizing that Mark McGwire is, in reality, just like the rest of us: he's human. He always has been. I simply forgot that small detail as I watched him launch home runs in grand fashion, lead my favorite teams to victory time and time again, and then be exposed as a cheater and a liar under oath. Or, at best, an uncooperative witness under oath.

But today, he admitted his mistake and apologized for it. Now I'm ready to move on. I look forward to watching Coach McGwire helping the Cardinals get back to challenging for a pennant.

The Struggle to Find the Christmas Spirit

2009-12-28T21:03:00.005-05:00

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I have a lot of outstanding Christmas memories as a kid, topped by Christmas Eves at my paternal grandparents' house. This year, however, I had a lot of trouble getting into the Christmas spirit. I can't really put my finger on a specific reason why, but it just wasn't happening for me this year.

We decorated the inside and the outside of the house, but that didn't help.

Through a local organization, we bought gifts for some local kids whose family needed a little assistance, but that didn't help.

The Mrs. took Olivia and June to the library one night, where they made a "gingerbread house" out of graham crackers, pink frosting, gumdrops, licorice, Sweet-Tarts, and M&M's, but that didn't help.

Another trip to the library for a celebration of the 60th anniversary of the release of the "Candyland" board game didn't help, either.

We drove through the Winter Wonderland Christmas lights display, we listened to Christmas music, we watched some favorite Christmas movies, we went to a community Christmas celebration, the girls met Santa a few times...and none of it helped.

All of that stuff was fun to do, and Olivia and June enjoyed all of it, but I just couldn't get into the spirit of Christmas. I couldn't even muster up the spirit to send out Christmas cards this year.

I think part of it was that 2009 just hasn't been a particularly good year for me. Nothing disastrous happened (knock on wood), but there seemed to be an endless supply of adversity to overcome this year. More so than in typical years. Now, 2009 wasn't anywhere near as bad as 1998, which was an unparallelled train wreck of a year for me, but 2009 won't go down in the history books as one of my favorite years. I have high hopes that 2010 will be better. But I came into the 2009 holiday season kind of flat to begin with.

As with every holiday season, I read lots of on-line articles this year that were chastising us all to focus on "the reason for the season." There were also a number of articles hotly debating the merits of telling others "Merry Christmas" vs. "Happy holidays." Personally, I have no preference as to how someone sends me holiday greetings, but apparently some people take great offense to "Merry Christmas" not being uttered by every God-fearing human being on the face of the planet. I'm not a church-going person, but I like to think that I'm spiritual, and I have never forgotten that Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. I resent other people's religious beliefs being forced upon me, especially in a fire-and-brimstone method. There are plenty of people who celebrate other spiritual holidays around this time of year, instead of or in addition to Christmas. For me, it's the sentiment behind the greeting, not the specific words themselves, that's important. Gentle reminders not to lose sight of the original reason for celebrating Christmas--especially in the midst of the bastardized, Americanized, commercialized version that Christmas has become over time--are fine for those who choose to celebrate Christmas, but the damning tone of the articles I read really pissed me off. I wanted to hunt those people down and tell them "Happy holidays" just out of spite. But that's not very Christmas spirit-y.

Ironically, all of the articles I read on the Internet that begged us to remember why we celebrate Christmas--beyond spending ourselves into mounds of debt--were surrounded by flashing, expanding, and talking advertisements to buy, buy, buy from an endless variety of merchants.

The commercialism of Christmas definitely spoils the holiday spirit for me a lot. Stores around here--and likely everywhere in the United States--had Christmas stuff on display BEFORE Halloween, cramming yuletide merchandising down my throat in the middle of October. This, at a time when my employer--like so many employers nationwide--is experiencing a significant budget problem that will trickle down to us employees in varying degrees, and countless people around me, ranging from close friends to people I supervise on probation, are losing hours, benefits, and/or their jobs. So when I'm looking for a bag of Snickers to hand out to kids in a couple of weeks while worrying about what the financial future holds for me and those I care about, I'm not real thrilled when it looks like Jolly Old Saint Nick already exploded all over the inside of Wal-Mart.

Beyond the financial aspect of buying Christmas gifts, there's a lot of pressure involved with it. The Mrs. and I have a fairly small circle of people that we buy presents for, and both of our families have adopted buy-for-only-one-adult traditions, but it's still stressful. Is our gift good enough for the recipient? How will it compare to the gift that they might give to us? Will our gift be embarrassingly puny compared to their gift? Or will our gift shame them into thinking that their gift was embarrassingly puny? That's an even worse feeling than feeling embarrassed myself. Have we forgotten anyone? What if someone unexpectedly gives us a gift, but we don't have a gift for them? Who are we expected to buy for? And what level of gift do they expect?

I understand that gifts for Olivia and June's teachers are expected, but is a plate of homemade fudge good enough? (It's really good fudge!) Or will that result in our girls being relegated to the dunce corner and cleaning the chalkboards every day for a year? We read on-line that teachers appreciate gift cards, but how much is an appropriate amount? We don't want to insult their teachers or imply that we don't appreciate what they do for our girls, but we also don't want to appear to be buying favoritism for our kids. And who else are we expected to buy for? Even our newspaper carrier left us a not-so-subtle hint that she'd like a gift. Who's next? The trash collectors? The mail carrier? The meter reader?

Then there's the matter of my probationers. Some of them obviously feel the same type of conflict about bringing me gifts. Our ethical canons prohibit us from accepting gifts of any sort, but when someone brings a plate of homemade cookies, do I insult them and refuse the gift? Or do I violate my professional ethics and accept the gift? And what exactly is the probationer trying to accomplish by bringing me a gift? Is it just benign Christmas spirit? Or is this some sort of manipulation? I also hesitate to consume homemade food prepared by probationers, since it would be an ideal way for someone to get me to ingest any variety of things that I would prefer not to ingest. Over the years, I've had a wide range of gifts offered to me by probationers, ranging anywhere from cookies to some discreet one-on-one holiday "cheer", if you catch my drift. While the gifts and offers range in their levels of awkwardness (the one-on-one activity takes the cake on the awkwardness scale), it's always uncomfortable for me to deal with what to do about a gift offered by someone I supervise on probation.

(If any of my probationers are reading this, please don't ever bring me gifts. If your intentions are good, I appreciate the thought, but I can't accept gifts.)

