The Rambling Insomniac

A few weeks back, my wife Stephanie and I decided to buy a laptop computer. Our goal was to simply have a laptop with wireless capability so we could use the Internet throughout our home.

Egad…we’ve spent nearly $2,000 thus far, and I still don’t have the ability to surf the Internet from our new laptop! Let me explain…..we bought the new laptop and wireless router, and we were all set to hook it up. When I tried loading the wireless router disks onto our computer, I got several error messages. So, we had that checked out, which led to us having to purchase a new computer, since the one we had (that worked just fine, thank you) apparently had a corrupt “mother-board”. Since Steph is a stay-at-home-mom, she has a lot more time to deal with these sorts of things, so I agreed to have her work on getting us a new computer. On the advice of a friend, she purchased a Mac instead of getting a Windows based model. Bless her heart for doing this, but let me tell you, having been a Windows user all my life, converting to being a Mac user is no easy task. Even the simplest things like viewing pictures or videos ends up like being on a safari (which is ironically what Mac calls their web browsing program). Additionally, it seems that NOTHING is compatible with the Mac. So far, we have already had to buy a new printer, a new router and several “Windows for Mac” programs.

Well, enough whining. We have had the Mac for about 2 weeks now, and we are learning how to navigate through the various programs it has. Many of these are quite “feature rich”, and seem nicer than Windows, but learning how to use them is no easy task. When I think about it, having this Mac has been sort of like raising our children. Until you have done it, you have no idea what to do or what to expect. And just like children, the more time you spend with the Mac, the easier it seems to get. Each day thus far has been an adventure with our baby Mac, and I just hope that as its Mac Daddy, I can give it the time and attention it deserves.

G’Night G’Town!

“Computers, huh?  I've heard it all boils down to just a bunch of ones and zeroes.... I don't know how that enables me to see naked women, but however it works, God bless you guys.”
 ~From the television show King of Queens, spoken by the character Doug Heffernan

….the Milwaukee Brewers made their last play-off appearance….UNTIL NOW!! It’s been a LONG, LONG time Brewer fans; go ahead and revel in the moment!

G’Night G’Town!

I may not be there yet, but I'm closer than I was yesterday.  ~Author Unknown

Unless you have been hiding under a rock for the past couple of weeks, you are undoubtedly aware of the recent financial crisis that has come about here in America. Long story short, several large investment and insurance firms, such as American International Group (AIG), have been teetering on the edge of bankruptcy as a result of the collapse of the sub-prime mortgage market. The crisis is serious enough that our government has stepped in and has now created an $85 billion “bail-out” plan for AIG. Under the plan, the government will basically take control of about 80% of AIG’s holdings.

Now I’m no Alan Greenspan, but this whole bail-out move is something I am really struggling with. Fact is, the American free enterprise system is one that runs on greed. As Americans, we want more money, so we are willing to take certain risks to get more money. In the case of large insurance firms such as AIG, they have capitalized on these risks, and when economic times are good, they make boatloads of money. But suddenly, when certain economic factors come about, there profits shrink down to nothing, and they end up in bankruptcy. Now here is the part I struggle with…why is it my responsibility as a taxpayer to bail them out? When times were good for AIG, I don’t remember ever seeing a credit on my paycheck that said something like “AIG Rebate”? Boy, that sort of sounds like socialism, doesn’t it? Scary stuff.

Again, I’m no Wall Street wizard, and I can’t say I have a better idea of how to solve this crisis. I do trust our government when they say that something needs to be done here, but I’m just concerned about the precedent we may be setting for the future.

G’Night G’Town!

Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.  ~Robert F. Kennedy

The hills, dirt and Jesus. Just a few things I am feeling older than this week. You see, just the other day, I received an invitation for my 25-year high school reunion. I guess I was just sort of coasting through life really not paying attention to how old I’m getting, and WHAM!, I’ve been out of high school for 25 years!?!?

I’m sure many of you can relate with me when I say high school was not by any means a highlight in my life. Don’t get me wrong, I had tons of friends back then, partied hard and managed to graduate with a “3 point something” GPA, but for me, my life really began after high school. But that’s just me. I still have friends that can’t stop talking about “the good old days” of high school, and I guess that’s okay. Maybe for them, these were the years that shaped their lives, or maybe they were just the best years they ever had? It would be really sad to me if the latter were true on that one.

