The Fantasy Football Wife - Part One

Really, really ridiculously good looking

I’m not going to bother explaining fantasy football here. If you don’t have an idea of what fantasy football is about then you’ve probably never heard of a computer either, you flunked out of the  Derek Zoolander Center For Kids Who Can't Read Good And Wanna Learn To Do Other Stuff Good Too, and you aren’t reading this blog anyway. 

If you play fantasy football and are any good at it, then you are fanatical about it.  Being “good” at fantasy football doesn’t always equate to winning your league(s) – though in my case it does.  What I mean by being “good” is that you care about it.  You are prepared.  You set a proper line-up each week.  You offer and accept fair and reasonable trades.  You are “good” at it because you are fanatical. 

The unfortunate side effect of this fanaticism is that it sometimes leads to what NASA scientists refer to as “Fantasy Football Widow Syndrome”.  Men seem to put their relationships in peril each fall because of their obsession with their fantasy teams.  It does not have to be that way, guys.  You can have your obsession and eat it, too (though I’m not really sure what that means).

In some cases, your wife (or girlfriend…hopefully you don’t have both) may like pro football and even play fantasy football.  A recent study showed that 14% of the owners of fantasy teams are women.  I have played in a league that not only had three women in the league, but one was even the commissioner.  (And, yes, The Wife had a team in that league, too.)  These women didn’t just play as a novelty act and they didn’t have teams as the result of some obscure section of Title IX.  They knew their stuff.  They were fanatical about it.  They were good at it. 

Now, don’t go and sign up your wife in a league and tell her the Keep A Happy Wife Guy said you should do it (Hey, honey.  You’ve got a team in my fantasy football league now.  Your team name is The Raging Laundry Baskets).  If you do that…you’re a dead man.  If you’re a dead man, you won’t be able to adjust your roster for bye weeks and you’ll likely miss the play-offs.

If you do suggest to your wife she join you in fantasy football, you’ve got to make sure it is a fit first.  You can do more damage than good if you are not careful here. First, not to sound sexist but…she has to have enough knowledge and interest in pro football to own her team.  If she doesn’t, she’ll get frustrated and the other owners in your league could likely lose patience with her AND you. 

Second, the league itself has to be a fit.  If you play with a group of guys who are so intense that they make Michael Douglas’ character in Falling Down look laid back, then you don’t want to subject your wife to that as her introduction into fantasy football.     

Finally, you need some ground rules.  If you are both in the same league then you can’t make trades with your wife.  Hopefully there is no one else in your league that could be accused of withholding sex from you if you didn’t trade her Drew Brees for Rex Grossman.  So, to keep the integrity of the league intact…no spouse-to-spouse trades.

A second rule would be that if she agrees to play, she has to put forth a full effort for the whole season.  If she wants to play so she can share an interest with you, then a 16 week commitment is required.  It can’t be like when I bought P90X, opened the box, counted the DVDs and put it back on my shelf.  If she is in…she’s in until the end of the year.

You would also want some rules about how much help you would give her, if any.  If she doesn’t want your help…don’t give it.   If you tell her to start Mike Sims-Walker and bench Braylon Edwards, you don’t want the wrath of the Raging Laundry Baskets on you when MSW takes a goose egg and Edwards decides this is the week he actually catches a pass in the end zone.  You may want to refer her to another friend to send her questions or show her websites that can help her with those kinds of questions.

I could go on about your wife taking the “if I can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” approach to fantasy football, but you should get the point by now. 

Know your wife.  Know your league.  Be careful to protect both (the wife more than the league…though your mileage may vary).

So what if your wife has no interest in fantasy football and maybe even hates it because it takes time away that you could be spending with her and the love fern.  Well, having separate interests is a healthy part of any marriage.  So you’ve got that going for you…which is nice.  In Part Two of this series, I’ll give you some ideas on how to Keep A Happy Wife and succeed at fantasy football at the same time.

For Part Two...click here.

Do You Know Where You're Blogging To?

The Keep A Happy Wife blog celebrates its 6-month anniversary this week.  (Who celebrates a 6-month anniversary, you may ask?  Well, you likely gave some acknowledgement to your sixth-month of marriage or you might not have been around for the seventh).  Since my first blog post, I’ve done what you could loosely call “research”.  (Research that I probably should have done before February).  What was this research? I googled “Keep a happy wife”.  Whew…Time for a nap.