And don't even get me started on what level of hell I'm in, being out in the herds of people Christmas shopping.

So Christmas Eve rolled around, and I just wasn't feeling it. I worked half a day, and then we had a County-wide Christmas luncheon. It was nice to socialize with my coworkers a little bit, as well as see some other County employees that I hadn't seen in awhile. The genuinely-felt "Merry Christmas" (and "Happy holidays") exchanges I had with several people made me feel good.

That night, we went over to Chuck's house and spent the evening with his family and some other friends of ours. It was a really great evening. We had a potluck dinner, exchanged gifts for the kids (we mercifully stopped the adult gift exchange a few years ago), and had a very relaxed and fun evening surrounded by people that I love a great deal. I also played a joke on Chuck's son and nephew that made me laugh harder and longer than I've laughed in a long, long time. (Don't worry, they got their real gifts the next day.) At some point during the evening, I FINALLY started feeling the Christmas spirit.

As we put two wiped-out little girls to bed, Olivia spoke excitedly about where Santa was on the computer screen (thanks to a website tracking Santa's progress) and how close he was to our house. She went to bed with all the dolls she had gotten at Chuck's house earlier in the evening, and her unfiltered excitement was undeniable. Visions of sugarplums were dancing in her head. June's not quite old enough yet to grasp what was going to happen while she slept, but she was excited because her big sister was excited. Seeing my kids getting animated infused me with a little more Christmas spirit.

I was awakened at some ungodly hour in the morning on Christmas Day by Olivia running through the house like a banshee, shrieking, "SANTA CAME!! SANTA CAME!! SANTA CAME!!" She suffered the agony of having to wait for June to wake up before we started opening stockings and presents, but once the girls got the green light from us to tear into their bounty, it was magical. The looks on their faces, their excited shouting, their pure glee about Santa bringing them Barbie dolls, crayons, coloring books, lip gloss, and all the other treasures in their stockings and under the tree made Christmas totally worth it for me. My daughters filled my Christmas spirit tank.

Later in the day, we went to my sister's house and enjoyed a terrific day with my family. Olivia and June rough-housed with my dad, which resulted in one of the greatest photographs ever, perfectly capturing the joy in the hearts of all three of them. My daughters later enjoyed participating in a long-standing family tradition with my mom and sister: assembling puzzles. We all seemed to have a really good time, enjoying each other's company and conversation. It was a great visit. More Christmas spirit for me.

This weekend, we'll celebrate Christmas with the Mrs.'s side of the family, which I'm really looking forward to. The girls are already counting the days until they get to see the other side of their family. So am I.

Before we went to bed on Christmas night, the Mrs.--who also struggled to get in the Christmas spirit this year--and I sat down and made a list of things we want to do differently next year, in hopes of enjoying the holidays more in the future. We also listed the things we want to keep the same, so as to preserve what we already know brings us happiness.

As we made our lists, checking them twice, it finally occurred to me what I like so much about Christmas: I like being with the people I love.

And now, as a father, I like seeing my kids consumed by the mystique and joy of Christmas as they learn about societal and family holiday traditions. I remember what made Christmas so special for me as a kid, and I want my girls to have that same special feeling every year. As they get older, we'll make sure they learn about "the reason for the season," but for now, I'm content to see their souls light up because Santa filled their stockings. The real beauty of it is that, at this age anyway, they don't care what's in their stockings. What they care about is that they feel loved.

And now that I've thought about it, that's all I want for Christmas every year, too. The lights and decorations are pretty, but that's not what makes Christmas special for me. It's fun to give gifts, and I receive lots of great gifts, too, but that's not what makes Christmas special, either. What I love most about Christmas is spending time with close friends and family...and feeling loved.

By remembering to do more of that next year, I hope to experience the Christmas spirit all month long in 2010.

A Christmas to Remember

2009-12-22T12:54:00.008-05:00

I did some home visits last week for the first time since I broke my ankle nearly three months ago. It was a pretty routine day. Several people have asked me lately, though, in some form or fashion, how my day went and/or what's involved in a day in the field. So I figured, why not write about it?

What's the point of a home visit? Well, it could be a number of things. We may just be verifying an address, making sure the probationer lives where s/he says s/he lives. It probably doesn't come as a shock to learn that probationers don't always give us correct addresses.

The most common reason we do home visits is to see probationers in their natural habitats. Anyone can come into our office once a month and put on a dog-and-pony show for 15-30 minutes and give us the impression that everything is hunky-dory in their world. But when we get out there and see their neighborhood, see their house, see their living conditions, meet the other occupants of the house, see how they're dressed, see if they're awake at 2:00pm, etc., we get a much more accurate picture of what obstacles this person has to overcome to succeed on probation.

We may also do a home visit for a specific purpose. Maybe someone called and said the probationer is drinking or using drugs, so we drop in and give urine screens and breath tests. Maybe the probationer missed an appointment at our office. Maybe it's Monday Night Football, and the Colts are playing. Maybe it's New Year's Eve....

The good home visits last only a few minutes. We make contact with the probationer, have a chat, take a quick look around the house for alcohol, drugs, firearms, dead bodies, and anything else that might be a probation violation, take care of any other business we have with the person, and we're on to the next one.

The ones that don't go so well...well, they take longer. And occasionally, we need the assistance of the police. And every now and then, medics. Those are more entertaining stories, aren't they?

I've had probationers answer the door with a beer in their hand. We don't permit anyone sentenced out of our Courts, regardless of the offense, to possess or consume alcohol. The look on their faces is priceless when they realize who's at the door.

We've arrived at homes to find probationers in the process of smoking marijuana. Often, there are several people partaking, and they're not very happy to see us there. They're even less happy when we confiscate their supply. I love it when, inevitably, someone says, "You can't do that!" I respond by suggesting that we call the police and have them decide what I can and can't do. I've never had anyone take me up on my offer.

On more than one occasion, we've arrived at a home to discover a probationer completely incapacitated by alcohol and/or drugs. So much so that we've had to call for medics.

Sometimes they're drunk and/or high and threatening suicide. Those encounters are often around this time of year.

