My generation can’t fix a damn thing. I’m not even talking about national debt or homelessness. Nothing as serious as that. We can barely unclog a drain. Don’t even thing about rebuilding a deck or replacing a window. I wish I were joking, but my generation is the one that would rather have handyman on speed dial than order those Sears’ home improvement books to re-grout their own bathroom.
Case in point, when one of my friends bought a condo, she asked me to come over to help install lights and put things up on the wall. Compared to her, I had more experience with the cordless drill and between the two of us, we managed to get everything installed. Even more impressive, everything was level and at the same height. When I told my dad about this, his response was, “Where did you learn to use a drill?” Trial and error on a number of rental units, as it turns out. I can almost always actually hit a nail with a hammer too, that’s how talented I am, and my current rental has the lack of holes and dents in the walls to prove it. (I subscribe to the belief that a wall is replaceable, my thumb is not.)
Many moons ago I was sort of seeing this guy who at the time was trying to impress me. Girls, don’t you wish the trying to impress you period lasted a bit longer? Anyway, while listing qualities that are impressive in the opposite sex, handiness and the ability to fix things came up. His response was, “How do you feel about someone who can afford to hire someone to do it right the first time?” That’ll work too. But I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that along with being good with kids, nothing impresses a girl quite as much as being able to fix things yourself.
While my generation has given way to calling the handyman, my dad’s generation can fix anything. They can also build anything. My dad is truly impressive that way. The one thing he’s not great with is cars. And that’s where my uncle comes in. He too, can fix and build anything. Including cars.
On a recent trip to Seattle, I noticed my car was making a horrible sound. I thought it was coming from a wheel well and sounded like the tire was rubbing against something. So I got down on my knees and looked around under the car. “Yup,” I thought to myself, “four tires and the undercarriage of a car. Just as I suspected.” Since the car still drove fine and didn’t smell I kept on driving since the alternative was spending time in Centrailia wondering what was wrong with my car. Luckily I was headed to my uncle’s house anyway and figured I’d ask him to take a look.
The whole reason for going to Seattle was because I was flying in and out of SeaTac on my way to Italy. My uncle drove my car to drop me off at the airport and confirmed my suspicion that it was the brakes. Of course, not having any idea where the brakes are on my car, I was really just guessing. Amazing fixer and wonderful uncle that he is, not only had he diagnosed the problem by the time I returned from Italy, he had replaced the brake and a U-joint or something. I may have tuned out the actual words once I realized it was fixed and I didn’t have to drive a car with a horrible sound or take it into a shop. I was just thrilled the problem was solved.
This whole story is to illustrate that my generation can’t fix a damn thing. I don’t know a single friend or their significant others who would have been able to diagnose a brake problem and then fix it. And when I’m the one who gets called in to drill holes and install light fixtures, something is seriously wrong.
Boys of my generation, if you want to really impress a girl, being able to fix something will get you huge points. Carhartts and a tool belt won’t hurt either.
May 18, 2011
April 29, 2011
Girls on the Run
One of the cool things about being a kid in a city like Portland is the sheer number and wide array of after school programs. My after school program typically consisted of doing the breakfast dishes and watching “Saved by the Bell.” One of the options for elementary school girls here in Ptown is called, “Girls On The Run,” where the girls train to run a 5-K race.
The program was looking for running buddies for the girls, ages 8-11, to help pace and encourage them. Being a runner myself, and believing that physical activity is incredibly important for kids, I signed up to be a running buddy. The time commitment is minimal, only one practice 5-K and then one race in June. Last night was our practice run, where we met our running buddies for the first time. It was raining and freezing cold but you couldn’t help but be affected by all the energy and excitement coming from those 240 girls.
I had the chance to talk to a number of other volunteer running buddies and the amazing thing is that most of them were just like me. There were a handful of teachers volunteering, but for the most part it was female runners volunteering their time and money to run with young girls. Few people had any ties with the schools or the girls, but everyone wanted to be a part of introducing a young girl to the amazingness that is running.
My buddy, Amya, was quite the runner. We ran the first ¾ of a mile without stopping once. We were previously warned to expect a lot of sprinting and walking, which turned out to be quite accurate. Amya like to sprint up the hills, which even this morning still baffles me. At first I was a little worried about what to talk to her about (I was prepared to bring up Justin Bieber if I got desperate), but I needn’t have worried. Amya was very interested in socializing with her friends and when she wasn’t doing that, could carry on a conversation by herself. The hardest part of the run was when she asked me what I did for work. How do you explain investment consulting to a 10-year old? She kept up a running chatter for the three miles and I learned that she is the oldest of five kids, her favorite part of fourth grade is PE, she’s going to sleep over camp this summer and her uncle doesn’t like people or dogs.
Parents, friends and siblings lined the running loop cheering every girl on. Encouragement came not only from the assigned running buddy, but from every other person in the park. Most of the other adult buddies I talked to were all volunteering for the first time, but I doubt it will be the last. Perhaps the most amazing part was the finish. It was enough to bring tears to the eyes of many adults. Watching the girls cross the finish, with cowbells and cheers ringing in the air, and a huge smile across their face was incredibly touching. They were so proud of themselves, and rightly so. Parents of the girls, tearing up themselves, had cameras flashing like crazy.
All that excitement and it was just a practice run! It’ll be exciting to run with the girls for their first real 5-K.
