Making It Through March

When I worked at the school district - it was all we could do to get through March.  From Presidents Day to Spring Break there were no holidays, no long weekends, no teacher/staff only days.  It's the longest period during the school year - without a reprieve.  I know... WAHHH!  Somebody call the Waaahhh...mbulance!  We were spoiled for sure.  But with that - March and all of it's dreariness, snow, gray, gravel all over, dirty cars, wet animal paws, wet kids clothing, wet wet wet, drizzly, crapass weather - we forged ahead... counting down the days to "Spring Break".

Over the years - The Dad and I, (and his sis & her family) have come up with more than just the dreary weather or lack of down time in March - to just get through it.

**SPOILER ALERT**  Doom & Gloom next few paragraphs.

March 12, 2001 - The Dads' dad succumbed to cancer.  He had been battling lung cancer for some time and in the early hours of March 12 - took his oxygen off, coiled up the cord and hung it on his tank.  He then drifted off - he knew it was time to stop battling the evil that is cancer.  It was early, a Monday morning.  Only hours before - The Dad and I had busted our way back from Wenatchee, from a basketball tournament #7 was in - to see him, to say hello...knowing that "hello" could well be our "goodbye". He asked me if I'd trim his hair (what little of it he had)... and so I did.  The Dad was over at his childhood house by 6 AM the next morning - calling in Hospice - and watching his dad leave the house for the last time.

March 27, 2001 - Two weeks later - The Dads' younger brother passed away.  It was the first day of baseball practice and The Dad had left his cell phone home.  It kept ringing off the hook but I didn't answer it until after our home phone rang - and a gal from Jeff's office told me that a deputy with the Spokane Police Department was trying to locate him. (uhhhh.... a wave of panic sets in) Moments after I hung up with her, his cell phone rang again and I answered.  It was the police chaplain, he explained and he was at The Dads' moms' house and it was important he get there.  He did not tell me what it was about - but there was a sense it was probably about his brother.  Jay - before his last two years of life - was a funny, competitive, sports know it all, hard working, great friend to all he knew - guy.  His demon was alcohol - and it got the best of him.  He tried to beat it many times - but there was a point we knew - and I believe Jay knew - he wasn't going to escape it.  

March 8, 2010:  After suffering a stroke in August of 2008, leaving The Dads' mom with the ability to only say "C" or "See" or "Sea" (we'll never know) - but at the same time leaving her with the faculties to walk, eat, smile, go to church, shower, watch TV, hum and remember her friends and family, Jean also ultimately lost her life due to cancer.  With the extreme unfortune of not being able to tell anyone how she was feeling, what she was feeling... her cancer went undiagnosed until it was too late.  She'd been in and out of the hospital here in Spokane and blood tests did not reveal anything.  It was trying on The Dad as prior to he and his sister moving her over to Billings, nearer to her daughter - the first responders' sirens that would be called to her assisted living facility - were in the earshot of our house.  There was a period of time that each time we heard them - we braced ourselves for the phone to ring.  

March 9, 2012:  Just about a week before this date - I had sent my pal, Pat, a text asking if he was at the EWU game... that I was scanning the crowd for him.  He replied that he was home watching the GU womens game.  I scoffed at that.  I think I called him a weenie.  Yes, I knew he too was yet another patient - reeling with the before, during, after and on and on effects of cancer - but it was my job to remain his crass, sarcastic friend during all of it.  We bantered back and forth over text for a bit - and that would be the last time I "talked" to him.  My sister-wife (his wife, Robin) and I texted a few times over the next few days after Pat was admitted into the hospital - again - due to the toll the treatments had taken on his little Italian body.  I believe most people felt Pat would  be home in a matter of days.  On this particular morning - I had posted on my first year blog - about their daughters' senior project and texted Robin at early-thirty, not expecting a response any time soon.  But she was at a hair appointment and said she'd tell Erin to look at it when she got home.  That was shortly after 7 AM.  As I left my office that day for lunch break - I received a text from her that said simply "He's gone."  My heart sank.  Of all of the people in the world I know personally - Patty was one guy you always believed would kick jackass cancer in the ars.  It was with Pat & Robin that just days before The Dads' mom passed - we were in Vegas, watching Bon Jovi at the MGM and Pat was, at the time, living with a short lived reprieve from his battle with "Fat Bastard".

March is also the month The Dad and I celebrate our anniversary.  On March 2, 2013 - we will knock down Door 22.  All those years ago - the entire week before our wedding - Spokane was seeing record highs.  Birds chirping.  Sun shining.  Grass greening up.  It was not seen before - not that I could remember.  The night before our wedding it began to rain.  And it RAINED HARD... we woke up to snow on the ground.  This is not unusual for Spokane in any way, shape or form - but after the loss of his mom and then Pat last year - I suggested to The Dad that we might want to have a renewal of our vows  sometime...

Just not in March.

Trimming The Fat When You're "Older"

For the longest time - we could go to the gym 4-6 days a week and do a 30-40 minute workout and it "maintained" our weight and allowed me to wear the same size pants to this day.  At times they fit better on some days - and on the days that they were a skoche uncomfortable - I'm pretty sure I was crabby and not so much because of what it meant, but mostly because I don't like to be uncomfortable.  I always know that it's just a matter of a longer workout or watching what I eat to make those pants/shorts/tops/bra's more comfortable.