So anyway, I am feeling a bit old right now, but I’ll get over it. I have my own mathematical “philosophy” on the years we spend here on Earth, and it goes something like this:

Your first 15 years of life simply do not count. Face it, we were all too young and too stupid for these years to really matter. So, if I figure that my life started at the age of 15, that means I’ve really only lived for 28 years. When I balance my bad habits and vices with improvements in health care, I figure I am going to live until I’m at least 80 years old. With that being said, I still have 37 more years of life left, and given the fact that I’ve only lived for 28 so far, I’ve got a long way to go! And if I can pack as much life into my next 37 years as of I’ve packed into the first 28, things are looking even better.

If there are any other Class of 1983, Germantown High School Alumni out there that are feeling as old as dirt right about now, keep your chin up, we still have a long way to go!

G’Night G’Town!

Age is an issue of mind over matter.  If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.  ~Mark Twain

This past weekend, my wife and I took our kids down to the Indian Summer Festival held at Milwaukee’s Summerfest grounds. Thus far in life, the only exposure to Indians my kids have had has been what they see on Scooby-Doo, so we felt this would be a good educational opportunity for them. My son, Buck, told me he didn’t want to go see the Indians because “they’re scary” (they are usually ghosts on Scooby-Doo). So, we went onto YouTube the night before and pulled up some Pow Wow videos for him to watch. This set him at ease.

We got to Indian Summer early enough on Saturday to grab some food before the big Pow Wow began. We were eating some Indian flatbread, which I referred to as “Indian donuts” so I could get the kids to try it. Once they tried the deep-fried, buttery, sugar and cinnamon treat, they gobbled it up. As we were eating it, I did my best Indian chant saying, “I like donuts, I like donuts, I like donuts!” My wife quickly scoffed at me and reminded me that I may not be exactly politically correct chanting like that sitting at a table surrounded by true Native Americans! No disrespect intended though.

We then went to see the Pow Wow, which was really cool. Many nations of Indians were represented, all in traditional garb. As they entered the Pow Wow area as part of the “Grand Entry”, they danced and chanted to various traditional Indian tunes. Before that, one of the leaders of the festival gave an opening prayer that was quite moving. While I can’t quote him exactly, he said something to the effect of “We are here not as a race, not as a nation, and not as an ethnic group. We are all here as people, to celebrate our Earth, our skies and all those people we share it with”. It was quite a moving prayer when coupled with the passion these people displayed in their dance, song, attire and celebrations.

Afterwards, all of the Indian Nations broke off into areas throughout the grounds and began traditional celebrations specific to their tribes. All was done authentically, with emcee’s describing the dances and chants so observers got an education on what the significance of every move was.

All in all, it was a great festival, and one I would certainly recommend to anyone. It was a great way to learn more about the many Indian Nations that exist in our country, as well as a great way to enjoy the Summerfest grounds without having to fight the major crowds normally associated with other festivals. All this, and now my family has a greater respect for the many Indian cultures, and my kids don’t just think Indians are simply some scary ghosts on Scooby-Doo!

G’Night G’Town!

When asked by an anthropologist what the Indians called America before the white man came, an Indian said simply, "Ours."  ~Vine Deloria, Jr.

The day after Labor Day, my daughter Lyndsy starts her first day of school. She will be attending the K4 program at Plat Elementary School. I had envisioned writing a mushy and sentimental blog that would attempt to capture all the emotions I’m feeling with this big step in her life. But just last week, my sister TJ handed me a copy of an article she had clipped from an Ohio newspaper where she lives. Seems someone has already written down all of my feelings, and likely those of all parents that have sent their kids off to school.

The following was penned by a gentleman named Dan Valentine, and to the best of my knowledge was written sometime in the 1960’s. It is titled, “Dear World….I Trust You’ll Treat Her Well”. Enjoy!

Dear World,

I bequeath to you today one little girl in a crispy dress with two blue eyes and a happy laugh that ripples all day long and a flash of light blond hair that bounces in the sun when she runs. I trust you'll treat her well.

She's slipping out of the backyard of my heart this morning and skipping off down the street to her first day of school. And never again will she be completely mine. Prim and proud she'll wave her young and independent hand this morning and say "Goodbye" and walk with little lady steps to the schoolhouse.

Now she'll learn to stand in lines and wait by the alphabet for her name to be called. She'll learn to tune her ears for the sounds of school-bells and deadlines and she'll learn to giggle and gossip and look at the ceiling in a disinterested way when the little boy 'cross the aisle sticks out his tongue at her. And, now she'll learn to be jealous. And now she'll learn how it is to feel hurt inside.

And now she'll learn how not to cry.

No longer will she have time to sit on the front porch steps on a summer day and watch an ant scurry across the crack in the sidewalk. Nor will she have time to pop out of bed with the dawn and kiss lilac blooms in the morning dew. No, now she'll worry about those important things like grades and which dress to wear and whose best friend is whose. And the magic of books and learning will replace the magic of her blocks and dolls.