In February, trying to find the Google search result for the KAHW blog was like trying to find a word in the dictionary that you didn’t know how to spell.  You keep flipping pages only to find that not only does the word have one of those roof-top looking symbols over a letter, you’ve also been pronouncing the word wrong all along.  The point is, I had to dig through about 27 pages of Google search results to find me.

When you google “Keep a Happy Wife” now, this blog usually shows up third or fourth.  As Ricky Bobby’s dad, Reese, said “If you ain’t first you’re last”.   So, I decided to scout out the competition and here is what I found.

The first search result is what appears to be a wedding planning website that is just using the “keep a happy wife” phrase to attract hits to the site.  The oddest thing about this site is the ads that appear on the blog.  One is for a service that helps women catch their husbands cheating.  Another is for men to find a Mexican wife.  Throw in an Ashley Madison ad and I think they’ve got it covered.

Sweet Fancy Moses!

Second is a blog post titled “14 Ways to Keep Your Wife Happy”.  This article focuses on etiquette (maybe that was the word I was trying to look up in the dictionary before).  Of the “14 Ways”, six of them are about fashion or personal grooming: don’t wear disco-era clothes, don’t dye your hair, wax your back.  Wax your back?  It also suggests men learn to dance.  Well, I’m an astonishing dancer (think Elaine from Seinfeld crossed with Urkel…sorry ladies, I’m taken.), but why bother dancing if you can’t wear your white leisure suit?  This site also had an ad from a company wanting to catch a cheating husband.  So, apparently either women don’t cheat or men just don’t want to know about it.

The next result is a blog post titled “101 Things to Keep the Wife Happy”.  One. Hundred. And one.  If the instructions to a new appliance calls for simply turning the sheet over, we men will lose interest.  One hundred and one is a little bold.  There are some good things on the list though, but some others I found funny.  The writer suggests painting your wife’s toe nails.  I tried this once. It was more like painting The Wife’s toes.  The Wife saying “Why do you need a second bottle of nail polish” and “No, you don’t use spackle” are sure signs I didn’t know what I was doing.

That blog writer, Bethany Hiitola, also suggests “shutting the door sometimes when you are in the restroom”.  Sometimes?  Look, nobody wants to see what’s under your band aid.  Nobody wants to see what’s in your Kleenex.  Nobody wants to know what what’s going on in the restroom. Shut the door…always.  Always.   Otherwise, the list was somewhat practical. The writer has lots of books and about 5 times as many pageviews as I did last month…so she must be doing something right. 

Since the first KAHW post (and this is the part where I thank you, the dear and loyal reader), page views have increased each month (July was more than double what February was.  Even though I lazily only had two posts in July). Many of you read each post.  Some of you put a link on Facebook to KAHW.  A bold 9 of you are actually subscribed followers (type in your e-mail where shown in the right margin and you can join us). 

I started this blog because I like to write, I enjoy helping people laugh (or at least smile), plus (and most importantly) I love The Wife.  Some of the 1,500-plus page views from last month were surely by accident through search engines (I’ll share the search keywords that bring people to KAHW some other time).  Hopefully a few were on purpose and a lot of those had to be because you’ve annoyed a friend until they broke down and pretended to read it.  I didn’t think I’d care about it, but watching the blogger stats is kind of fun. Thanks!

So this past six months has been a lot of fun for me and hopefully at least a little for you, too.  I’ve had a number of people tell me they’ve found post-it notes hidden for them.  I’ve been a guest blogger (thanks, Sandy).  Plus I managed to work “ho” into a blog post, which one friend didn’t think I could do.  A number of you have actually said you found the blog funny, too, which is very kind.  Nothing is quite as rewarding though as sitting across the room from The Wife and hearing her laugh out loud, then asking her what’s so funny and having her say she was reading the blog again.  Who knows maybe she read it 1,500 times last month?

Best.  Sequel.  Ever.