But after "the gutting" almost 2 years ago - my metabolism changes on a friggin' dime and nothing I do - eating right, not eating, drinking water, no pop, vitamins, working out - seems to work.  So I have to "make it" bounce back and that means working harder.  The days of the "quick workout" are long gone!  December was the most recent bout with my screwy insides so I had to change my mindset.

That meant - changing a few things.  I had to change the "comfort" of the same ole' gym and it's old, rarely functioning equipment.  At the old gym - there was no accountability if I decided that I was done after being on the treadmill or elliptical.  Often times, once done on the machine I would head to the weights and if someone else was using what I was heading in for next, I would turn to another option, usually also in use and I'd give up, put my jacket on and go.  I could also count on, if The Dad was with me - him finishing his machine and being ready to go or him finding someone to chat with until I was done thus causing me to feel like I had to hurry or be frustrated that he was tending to his mayoral duties at the gym versus doing the things we needed to be doing at the gym.

Not that the employees at Golds Gym are holding me accountable in my workout regimen... they aren't.  But they are much more hands on and helpful and knowledgeable than I remember the other gym's employees' being.  Every day they are working with people on machines, programs and pushing them.  That's motivating to me, just "people watching" while I'm doing my cardio.

It was hard to walk in there and start using new machines and equipment that I hadn't seen in the past 12 years at Oz/24 Hour/Sta-Fit without tutorials and of course feeling like everyone was watching as I self taught myself more exercises than I'd done since, like, sucking on my toes in my mothers womb.  

So 6 weeks ago I began working out at Golds Gym and I remember that first week I did my half hour on the arc trainer (the well maintained, no "out of order" signs posted, arc trainers) - while that was all well and good - it wasn't really changing  how my pants were fitting me after a week or 10 days.  For me - as it used  to be - that would usually do the trick.  Then there was the day - that as I was drying off after a shower, I realized my arms were changing... and NOT for the better.  I had to make a decision - learn to live with the evolution on my person of the old lady bat wings and potentially, in who knows how much time - HAVING to move up a pant size or... something else was going to have to change.

I scanned the fitness apps on my i5 and found the Fitness Buddy app.  You can enter your weight daily, weekly, monthly as well as your body metrics.  You can build a workout to help you  meet your needs or do one of their Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced, Expert, Female Oriented, Body Weight Only, Resistance Band, Stability Ball, Goal Specific, Kettleball, or Sports Conditioning pre-built workouts.  It will play your music too if you so choose.  Oh... and any exercise you want to do - it shows you how to do them.  Say there are 3 steps - you swipe to the first page and read, repeat for pages 2 & 3 and when you swipe one more time - it shows you the exercise in motion.  Pretty cool.

You can enter an area of your body you want to work on and it will bring up every possible exercise or equipment you can use to help you in your quest for "non bat-like" arms! You can then pick as many as you want to do and build a workout. So I "customized" a few workouts and started that on January 24th.  I am able to input how much time on cardio the resistance and calories burned as well as the weight, reps and exercises I do each day.  Of course I had to learn how to remember all of that each day to input into the app when I got home.  The app allows me to look at when I've upped the weight and/or reps of certain exercises, though there's also an option to export all of the information I've entered in the event I needed to share that with anyone.  

The app also will show me history, graphs and stats of my weight and body metrics.  I enter my weight daily, but decided to only do the body measurements for abdomen, arms, calf, hip, neck, thigh and waist beginning on 1/28.  Now each Monday after my workout - I begrudgingly grab for the measure (or May-zure... as my mother would say).  I can view stats from the past 7 days, 14 days, 3 months, 6 months and year.  I can pull up in a graph, for example my maximum weight 30 days ago, the minimum and the average over that time.  

Anyhow - the Fitness Buddy app - while not having a good gossip ear and unable to drink a latte with me - has been helpful.  Granted, I do ALL of the work.  And by being "helpful" I mean - that over the past 5 weeks - as I begrudgingly have picked up the tape measure to see if there's any change at all with my wings with my new exercises - the results have been slow, but positive.  Positive enough to keep going, and change them up as well.  I must say I knew it was "working" somewhat when we ventured out for our first bike ride a few weeks ago - before the spring snow hit - and while only going just over 10 miles, we finished going uphill and I made it with relative ease and felt great after!

I've got a ways to go - but I'm not ashamed to go forth and "publish" my results thus far:

Abdomen - Start: 36.0; Current - 34.4

Bat Wings - Start: 11.8; Current - 11.2

Calf - Start: 14.2; Current - 14.0

Hip - Start: 38.0; Current - 36.2

Neck - Start: 12.0; Current - 11.5

Thigh - Start: 21.0; Current - 19.8

Waist - Start: 31.5; Current - 29.9

I need to go one step further with this though.  Not only am I doing cardio for 30-40 minutes a day, I am then doing stability ball, free weights and core exercises for an additional 30+ minutes.  The "usual" no longer works anymore.  Simple fact.

So the other day - The Dad gets home from the gym early in the morning after a week and a half of the "usual" 30 minute routine.  He hopped on the scale and knowing he wouldn't appreciate that I had watched to begin with I said "Well?"  He was frustrated and said it wasn't what he had hoped.  He felt like he was running better and for longer but it wasn't making a difference.  He was agitated I'd asked and then I said what he most certainly DID NOT want to hear:

WOTY:  "Well, you can't go for 30 minutes anymore and think that's going to make the difference.  Doesn't matter the distance or speed... 30 minutes isn't going to cut it anymore for us.  We are older."