The program was looking for running buddies for the girls, ages 8-11, to help pace and encourage them. Being a runner myself, and believing that physical activity is incredibly important for kids, I signed up to be a running buddy. The time commitment is minimal, only one practice 5-K and then one race in June. Last night was our practice run, where we met our running buddies for the first time. It was raining and freezing cold but you couldn’t help but be affected by all the energy and excitement coming from those 240 girls.
I had the chance to talk to a number of other volunteer running buddies and the amazing thing is that most of them were just like me. There were a handful of teachers volunteering, but for the most part it was female runners volunteering their time and money to run with young girls. Few people had any ties with the schools or the girls, but everyone wanted to be a part of introducing a young girl to the amazingness that is running.
My buddy, Amya, was quite the runner. We ran the first ¾ of a mile without stopping once. We were previously warned to expect a lot of sprinting and walking, which turned out to be quite accurate. Amya like to sprint up the hills, which even this morning still baffles me. At first I was a little worried about what to talk to her about (I was prepared to bring up Justin Bieber if I got desperate), but I needn’t have worried. Amya was very interested in socializing with her friends and when she wasn’t doing that, could carry on a conversation by herself. The hardest part of the run was when she asked me what I did for work. How do you explain investment consulting to a 10-year old? She kept up a running chatter for the three miles and I learned that she is the oldest of five kids, her favorite part of fourth grade is PE, she’s going to sleep over camp this summer and her uncle doesn’t like people or dogs.
Parents, friends and siblings lined the running loop cheering every girl on. Encouragement came not only from the assigned running buddy, but from every other person in the park. Most of the other adult buddies I talked to were all volunteering for the first time, but I doubt it will be the last. Perhaps the most amazing part was the finish. It was enough to bring tears to the eyes of many adults. Watching the girls cross the finish, with cowbells and cheers ringing in the air, and a huge smile across their face was incredibly touching. They were so proud of themselves, and rightly so. Parents of the girls, tearing up themselves, had cameras flashing like crazy.
All that excitement and it was just a practice run! It’ll be exciting to run with the girls for their first real 5-K.
April 28, 2011
Life's A Journey
Way back in 2007, I took a trip to South Africa. While it was an amazing trip, the 20 hours on a plane each direction just about killed me. At that time I vowed that it would be a good long while until I took that kind of trip again. I’ve stuck to that and have only traveled within the US since then. The longest flight I’ve been on since then is to Hawaii, which since I live on the West Coast, is still only a fraction of the 20 hours it took to get to South Africa. This Sunday, that all changes when I board a plane to Italy.
I’m at the point where I’ve traveled enough that I enjoy the destination, but despise the journey to get there. I know, I know, Aerosmith’s “Amazing” tells us that “Life’s a journey, not a destination,” but I’m thinking they travel a little higher class than I do. They’re up there in those business class seats that recline into full on beds, (cot sized bets, but beds none the less) while I’m stuck in coach, trying to get comfortable in my 12 square inches of space and then debating on whether or not I wake the aisle person up so I can go to the restroom or can I wait until they wake up?
Since that brutal 2007 trip, I’ve invested in some necessary travel accessories. Perhaps the best investment was in a pair of Bose noise cancelling headphones. Crazy expensive yet crazy amazing and worth every penny. I’ve also acquired a plane pillow and a Kindle, both of which will be taking their inaugural trip to Italy with me. I’ve come to the realization that just like anything else you get serious about; it pays off to make some financial investments in travel gear. Just like most serious runners I know have a Garmin watch, most serious travelers I know have the noise cancelling headphones.
Regardless of how dreary I find plane travel, I am looking forward to this trip. It will be my mom’s first trip abroad, which for some reason is making me all the more excited. Although I’m not entirely sure that isn’t due to the fact that I don’t have to sit next to strangers on the plane. Best of all, we signed up for an 11 day tour, which means I didn’t have to plan a thing. At this point, I barely know where we’re even going, which is so unlike me. I’m not too worried though. After all, I have 13 hours on a plane to curl up with my Italian guide book.
I’m at the point where I’ve traveled enough that I enjoy the destination, but despise the journey to get there. I know, I know, Aerosmith’s “Amazing” tells us that “Life’s a journey, not a destination,” but I’m thinking they travel a little higher class than I do. They’re up there in those business class seats that recline into full on beds, (cot sized bets, but beds none the less) while I’m stuck in coach, trying to get comfortable in my 12 square inches of space and then debating on whether or not I wake the aisle person up so I can go to the restroom or can I wait until they wake up?
Since that brutal 2007 trip, I’ve invested in some necessary travel accessories. Perhaps the best investment was in a pair of Bose noise cancelling headphones. Crazy expensive yet crazy amazing and worth every penny. I’ve also acquired a plane pillow and a Kindle, both of which will be taking their inaugural trip to Italy with me. I’ve come to the realization that just like anything else you get serious about; it pays off to make some financial investments in travel gear. Just like most serious runners I know have a Garmin watch, most serious travelers I know have the noise cancelling headphones.
Regardless of how dreary I find plane travel, I am looking forward to this trip. It will be my mom’s first trip abroad, which for some reason is making me all the more excited. Although I’m not entirely sure that isn’t due to the fact that I don’t have to sit next to strangers on the plane. Best of all, we signed up for an 11 day tour, which means I didn’t have to plan a thing. At this point, I barely know where we’re even going, which is so unlike me. I’m not too worried though. After all, I have 13 hours on a plane to curl up with my Italian guide book.