Mental health issues are always an adventure to deal with. I had been to one particular residence a couple times without any problems when I decided to take one of our new officers with me for another visit. My probationer, wrought with mental health issues, greeted us on his front porch, yelling obscenities and threatening to kill my partner. He "could just tell" that my partner was "dirty" and "a backstabber." The tirade and threats continued until I finally got him settled down. I later discussed it with my probationer, who maintained that my partner was "cocky, underhanded, and shifty" (despite the fact that my partner had been out of the car for about five seconds and hadn't spoken a word when the threats began raining down on him), but agreed to behave himself if I only brought female partners with me on future home visits. He felt less threatened by female officers, he said. So a few weeks later, I brought a female officer with me. My probationer, however, did not hold up to his end of the bargain. Round Two was almost as ugly as Round One. The judge revoked his probation shortly after that.

I've been to residences where the smell of animal urine is so overwhelming that I couldn't stay inside. You know it's going to be bad inside when you can smell the cat piss as soon as you get out of the car. In the middle of winter. More times than I can count, I've walked through a minefield of animal feces inside a house.

On one home visit several years ago, we went to an apartment where we could hear kids inside, but no one would come to the door. We finally talked one of the kids into opening the door. Three kids inside, ranging from 2 to 4 years old. No adults. Feces smeared all over the walls, broken glass all over the carpet, the youngest child's diaper dragging on the ground, and the middle child eating hair gel. The oldest had opened the door for us. We called the police, who, in turn, called Child Protective Services. More than two hours from the time of our arrival, we were still there when the mother showed up, returning from a trip to the liquor store. She went to jail. The kids went into CPS custody.

I could go on and on, but you're probably getting bored by now. I do, however, want to share the story of the mother of all home visits (so far, anyway).

Two years ago, right about this time of year, one of my coworkers got a call that one of her probationers was drunk at home. This guy had a long history of out-of-control drinking, and I had previously supervised him on another case, so my coworker asked me to go with her to do a home visit. When we got there, he was extremely intoxicated. He blew a .340% BAC on a portable breath tester. That's more than four times the legal limit to drive. Once you get up around the .400% BAC range, it's usually fatal.

But this guy was standing, walking, and talking. He was a professional drinker.

He pretty quickly decided that he didn't like us being there, but we couldn't just leave him there in that level of intoxication, given the risk to his own health and safety, plus the fact that there were two cars in the driveway, and he had a penchant for driving drunk. At some point while my partner called for an ambulance, the guy decided he didn't want them there, either, and he stormed out of the house into 20-degree temperatures and an inch of snow, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms. No shirt, no shoes, no socks, no sense.

He repeatedly reeled off an expletive-laden tirade that was, to summarize, graphically expressing his deep desire for us to get off of his property. But now, on top of him being royally intoxicated, he was out in the cold and snow with minimal clothing. We weren't leaving him in that state of affairs.

I followed him outside as he got into his truck while my partner updated Dispatch on the situation and asked for the police to be sent our way, since it appeared he was going to try to take to the public roadways. The windshield of the truck was covered in snow, so I couldn't see what he was doing, or what he had inside the truck. I took cover behind a nearby vehicle and was yelling at him to get out of the truck. After a minute or so, he complied, but he wouldn't show his hands as he slowly rounded the front of the truck and headed in our direction. My repeated commands for him to show me his hands went unanswered, and I vividly remember calling him by his first name and telling him not to make me shoot him at Christmastime. He still didn't show me his hands. He could have had anything in them, retrieved from the truck behind the snow-covered windshield.

I was starting to run through the checklist in my mind. I knew where my partner was, because I could hear her frantically telling Dispatch to get the police here YESTERDAY, and she wasn't in the crossfire. There was a large yard behind my target, so if my round went through him, it would run out of momentum before it hit any houses or people. I had as much of my body as I could get behind the engine block of the car, and I was in a good, steady firing position, at a distance from which I am quite an accurate shot. I had given every possible verbal command that I could think of to get him to show me his hands. If he displayed a weapon and advanced toward me or my partner, I was prepared to do what I needed to do to get my partner and myself home in one piece.

After some thought, though, the probationer decided to hold out his hands. They were empty.

Seconds later, two police officers came screaming up to the house. Their sirens were sweet, sweet music to my ears. Having the arrest powers that we lack, the police made short work of the probationer and hauled him off to jail by way of the hospital, due to his level of intoxication.

It was a quiet drive back to the office as my partner and I each mulled over in our minds what had happened, as well as what could have happened.

The probationer got a month in jail and nine months of home detention for his probation violation. He lasted just over a month on home detention before he was drinking again. He spent the remaining eight months of his home detention sentence in prison. I recently heard from another county's probation department that they are supervising him for another drunk driving case that he picked up after his release from prison.

The vast majority of our home visits are quick and uneventful. But every now and then, we get a whopper that sticks with you for awhile.

Heroes Live Forever

2009-12-01T12:52:00.031-05:00

I've been away from the keyboard for awhile. I've been busy with work, the holidays, getting ready for Olivia and June to start pre-school, getting our cursed van fixed again, and other mundane every-day sort of general life stuff.

Much like Sgt. Mark Renninger and Officers Ronald Owens, Tina Griswold, and Greg Richards of the Lakewood, Washington, Police Department were on the morning of November 29, 2009, when they gathered at a local coffee shop to catch up on paperwork before their shift began.

While they were working on their laptops, Maurice Clemmons walked in. Clemmons, who had talked the night before about killing police and then watching the news on TV, executed all four officers. No one else in the coffee shop was targeted. These officers had done nothing to Clemmons. He murdered them, it appears, simply because he knew that police officers frequented that coffee shop, and they were the unfortunate ones wearing badges on their chests when he showed up.

One of the mortally wounded officers managed to shoot Clemmons in the torso before dying, but Clemmons survived, and a two-day manhunt ensued, with Clemmons receiving help from friends and family with his wound and in fleeing from law enforcement.

The search ended this morning when a Seattle police officer shot Clemmons to death.

Clemmons has a violent and twisted criminal history in Washington and in Arkansas, and many questions are being raised as to why he was on the street to begin with, given his behavior and mental illness. Mike Huckabee is probably a little warm under the collar right now, having commuted a 108-year prison sentence for Clemmons while Huckabee was governor of Arkansas. Fingers are also being pointed at the Washington judicial system for allowing Clemmons to be released on bond earlier this year, pending charges of assaulting a police officer and raping a child.