The Dad:  "Well, I'm not getting up at 4:45 in the morning to go to the gym so I can get an hour in."

WOTY:  "Then you can't get pissed if the scale doesn't change or problem areas don't "go away".

The Dad:  <unintelligible>.....  

No.  He's not getting up at 4:45 - which is a stupid hour.  Fact.  But he has gotten out of the house by 5:15 for nearly a week running now and getting in an hour +.  He downloaded the Fitness Buddy the other day and as with anyone and any new "program" has taken a few days to familiarize himself with it, the workouts and gauge which way he wants to go and what to do.  

Yes - it takes more time, but the benefits, the energy that comes from it - is worth it.  

Oh - and because of all of this - no more "uncomfortable clothes" days.  <knock on wood> That, and hair "therapy" tomorrow - this week leading up to 22 years of wedded bliss with The Dad is turning out fit-tastic!

Just Like It Sounds

It's Saturday and The Dad and I made a plan to meet at Starbucks after our Saturday workouts.  We have to "meet" because Saturday is the day he ventures into Oz Fitness for his weekly racquetball matchup - while I make my (usually) 6th visit to Golds Gym for a shorter workout in comparison to the other 5 days of the week.  

I was a tad behind due to a phone call that lasted 30 minutes - so he was waiting for me when I finished my workout.  

I walked in, did a wifely eyeroll when seeing that he didn't order MY drink, knowing I was on my way...  and headed to the line.  The gal in front of me ordered 3 drinks so it felt like a bit of an eternity while I waited for my tall, nonfat, with whip - cinnamon dolce latte that Megan was working hard getting to.  As I stood there three young men were up to the "Order Here" spot and the gal at the cashier asked Young Man #1 for his order...

CuteSBEmp:  "And your name?"

YM#1: ....unintelligible....  (but it sounded to me like he said "Brian")

CuteSBEmp:  "Brian?"

YM#1: ....repeats unintelligible.... (but it sounded AGAIN from where I was, like "Brian")

CuteSBEmp:  "I'm sorry... Ryan?"  (which wasn't a bad go for a guy that was trying to be cool and not frickin SPEAK THE *#&% UP)

YM#1:  "No.  B - R - A - C - K.  Just like it sounds."

Well... BRACK...  you didn't speak loud enough for her to hear you (I was actually pretty dang close and I couldn't understand you).  So BRACK Just Like It Sounds...  because you were so rude and obviously don't realize that a name like "BRACK" isn't much of a common name - therefore likely easily misunderstood - I thought I'd help get it out there for you.

The Dad spelled BRACK entirely different though after I told him the story...  it had a C and K, an I, "HEAD" and a D.  This was one time I didn't correct him.  I think that's exactly how it sounds.

I'm sorry you've had to repeat that SO many times to people over the span of your life... but at some point - if you'd just speak up - you wouldn't get all of the patrons standing near you at Starbucks thinking you're some uppity young snob.  I'll bet the little cashier and barrista would like to sing you the song attached here today.  Just sayin.

Eagles & Cougars & Huskies, Oh My!

Let's say you went to Duke.  You loved the experience, met your significant other there, donate to the alumni or sports programs, and have high hopes that little baby "you's" will attend your alma mater.  

Orrrr.... perhaps you didn't attend attend college at all, but your parents, uncle, brother, grandmother or favorite teacher got you hooked on the UCLA Bruins and even though you didn't attend the university, you watched them since you were yay-tall and if you talked to someone that wasn't rooting for the Bruins, you heckled them.  You still do.  The Bruins, through relationships, became your favorite school/team.  This is how it often works.

Most of us have a favorite NFL, NBA, MLB, NHL... team and personally know NO ONE on any of the teams but we picked our team early on, for whatever reason.  Much like college. But different, right?  Because no matter how much I like the Denver Broncos - the most I can do with that - is attend a game or root for them from my couch on Sundays during the fall.  I will never play for them, work for them, know any of them, take a class from them...  But college is different.  When one picks a college to attend, they are making a very important decision. Which is hard to do at 18.  And 9 times out of 10, the decision was the right one for the student, assuming the student made the choice and not the parents or family lineage.  This year, more than I've ever heard of before, there are kids Wacks age - that just didn't love the college they started at this year and *poof* - just like that, started filling out applications to other schools, with different living/residence options, different states, more $$, less $$, what have you.  

Most of the people I know (The Dads & my age), made their choice - drove themselves to college, set up their room and dealt with all the shtick that comes with living with someone new, figuring out each others idiosyncrasies, planning, learning how to plan, manage time, finances, friendships, and which party to attend next weekend.

Nowadays, it seems that kids are used to their own room, or quiet or having run of the house at home that they are less adjusted or less willing to adjust to something new, something they may not like, someone they may not like and so as soon as they are in, they are practically out.  Which I put on "us" as parents.  Lack of coping skills.

All that aside - and I think it's a big talking point - my kids made their choices.  They made them for their own reasons - be it sports, educational programs, location.  They've dealt with "issues" on their own before we ever hear about it - usually.

But they are happy being an Eagle.  A Cougar.  A Dawg.  And we are happy they are happy.