April 13, 2011
Ripped in 30
I had the most amazing experience yesterday. I wish I could say that I wished upon a falling star and it came true or that I ran into Joel McHale and decided to leave his wife and kids for me, but no, this was a far more mundane amazing experience.
If you read this blog regularly (i.e. my friend Robyn) you know that I recently tried out Jillian Michaels 30-Day Shred workout video. I made it a solid two weeks before skipping a day and over time actually did the full 30 days. Like with all my good intentions, somewhere along the way life gets in the way and I had to skip a day here and there. It probably took me 40 days to get the 30 days in. I realized that the workout system she uses might be good for me when I repeatedly found myself selecting the toughest workout. Lucky for me, she came out with a new video in March that follows the same principles. So I bought it.
The new video is called “Ripped in 30,” and the best thing I can say about it is it freaking hurts. It works muscles I didn’t even know I had. And muscles that I thought I used regularly, but clearly didn’t use them up to Jillian’s standards. Thank goodness she recommends doing this 5-6 days a week, which is much more reasonable than 30 days in a row.
I’m on the Week 2 workout currently, which is where the most amazing thing happened. At one point during the workout you have to do spiderman pushups. She calls them something else, but essentially you do pushups while bringing one knee up and to the side (like you’re climbing a wall) while doing a pushup. So balancing on one leg, doing a pushup and doing a crazy oblique thing with your non-balancing leg. In full disclosure, I’m doing these particular pushups on my knees (girly, or modified, if you will) because they’re hard as hell. Two days ago I couldn’t do them. Yesterday, I was able to do them correctly and completely. I was pretty damn impressed with myself.
That was my amazing experience. That I was able to do something this difficult and intense when I couldn’t do it the day before. That’s what I love about Jillian’s work out videos. They hurt, make you want to die and/or throw up, but you see results and changes over short periods of time. Even when you’re lying in a sweaty heap after finishing the last set you feel empowered. I’m almost looking forward to doing those spiderman pushups tonight. Almost.
If you read this blog regularly (i.e. my friend Robyn) you know that I recently tried out Jillian Michaels 30-Day Shred workout video. I made it a solid two weeks before skipping a day and over time actually did the full 30 days. Like with all my good intentions, somewhere along the way life gets in the way and I had to skip a day here and there. It probably took me 40 days to get the 30 days in. I realized that the workout system she uses might be good for me when I repeatedly found myself selecting the toughest workout. Lucky for me, she came out with a new video in March that follows the same principles. So I bought it.
The new video is called “Ripped in 30,” and the best thing I can say about it is it freaking hurts. It works muscles I didn’t even know I had. And muscles that I thought I used regularly, but clearly didn’t use them up to Jillian’s standards. Thank goodness she recommends doing this 5-6 days a week, which is much more reasonable than 30 days in a row.
I’m on the Week 2 workout currently, which is where the most amazing thing happened. At one point during the workout you have to do spiderman pushups. She calls them something else, but essentially you do pushups while bringing one knee up and to the side (like you’re climbing a wall) while doing a pushup. So balancing on one leg, doing a pushup and doing a crazy oblique thing with your non-balancing leg. In full disclosure, I’m doing these particular pushups on my knees (girly, or modified, if you will) because they’re hard as hell. Two days ago I couldn’t do them. Yesterday, I was able to do them correctly and completely. I was pretty damn impressed with myself.
That was my amazing experience. That I was able to do something this difficult and intense when I couldn’t do it the day before. That’s what I love about Jillian’s work out videos. They hurt, make you want to die and/or throw up, but you see results and changes over short periods of time. Even when you’re lying in a sweaty heap after finishing the last set you feel empowered. I’m almost looking forward to doing those spiderman pushups tonight. Almost.
The Amazing Friend(s)
Growing up in a small town is different from growing up in a city in a number of ways. Where you find your friends is a major one of those differences. I remember talking to my boss early on in my working career and she was talking about her kids’ friends. They had friends from after school clubs and athletic teams and from places and activities I didn’t even know existed. As a kid, I had friends from school. There were 50 of us in the class and 30 miles to the next small town, so you were mostly friends with the people you went to school with K-12.
The good thing about small town friends is you’ve known each other forever. The bad thing is you’ve known each other forever. It’s too easy to be placed in or put other people in a box of how you think they act or what they believe. It’s hard to make changes in yourself. And there are very few other people to be friends with, because there are so few people in the area.
I remember sitting in a class in junior high once and somebody saying how they were sure that these people were going to be the best friends they’d ever have. I remember realizing that while I might maintain friendships with these people, I was still looking for the truly great friends. I longed for those types of friends. I knew other people that had amazing friends from college and at the time, I suspected that this is where my best friends in the world would come from. I longed for those types of friends. I enjoyed the people I met in college and still keep in touch with my friends from that era, but it’s the friends I’ve made post college that are my favorite and most treasured friends.
Recently I met up with some friends from grad school. Many classes, thousands of dollars and a few years later, four of us still get together regularly. We had so much fun at dinner the other night the waitresses actually asked if we really had to go because we were such a fun table. We’ve been through grad school, break ups, divorces and babies together. What is perhaps even more amazing and special about these friends is that no topic is off limits. My friends have been very open about their divorces and what they’re going through which has been very educational. (And makes me an even firmer believer in the pre-nup.) It’s fun to hassle the lone guy about his dates post-divorce, and pepper him with questions like we would do a girlfriend.