I have been following this story closely since it broke on Sunday. I never like hearing about police officers being killed, especially given my staunch support of the police, so when I heard that four officers were killed in the state in which I grew up, I was alarmed. When I learned that they were executed in a coffee shop while doing paperwork, and not while responding to some sort of 911 call, I was appalled. Horrified. Outraged. Enraged. Grief-stricken.

Some will label me as dramatic, but the best way I can process this whole thing is to write.

Taking their professions out of the equation, four innocent human beings were murdered in cold blood. Right at the start of the holiday season. Combined, they are survived by NINE children and three spouses. Add to that the devastation felt by their family, friends, coworkers, and colleagues. It's incomprehensible. I can't find the words to express the sadness I feel for all of those people who were directly impacted by what happened.

I am a probation officer. I am not a police officer, nor do I do all the things that a police officer does. I cannot profess to fully understand what it's like to be a police officer. But our professions have a lot of similarities. We deal with a lot of the same people. We conduct home visits, thus subjecting ourselves to some of the same risks that police officers take with their own lives on a daily basis. We use a lot of the same equipment that police officers do. In our department, we work closely with local law enforcement, helping each other perform our duties. While we do not wear uniforms like police officers do, we definitely stand out in a crowd when we have all our gear on.

We also take breaks in places like coffee shops to do things like catch up on paperwork.

I am well aware of the risks involved in my career choice, and while I take every precaution I can--down to wearing a St. Michael pendant around my neck--the thought is always in the back of my head on every home visit that I might die. More probation officers than I care to count have been killed in the line of duty. What hadn't been a real prominent thought--until Sunday--was that I could be ambushed and murdered while sipping a cup of coffee with coworkers and catching up on my notes in a restaurant, simply for being a probation officer. That's a little unnerving.

I'll leave all the finger-pointing about how Clemmons' Arkansas and Washington criminal cases were handled to others. There are constructive reasons to re-evaluate how those situations were handled, but I suspect that not all of the armchair quarterbacking will be constructive over the next few weeks, months, or years. That's human nature, I suppose. Especially grieving human nature. I have learned in my somewhere-close-to 16 years of working in the judicial system that anything is possible. Just because a person is sentenced to x-number of years in prison doesn't mean that the person is going to be behind bars for x-number of years. So I'm not surprised at all by what happened in Arkansas or in Washington on Clemmons' previous cases.

It's easy to sit back and criticize decisions that were made in the past when something catastrophic like this happens, and to cry out that this guy shouldn't have been out of prison to begin with. But authorities in Arkansas and Washington were working within the boundaries of our established adversarial criminal justice system. They were making what they thought were the best decisions at the time. I haven't heard any fact-based accusations of incompetence or negligence in either state, relating to how Clemmons was handled. For several years, until Sunday, no one cared that Mike Huckabee commuted Maurice Clemmons' sentence in Arkansas. Re-evaluate how Clemmons was handled so that the system can be fine-tuned, but beyond that, I don't think anyone involved in the decision-making processes in Arkansas or Washington needs any help in feeling badly for what has happened now.

To Clemmons' family and friends who helped him elude capture for two days after his brutal crime: I hope you all go to prison knowing that you played a large role in Clemmons being shot to death on a Seattle street. If Chuck or my sister had come to me, suffering from a serious gunshot wound to the torso after murdering four police officers, I would have taken them to the hospital. What do you think the chances are of the police killing your loved one while he's lying in a hospital bed, post-surgery?

I'm also thinking of the Seattle officer who killed Clemmons. While he is undoubtedly a hero among the ranks--and I'm certainly not going to argue with that--he was still forced to take a human life. Clemmons was carrying the firearm of one of the deceased Lakewood officers and refusing to obey the Seattle officer's commands when the officer had to open fire. But still, I imagine that he's going to be dealing with that for awhile.

And anytime anything like this happens, I immediately think of my friends who are police officers, and I worry about their safety. I don't like that feeling, either.

The events in Washington happened far far away from me and involved people I've never met who were and are in a profession to which I do not belong. Nonetheless, the ripple effect from what happened in the Seattle area from Sunday through this morning has made it all the way out here to Indiana. And, likely, beyond.

My heart goes out to Sgt. Renninger and Officers Owens, Griswold, and Richards, and to all who knew and loved them.

The Toyota Gods Are Angry

2009-11-16T20:12:00.006-05:00

We bought a new 2009 Toyota Sienna back in late April. It's a really cool vehicle (if you're into minivans, that is). I like it a lot.

I'm starting to wonder, however, if it was assembled on a sacred Native American burial ground or by an angry voodoo priestess in Louisiana. I'm pretty sure it is cursed.

It started on Father's Day weekend, when I was taking my dad to dinner and showing off our new van to him for the first time. I wrote about it in much more detail here, but in a nutshell, our brand new van--with all of 2200 miles on it--broke down on our way to the restaurant, and I had to have it towed to the dealership. Apparently at some point, we had run over something that crushed a coolant line, draining all of the antifreeze and overheating the engine. About $720 later (including the tow), we had the van back.

Two months later, in late August, I was driving down the road, minding my own business, when out of nowhere, a rock flew into the windshield. A $45 attempt to repair the windshield failed in less than two hours. The new windshield cost an additional $330.

The Mrs. took Olivia and June to her parents' house about a week ago, and while she was there, her dad noticed that we have damage to our rear bumper. It's puzzling damage, as neither the Mrs. or I have backed into anything, but the damage is rather low on the bumper. My best guess is that someone clipped it in a parking lot, but we have no idea when or where it happened, and whatever hit it had to have had a really low bumper. We still haven't quite figured out what could have done that sort of damage. The damage appeared to only be cosmetic, though, so with the holidays looming, I wasn't in any hurry to get it fixed. Besides, I figured, with the luck we've been having with this van, someone is bound to rear-end me during the first snowfall. Then someone else's insurance can pay for a new bumper.

But yesterday morning, the Mrs. reported that something was leaking from the back of the van, right by the rear tire on the side where the bumper was damaged. It was a reddish-brown liquid, and there was a considerable puddle of it. Why it took a week from the time that my father-in-law spotted the damage and who-knows-how-long from the time the van was hit to start leaking is another mystery. Chuck speculated that it was either brake fluid or transmission fluid. Having either of those leaking is not good, especially when the Sienna is the primary vehicle that we use to transport Olivia and June.