8 other moms and myself recently put together Valentines care packages for our college freshman.  Moms of Cougars, Vandals, Bengals, Huskies, Mules, etc.  We chatted about how the kids were all doing, how the year was going, what it's like having one gone, or two, or in some cases... three...  There were no "Eewwwww Huskies!" or "They coug'd it" comments.  Nothing derogatory about any of the schools, or choices the kids had made and their parents supported.

This past weekend, we had some friends up while Wack was home and these people, who had a child that was a Cougar once upon a time - simply asked him how it was going?  Did he like it?  What was he studying?  And - good job.  That's great.  No comments like "Well, you're wearing the wrong colors." or "If you'd have gone to Pullman..."  It was so refreshing.

It made me realize I'm tired of the people that put ANY of my kids schools down, even in jest.  No, I realized it long before this - but it was after two great "experiences" that is making me "talk" about it.  If an adult feels the need to put down one of my kids school - be it to my kids, to me - either or, I think that's sad.   If your offspring chooses Montana State - I say "great!"  If it's where the kid wants to go - that's great!  It's the rival of one of my sons' school, but so what?  If my kids want to carry on the banter of "my school is better than your school" with their friends at rival schools or schools they don't think much of - they GET to do that.  They are living it.  They are involved.  They have those "connections." But for me to put down a school I did not attend to another parent who is happy for their child, is supporting their child -  just because it is the rival of one of my kids schools - seems small minded.  

Sure there is a time and place for some razzing and banter and fun-making... it's those that do it EVERY time that need to just take a frickin chill pill.  Does it make them feel better to put down a kids choice?  What made them hate someones school so badly that there's always that "expected" put down?  I don't get it.

I'm just happy they are where they want to be and happy that their friends are where they want to be.  Just so long as they are happy and furthering their education and learning, not only in a classroom, but of life in general - that's what matters.  I support Black, Red & White; Crimson & Gray and Purple & Gold.  It's surely given me a lot more options to hang in the closet and brings a lot more color into what at times, feels like such a gray, one dimensional world.

An Eagle, A Cougar & A Huskie

"Thanks For Having Me"

Wack came home this weekend.  I cleaned up his room, went to the store with a list he'd texted me, sat down to watch the GU game and shortly after it ended, in he walked.  I had something cooking in the crockpot but he was hungry 'now' and what was cooking wasn't ready so I offered up ordering him a pizza, any kind, any flavor - to tide him over. He pulled up a movie for us on the Apple TV that we bought for "Sons of Anarchy" several weeks back and while I watched intently - both he and The Dad crashed after they'd consumed some of the pizza.  

He hung out on Sunday, had breakfast with us, then he and I shopped for a lot of shampoo, body wash, soap, toothpaste, laundry detergent, the really awesome smelling dryer sheets while The Dad was busy in the garage with a holyboard "order" he's long overdue on.  (It's done now!  Whew!)  We chatted about the house, activities, classes next quarter, plans, grades - kind of everything under the sun.  It was so nice to have the interaction... this kind of interaction.  I have never minded just having him home and hearing his alarm go off, followed by silence for an hour, followed by the thunderous boom of the music in the bathroom while he showers, then followed by a grunt upstairs while he pours a bowl of cereal before heading back down to the man cave and putting in an xbox game - then sending upwards more loud sounds!  My deal is - I just love having them home.  Everyone knows this about me.

Sunday night he informs me his ride is planning on leaving at 2 on Monday.  I went to the gym, came home, made him a ginormous bag of chex mix, packed up the candied pecans I made him the day before, threw in the pop tarts he asked me to buy and the bags of doritos and gathered everything together in three bags on the counter.  He had a friend up in the morning to visit, then ate breakfast, started a movie and I got cleaned up.  It was shortly after 1:00 when he paused his movie and bounded down the stairs.  Shortly after that,  he bounded back up the stairs and started packing things into his bags.  I asked if he was just getting his things ready and he said "yeah."  In my head I'm thinking... "OK.  Good kid."  And near as soon as I thought those very words the white SUV pulls up in the driveway.  It was 1:27.  CLEARLY Mikey was early.  A tad too early for this mom that thought she had another 33 minutes to just chill with the baby boy.  (Who, by the way HAS grown more in the past month.  Easily 6'4" now... <sigh>)  

So he gathered everything up and walked towards the front door... knowing I was going to likely well up with tears and as I went to hug him, tell him I love him, be safe... all that stuff he says:  "Yeah.  Thanks for having me."

Say WHAT?!?!?!?  I promptly scolded him and said "Uhhh, having you?  This is YOUR HOME."  

And then he was off...  again.  Taking a piece of me with him.  Again.  Leaving The Dad to walk into my "the kids are gone... again..." mood swing...  again.  

So now he's back at his "home" again.  I am left to count down the days until their next break, their next visit to Lloyd Street, the next time I hear:  "Thanks for having me."

Which leaves me scheming.  And The Dad doesn't like what I'm dreaming up, to help pass the time...  <to be continued...>

Clearly, The Groundhog Has Vision Problems!

We woke up Saturday morning and while I had been battling a headache for a few days - The Dad had mentioned on Friday night, that perhaps we could go for a bike ride on Saturday after he played racquetball.  I sort of shot the idea down because my head had been hurting, but I found some energy while he was off at the gym and decided to buck up... after all, the sun was shining.  It was feeling like spring might be "on the way."