Diana Ross once sang "Do You Know Where You're Going To?".  While that is not proper grammar, it is a good question and one I've asked myself about KAHW.  I’ve got a few ideas stewing and gurgling about in my brain (nobody wants to see that either).  I will try to do more frequent and less word-intensive posts.  Sometimes you may even see multi-part posts (Not like sequels, though.  No Keep a Happy Wife 2 or Keep a Happier Wife or Keep a Happy Wife: Revenge of the Wife).  I’m also planning on a series of posts based on the Gary Chapman book “The Five Love Languages”.  That should be a lot of fun for us, assuming I don’t get a cease and desist letter from Mr. Chapman’s attorneys.

Thanks, again.  Tell all your friends.

My Triple Take On Sports includes a review of Golf Channels new programming and an actual personal sports accomplishment.

You can also see my review of Cowboys & Aliens here.

The Great Bedroom Experiment of 2011

Abraham Lincoln once said “Variety is the spice of life”.  What do you mean he didn’t say that?  Well, what did Lincoln say then?  Oh yeah…that’s right.  He said “Party on, dudes”.

We can debate who said “variety is the spice of life” and even debate whether or not it is true.  What we cannot debate is that the Cars sang “Shake it up.  Oo-oo.  Shake it up.”  (As an aside, how did Ric Ocasek every marry Paulina Porizkova? She is a classic beauty and he is...well, Gollum.  Or at the very least a cross between Dana Carvey and Keith Richards' grandmother). 

This brings us to The Great Bedroom Experiment of 2011.  But before we get to that, we need to back track to 1989.  (To stay with the theme, in 1989, The Alarm released an album called Change.  I saw The Alarm once in college.  They opened for Bob Dylan at Starwood Amphitheater in Nashville.  I don’t think it’s called “Starwood” anymore.  Likely the name was changed due to corporate sponsorship and not some clever marketing attempt at variety, ergo, spice).

Where we were?  Oh yeah…1989.  On November 18, 1989 The Wife and I got married.  That night, I took (or was assigned) the left side of the bed.  I don’t remember how sides were chosen.  Rock, paper scissors?  Flip a coin (The Wife: “Heads I get the right side.  Tails you get the left”).  However it happened, I got the left (I am not left-handed, neither am I a liberal, so that doesn’t explain it either) and from that point on the left has always been my side.  That was until The Great Bedroom Experiment of 2011. 

When I am lying in bed, I can’t see the entire TV screen in the bedroom.  The covers, or The Wife’s knee or foot block the bottom half of the screen.  If the weather is on…I only see the high temperatures.  If sports…I only see the visiting teams’ scores.  If Leno…I only see his gray hair and giant chin (to be fair, that is all anyone ever sees of Leno).  So, one night I simply decided to “shake it up” and take the right side of the bed. 

While the view of the TV was outstanding, there were a few implications of this change that I had not considered.  First, The Wife has many books.  A three level book shelf sits on the right side of the bed.  It is full of books.  So full that other books are stacked up next to the bookshelf waiting to get in.  She even has a little velvet rope to keep these books in their place and out of the shelf.  The entire public school system in the state of West Virginia may not have this many books.  So, a permanent change in sides-of-the-bed would require either the constant handing of books to The Wife or moving the shelf.  Well, moving the shelf would mean a significant packing and unpacking procedure, relocating other furniture on the left side of the bed to make room for the shelf and the shelf overflow and then re-packing the shelves.  I would have to rent a backhoe for this.  We might as well sell the house and move.

The biggest problem, however, was: This change was not met with enthusiasm by The Wife.

“This side of the bed is lumpy”.

“Did you switch the pillows, too?”

“It smells funny over here”.

So after about a week of “variety”, The Wife decided that she had had about as much “spice of life” as she could stand.  I walked in the bedroom one night, and she has re-claimed the right side of the bed. Peering over her book: “You’re done over here.  Get back on your side”.  Thus ended The Not-So-Great Bedroom Experiment of 2011. 

The first lesson to learn here is that when you choose a wife, you are making a number of other life-long decisions that you may not be aware of.  One of which is “side of bed”.  However, if you choose well when finding The Wife (see link here), then you can learn to live with never seeing the news crawl while watching SportsCenter as you doze off to sleep.

Second, whether you are a left-sider or a right-sider, Keep a Happy Wife if you want to “meet in the middle”.

Finally, the third lesson…“You must be the change you want to see in the world”.  Ted “Theodore” Logan said that.