So rather than relying on someone to tag me on a slippery road this winter, I took it in to the dealership today. The fluid was from the heating system, and the total repairs for the line and the bumper repair will be $440.

For those of you scoring at home, that's a total of $1535 that we have put into this van in just over six months. I'm quite confident that we put nowhere NEAR that kind of money into our Dodge Grand Caravan that we had for seven years before buying the Sienna, and that includes the new set of tires we put on the Caravan.

The really, really frustrating part of all of this is that it's not Toyota's craftsmanship that is failing us. The wheels aren't falling off. The electronics aren't failing. There isn't a draft because the doors don't hang right. The stereo works.

We just can't seem to avoid road debris, flying rocks, and whatever the hell hit the back of our van.

It also seems to come in every-two-month spurts. We bought the van in April, had the first incident in June, had the broken windshield in August, and discovered the most current damage in early November.

If some SOB plows into the back of me in January and wipes out my $440 bumper, I'm going to be sooooooo pissed.

United Breaks Guitars

2009-11-07T08:01:00.008-05:00

Having had a negative experience of my own with an airline (nowhere near as bad as this guy's, nor with United Airlines), I thought these two videos were absolutely hysterical. And I enjoyed the music, too! For the history of it, I'll quote directly off of the Sons of Maxwell's YouTube page:

In the spring of 2008, Sons of Maxwell were traveling to Nebraska for a one-week tour and my Taylor guitar was witnessed being thrown by United Airlines baggage handlers in Chicago. I discovered later that the $3500 guitar was severely damaged. They didnt deny the experience occurred but for nine months the various people I communicated with put the responsibility for dealing with the damage on everyone other than themselves and finally said they would do nothing to compensate me for my loss. So I promised the last person to finally say no to compensation (Ms. Irlweg) that I would write and produce three songs about my experience with United Airlines and make videos for each to be viewed online by anyone in the world. United: Song 1 is the first of those songs. United: Song 2 has been written and video production is underway. United: Song 3 is coming. I promise.

Thanks to my cousin in Arizona for bringing this to my attention! Enjoy the music.

Oh, and think twice before checking luggage on United Airlines. Especially if it's a guitar.

United Breaks Guitars

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YGc4zOqozo

United Breaks Guitars Song 2

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-UoERHaSQg

Dave Carroll Music

http://www.davecarrollmusic.com/

,,Wut evar hapenned too speling and grammer,,

2009-11-05T20:46:00.002-05:00

I am the son of a speech communication professor and an elementary school teacher, so I was well-versed in spelling, grammar, and punctuation growing up. I'm also something of a perfectionist. I tend to notice a lot of typos and misspellings that go unnoticed by many, although I'm not immune to making those kinds of mistakes myself. I can proofread a blog entry five or six times before I post it, and the tenth time I read it, I find a typo or a missing word or something. (Of course, this post will lead to open season being declared on every typo in here, I'm sure.) So while I often notice the little mistakes that are made in writing, they don't bother me all that much (except for my own typos, which drive me insane).

What bothers me--a lot--is the unbelievable inability by many people to even come close to grasping the written English language.

I am Facebook friends with a few local kids, most of them around middle school age. (No need to call the police. I know them and their parents through the neighborhood and local youth athletics, and the Mrs. is Facebook friends with them, too.) They're great kids, but most of them wouldn't know a punctuation mark if it slapped them in the face. It drives me absolutely NUTS to read some of their Facebook statuses. They string together three or four independent thoughts with absolutely no use of periods, commas, exclamation points, or question marks. Most of the time, I know what they're saying, but there are times I have to read a post out loud, slowly, and repeatedly, trying to figure out where one thought ends and another begins.

Then their friends get on there and respond to a status update, usually using equally horrible spelling and grammar with absolutely no use--or improper use--of punctuation. It's especially comical when one of them starts complaining about how school "suck's" and that they never learn anything there, and then several schoolmates add their own comments, all of them demonstrating how paying a bit more attention during Language Arts might be beneficial to them.

One Facebook status that had me in stitches was (and I'm not joking):

I just now finished my finall copy for language.

But they're just kids. Complaining about school is what you do when you're a kid, and Facebook is just informal communication (jeez, I HOPE these kids write better for school assignments!).

The failure to grasp the written language, however, extends well beyond kids. I was reading an article the other day about Syracuse wide receiver Mike Williams leaving the team--and possibly college--unexpectedly. Williams apparently initially posted this on his Facebook page:

I HATE COLLEGE I CANT SEE ME DOING THIS FOR LONG……..HINT HINT.-0 LMAO

Okay, he missed the period after "college" and didn't use an apostrophe in "cant," but overall, it's not bad.

Then he followed it up with:

Everyone Im staying in school to get my degree sorry for the faulse information every one getting.

I'm starting to think that maybe I don't want my kids going to Syracuse.

It's better than what UCLA "student-athletes" can cobble together, though. Here's the handiwork of a freshman wide receiver there named Randall Carroll, who posted this on his Twitter account:

oregon, stanford, and cal should have been easy wins ,, but shyt thys nigga norm chow dnt be trustin us ,, so it is what it is

Everything's going fine until the double commas. In between the double commas, however, is a bowl of alphabet soup that someone dropped on the floor. Maybe double commas are like those flashing orange lights you see in construction zones, warning that everything in between those lights is a disaster area. Same goes for everything in between double commas.

Then, in this article about Oklahoma State wide receiver Dez Bryant losing his last appeal to be reinstated after lying to the NCAA, there was this hilarious exchange of comments between readers "Mr Common Sense" and "Johnny":

89. Posted by Mr Common Sense Thu Oct 29 9:41am EDT
Now listen, you Oklahomo morons. Get off the NCAA and the BCS. The only real Big 12 team is Texas and Texas is also the only quality university in the BIg 12. While University Of Texas researchers work real science breakthroughs...etc, you morons from Oklohomo Universities can figure how to run your tractors on chicken pope.