I've felt unstable on the bike - even after riding it all of last September and October so was a skoche anxious to get going.  And because of that, we'd been driving down to a local trail and hitting it from there.  But the sun was shining, I was feeling like attacking roads with cars and such...  And so we did.  We only went 10.16 miles - finishing off with "the hill" that starts at Palouse Highway and 57th and ends 270 feet from my front door.  Ugh.  It felt fantastic (my new workout has really helped my leg strength so much so that I was not noodle-y when I disembarked the two wheel vehicle) and I was thinking how great it would be if Sunday came around and the sun was shining again... though hopefully a tad warmer than the 34 degrees we rode in the day before.

Well.  Punxsutawney Phil is clearly struggling with his vision in his old, old, old... VERY old age.  For when I awakened on Sunday morning - with a tad of a headache again, I was thinking that the fresh air was going to help me clear that all up again.  Not to be.  Instead, there was an inch of snow on the ground.  Not only that - while the sun was shining BRIGHT - it was not warming up in the slightest to help aid its' melting.  Apparently Mother Nature and Phil do not coordinate before the announcement is made that spring is on the way or that there's 6 more weeks of winter.  

We changed up the plan for the day and ended up having #7, his girlfriend #10 and her folks over for dinner last night.  Wack exited shortly after they arrived to hang out with other college kids that also came into town for the long weekend.  We ate, chatted, talked, laughed, showed incriminating photos and forgot about the snow, the colder temperatures and whether or not we got "punk'd" by the groundhog.

I pulled up the weather app on i5 today and she sports snow Friday through Sunday.  This coming... Friday THRU Sunday.  That's crap.  In a sue happy world... I'm sure there's a way to sue Phil & Co.  Right?  Someone with more time than I care to spend looking into it will eventually do this.  Probably some  "Horrendous Bride" or "Nightmare Brides" or whatever that show is called when it interferes with her February or March wedding.  I called it here first if that ever happens.  Just sayin'.  

Hunk & Kiss! ~ Happy Valentines Day!

With the arrival of each little boy in our family... or rather the arrival of them learning how to talk - came several "kid" coined phrases that we just have never let die.  They were dang adorable then - and each time we use one of them - and we still use them, we get to smile and laugh because of the memories behind it.  I may not remember exact days, or times they said these phrases - but I can *hear* their voices like it was yesterday, see them (one of them anyhow) spitting out his fuddy (that's a "pacifier" to the rest of you) making their comments and carrying on.

Okay - when I say "we" still use them, I mean of course, The Dad and I.  The kids wouldn't be caught dead using them.

Gobby:  A "gobby" is a blanky (blanket) that Wack needed to have at bed time.  Sort of like the "wooby" in "Mr. Mom".

Muk:  This is actually "milk".  Though we don't use this one as much as the rest.

Prelly:  This was used with the word "much"...  "Prelly much."  Somehow the "t" sound was lost in pretty.  

Gag:  Uhhh... this is code for "Dad".  It's not the most complimentary way to say "dad" but it's what #7 came up with early on.  He didn't call him "gag" or "gaggy" for too long, but it stuck, much to The Dads' liking.

Bean: This is what #7 called "Wayne" - and it sort of fits him.  We use this one occasionally with Wayne, who hates making the blog, just to poke fun at him.  Right Bean?  I mean, Wayne?

Mean Bad Guys:  These are all of the "pirates" on the ride "Pirates of the Caribbean" at Disneyland.  Wack was 2 1/2 the first time we went down there and though he had spent WEEKS watching a complimentary vacation video of Disneyland and looooooved that ride in the video - the most... once we rode the ride, it was near impossible to get Wack on any. other. ride. during the trip.

Boo:  This is not actually the word "boo", as if to scare someone... this was Blue Eyes' word for... well... nevermind.

There are more - but none more deserving of mentioning today, Valentines Day, than - "Hunk & Kiss".  Somehow "hug and kiss" found it's way out of the mouths of babes as "hunk and kiss"...  

So today - I'd like to blow a "hunk & kiss" to J, J, R, Z, Snooze, Lane and all of these little puppies...

http://www.ustream.tv/exploreWCCServicePuppyNurseryCam

Prelly please can I have one gag?  Prelly pleaseeee.....

I Hope "The Newsroom" Covers "The Dorner Debacle"

"The Newsroom" on HBO became a quick favorite last year when it entered prime time television - at least it did so in our house.  It's a drama series about a newsroom (go figure) and the processes, verifications, sources, lies, deceit, etc, that the staff must go through before Will McAvoy (Jeff Daniels) goes on air to report.  He's a top news personality and being the first to break a big story is of course the goal.  There's an episode from last year, the first season - where they are about to go live with a breaking story and the crew has not yet confirmed a lead or source.  As you watch, Will is struggling with what to do:  Tell the story, albeit minus confirmation and get the ratings, or be honest with "the people" and take it in the rear from the boss for responsible reporting.  It's a show with love triangles and back stabbing of course, but it's also a show with integrity.  

I didn't really follow the shooting of Monica Quan (Al Sharpton of MSNBC called her Michelle Quan on air yesterday... you know, the ice skating champion?) or her fiance when it broke.  In fact, I didn't read anything about it until last Thursday when Dorner shot at 3 police officers, killing one of them and then fleeing. (I should say "allegedly" but... I mean, at this point... really?)  I briefly read whatever there was on CNN.com and then on Friday - delved into "the manifesto".  Honestly, I thought the first 11 pages read pretty "sane."  The last several where he mentioned a bunch of TV personalities and celebrities - felt like they had been later added by him.  As if he had calmly, over time, written the information about his processes, firing, etc and then, when it came time for him to carry out his plan (I guess?) he just started randomly adding things to it.  Regardless - I didn't jump on his bandwagon, but I was leaning toward believing he had been a victim of the LAPD for being a "whistleblower".  So there's that.  