Be sure to check out the "Triple Take on Sports" and "Reviews, Previews and Insightful Commentary" sections of the blog.  I offer some advise to Tiger Woods about his caddy situation and review the new Transformers movie.

What Do I Do When The Wife is Out of Town?

What do I do when The Wife is out of town? In reality, she and The Short One left Friday afternoon and she will be back on Saturday night so it barely counts as being out of town…but I am at a loss for what I'm supposed to do. I would like to do something productive that I can point to when she gets home and say "Look what I did while you were gone". You know, like building a book shelf or making a ceramic pot. Rather than being able to say "Look at the shelf I made you" or "Look at the pot I just pulled from our kiln", I would end up saying "Look, I cut off my thumb" or "Look, I burned down the house".

So, productivity while The Wife is gone will have to look like making the bed (check), taking The Tall One to breakfast (Waffle House, mmmm) and writing my blog (work-in-progress).

View from Willis Tower

Speaking of being out of town, The Family and I went to Chicago for The Wife's birthday this past week. The original purpose of the trip was to go to the U2 concert - review posted here (The U2 tickets are a story on their own. I'll blog that around Christmas, though.). We were only there for three nights, but when I plan a trip I can cram a lot of activity into a short amount of time (talk about productive!). We saw a concert, museums, tours and the second largest ball of twine in the world. Plus, I took a lot of pictures of buildings. How many pictures, you ask? Well, let's say that after day two I had to go through and delete pictures from the digital camera to make room for more pictures of buildings. For the most part, photos of The Boys were preferred to those of buildings during the "culling process".

In addition to learning that I like to take pictures of buildings, here are three things The Family learned on the trip to Chicago.

1. The days of the "kid's menu" are definitely over for us. While it is a little more expensive eating out these days (especially at a nice restaurant) it is fun to see The Boys learn to eat more than chicken fingers. Chicago has tremendous restaurants – which is not news to anyone. For The Wife's birthday, we went to a place called Kinzie Steakhouse. Other than the U2 concert The Boys said the highlight of the trip was the steak that we shared that night. Part of it was the novelty of ordering a FORTY-EIGHT OUNCE PORTERHOUSE, but part of it was how perfectly delicious that steak was. Another night we ate at Giordano's and introduced The Boys to real deep dish pizza. They weren't sure that they would like it, but they were both impressed. We'll stuff them full of fruits and veggies when we get them home – at least that is what a good parent might do.

2. Chicago knows shopping. The Magnificent Mile (which I kept calling "The Miracle Mile") is a stretch of Michigan Avenue that contains nearly 800 shops, hotels and restaurants, yet not a Wal-Mart in sight (even from the John Hancock Tower Observatory). It is not, however, just the overwhelming volume of the retail smorgasbord that is impressive. It is how it is set up. For example, across the street from luxury jeweler, Cartier, is luxury lingerie shop, La Perla. Next door to Tiffany & Co? Victoria's Secret. This is marketing strategy that I'll call "Complimentary Consumer Opportunity". It's like when you go to Kroger (not one of those on Michigan Avenue, either) and the birthday candles are next to the Betty Crocker cake mix. Or Smucker's Jelly a shelf below the Jif Peanut Butter. Or, as Cal Noughton, Jr. told Ricky Bobby they go together like "Chinese food and chocolate puddin'". These Mag Mile marketers really know what they are doing (Here's a diamond, now go buy a nightie...for the record, we bought neither on this trip).

3. They watch Wheel of Fortune in downtown Chicago, too, right? On our last day in the city as we walked through Millennium Park, The Wife and I talked about how nice the downtown area (at least inside The Loop) had been planned. You are an easy walk from restaurants, shopping, parks, the lake front, concerts…basically everything except a Wal-Mart. And for a brief moment we thought what our life style would be like if we lived there. We quickly came to the conclusion that we would still spend most evenings at the ballpark with The Boys. The nights we weren't watching baseball, we'd be watching re-runs of Everybody Loves Raymond on WGN. When I think back on it, the only families we saw out in the city were tourists. All the locals were either singles or young (kid-less) couples. I suppose the forty-somethings with kids were busy seeing what Vanna was wearing.

Well, The Wife should be home soon. I'll see if I can find a couple of other low-effort, high-visibility tasks I can accomplish before she gets here. At least the blog is done, honey. And all ten fingers are still intact.