There are also the friends I’ve met through work. The friend that constantly challenges me to go outside of my comfort zone. The friend that I can call at 2 am if needed and the first thing they said would be, “where are you, I’m grabbing my keys.” The friends that share your hobbies and passions like baking and crafts. The friend that lets her kids be a faux niece and nephew to you because those kids are so freaking awesome it doesn’t matter that there isn’t actually a blood relation. The friends, and their significant others, who let you visit frequently.
It’s nice to realize so many years later that amazing friends are out there. You might not find these friends when you’re five or fifteen. It might take twenty-five years. But it’s pretty spectacular when it happens.
The good thing about small town friends is you’ve known each other forever. The bad thing is you’ve known each other forever. It’s too easy to be placed in or put other people in a box of how you think they act or what they believe. It’s hard to make changes in yourself. And there are very few other people to be friends with, because there are so few people in the area.
I remember sitting in a class in junior high once and somebody saying how they were sure that these people were going to be the best friends they’d ever have. I remember realizing that while I might maintain friendships with these people, I was still looking for the truly great friends. I longed for those types of friends. I knew other people that had amazing friends from college and at the time, I suspected that this is where my best friends in the world would come from. I longed for those types of friends. I enjoyed the people I met in college and still keep in touch with my friends from that era, but it’s the friends I’ve made post college that are my favorite and most treasured friends.
Recently I met up with some friends from grad school. Many classes, thousands of dollars and a few years later, four of us still get together regularly. We had so much fun at dinner the other night the waitresses actually asked if we really had to go because we were such a fun table. We’ve been through grad school, break ups, divorces and babies together. What is perhaps even more amazing and special about these friends is that no topic is off limits. My friends have been very open about their divorces and what they’re going through which has been very educational. (And makes me an even firmer believer in the pre-nup.) It’s fun to hassle the lone guy about his dates post-divorce, and pepper him with questions like we would do a girlfriend.
There are also the friends I’ve met through work. The friend that constantly challenges me to go outside of my comfort zone. The friend that I can call at 2 am if needed and the first thing they said would be, “where are you, I’m grabbing my keys.” The friends that share your hobbies and passions like baking and crafts. The friend that lets her kids be a faux niece and nephew to you because those kids are so freaking awesome it doesn’t matter that there isn’t actually a blood relation. The friends, and their significant others, who let you visit frequently.
It’s nice to realize so many years later that amazing friends are out there. You might not find these friends when you’re five or fifteen. It might take twenty-five years. But it’s pretty spectacular when it happens.
March 27, 2011
Twenty Minutes of Terror
"Ready? Dive." I took one last gulp of air and began swimming towards the bottom of the lake. It got darker and murkier with each kick. Once on the bottom of the lake: one, two, three full strokes and then I began kicking my way back to the surface. Once there, those of us in the water lined up with the person on the dock. "Ready? Dive." I kicked my way back to the bottom of the lake. I'd done this dozens of times this summer, but this time was different. This time, with each stroke, I was praying I wouldn't find a body.
I was fifteen when my mom dragged me to the town swimming pool to get me a job. I found the manager terrifying. But I got the job. I don't even remember having to prove I could swim. I ended up spending the next three summers doing what I discovered was the best summer job in town. I got to sit outside all day getting a tan. And making sure no one drowned. Most days, the toughest part of my job was talking a kid into retrieving my whistle when I inevitably lost control of swinging it around my fingers and sent it flying over the fence or in the pool.
As easy as my job was, by the time August rolled around, I was ready to be done working and go back to school. I found myself longing for the days when I could wear underwear instead of a swimsuit. By mid-August, I begin fervently wishing for a lightening storm so we could close the pool down for the afternoon. None the less, a summer in a wet swimsuit beat working the deli at the grocery store or doing trail repair for the forest service.
It wasn't until I was trying to decide what to do the summer after high school graduation that I realized just how great a gig lifeguarding was. Not only was it something that came easy to me, and wasn't difficult, it turns out it was something you could do anywhere. I ended up with a job lifeguarding on a lake for a summer camp in upstate New York in the summer of 1999.
This was the first time I'd lifeguarded on anything other that a swimming pool. My first day, we had to swim the length of the lake. It was man made and luckily it wasn't huge. Also lucky for me, I had stuffed a swim suit into my carry on bag when I flew out to NY. The airline lost my luggage and the only change of clothes I had was my swimsuit. For three days. The major difference between a lake and a pool is obviously the visibility. There are also no lane lines to follow and I can see the fish and seaweed that I'm trying to pretend isn't in the lake.
The other major difference about working at the camp in New York were the kids I was lifeguarding for. In the pool where I grew up, most of the kids could swim. It was eye opening to be around inner city kids that had rarely been in water outside of the bathtub. I found myself jumping in that lake after more kids on my first day than I ever had in three summers at the pool. These kids really could not swim. And didn't realize that they could not swim. I quickly learned to only wear clothes to the lake that could get wet because chances were that I was jumping in unexpectedly.