So then - like the "Laci Peterson" story and the O.J. Simpson chase - I found myself following the goings on - only this time, not on my rear on the couch with the television on, but rather on the Twitterverse.  I read many of the posts and shook my head - a lot.  So much drama and reaction and people who know someones cousin, whose sisters best friends' uncle works with the nephew of a girl who knows a guy Christopher Dorner used to play racquetball with.  That kind of stuff.  Pshhh...

I told The Dad about it on Saturday - he hadn't read anything and barely heard anything about any of it at that point.  I knew if The Dad read it and told me that it was just that side of me that fights for vindication and the little guy, people being wronged and to not read anything more - that I would feel embarrassed for being so gullible.  But he read it amidst everything that was then (Sunday) currently airing about the forces leaving Big Bear, believing Mr. Dorner had now fled into Mexico with the help of an accomplice, and started posing questions much like I was.  We both wholeheartedly agree the guy was not doing any good - but at the same time, neither was the LAPD (shooting, without any warning at  71 and 46 hispanic <?> women delivering the newspaper.).

I was really NOT going to write anything about this - until this morning when I read that "they" had found his wallet and drivers license in the burned out cabin.  Okay - they found his wallet at the Mexican border with his ID's  - specifically at the San Ysidro Point of Entry, the Los Angeles Times reported - AND the police did not dispute, last Thursday, or Friday.

See Section 7, Paragraph (b.)

They did NOT enter the burning cabin for several hours because it burned so hot.  Again - if he was burned beyond recognition - how did his wallet and ID's stay in tact?  And how did he retrieve them from the authorities down by the mexican border?  

I was heading out yesterday afternoon to mail a few valentines packages and picked up my phone and saw some tweets that they had found Dorner.  I made the mistake of turning on the TV and watching...  I was watching as ALL of the news helicopters were asked to leave the area, stop filming as the suspect might be aided by their position and on air filming.  But at the EXACT same time, the son of the cabin owner had called and told the stations that there was no cable, phone or internet access at the remote cabin.  And really...  when 200 police officers have you surrounded, are you going to be watching TV?  

There's so much of this that doesn't make sense and we will never know.  We do know, however, by the many many people listening to scanners - that they set fire to the cabin.  There was an official tweet that has since been pulled that stated a sniper killed Christopher Dorner, shooting him in the right temple shortly before the billowing black smoke filled the air.  

What was so apparent was that every station and news website clearly wanted to be the first to air "BREAKING NEWS" and most of them didn't care if they aired false or unconfirmed information.  Shouldn't we, with technology, schooling, improvements to everything that exists as time goes on - be able to get solid, honest, news reporting?  

Furthermore, Al Sharpton, who sounded inebriated in the broadcast yesterday - spoke to a Dr. Jenn Berman who stated that Dorner was now a madman.  He had gone over the edge and would shoot, kill anyone "at this point" - of that she felt certain.  Though he did not shoot the people he tied up, whose car he stole... nor did he shoot the man whose truck he carjacked.  Yes, frighteningly enough he pointed the gun at the car, but according to the carjack victim, Rick Heltebrake, Dorner told him he wasn't going to hurt him, he just needed his truck.  Heltebrake said he asked if he could get his dog out of the car and Dorner told him he could.  I believe this shows his intentions clearly, were to only engage in "battle" with law enforcement.

He killed people and should have either been apprehended and served the rest of his life in prison or on death row, OR killed in gun battle.  Instead - what many considered would happen - happened.  He was killed.  Perhaps by sniper, likely the fire set to cover that all up, and like the glove planting in the O.J. case all of those years ago - someone, planted a second wallet and ID in a burned out, collapsed cabin, next to a burned beyond recognition body believing that everyone in the entire world watching wouldn't remember the first wallet and ID AND that magically, those things alone survived the intensely hot fire.  We the people, according to the LA law enforcement, are all THAT stupid.

For a guy that was smiling in every photo you've seen, a guy that returned $8,000 in cash found on the side of the road, who held degrees and service awards and was advised by a friend NOT to apply with the LAPD - who then became a whistleblower for all that he felt was still wrong (after the supposed department cleanup after Rodney King) - he died a hunted man's death with his mother watching at a bar, eating chips and salsa.  

Honest, legitimate reporting long gone.  Right to a trial by a jury of ones' peers?  Laughable.  Oh... and that million dollar reward?  The woman who broke free and called 911 doesn't get it.  The man who was carjacked and called authorities doesn't get it. Why?  Because Dorner was not "captured and convicted".  Which must mean they never had the intention of letting him live.  They knew they'd get out of having to pay the reward simply by expiring him.  

It's beyond unfortunate he felt this was his only recourse.  It's awful he took innocent lives.  It's embarrassing the LAPD shot at innocent people without making sure they weren't, in fact, remotely resembling the suspect OR his vehicle.  It's ridiculous, apparently, for us to expect accurate reporting.  It's hard to trust law enforcement when the way and timing of the house fire and the commands for the "burn" are glaring.  Every single aspect about this, including the top commando who wouldn't leave his house for a week...  It's just all "icky".  