Yes, I know that "Oklahomo" is spelled that way on purpose. I didn't realize that chickens had a Pope, though. A few more posts go by, and then Johnny comes up with this little slice of heaven:

93. Posted by Johnny Thu Oct 29 10:20am EDT
Mr como sense is really full of chicken s.hit "We will get University of Texas to..." Since when did you respresent UT to buy penny, again thinking small. And who is we.. You have no business brain, and don't know how business venture is setup, only people like you using brains between butt would think that. I'm glad that your comments show how stupid you are. Wow luckly in Oklahoma we don't have such a stupid people saying stupid things on behalf of their universities.

As a graduate of Texas A&M University, I found extra humor in supporters of rival Big 12 schools being incapable of forming coherent thoughts. I found the last two sentences of Johnny's post, in particular, to be especially side-splitting.

Okay, okay. Enough of picking on athletes and the people who comment on them. Surely members of Congress are better, right? Especially five-term senators, like Iowa Senator Chuck Grassley?

Maybe not.

Here's a beauty from his Twitter page back in June:

Pres Obama you got nerve while u sightseeing in Paris to tell us"time to deliver" on health care. We still on skedul/even workinWKEND.

Huh?

When did this happen? When did we, as a society, stop caring? When did sounding like a complete moron become acceptable?

More importantly, how do we fix this?

Halloween and Sex Offenders

2009-10-29T08:34:00.023-04:00

For the past few years, the Marion County Probation Department in Indianapolis and the Indiana Department of Correction have been requiring all registered sex offenders who are on probation or parole in that county to attend a mandatory meeting during the evening hours of Halloween. The object is to contain these offenders while kids trick-or-treat, thus minimizing kids' exposure to sex offenders.

You can read a little about the program here.

I understand the reasoning behind this practice, but I offer a different point of view to ponder.

I don't know how much manpower is involved in orchestrating this event, but Halloween is on a Saturday this year, so I can only assume that many of the probation officers and parole officers will be earning overtime to work. And we're not cheap to begin with. At time-and-a-half, that's a lot of money just in salaries. Offenders are going to have to be notified in writing, likely with some sort of proof of receipt, of the requirement to attend this program, so there's additional cost in office supplies and postage. Plus there's the cost associated with using a building that is likely not normally used on weekends.

Keep in mind, too, that this program is only mandatory for those on probation or parole. Those who have already completed terms of probation, parole, and/or incarceration cannot be forced to attend. The article says that nearly 300 people attended last year, with only four people not attending. According to the Indiana Sex Offender Registry, there are close to 2000 registered sex offenders in Indianapolis. For those who don't have a calculator handy, this program is only containing 15% of the registered sex offenders in the city.

But these are sex offenders we're talking about, right? So it's worth the cost to taxpayers to corral 15% of the registered sex offender population on Halloween, right? After all, these monsters will be lurking in the bushes, ready to dine at-will from the smorgasbord of kids out that night, right?

Read this recent study and decide for yourself. Unless you're a mathematician, the statistical analysis part of the article is likely to be a little dry for you, so let me hit the high points. According to this study, there is no increase in sex offenses on or around Halloween. (However, our children are four times more likely to get hit and killed by a car on Halloween than they are on any other day of the year.) And the belief that sex offenders lurk in the bushes, ready to pounce on unsuspecting kids? This study shows that only 2 out of every 1000 sex offenses against kids are committed by non-family members. The study simply confirms what I have come to believe after being a probation officer--and working with sex offenders--for 13 years.

I don't mean to poo-poo what Marion County officials are doing. I truly believe that they are genuinely trying to do everything they can to protect the public. I also don't question that a threat exists that kids can be molested during Halloween. Nor do I mean to minimize the lasting psychological and physical damage that offenders inflict upon their victims, or in any way, shape, or form justify sex offenders' behavior when they offend.

What I question, as does the study, is the cost-benefit equation of programs like Operation Halloween, especially when there is such a cheap and easy alternative: active parenting. I also worry that programs like this lull the public into a false sense of security, thinking that all the sex offenders in the city are rounded up and contained on Halloween night when, in fact, 85% of registered sex offenders (not to mention all the offenders who haven't registered, who aren't required to register, or who haven't been caught yet) are still out there on Halloween. "The bad guys are all rounded up, Ma! Cut the kids loose for a few hours!"

As a parent, and reinforced by my experience as a probation officer, I don't believe that kids should just be let loose to roam neighborhoods unattended while trick-or-treating. Bad things can happen--in addition to sex offenses--when kids are left unattended. Several years ago on Halloween, in one of our affluent neighborhoods where kids from all over the county are dumped by their parents in order to get candy from the "rich people," a young man was severely beaten by a handful of other kids and nearly died. What was the attack over? Halloween candy. The attackers demanded it, the victim didn't fork it over, and the victim wound up in the hospital with significant head trauma.

My kids are very young, but still, they only trick-or-treat at the homes of people we know. And, of course, we walk with them. The chances of a sex offender jumping out the bushes and snatching my kids, a pack of teenagers putting my kid into a coma over Halloween candy, my kids getting hit by a car, or anything else bad happening to them are reduced exponentially by me and the Mrs. being there to watch and protect. As my girls get older and want more independence while they trick-or-treat, that's fine. But they can't stop me from trailing a half-block behind them in my car.

By simply spending some time with our kids on Halloween, we're going to have a much higher success rate--and at a much lower cost--of protecting our kids than government officials are going to have with programs such as Operation Halloween. And as a taxpayer, I'd like to see the resources that were set aside for Operation Halloween spent instead during the period between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day. That period of time is the most dangerous time of year in terms of drunk drivers and the death and destruction they cause, and that money could be used to beef up funding for law enforcement, public information, alternate transportation, and other ways of keeping us safe on the roadways during the holiday season.

Or should we just round up all the convicted drunk drivers who are on probation and parole and keep them contained during the entire month of December?

Dinner with June

2009-10-20T20:08:00.006-04:00

My dad tells a story about how, when he was growing up, he was slurping his soup loudly at the dinner table, much to his dad's disgust, and my grandfather smacked my dad hard enough in the back of his head to put his face into the soup.

Tonight, I TOTALLY understand where my grandfather was coming from.

We had soup for dinner. The Mrs. correctly predicted that Olivia and June would not be big fans of minestrone soup, so in addition to the little bowls of soup she provided them, she also warmed them up some chicken nuggets and cut up some fresh strawberries.

The girls immediately turned their noses up at the soup, but they enjoyed their nuggets and strawberries. June, watching her older sister drink from a "big girl" cup with no lid, wanted to try her own drink without a lid.