Because there were so many kids down at the lake at one time, we had buddy calls every few minutes and would count the pairs of kids in the water. More often than not, the count matched what it was supposed to be and everyone went on swimming. Occasionally the number was off and we found ourselves racing for the water to find a missing kid. The majority of the time of the time this happened, we barely got in the water before the kids were found sitting on the beach.
Unfortunately the majority of the time wasn't every time and I found myself swimming along the bottom of the lake praying that I wouldn't find a body. Because by this point we'd been diving for so long that it was more likely a recovery mission. In between prayers, I was reviewing CPR in my head. We were almost to the point where we left the swimming area and started swimming the lake, continuing to looks for the kids' bodies when we got word that they'd been found. They had neglected to check out of the swimming area and were found in their cabin. Which when you're thinking you're going to find a body, was the best possible outcome.
It wasn't until I dragged myself out of the lake, emotionally exhausted, that I noticed half the camp sitting quietly on the hillside, watching us. The kids were obviously in trouble and had to make a very public apology to the ten of us that had been diving for them for the last twenty minutes. It wasn't until then that I realized how important this job was. It was more than getting a great tan. I was actually responsible for lives. To this day, those are still the most terrifying twenty minutes of my life.
I was fifteen when my mom dragged me to the town swimming pool to get me a job. I found the manager terrifying. But I got the job. I don't even remember having to prove I could swim. I ended up spending the next three summers doing what I discovered was the best summer job in town. I got to sit outside all day getting a tan. And making sure no one drowned. Most days, the toughest part of my job was talking a kid into retrieving my whistle when I inevitably lost control of swinging it around my fingers and sent it flying over the fence or in the pool.
As easy as my job was, by the time August rolled around, I was ready to be done working and go back to school. I found myself longing for the days when I could wear underwear instead of a swimsuit. By mid-August, I begin fervently wishing for a lightening storm so we could close the pool down for the afternoon. None the less, a summer in a wet swimsuit beat working the deli at the grocery store or doing trail repair for the forest service.
It wasn't until I was trying to decide what to do the summer after high school graduation that I realized just how great a gig lifeguarding was. Not only was it something that came easy to me, and wasn't difficult, it turns out it was something you could do anywhere. I ended up with a job lifeguarding on a lake for a summer camp in upstate New York in the summer of 1999.
This was the first time I'd lifeguarded on anything other that a swimming pool. My first day, we had to swim the length of the lake. It was man made and luckily it wasn't huge. Also lucky for me, I had stuffed a swim suit into my carry on bag when I flew out to NY. The airline lost my luggage and the only change of clothes I had was my swimsuit. For three days. The major difference between a lake and a pool is obviously the visibility. There are also no lane lines to follow and I can see the fish and seaweed that I'm trying to pretend isn't in the lake.
The other major difference about working at the camp in New York were the kids I was lifeguarding for. In the pool where I grew up, most of the kids could swim. It was eye opening to be around inner city kids that had rarely been in water outside of the bathtub. I found myself jumping in that lake after more kids on my first day than I ever had in three summers at the pool. These kids really could not swim. And didn't realize that they could not swim. I quickly learned to only wear clothes to the lake that could get wet because chances were that I was jumping in unexpectedly.
Because there were so many kids down at the lake at one time, we had buddy calls every few minutes and would count the pairs of kids in the water. More often than not, the count matched what it was supposed to be and everyone went on swimming. Occasionally the number was off and we found ourselves racing for the water to find a missing kid. The majority of the time of the time this happened, we barely got in the water before the kids were found sitting on the beach.
Unfortunately the majority of the time wasn't every time and I found myself swimming along the bottom of the lake praying that I wouldn't find a body. Because by this point we'd been diving for so long that it was more likely a recovery mission. In between prayers, I was reviewing CPR in my head. We were almost to the point where we left the swimming area and started swimming the lake, continuing to looks for the kids' bodies when we got word that they'd been found. They had neglected to check out of the swimming area and were found in their cabin. Which when you're thinking you're going to find a body, was the best possible outcome.
It wasn't until I dragged myself out of the lake, emotionally exhausted, that I noticed half the camp sitting quietly on the hillside, watching us. The kids were obviously in trouble and had to make a very public apology to the ten of us that had been diving for them for the last twenty minutes. It wasn't until then that I realized how important this job was. It was more than getting a great tan. I was actually responsible for lives. To this day, those are still the most terrifying twenty minutes of my life.
March 22, 2011
How Much??
The other day I decided to look up the current cost of the college where I got my undergraduate degree. Linfield now costs over $39,000 a year for tuition, room and board, etc. That is significantly more than I paid to go there. My entire MBA didn’t even cost that much! After I got over the shock of how much the price tag for my undergraduate degree had gone up since I was there, I decided that I was pretty glad I was done with all my higher education.
I mentioned the recent tuition number to a friend who had also attended Linfield. She also voiced the thought that it’s a good thing we’re already done with that. Although, if we were paying that price now, we’d be much younger. Which got me thinking, is it better to be 30 or 18?
Most likely an 18-year old out say 18 without hesitating. But with birthdays comes wisdom. The main bonus of being 18 that I can think of is that your metabolism still runs. That is the only thing I could think of to go in the pro side of being 18 again. At 30, I’m done with school, I live on my own, have a disposable income, can do what I want when I want, can go to a bar, and don’t need anyone’s permission for anything. There is something to be said for that kind of freedom. My car is also significantly nicer than the one I drove at 18.