This is the world we live in.   

Do You Hear What I Hear?

PART I

Obviously you don't, unless you live on the same mountain as me.  Today, I arrived home from the gym, and as I walked out to retrieve the empty garbage bin - I could hear it coming from up somewhere on the mountain.  

"bu bu bu bu bu bu bu bu bu" pause "bu bu bu bu bu bu bu bu bu" 

Repeat... repeat... repeat.  The JACKHAMMER!  Our house is not the only house that apparently requires Avistas' enlisted jackhammer crew to aid in the replacement of the whatever it is pipe that needs replacing.  I found myself semi-excited about this - until now, several hours later, that jackhammer is still going.  Not a good sign.

PART II

Tonight - you CAN hear Blue Eyes, back at it on your computer.  Visit KUGR.wsu.edu between 8 and 10p for some Cougar Sports Talk.  Not only will Blue Eyes and his partner Alex talk about local sports and big sports stories in general... Blue Eyes connected with former ESPN analyst as well as former Coug Cindy Brunson on the Twitterverse this week after hearing she would be speaking in one of his classes to see if she would be willing to come visit with them where she also once hosted a radio show... 

So give them a listen and follow them on Twitter!  Next week, they've got Brock Motum making a guest appearance!  WTG Blue Eyes!  Keep it up!

Knock Knock... Who's There?

I came home after The Dad one day last week and while I was closing the shades and turning on the front porch light I saw a few sheets on the table that I knew were not there when I'd left - as I had straightened up prior to leaving the house.  I asked The Dad - "What's that?" 

The Dad:  "I don't know."

WOTY:  "You don't know?"

The Dad:  "Look at it."

I went over and picked up the three sheets of paper - printer paper.  They were articles printed out of The News Tribune and Seattle Times - articles about #7.  

So I shrug questioningly and look back at The Dad.

The Dad:  "They were on the front door when I got home."

WOTY:  "On the front porch? So someone stopped by and left them?"

The Dad:  "I guess."

Sure people have left things on our porch from time to time but generally, we know who left the "something" - either because they told us they left it or because we told them "If we're not home, go ahead and leave it on the porch."  Right?

The next day, as we woke up and went through the morning motions, vitamins, breakfast drinks, black cohosh, supplements... yada yada yada, I grabbed the papers again while we stood there and I commented while looking at them...

MotherBear: "It's like someone was searching him."

The Dad:  "I know."

MotherBear:  "If this person knew ME they'd know I already HAVE these articles.  But what's weird is that they are printed on two different (consecutive) days and one of the articles is 4 years old?"

The Dad:  "I know."

MotherBear:  "Weird."

The Dad:  "Ya."

Ahhhh The Dad is a man of few words.  But while he brushes much off, he appeared to be chewing on this as well.

I never had an imaginary friend when I was little - but I have QUITE an imagination and at present time, plenty of time to imagine things.  None of our friends have made mention that "Oh hey, I came across some articles of #7 in December and printed them off, left them on your door the other day." so then - now what?

Nothing, I guess.  Except that in an age where people are dressing like the cable guy or a utility employee and attacking homeowners when they open the door, there are daily shootings or murder-death-kills in The Can, fires, stabbings, robberies, old man storms a school bus and keeps a little boy in a bunker for 6 days...  The idea that someone "random?" (Random yet, knows where we live - not that that isn't easily searchable as well) was searching information or stories about MY #7 at a very particular time, printed them out and left them on our door several weeks later - is just weird.  No? So yes, I let my imagination and worry overtake me which is sure to shorten my lifespan. 

I hope whomever left them just completely, completely spaced calling or texting to say, "Oh hey, I came across some articles of #7 in December and printed them off, left them on your door the other day. I'm SURE you probably have them already, but just in case." and will eventually remember to perhaps do so.  Otherwise, my imagination leaves me no alternative than to assume you are like Robert De Niro in "The Fan".  And if you're like that - that means my SuperMom powers must be activated until further notice.  Sorry boys...  ;)

In other news:  No Avista, jackhammer sightings today...  AND... it's a big day.  Two months from today - Blue Eyes turns "21".  Hoo Ah!!!

A Full Four Days, Avista (again) & Mi Familia!

I didn't write anything on Friday - because I knew I just wasn't going to have time, what with Avista coming and replacing the pole out back (not in our yard) and my power was expected to be off and on.  So I raced to the gym, worked out for an hour - raced home, cleaned myself up, moved Zach's sheets from the washer to the dryer and had them dry and on his bed, ready for his 6'4" frame that night - all before 9AM.  I knew that while Avista had told The Dad between 8AM and Noon, I was told thrice by the locators and the one phone call I made that it would be between 9AM and 1PM.

They never came.  For 3 weeks there have been big white Avista trucks all over the mountain... except for on Fridays.  So I went to task on the rest of the house knowing Zach would be home later in the afternoon.  I vacuumed, washed, folded, did my bi-yearly ironing - yes, you read that right, cleaned the wood floors, emptied old food out of the fridge - I was exhausted by 4PM.  I sat down and turned on the TV, found nothing worth watching so bought a movie on OnDemand that wasn't worth the price I paid.  But it kept my attention while it needed to.  The Dad walked in at 4:33 - and Wack shortly thereafter.  We were going to take him to dinner and he had told his MOTY that he didn't have any plans when he was coming home... but then somewhere between Wednesday night and Friday on the drive home he connected with The Wizard (#7) and plans were hatched.  Shortly after he arrived in the house - he pulled his shorts off, put his jeans on - right there in the kitchen and took The Dads car keys and headed to Cheney.  Actually he followed us to 2 or 3 spots here up on the hill to have dinner with us first, but every spot was jam packed.  We gave him $$ for him to get something with #7 and off he went to Cheney.  For the night.  Clean sheets untouched.  Sad MOTY.