How to Write Haiku (Bad Poets Society) THIS is a Haiku

Do chicks really dig poetry? That is the question.

Since man could grunt or draw on cave walls, he has written poems for the cave woman of his dreams (hello, Barbara Bach). Every straight man that ever wrote a poem did so to either woo (do the kids still say "woo" these days?) or impress a girl. Even Joyce Kilmer when he wrote "I think that I shall never see, A poem lovely as a tree" at least part of his motivation was that a woman would think he was clever. Or profound. Or smart. Or (by some stretch of the imagination) sexy.

I know what you are thinking and, no, Joyce Kilmer is not a girl. Joyce is a dude. I looked it up to make sure.

I know what else you are thinking. This is a famous poem and all he is doing is rhyming "see" and "tree"? Even with a name like "Joyce" and such lame rhyming skills, Kilmer still had a successful marriage.

While Joyce was sliding by on a lame vocabulary and no thesaurus on his bookshelf, another poet we can learn from was simply trying too hard…Barney Fife. Whether he was rocking the salt and pepper suit (which was just right for dipping), hunting down Earnest T. Bass or writing a poem, Barney, like the rest of us dudes, was just trying to impress a girl. Most of the time his girlfriend was Thelma Lou, however, when they were on the outs (now I know the kids still say "on the outs") he would turn his attention to Juanita (down at the diner). This was the first stanza to a poem he wrote to her:

Juanita, Juanita,
Lovely, dear Juanita,
From your head down to your feet,
There's nothing half so sweet,
As Juanita, Juanita, Juanit.

 This poem is very bad on a number of levels, but you have to give him credit: he figured out how to rhyme something with Juanita (which reminds me of "Mulva" for you Seinfeld fans out there). And rhyming something with Juanita (or some form, thereof) is a heck of lot harder than trying to find a word to rhyme with "see"! Even this bad poem earned him a date with the focus of his affection, Juanita (down at the diner).

So, the answer to our initial question has to be: Yes, chicks must really dig poetry. And I'm going to help you learn how to be poet laureate to your lady (I think "laureate" is French for "love muffin").

If you are not already a classically trained poet, trying to learn complex poetic styles like sonnets, iambic pentameter or holistic odometer at this point may be impossible. Guys, show of hands: how many of you have ever written or read a poem to your wife? And, no, reciting a verse you read while in a men's room stall does not count. Even though you may be a rookie in this regard, I can provide you with three poetic options to astonish the love of your life (and, of course, Keep a Happy Wife).

First, let's consider the limerick. It is a very simple form of poetry so that is a plus for the amateur. However, I think it is an Irish law that a limerick must be dirty. So, if your wife is the type that bought "The Hangover" on Blu-Ray and, as a teenager, had a poster of Andrew "Dice" Clay on her wall, then the limerick may be for you. If you are unfamiliar with how to write a limerick, go back to that bathroom stall mentioned above.

Moving on now to beatnik poetry. We have lots of great examples of this. Most every 1960s sitcom had beatnik poetry featured in at least one episode. Herman Munster and Jethro Bodine (just to name a few) both went through a phase of being a beatnik poet. This form of poetry was re-popularized by Mike Myers in the very under-rated movie, "So I Married an Axe Murderer". One big plus to this poetic style is that it is typically free form. So you don't have to conform to the Rules of the Man, man. The minuses outweigh the positive in that you have to wear black turtle necks all the time, learn to play the bongos and bathe less often. While your wife may be able to get past the turtlenecks and the bongo playing, the B.O. will not help you impress her at all.

Finally, let's look at the Haiku. This is the perfect poetic style for the inexperienced poet in all of us. It combines the best of the limerick and beatnik poetry. It has the structure of the limerick (so you know how many words to use and when you are done) but it doesn't have to be R-rated. Like beatnik poetry, the Haiku doesn't have to rhyme, but you still get to use soap. In short, the Haiku is perfect: 5 syllables, followed by 7 syllables, followed by 5 syllables. Good work, kid.  Hit the showers.

Now, let's write a haiku together. The Wife's birthday is this Sunday, so we can write a birthday haiku to her right here. First we start with five syllables.

This haiku's for you.

