Happy Thanksgiving??? Pass the Mac ‘n Cheese!

Let me begin by saying I want to offer a humble apology to the brilliant minds and exceptionally attractive people in the meteorological community. I greatly underestimated your power to not only predict, but control the weather to exact your revenge on smart-aleck bloggers. Since my last blog was posted ("Thoughts on Meteorology…") the temperature dropped 30 degrees in less than 48 hours and has been snowing. Do I need to offer up a bucket of chicken as a sacrifice like Cerrano (aka President David Palmer) did to Jobu in Major League ("Hey, bartender, Jobu needs a refill")?

No, I'm not talking about Thanksgiving because instead of a "March" we've been blessed (thank you, Storm Team) with a second "November" (sans fried turkey and football). I'm talking about Thanksgiving – specifically, being thankful - because…well, is there a bad time to be thankful? Plus, any loser can be thankful on Thanksgiving.

On Sunday, we missed church and had a family devotion time instead. (Just in case Reverend Al Green, Father Guido Sarducci or, more possibly, our own pastor is reading this…I am not advocating skipping church, but stuff happens). The devotion was quite simple. We read I Thessalonians 5:18 ("In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you") and then we all took some time and made a list of the things we are each thankful for (or "made a list of the things for which we are each thankful" for the grammar police out there). Whenever someone is asked that question, they tend to gravitate towards the higher concepts of their lives and we did some of that, too. As we each read our lists aloud all the expected items were accounted for: family, peace, God, work and friends were on every list in some form. The Tall One (that's the Wife's name for our older son) predictably included his girlfriend on his list. The Wife and I had her on our lists, too. I was thankful that she was a nice and godly young lady - which she is.  A very sweet girl. The Wife was thankful she was "not a ho". Same thing, right?

The Tall One also had his car on his list and lacrosse. Lacrosse? I didn't even know he liked lacrosse. He then clarified "THE CROSS". Oh, ok. I get it.

However, the list from The Short One (the Wife's name for – you guessed it - our younger son) may have been the most interesting. A 12-year old boy's list includes some of the higher concept things (peace, love, freedom and Jesus were all there) but some very basic things, too. Contact lenses (he just got them a couple of weeks ago), Xbox and mac 'n cheese were all on his list.

We discussed that it is important to be thankful towards others because, as the Tall One pointed out, it makes them feel good and appreciated. We also believed that expressing thanks to someone (aka the "thankee") acknowledges the importance of who they are to us. And, (whether the "thankee" be God or another person) it also reminds us (the "thanker") that we cannot exist, let alone thrive in this life, on our own.

My unscientific and scarcely researched conclusion is that as we get older we can easily enumerate the universally important "high concepts" for which we are thankful. We go there first because: one, we gain a better understanding of their importance as we mature; and, two, those are the things that we are supposed to put a list of things we are thankful for, right? However, losing a sense of thanksgiving about the "basic elements" of life (insert your version of "mac 'n cheese" here) implies that we not only may take it for granted, but that we no longer require the participation of God or any other "thankee" in the so-called little things of our lives.

So, while it is not Thanksgiving – actually, it may be Thanksgiving in Canada. They are on the metric calendar and I'm not good with the Metric to American conversions – where was I? Oh yeah…So while it is not Thanksgiving, take a moment to consider the "little things" in your life that you can be thankful for. Specifically, think of those things about your spouse that while they may not go unnoticed by you, they may not get mentioned often enough.

For the Wife, I am thankful that she doesn't cook meals that she knows I'll hate. I know that's not always easy on her, but I can't remember the last time there was a brussel sprout in our kitchen. I'm thankful that she plays golf. I know it's not the Wife's favorite thing, but she took up golf so she could spend time with me and the Boys. She made that become our "family sport". I'm also thankful for when the Wife dresses in the background color of this blog site. The Wife looks so good "someone should put her on a plate and sop her up with a biscuit" when she's in this color. (Seriously, there was a time when everything I bought her was this color). Finally, I'm thankful when the Wife wears boots. She can rock a pair of boots. So, for our anniversary the Wife may be getting a pair of light blue boots. Don't tell her though; I want it to be a surprise.

To you, dear reader, I leave you with the immortal words of Elvis Presley, "Thank you, thank you very much" or as Latka Gravas would say "Tenk you veddy much".

Thoughts on Meteorology and the First Signs of Spring

The wife knows I'm not a fan of local news. It's all homicide investigations, poorly reported sports and the weather. That's the worst of it - the weather. They call their otherwise unemployable weather people "The Storm Team" as they overuse gadgets with hyperbolic names like "Mega Gargantu-Doppler 3000". If you are using expensive radar technology to zoom into your ex-wife's backyard, then you have problems.

"Loud Noises!"