You spend your twenties discovering who you are and becoming comfortable in your own skin. You make lifelong friends in your twenties. You get to make poor decisions and have them only affect you (not a family). So many positive things happened in my twenties that I’m excited to keep moving forward, and have no desire to back in time. Being comfortable with yourself makes you a much happier person.
Seeing the current price tag of college made me very glad that I’m out of that phase of my life. Although it did make me wonder if I should start a college savings account for any possible future children before I had them. With birthdays, you get not only wisdom but responsibility. But at the end of the day, it’s still awfully good to be 30.
I mentioned the recent tuition number to a friend who had also attended Linfield. She also voiced the thought that it’s a good thing we’re already done with that. Although, if we were paying that price now, we’d be much younger. Which got me thinking, is it better to be 30 or 18?
Most likely an 18-year old out say 18 without hesitating. But with birthdays comes wisdom. The main bonus of being 18 that I can think of is that your metabolism still runs. That is the only thing I could think of to go in the pro side of being 18 again. At 30, I’m done with school, I live on my own, have a disposable income, can do what I want when I want, can go to a bar, and don’t need anyone’s permission for anything. There is something to be said for that kind of freedom. My car is also significantly nicer than the one I drove at 18.
You spend your twenties discovering who you are and becoming comfortable in your own skin. You make lifelong friends in your twenties. You get to make poor decisions and have them only affect you (not a family). So many positive things happened in my twenties that I’m excited to keep moving forward, and have no desire to back in time. Being comfortable with yourself makes you a much happier person.
Seeing the current price tag of college made me very glad that I’m out of that phase of my life. Although it did make me wonder if I should start a college savings account for any possible future children before I had them. With birthdays, you get not only wisdom but responsibility. But at the end of the day, it’s still awfully good to be 30.
March 21, 2011
Learning to Travel
As a kid, I did all my traveling with my family. Obviously. My mom made us take a mandatory family vacation every summer. I have strong memories of me being a surly teenager, sitting in the back of the minivan with my head phones on for the entire trip. I also have memories of the things we actually did and saw and at this age, can appreciate all that my mom did to make these trips happen. I’ve seen a lot of places in the western half of the US due to my mom’s annual family vacation requirement. Perhaps most importantly, I learned how to travel.
My brother and I are champion road-trippers. We can drive all day long, only stopping at rest stops and gas stations. I credit this to my parents doing long road trips with us when we were little. I remember briefly waking up when my parents buckled my seat belt at 4am so we could begin driving to Canada. I’d promptly fall back asleep and wake up when it was day light. We had a Subaru wagon back then and of course my brother and I had the usual fights about his stuff always creeping onto my side of the car. The middle section of the backseat was obviously mine. I was older, and at that time, bigger. End of discussion. My folks would probably tell you that was far from the end of the discussion (hence the next car being a minivan with separate seats).
The thing about long road trips is eventually you get good at them. You learn how to entertain yourself in a car for hours on end. You learn that it takes as long as it takes to get somewhere and asking “are we there yet,” and irritating your dad is not going to make the trip go any faster. You also learn not to smack your gum because it will immediately go out the window. Ahh, childhood travel memories.
Eventually I graduated on to doing trips with friends. In high school I got to go to Missoula for shopping and movies, to Schweitzer to go skiing, to Silver Mountain to see a concert, etc. At one point, I got to do an overnight trip, but that was because we were visiting a college campus and our parents were tired of driving us all over the place.
In college I did my first multi day road trips with friends. Eventually once I started working and had some disposable income, I did some overseas trips with friends. This is where I learned how important it is to be a good traveler. When you’re on a plane for twenty hours, even inflight movies get old at some point. And you’re going to be annoyed by the people you’re traveling with. At some point during my childhood, I realized that my parents had somehow abolished (too much) whining while traveling. I also learned that not everyone had this particular travel skill.
Oddly enough, I’ve come full travel circle. In May, I’m taking a trip to Italy. With my mom. Part of me feels like I’m regressing a bit. After all, you’re supposed to travel with your parents when you’re 3, not when you’re 30. But at this point, I’ve actually traveled more than my mom. Or at least to farther destinations. And there is something to be said for having a relationship with your mom that you don’t hesitate to spend almost two weeks together traveling.
I’ve been on the hunt for a new travel buddy the past few years. All my friends got married and started families, which makes it difficult for them to go bum around a foreign country for a couple weeks a year. In a way it makes sense to go back to traveling with the person who taught me to travel in the first place. And we’ll be in Italy! Tough to argue with that.
My brother and I are champion road-trippers. We can drive all day long, only stopping at rest stops and gas stations. I credit this to my parents doing long road trips with us when we were little. I remember briefly waking up when my parents buckled my seat belt at 4am so we could begin driving to Canada. I’d promptly fall back asleep and wake up when it was day light. We had a Subaru wagon back then and of course my brother and I had the usual fights about his stuff always creeping onto my side of the car. The middle section of the backseat was obviously mine. I was older, and at that time, bigger. End of discussion. My folks would probably tell you that was far from the end of the discussion (hence the next car being a minivan with separate seats).
The thing about long road trips is eventually you get good at them. You learn how to entertain yourself in a car for hours on end. You learn that it takes as long as it takes to get somewhere and asking “are we there yet,” and irritating your dad is not going to make the trip go any faster. You also learn not to smack your gum because it will immediately go out the window. Ahh, childhood travel memories.