Now we go with seven syllables:

It's cheaper than a Hallmark

Now back to five syllables:

Happy birthday, dear

Feel free to use that one to impress your own girl, fellas. You're welcome.

Editor's note: Joyce Kilmer was a man of great faith and died serving his country during World War I.  Hopefully, the heirs to the Kilmer estate have a sense of humor.

You’re Such a Hottie, Schmoopie!

If you've ever surfed Al Gore's internet to MSN.com, then you've seen some of the pop culture articles they have on their home page. Things like "One Man's Addiction to Maple Syrup", "Senior Citizens Rank Their Favorite Condiments" or "Craisins: Friend or Foe?". One such recent article was announcing "America's Hottest Husband for 2011". Redbook magazine has an annual contest where wives submit a photo and an essay on why their hubby should be proclaimed as "America's Hottest". I decided to give it a read to see just how far away I am from my "hotness" being a tool to Keep a Happy Wife.

The Redbook contest presented 25 finalists and one "hottest husband". What I found was that they were all very fit (strike one), good looking (strike two) and all but two were younger than me (I never got the bat off my shoulder). Upon further scrutiny, however, the credentials of many of the finalists were somewhat flawed (This section of the blog post could also be referred to as "Bitter and Jealous" or "All Good Looking Men Are Gay").

First, 16 of these finalists had been married less than five years. Five years? Really? You've barely had a chance to put some quality time into a pot belly or allow your hair line to retreat like the French army. At five years you are definitely married, but you haven't really figured out how to "husband" yet. Get a few more years under your belt (or a few more pounds over it) and then you'll be more qualified as an experienced "husband".  And then let's see how "hot" your wife thinks you are. One such finalist had been married only three months. Seriously?  Here's how that conversation goes:
Wife: "How long have we been married, schmoopie?"
Husband: "I don't know schmoopie, but it's time to change the oil in the Mini-Cooper".
Wife: "You are such a hot husband, schmoopie".

Second, some of these guys seem to spend way too much time on their hair. Way too much. They look like they stepped out of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad or an episode of 90210. Don't they know that the guy with the coolest hair was Fonzie and he never combed his hair (he wasn't a husband either, but that's beside the point).

Partly because of the hair and partly because of their "boy band wardrobe" some of them appear to be – shall we say – big fans of Liberace. Not to make snap judgments based on appearance (ok, maybe I am) but is a man considered "hot" if he is "pretty"? I will never be confused with being "ruggedly handsome" or "camera friendly" but I'm no "pretty boy", either.

I will give credit where credit is due, however. From their bios, most of the finalists seem like good guys that love their wives. Of course, they wouldn't even be nominated if the focus of the essay was on ear hair, snoring or stinking up the bathroom. There was one finalist who had been married 19 years, had 9 kids and was in the Army. How did he not win? I guess he doesn't look enough like Derek Zoolander.

To give equal time, I Googled "hottest wife in America". To have opened some of the sites returned by that keyword search would have either required a credit card number or polluted my computer with countless viruses. Many of the sites focused on WAGs (Wives and Girlfriends) of professional athletes. We get it. Tom Brady is married to Giselle. He also puts too much effort into his hair.

One site that I did find that seemed safe (and funny) related to the Hottest Presidential Wives and Mistresses. Surprisingly, the wives of Taft, Coolidge and John Adams all made the list. Not surprisingly, the top five on the list were all associated with JFK. Despite his many (alleged) dalliances, Bill Clinton only had one of his women on the list (not Hillary, but Gennifer Flowers).

Wives out there, if you choose to nominate your husbands for "Hottest Husband in America", here is the link for the 2012 contest. Perhaps if the Wife submits this photo with a nomination, I'll have a chance.

What Could Be More American Than Doing Yard Work? Not Loverboy.

Just a quick post today folks as you head into the weekend everybody's been working for (Try not to go off the deep end. If you do you'll need a second chance. Oh.). Let's talk about yard work. I love yard work. Mowing. Mulching. Trimming. It's something of a passion of mine. Oh. Wait…No it's not.

I have a tough time enjoying an activity that is commonly assigned to inmates during their stretch in the county lockup. When was the last time you had this conversation with your wife?

You: "Hey, honey, do you want to go to the movies tonight?"
Wife: "No way. Let's go down in the basement and bang out a few license plates".
You: "Brilliant idea! That sounds like much more fun. While we're at it, let's put on our orange jump suits and pick up trash along the highway".