It's not just the locals (and believe me, it is likely the locals where you live, too. It's the same most places). They've given these people their own cable channel (who do they think they are? Celebrity chefs? Oprah? For a slight tangent on cable shows, click here). The weathermen and weathergirls (or as they like to be called, "meteorologists") give us terms like partly sunny and partly cloudy and they don't know the difference between the two. (There is a reason that this guy played the weatherman in Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy.)

After a long, dark, cold winter we are ready for signs of hope and renewal – signs of spring. Traditionally, the weather people would be the prophets carrying the message of this welcome change in seasons. They would wear us out with the whole groundhog thing on February 2^nd, but we would be OK with it as it would be the first mention of spring. A couple of weeks later they'd tempt you with a ridiculous 30 day forecast that shows a few days stretching up to the lower 70s. Then, finally they would show us video of an egg standing on end at the equinox and declare spring's arrival. Well, now they've messed that up. They have proclaimed March 1 as "meteorological spring". First, Al Roker got skinny, now this. These people have got to be stopped.

So, we've known for a while now that we can't count on them to get the weather right (the symbol in the forecast for today has a sun peeking out from behind a cloud with rain and a lightning bolt coming from the cloud. Add a snow flake, a tornado and a question mark and I think they'll have all their bases covered. Better yet, just put down the question mark. It's more honest.) Now we can't even rely on them to tell us when spring begins. You can always look to the more traditional signs of spring like the birds chirping, flowers blooming and trees blossoming (or do trees bloom and flowers blossom?). However, as I'm sure you do, too, I have my own signs I look for to tell me that spring is, at long last, here.

The Masters. Not so much the golf tournament itself ("Cinderella boy, tears in his eyes"), but the commercials that air a couple of weeks before it: The serene video of azaleas blooming into blossom and dogwoods blossoming into bloom with the soft tones of The Masters theme song in the background. This is not only a reminder that the wife and I haven't played golf in five months, it also means that spring is ready to embrace us with warmth and sunshine and pollen and Cadbury eggs.

Women wearing shorts. Now, it's not what you may be thinking, so allow me to explain. Guys will wear shorts in any weather. It can be 10-below with a foot of snow on the ground and a guy will go outside in shorts ("I only have to be outside from the car to the store"). A woman wouldn't do that. You rarely see a woman out in shorts if the weather doesn't call for it. So, when you see a woman outside in shorts you can thank the God of Nature…spring is back. Women readers, please skip the next paragraph.

"I love ya honey"

Pssst, hey dude…do you think the women bought that? It sounded pretty good, didn't it? If we get a cold snap in a few days go to the store in shorts so we don't blow our cover. Hey, man – quit singing "Hot Legs". That won't help our cause so get that song out of your head already. Thanks, bro.

Hey! Welcome back, ladies. You didn't miss much. Just a little guy talk…grunting and burping, mostly.

Finally, the most accurate sign of spring around our house is a calendar full of baseball. Both of our boys play for their schools, I help coach one of their teams and the wife and I (mostly the wife) do a lot of volunteer work with the entire high school program. From Saturday March 19^th through April 2^nd we have baseball on the schedule every single day. I don't think God rested on the seventh day. I think He said "let's play two". So, honey, put on your shorts…we are headed to the ball park. But be sure to check the weather before we go.

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Don't go just yet.  If you've got a favorite first sign of spring (or Masters' moment or Rod Stewart song), put it in the comments section below.  Also, the buttons at the top of the page always have a little gem of interest, too.  Thanks for stopping by.

How 3M Can Help Your Love Life

That's Costner on the left

When you think "kiss", what comes to mind?:

a. Long, slow, deep, soft wet kisses that last for three days

b. That band Gene Simmons was in before he was on reality TV.

c. Keep It Simple, Stupid.

All of the above is really the right answer, but each on their own would make a fun blog topic. I could write about "Bull Durham", romantic sports movies or Kevin Costner's over-acting (also see Reeves,Keanu). I could easily write on outrageous rock bands of the 70s and 80 – well, they do call me "Dr. Love" ("really, they do?" you may ask. No, not really. Nobody has ever called me that, but feel free to start that trend if you like.) The topic for today though is the KISS principle: Keep It Simple, Stupid. Don't take any offense at the reference to "stupid". It's positive slang used by the kids these days like "phat", "dope" and "LOL". (Honesty, though, I'm not sure what it means when people call you an "LOL" in a text message. I get that a lot though, so I hope it is good). Actually, the whole "stupid is positive slang" thing? I just made it up. Forget all that. (Sorry, I've made up two outrageous stories in one paragraph. I apologize unequivocally.) Try to hang with me anyway.


The point here is how to "keep it simple, stupid sport" in being romantic (let's try a word better than "stupid"). Being romantic does not require expensive gifts or great creativity. Quite frankly, I have the fine folks at 3M to thank for one of the most effective romantic gestures ever. Over two years ago, I randomly left the wife this message on a post-it note on the driver's side visor of her van.

It has stayed there ever since… Anybody who says America can't produce a quality product hasn't used a post-it note in a while.