A two-year-old with a lid-less cup of juice is a disaster waiting to happen.

To her credit, it only took one spill of about eight ounces of juice down the front of her shirt to try a different approach to the cup. After refilling her cup, we figured we'd give her another shot at it. Heck, it's bath night tonight, and she's already soaked, anyway.

So June's next strategy was to keep the cup on the table and lean over until she could put her lips on the rim of the cup. Then, ever so carefully, she tipped the cup verrrrry slowly until she could sip some juice. No spills. Much rejoicing from me and the Mrs.

Having been positively reinforced for sipping, her next drink involved even louder sipping. Followed by even louder sipping. Followed by even LOUDER sipping. Until "sipping" was no longer the correct term for the noises coming from that cup. "Slurping" was more accurate. I'm not even sure "slurping" is the right word. What's louder than slurping? Anyway, the Mrs. and I couldn't even hold a conversation over the slurping.

Then June thought it would be funny to blow bubbles in her juice. She sounded like a mini-outboard motor, and juice was flying everywhere, as if said motor was going to town in the cup. So the lid went back on. Enough mess and disgusting noises at the dinner table.

A few seconds later, June set off the alarm. Oh no!! One of her chicken nuggets was gone!! Where might her nugget have gone? Why, in her cup, of course! The Mrs. removed the lid, and sure enough, there was a chicken nugget in the middle of a cup of apple juice. At some point while we weren't looking, June had apparently decided to see if nuggets float. (They do, sort of.)

No problem for June! She was more than happy to shove her hand into her cup, apple juice going halfway up to her elbow (and slopping all over the table), to retrieve the nugget. As she pulled it out, it was, naturally, dripping. And what do you do with a dripping chicken nugget soaked in apple juice?

Well, you wring it out, of course!

Into your soup.

And then you throw your nugget in your soup.

And then take a drink of juice with nugget parts floating in it.

And then eat the nugget.

As I put my head in my hands, trying to suppress my gag reflex, I thought of my grandfather planting my dad's head into a bowl of soup all those years ago. And I understood.

Indiana is a Racist State. A Lawyer Told Me That.

2009-10-10T10:12:00.027-04:00

A man killed his wife in front of their children in late June in the county in which I work. It was a really awful crime, for a number of reasons beyond the fact that a woman lost her life. He was sentenced to 55 years in prison yesterday, as was reported in the news in, among others, this article:

http://www.theindychannel.com/news/21250084/detail.html

As I read the article, a few things bothered me. They are things that bother me in just about every article I read involving the judicial system.

First, the article reports that the man received a 55-year sentence in prison. That leads a normal person to believe that he won't be eligible to walk out of prison until October 9, 2064, right? And since the man is currently 41 years old, that's almost assuredly a "life-in-prison" sentence, right? He'll be in his late 90's before he gets out. Right?

Wrong.

What the article fails to mention is that in Indiana, for every day a person serves in jail, that person gets an additional day of credit time, commonly referred to as "good time credit." You can read about it in Indiana Code 35-50-6-3. So this man will actually only serve half of his time. That's 27.5 years, not 55 years. So now we're talking a release date of somewhere in April of 2037, right? He'll still be in his late 60's when he gets out of prison, right?

Wrong.

Read the next section in that chapter of the Indiana Code (35-50-6-3.3) and learn about all the ways he can reduce his sentence. He has the potential to knock another 4 years off his sentence while he's in prison through a variety of programs designed to better a person while they are incarcerated. I'm not commenting on these programs and their associated time cuts. I'm simply pointing out another way that the man can cut time off his sentence. Something that was not reported in the article.

Then, at the very beginning of that chapter of the Indiana Code (35-50-6-1), you can read about parole. Whether this man has the possibility of parole or not isn't mentioned in this article, but it's another way that he might be released from prison earlier than many people expect.

Finally, the article makes no mention that the man receives credit for all the time he has been in jail while his case has been pending. He was caught by the police several hours after the murder occurred, so he's been in jail since late June. He has a little over 3 months of credit time already, plus 3 months of good time credit.

Again, I'm not commenting on the way Indiana state law reads. My irritation is a result of the media reporting that the man got 55 years in prison, leaving the public to believe that he will exit the prison doors 55 years from yesterday, assuming he's still alive, when that isn't even close to the truth.

Another big gripe I have with this article and with most other on-line media is the ability given to the public to add its comments, usually in complete anonymity. I understand the First Amendment and the right to free speech and all of that, but what constructive purpose does comments from the public serve? Many of these comments are posted by people who lack any knowledge of the situation, who are hiding under the cloak of anonymity, and who are simply trying to post the most inflammatory comment that they can come up with for reasons known only to them.

Let's look at some of the comments on this article together, shall we?

Our first (anonymous, of course) commenter laments about "killings in indy getting such light punishments." Aside from the fact that the killing did not take place in Indianapolis, but in one of its suburbs instead, Indiana Code 35-50-2-3 outlines the possible punishment for Murder. Murderers can get 45-65 years in prison, with the advisory sentence being 55 years. Murderers can also get life in prison without parole or the death penalty if certain circumstances are in place in that particular case. Once again, I'm not commenting on the Hendricks County Prosecutor's choice to offer this particular man the advisory sentence in exchange for not requiring the time, anguish, and money of a trial, and for wrapping up a murder case in under four months. I'm simply saying "such light punishments" are right down the middle of the plate, as far as what Indiana law allows a Court to sentence someone to for Murder.

The very next comment comes from a person (anonymous, of course) who blames the "light punishments" on "old brizzie", referring to Marion County Prosecutor Carl Brizzi. This person, in addition to misspelling Brizzi's name, failed to notice that the crime occurred and was prosecuted in Hendricks County, not Marion County. Mr. Brizzi had no jurisdiction or involvement in this case. Thank you for that educated, well thought-out comment.

Fortunately, the next commenter (once again, anonymous) pointed that out, throwing in an inflammatory "idiot" reference. That's constructive.

Then we get to the next (anonymous, naturally) commenter who somehow feels the need to tie a local domestic violence-related murder to President Obama being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize earlier in the day. Huh?