Unless "bang out a few license plates" is a euphemism for something else, you have never had that conversation in your life. So, forgive me if I don't enjoy yard work. (Also, forgive me if you don't like reading something that looks like a play – you know, like Bill Shakespeare. I've got a couple sections in here tonight that are written that way. It wasn't planned. It just happened. It ain't "to be or not to be", but it's better than any skit Anthony Michael Hall was in on Saturday Night Live).

Despite my best instincts to the contrary, yard work was done this evening and I wasn't "loving every minute of it". We bought mulch a few months ago but didn't get any of it out until tonight. Between rain, baseball, tennis and countless other excuses (legitimate and otherwise) it was a chore that remained undone for far too long. I had to start working this item off the list to Keep A Happy Wife.

It was hot. Hot as a Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover. And to keep with the Loverboy theme…The Kid Is Hot Tonite. (By the way, Loverboy was on the "American Summer Concert Series" today on Fox & Friends. Do they realize that Loverboy is not from America? They are Canadian. Who's on next week? Men at Work? Ah-ha?)

To those who do lawn maintenance and landscaping as a profession, I mean no disrespect by my loathing of yard work. If you do this work every day and you do it well, then my sweat-soaked hat is off to you. First, it is hard work and that is an honorable thing. Second, the yard maintenance profession is full of entrepreneurs. Warren Buffet, General Electric and Time Warner aren't doing leveraged buy-outs of lawn mowing conglomerates. I bet Ted Turner doesn't even mow his own yard (Is he even still alive? I don't remember and I'm too tired to Wiki it). An industry composed entirely of entrepreneurs is to be saluted. Ain't that America? (Although, many in that industry, like Loverboy, aren't from America…but that is America, too.).

So…where was I? Oh, yeah. It was hot. While all of the mulch didn't get out (we had 50 bags), the front yard is done and that is a good dent in it. Good enough to impress the Wife a bit and ease my guilt over playing golf tomorrow and then going to the track afterwards (By the way, Belmont picks are in the Triple Take on Sports section).

If you plan on putting out mulch anytime soon (and if you are sane, you've already had it done for months), I've put together a list of Mulching Pit Falls to avoid and make this cruel and unusual task a bit more bearable.


  1. Mulch Foot: This is a condition where you dump a bag of much on your foot getting mulch all in your shoe and sock. If you find yourself with a case of "Mulch Feet" you should just quit and go back inside (but take off your shoes before you go in the house).



Moments before crashing next door.



2. Left Eye Blind: No, this isn't a new alternative rock band. This occurs when sweat drips down your forehead and into your left eye. I don't seem to have that much trouble with my right eye. Your results may vary.

3. Wilbur Wright: A "Wilbur Wright" is when a breeze kicks up and carries an empty bag of mulch into the neighbor's yard. It's called a "Willbur Wright" because the bag goes about as far as the Wright Brothers first flight went (and Wilbur was the pilot). Plus you couldn't call something this annoying an "Orville Wright". He was the cool Wright brother. Chicks dug Orville.

Chick at bar: "So, your name is Orville. Just like that popcorn guy".
Orville: "Yes, it is".
Chick at bar: "Well, what do you do Orville? Do you make popcorn, too"?
Orville: "Oh, never mind what I do. Let's talk about you. So tell me….what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this".
Wilbur (interrupts): "We make bicycles. We are going to make a bicycle fly".
Chick at bar: "Make a bicycle fly? Who do you guys think you are? E.T."?
Ironically, Wilbur was a terrible wingman.

4. Rake Face: This is pretty much what it sounds like. Try not to hit yourself in the face with a rake. It will leave a mark and stings significantly more than Left Eye Blind and is more difficult to treat (and explain) than Mulch Foot.

5. Stroke: This, too, is pretty much what it sounds like. Don't have a stroke. Did I mention it was hot out? I don't think I had a stroke. Of course, I may be typing a blog that reads like I tried to transcribe the lyrics as sung on an R.E.M. album and just not realize it.

Enough for yard work. Enjoy your weekend. If you play your cards right, maybe you'll get to "bang out a few license plates" (wink, wink – or as the 1981 Loverboy album would say "get lucky").