The wife says it surprises her every time she flips down the visor (fortunately, not surprising enough for her to run into a ditch) and reminds her that she is loved. There is nothing more "keep it simple, skippy" than this. It took zero planning. You don't have to write a poem and rack your brain trying to find a word that rhymes with your wife's name (Mulva?) or remember how many syllables in the second line of a haiku (seven, by the way).

It was not expensive. There is a time for spending a little dough and buying your lady something special (And I don't mean: "Go ahead and super-size that value meal for yourself, darlin'. You deserve it"). However, it is not necessary to break the bank to be romantic. You also know how I feel about greeting cards. Sorry, Hallmark - giant waste of money. The little note I left the wife cost about 7 cents. Now THAT is "keeping it simple, stinky".


Most importantly, it is effective. She gets that message a few hundred times a year from that one little note (God bless you 3M… can I get some product endorsement here?).


So, what I want you to do now, guys, is take a post-it note pad out of your desk or briefcase. Jot down the first thing that pops in your head about your wife. Keep it simple, but don't be stupid. "What's for dinner?" or "You look good with a little weight on you" are not your best ideas. Then hide the note in a spot you know she'll find it but won't expect it (medicine cabinet, desk drawer, or you can even borrow my car visor idea). Voila! (That's Latin for "ta-da!") You've just done something very romantic (yet very simple) for your wife. I'll even let you take all the credit.


I hope that by "keeping it simple, sparky" you'll manage to rate a real kiss or two in the process (and I don't mean a small, chocolate candy treat). While you're hiding your note, I'm going to buy some 3M stock just in case this idea takes off.

That’s a Big Matzo Ball

Everybody wants to hear someone tell them "I love you". It's like "have you lost weight ?" and "I'm Ed McMahon, here's your giant check". People want to hear that. Ed McMahon is dead, but if he's bringing a giant check with him you can probably deal with the specter of Ed McMahon hanging around (it could get old, however, if his ghost is shouting "Here's Johnny" every night after the late evening news).

A man always hopes that when he says "I love you" that he is getting some positive response back from the woman. That may range from the very positive "I love you, too" (WINNING!) to the moderately acceptable "you better". No response at all? That is bad. Take the case of George…

In a Seinfeld episode (the same one with the face painter…"DEVILS!") George decides he's going to tell his girlfriend that he loves her. "That's a big matzo ball", Jerry cautions. Undeterred, George tells her anyway. Her reply? "I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat", ignoring his declaration of love. Well, it got worse for George later in that episode, but there are times when it can be worse for you, too. To avoid the "worse than being ignored" situations, here are three times when you just shouldn't bother telling your wife "I love you".

First, you should never tell your wife you love her from the toilet. The only conversation that should be going on from in there is "honey, is there any toilet paper out there?" And you should really plan better before you go in there anyway.

Secondly, never say "I love you" when you are throwing up. You want to avoid the "I Love You Interruption". It goes something like this…"Honey, I love Buuuuuicckkks…you". Nobody loves Buicks that much. Even if you get through the "I love you", it will at best be met by a pitiful "I know you do" and she may strain a cornea rolling her eyes.  "I love you" just doesn't fit when you are selling buicks to the tidy bowl man.

Finally, don't bother telling your wife how much you love her after you've just told her how much fun you are having without her…while she is home…NOT having fun…at all. At that point, the "I love you" is useless in your defense. I'll use one of my friends as an example. More years ago than I care to remember, Marco (name slightly changed to protect the ignorant) and I were at a business conference in Phoenix. We had an open afternoon, so we drove up to the Red Rock Country of Sedona. After a magnificent round of golf, we found a fantastic place to eat. The restaurant had a patio where we could watch the sun go down behind the red rocks and see the billions and billions (thanks, Carl Sagan) of stars appear in the night sky. It was a wonderfully romantic night, except I'm not gay and I'm pretty sure Marco isn't either and, thankfully, neither of us told the other "I love you". Marco decided to call his wife and share the day's experience with her. So Marco finds a pay phone (That will tell you how long ago this was. When did you last use a pay phone?) and calls home. After going on for several minutes about how beautiful the red rocks are, how fun the golf was and the wonder of the desert night sky, he says "Honey, I wish you were here. I love you".

Ka-boom. The last time an explosion was felt in the desert southwest like the one following that "I love you" it was the 1940s and the government was testing atomic bombs.

Now his wife is one of the kindest, sweetest women on the planet. However, little did Marco know that she had been dealing with a sudden outbreak of chicken pox in their two young sons. She had no interest in hearing about his adventures while she was elbow deep in an Aveeno bath. So, it was perfectly reasonable that she let him know very clearly that she did not care what he was doing and he could stick his ill-timed "I love you" up his Grand Canyon.

Learn from George. Learn from Marco. Learn from Ed McMahon. Learn from the Buick salesman. Timing, as they say, is everything guys.