Eventually I graduated on to doing trips with friends. In high school I got to go to Missoula for shopping and movies, to Schweitzer to go skiing, to Silver Mountain to see a concert, etc. At one point, I got to do an overnight trip, but that was because we were visiting a college campus and our parents were tired of driving us all over the place.
In college I did my first multi day road trips with friends. Eventually once I started working and had some disposable income, I did some overseas trips with friends. This is where I learned how important it is to be a good traveler. When you’re on a plane for twenty hours, even inflight movies get old at some point. And you’re going to be annoyed by the people you’re traveling with. At some point during my childhood, I realized that my parents had somehow abolished (too much) whining while traveling. I also learned that not everyone had this particular travel skill.
Oddly enough, I’ve come full travel circle. In May, I’m taking a trip to Italy. With my mom. Part of me feels like I’m regressing a bit. After all, you’re supposed to travel with your parents when you’re 3, not when you’re 30. But at this point, I’ve actually traveled more than my mom. Or at least to farther destinations. And there is something to be said for having a relationship with your mom that you don’t hesitate to spend almost two weeks together traveling.
I’ve been on the hunt for a new travel buddy the past few years. All my friends got married and started families, which makes it difficult for them to go bum around a foreign country for a couple weeks a year. In a way it makes sense to go back to traveling with the person who taught me to travel in the first place. And we’ll be in Italy! Tough to argue with that.
February 23, 2011
Thank You, ESPN
In my mind, documentaries have always been synonymous with the really boring shows my dad always watched on the History Channel when I was growing up. As a teenager, ancient black and white film footage about weaponry of the past 600 years was not exactly how I wanted to spend my TV time. Although looking back I’m hesitant to argue that hours of MTV’s The Real World was a better decision.
While I rarely choose to watch a documentary, if there is something I’ve gotten interested in then I’ll watch the documentary. Okay fine, I’ve willingly watched one about the 1996 disaster on Mt. Everest. I’d read about it and then decided to watch National Geographic’s documentary. I even used a Netflix movie (not streaming) for that one. For me, documentaries are like non-fiction. There are the few you have to read (i.e. The Big Short, Freakonomics, etc.), but for the most part I avoided them. After being inspired by a guy I used to know to branch out of my fiction glut, I discovered that I enjoyed biographies. The trick with non-fiction, and apparently documentaries, is to find something you’re interested in.
Thus, I am happy to say that I have recently discovered the amazingness that is the documentary. Thank you, ESPN. Why am I not surprised that it was ESPN who tricked me into documentaries? That channel is the reason I’m constantly tempted to pay for cable.
A few rainy Saturday’s ago, I was puttering around the house with the TV on for company. At first, I didn’t even know what I was watching, but I unexpectedly found myself stopping whatever it was I was doing and sitting down to watch this show. I didn’t even read a book while watching, which is a feat for me. It was a show about SMU (Southern Methodist University) getting the “Death Penalty” in college football back in the 80’s. I’d never even heard of SMU or the death penalty (other than in the usual sense) and found myself barely moving for the next two hours, desperate to know how this all turned out.
Eventually I figured out that this show was a product of ESPN, something they called “30 for 30.” I had no idea what this was but wanted to know if there were more. As it turns out, there are loads of them done over the past couple years. And lucky for me, Netflix has the whole gamut of 30 for 30 documentaries. Last weekend I watched, “The U.” Finally I understood what my guy friends were talking about when discussing “The Miami Rule.” Just like the SMU film, I was fascinated and enthralled for the entire running time. There are at least 10 more of these in my Netflix queue. All at the top.
Apparently I’m not only a sucker for sports, I’m a sucker for documentaries about sports. My next 30 for 30 leaves my documentary comfort zone of college football, so hopefully I’ll find it just as interesting. Who would have that that there were interesting documentaries out there? While I’m still not tempted to sit down and watch the History Channel, at least now I appreciate a good sports documentary. Thank you, ESPN.
While I rarely choose to watch a documentary, if there is something I’ve gotten interested in then I’ll watch the documentary. Okay fine, I’ve willingly watched one about the 1996 disaster on Mt. Everest. I’d read about it and then decided to watch National Geographic’s documentary. I even used a Netflix movie (not streaming) for that one. For me, documentaries are like non-fiction. There are the few you have to read (i.e. The Big Short, Freakonomics, etc.), but for the most part I avoided them. After being inspired by a guy I used to know to branch out of my fiction glut, I discovered that I enjoyed biographies. The trick with non-fiction, and apparently documentaries, is to find something you’re interested in.
Thus, I am happy to say that I have recently discovered the amazingness that is the documentary. Thank you, ESPN. Why am I not surprised that it was ESPN who tricked me into documentaries? That channel is the reason I’m constantly tempted to pay for cable.
A few rainy Saturday’s ago, I was puttering around the house with the TV on for company. At first, I didn’t even know what I was watching, but I unexpectedly found myself stopping whatever it was I was doing and sitting down to watch this show. I didn’t even read a book while watching, which is a feat for me. It was a show about SMU (Southern Methodist University) getting the “Death Penalty” in college football back in the 80’s. I’d never even heard of SMU or the death penalty (other than in the usual sense) and found myself barely moving for the next two hours, desperate to know how this all turned out.