Saturday was mostly uneventful.  The house in order, Wack home from Cheney and downstairs studying, the four legged boys close under his feet - breathing in every  moment that they can with one of "their" boys and the clock just ticking until dinner time when I was going to get 2 of the 3 Minn Boyz at the table with us.  We dined at Clinkerdagger - had a great meal, great service, great table, great everything and then The Wizard took his truck and headed back to Cheney.  We all came home and while The Dad and I took in the GU game on TV, Wack strummed the guitar he left home after Christmas break, then played some Xbox.  While this was going on - I got a tweet BACK from the Darius Rucker which prompted me to liven up a little.  This has no real meaning to this post.  A while later, the front door handle jiggled and we figured it was Wack's friend.  Lo & behold, it was The Wiz.  He had taken a long drive in the fog to get from Cheney to The Can because of a picture Z-Man had posted while playing Xbox.  Home for the night.  That coupled with some ongoing texts from Blue Eyes down in Pullman - made my night as close to complete as it could get.  We went to bed, listening to the TV downstairs, a comedy show the boys were watching - and bellows of laughter every few minutes.  I haven't slept so sound in I don't know how long.

Sunday came.  Superbowl Sunday.  Breakfast made early and errands to run with Wack.  Home again, home again - until it was time to get him to the airport.  The elder boy had returned to his other home 20 minutes away and now I was having to part with the youngest after too little time.  Fortunately - there was the big game to divert my attention and waterworks.  I'll admit - I was rooting for the 9ers for two weeks until I saw the Harbaugh brothers meet on the field a few hours before the game.  Jim's demeanor towards his brother was, in my opinion, not acceptable - so I changed who I was rooting for at that point.  That said, the game ended on a good note for me.  But I don't really care and it's all in the past now.  I don't even care about the "lights" conspiracy either.  Dumb.

Monday.  Up and at 'em I hear big trucks.  I look out our front window and there they all are... just a few houses down.  But on the big truck there is only ONE pole.  That didn't make sense because there are TWO on this block that they had scouted.  Painted.  Trudged between houses.  Opened gates.  Painted bushes.  Knocked on the doors.  So The Dad comes home from work before lunch time to go ask them what their plan of attack was going to be for the pole between our house and our two neighbors.  The foreman tells him they aren't replacing our pole.  Even takes The Dad up to his truck to go through all of the paperwork.  

WOTY: "So that leaves me feeling uneasy.  Some "scouting" company for Avista has been up and down between the houses, in our backyard, knocking on our doors... and for no reason?"

The Dad:  "I guess so.  This is good news.  No losing power..."

WOTY:  "Yeh, but you hear about all of these criminals posing as power or utilities employees knocking on doors for home invasions or to scout the homes, see what they have in them."

The Dad:  "Obviously they were just confused."

WOTY:  "I'm calling Avista.  You can't just mess up like that.  And then for 3 weeks have me altering my schedule because they were going to be messing with my power.  Uh uh"

So I called Avista, told Kathleen that I don't want to be patched through to the foreman because I KNOW what he said his paperwork said - I  need to know what whoever makes the rules, plans, projects - that provides the paperwork TO the foreman says.  So Margie calls me back.  But Margie doesn't have the answer so she's going to call Mark and call me back.  She does this.  In short order actually.  (I won't say "because she's a woman" but it is because of that, to be sure.)  Mark says our pole is just getting a new ground wire and that's it.  In fact it may have already been done.  I never saw anyone back there - but, I didn't spend all day Friday looking for them either, once I hadn't seen a single truck on the mountain and gave up on them coming.  And then there was that 2 hour stint at the ironing board...  so they could have easily been missed.

We are still waiting for the whole "other" Avista project to commence.  The one where they jackhammer  out my stairs on the side of my house to replace some pipe.  Totally can't WAIT for that one.  Actually - I can.  Remember how Avista said the pole replacement would take 2-4 hours?  And I said (here) "if it's a normal, on the side of the road pole."  They were on our street at 8AM yesterday - and didn't close up, finish that one pole until 4:45PM.  Because of it's location.  So this whole 4 hour job for the pipe to be replaced - is EASILY going to be an 8 hour job.  No question.  Sadly - the warmer temperatures are showing to drop as the week goes on.  I could do without heat for 4 hours yesterday or today, maybe even tomorrow - though rain is forecast.  But Thursday and Friday and an entire day - notsomuch.  Though if the next two days come and go with no sign of Avista - I can be certain that I have nothing to worry about on Friday.  So there's that.

I could come up with more of nothing to write about - to help me stall doing the FAFSA or filing or bill paying - but with guests coming tomorrow - I really... really really really really really need to make an effort today to start of few of the "undesirable" jobs.  Today.  (I wrote that for myself so that I might actually make myself get to it.  Today.)  Yet I'm still sitting here...

And just noticed my calendar is on January.  That's one job I can do to today... right now - that will likely make me think of something else to do that will aid in helping me forget getting to the undesirables.  Over & out.