Then we have a few more people (all anonymous) calling each other dumb, followed by later comments further down the page predictably throwing out the racial argument. * Yawn. *

Moving to page 2, we have some anonymous person spouting off that sentences are too short because prosecutors are overcoming budget constraints. (Once again, this man got the advisory sentence for Murder, according to Indiana law.) This person also suggests raising taxes in Marion County to help better fund the Prosecutor's Office. (The Marion County Prosecutor's Office was not involved in this case at all. It was a Hendricks County case.) Perhaps this is the same person who incorrectly blames "light punishments" on "old brizzie."

From there, it just degenerates into page after page after page of absolute hogwash, comprised of racism (one of the funniest comments: "Indiana is a racist state. A lawyer told me that." Not funny at all: "It is a noted fact that most murders are committed by blacks."), incorrect information about Indiana law ("in Indiana they use the 3 strikes law"), calls for public hangings and this man's murder in prison by other inmates and/or his suicide and/or the removal of his penis, and a return to Hammurabi's Code.

What is the point of this? Why does nearly every on-line news service allow uncensored, anonymous comments by the public? I cannot come up with a single constructive reason for allowing people to post such inflammatory things on the news service's website for everyone--regardless of age--to read, without any repercussions whatsoever. Pre-Internet, opinion letters could be sent to the editor of a newspaper, but the newspaper weeded out the letters from morons that contained racist comments, incorrect information, and other absurdity. And each letter contained the writer's name and town in which the writer lives. If someone wrote something asinine or inflammatory, everyone knew who wrote it.

Sure, sure. There's the option to not read said comments. But explain that to a child who is reading the news for a school project or for their own education. As my girls get older, I want them to be informed of current events. What I don't want them exposed to is page after page of the ramblings of the underbelly of society.

Do you want your kids perpetually exposed to that?

So my first suggestion to Internet news services, such as Channel 6's website, is to accurately report a person's sentence. Don't leave the public thinking a man is going to do 55 actual years in prison for killing his wife in front of his kids, when that's not even close to what he's going to serve. It's not hard to mention good time credit, educational credits, and parole.

Second, just eliminate the ability of the public to comment on stories.

The world will be a better place for it.

Those Are the Breaks

2009-10-01T07:53:00.007-04:00

After a few weeks of being on the receiving end of world class ass-kickings and having several players on our softball team give up during games, our team entered the single-elimination playoffs last night as the #7 seed (out of 7 teams). As a result, we had to play the #2 seed (only because the #1 seed got a bye in the first round). The #2 seed beat us 18-3 in four innings earlier in the season. And that's when everyone was still trying.

So I spent most of the week trying to get the team fired up for what was most likely our last hurrah for the season. The message was simple: we play hard from start to finish, we make them TAKE the win from us instead of just giving it to them, and if we go down, we go down swinging. We leave everything on the field.

I did everything I could all week long to get everyone's hearts into the game. I sent e-mails, I sent inspirational speeches that I found on YouTube, I called people, I wrote our battle cry on the lineup, I talked to everyone before the game, I told Chuck's wife (who keeps book for us) not to reveal the score at any point during the game, and I kept my big mouth running the whole game through, getting fired up on good plays and keeping everyone focused on our goal: to try our best the whole way through.

And wouldn't you know it, it worked.

We were outscored 16-14, but it wasn't 18-3 this time, and we didn't have any quitters. Everyone gave it their all, and I couldn't have been more proud. We had people sliding into bases, beating out throws to first base, running full speed after fly balls, making outstanding catches in the outfield, making outstanding plays in the infield, and doing just what I asked of everyone: leaving it all out on the field. We even had one of our guys hit an out-of-the-park grand slam home run!! We did our absolute best, and we came darn close to pulling off a miracle.

Of course, since Chuck's wife followed my instructions to a T, I had no idea just HOW close we came until it was all over. In fact, we were the visiting team, and after we batted late in the game, I went back out on the field to play defense because I had no idea what the score was, or what inning we were in. Only after I got in position did I notice everyone else doing the line of congratulatory handshakes over by home plate, which meant the game was over.

I played second base and had a relatively quiet night there. They hit one grounder right to me, which I fielded easily and threw the runner out at first. Another grounder late in the game had some zip on it, but I still should have gotten it. Instead of stopping it with my glove, though, I stopped it with my throwing hand. That stung a little. The runner was safe, but he never came around to score, so no harm, no foul.

I had my best batting night of the season, going 3-for-4 with two doubles and two runs scored. I would have gone 4-for-4, but I couldn't run out my last hit.

Why?

Because on my second hit, which was my second double, I broke my ankle sliding into second base in the third inning.

I knew as soon as I hit the bag and felt and heard a pop that I had done something serious to my ankle. I have never broken a bone in my life before last night, so I had no point of reference, but I figured a broken bone would sound and feel like my ankle did.

Nevertheless, we didn't have an extra guy last night, and I wasn't about to come out of the game. What kind of sissified blowhard would I have looked like if I got my team believing in fighting to the bitter end, and then I quit halfway through the game? Nope. Wasn't going to happen. We were leaving it all out on the field, dammit, and that included me.

I actually came around from second base to score later in the inning. And I batted again later in the game and got a single. (I admit, though, that I asked to be replaced with a pinch runner after reaching first base. I know. I'm a wuss.) In my last at-bat, I'd have had another single if I had had two good wheels, but my body was starting to tell me that playing 3+ innings on a broken ankle was just about enough. Plus, I had fouled off a pitch earlier in the at-bat, and when my ankle rotated with my normal batting motion on that swing...well...let's just say that the sensation was unpleasant. Very unpleasant. Damn near drop-me-to-my-knees-and-cry-like-a-baby unpleasant. So when I hit it fair, it was all upper body, with my right foot off the ground. That I even got the ball past the pitcher with that ridiculous batting form is amazing.

So anyway, we all played our hearts out all the way through the game, and I'm damn proud to have played with that group of people last night. The loss is inconsequential. The other team is better than we are, and that's okay. Congratulations to them, and good luck the rest of the way. But we showed that if we try our best for all seven innings, we can hang in there with the best of 'em.

We didn't just give them a win. They had to take it. And that made last night--broken ankle and all--worth it.

Massacre #547

2009-09-23T20:05:00.002-04:00

Another disaster on the softball diamond tonight. We lost, 21-1.

There is nothing good to report about tonight's game.