Eventually I figured out that this show was a product of ESPN, something they called “30 for 30.” I had no idea what this was but wanted to know if there were more. As it turns out, there are loads of them done over the past couple years. And lucky for me, Netflix has the whole gamut of 30 for 30 documentaries. Last weekend I watched, “The U.” Finally I understood what my guy friends were talking about when discussing “The Miami Rule.” Just like the SMU film, I was fascinated and enthralled for the entire running time. There are at least 10 more of these in my Netflix queue. All at the top.
Apparently I’m not only a sucker for sports, I’m a sucker for documentaries about sports. My next 30 for 30 leaves my documentary comfort zone of college football, so hopefully I’ll find it just as interesting. Who would have that that there were interesting documentaries out there? While I’m still not tempted to sit down and watch the History Channel, at least now I appreciate a good sports documentary. Thank you, ESPN.
February 21, 2011
Shock Therapy
I am a sucker for anything that promises results in a short period of time. Better abs in 10 workouts or less? Sold. Which is how I fell into the trap of Jillian Michael’s 30-Day Shred. She promises up to 20 lost pounds in 30 days. I’ve been a big fan of the Biggest Loser and hers for ages. So much so, that I occasionally daydream about eating enough to gain 200 pounds so I could go on the show. Then reality set in when I did the math on how much it would cost me in food and new fat kid clothes to be fat enough to go on the show, not to mention health care costs. I decided maybe it was better to be only slightly overweight and just buy one of her videos. Being hesitant to buy anything without actually trying it after purchasing a horrible yoga video, I borrowed the 30-Day Shred from the library.
As previously mentioned, the cover of this video states that you can lose “Up to 20 pounds in 30 days.” There isn’t even an asterisk at the end of the statement that takes you to the back of the disk to point out that these results are not normal. After my first Lesson 1 workout, I knew why. No one could possibly survive doing this for an entire 30 days and the one person that had lost the 20 pounds.
None the less, I have stuck with it for 6 days thus far. I’m going to Italy in about two months and have some serious motivation to make room in my pants for pasta and bread. Hence the reason I’m still torturing myself with this insanity. After a couple of sessions I did notice myself getting stronger however. Where I originally couldn’t use weights for the entire arm segments, all the sudden I could. My form improved and the frequency in which I called Jillian a bitch to my television decreased.
The thing I hated about Level 1 was the jumping jacks. I’ve hated jumping jacks since I was in elementary school and we had to do them for PE. I would rather do almost anything than jumping jacks. And day four sent me over the jumping jack edge. On the fifth day, I decided to give Level 2 a shot to see if it had less of those damn jumping jacks.
As I lay in a sweaty heap on my floor after completing Level 2 for the first time, I was quite pleased that this level only had one 30-second burst of jumping jacks in the warm up. The bad news was that I was seriously considering throwing up after doing this workout. On Sunday I decided that I’d prefer throwing up to jumping jacks and hit the button for Level 2 again.
I have no idea if I’ll actually be able to do this for a full 30 days, but that is the goal. Like I said, I’m a sucker for big promises of an improved body in trade for a little pain. So much in fact that not only have I placed an order to acquire my very own copy of the 30-Day Shred, I’ve also pre-ordered her next video based on the same system.
I primarily run for my workouts so my goal was to shock my body a bit into doing something that it isn’t used to. At the time, I was thinking a gentle shock, like from static electricity. This is more like putting your finger in a light socket shocking. Only 24 more days of shock therapy to go.
As previously mentioned, the cover of this video states that you can lose “Up to 20 pounds in 30 days.” There isn’t even an asterisk at the end of the statement that takes you to the back of the disk to point out that these results are not normal. After my first Lesson 1 workout, I knew why. No one could possibly survive doing this for an entire 30 days and the one person that had lost the 20 pounds.
None the less, I have stuck with it for 6 days thus far. I’m going to Italy in about two months and have some serious motivation to make room in my pants for pasta and bread. Hence the reason I’m still torturing myself with this insanity. After a couple of sessions I did notice myself getting stronger however. Where I originally couldn’t use weights for the entire arm segments, all the sudden I could. My form improved and the frequency in which I called Jillian a bitch to my television decreased.
The thing I hated about Level 1 was the jumping jacks. I’ve hated jumping jacks since I was in elementary school and we had to do them for PE. I would rather do almost anything than jumping jacks. And day four sent me over the jumping jack edge. On the fifth day, I decided to give Level 2 a shot to see if it had less of those damn jumping jacks.
As I lay in a sweaty heap on my floor after completing Level 2 for the first time, I was quite pleased that this level only had one 30-second burst of jumping jacks in the warm up. The bad news was that I was seriously considering throwing up after doing this workout. On Sunday I decided that I’d prefer throwing up to jumping jacks and hit the button for Level 2 again.
I have no idea if I’ll actually be able to do this for a full 30 days, but that is the goal. Like I said, I’m a sucker for big promises of an improved body in trade for a little pain. So much in fact that not only have I placed an order to acquire my very own copy of the 30-Day Shred, I’ve also pre-ordered her next video based on the same system.
I primarily run for my workouts so my goal was to shock my body a bit into doing something that it isn’t used to. At the time, I was thinking a gentle shock, like from static electricity. This is more like putting your finger in a light socket shocking. Only 24 more days of shock therapy to go.
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