And now she'll find new heroes.

For five full years now I've been her sage and Santa Claus and pal and playmate and father and friend. Now she'll learn to share her worship with her teachers which is only right.

But, no longer will I be the smartest, greatest man in the whole world. Today when that school bell rings for the first time she'll learn what it means to be a member of the group with all its privileges and its disadvantages too.

She'll learn in time that proper young ladies do not laugh out loud or kiss dogs or keep frogs in pickle jars in bedrooms or even watch ants scurry across cracks in sidewalks in the summer.

Today she'll learn for the first time that all who smile at her are not her friends. And I'll stand on the front porch and watch her start out on the long, lonely journey to becoming a woman.

So, world, I bequeath to you today one little girl in a crispy dress with two blue eyes and a happy laugh that ripples all day long…and a flash of light blond hair that bounces in the sun when she runs.

I trust you'll treat her well.

Sniff, sniff……

G’Night G’Town!

                                    ~From “Smokey and the Bandit”

Within the past month, I’ve heard several different people use the phrase “a pork chop in every can” when referring to beer. The premise being: "Why bother eating something, as you can get just as much nutrition from a can of beer than you can from a pork chop?"

Hmmmm…that’s certainly an interesting concept.

Any die-hard beer drinker clearly knows that interrupting a good beer drinking binge with some food will certainly absolve most of the mind altering properties one was hoping to achieve with downing a 12-pack in the first place. With that being said, it certainly supports the premise of “a pork chop in every can”.

One could also argue that the act of opening a can of beer is much simpler than cooking up a pork chop. There’s certainly no grill to light, no grease on the stove, no dishes to clean up and you don’t have to wash your hands after drinking a beer. And on top of that, have you seen the price of pork lately? Once again, these points all support the premise of “a pork chop in every can”.

Being the inquisitive soul that I am, I checked out the nutritional values of both the beer and the pork chops in question. Turns out that a can of beer has 1 gram of protein, and a pork chop has 20 grams of protein. Beer has 0 grams of fat and a pork chop has 11 grams of fat. Based on the nutritional value of both beer and pork chops, you can conclude that one would have to drink twenty beers to get the same protein content as one pork chop. And, in doing so, one would incur zero grams of fat in the process. It’s complicated math, I know, but based on my research, I now see where the phrase “a pork chop in every can” comes from, and I fully support the premise behind it.

I have to run now, as my kids are bugging me to make some dinner for them. Boy, this is going to be easy!

G’Night G’Town!

“This is grain, which any fool can eat, but for which the Lord intended a more divine means of consumption... Beer!” - Friar Tuck in ‘Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves’

I've always been infatuated with tornadoes. I watch T.V. shows about them, I love watching news clips about them, I constantly dream about them, and I truly believe that one will actually hit me someday. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not afraid of tornadoes; in fact, I look forward to the day I actually get to see one coming at me.

But herein lies a problem. The property where I live is heavily wooded, and any good view of the western sky is pretty much blocked by trees. If a tornado were coming straight at me, I likely wouldn’t see it until it was right on top of the house. On top of that, active railroad tracks run adjacent to my property. We’ve all seen countless video clips of the guy from the trailer park recently hit by a tornado that exclaims, “I was just standin’ there drinkin’ my beer, whens I heard what I thought was a freight train a comin’ right through my dang kitchen!” Fact is, I hear freight trains coming right through my kitchen 24 hours a day! As I stood on my porch this past weekend, mesmerized by the awesome storms that were rolling through, at least three different trains went by during the peak of the storm. So you can just picture me dropping my beer, running into the house like an idiot yelling, “hit the basement!” only to realize it was just another train going by.

All my life, there have been certain things I just knew were going to happen, and eventually they did. I’m certain my house will be hit by a tornado someday, and I really hope I’m there to witness it when it happens. And I certainly hope that when a tornado really does come, I don’t do something stupid like stand on my porch and say, “Oh, don’t worry about that noise, it’s just a train”.

G’Night G’Town!

Lolita: Hi, I'm Lolita, and this is Tanqueray.
Tanqueray: Since we're all about to die, we were wondering if you guys'd like to be our last boyfriends on earth?
Beavis: Tornadoes are cool, they can drive matches through a 2x4.
Butt-head: Yeah, a tornado can smash a poodle's face with a brick.
Beavis: They can suck a heart out of a man's chest and show it to him before he dies. Tornadoes are cool.

My wife and I recently scheduled a summer trip to the Northwood’s for our family. We are renting a cabin on a lake, near Minocqua, for a week in August. We spent hours looking at countless resorts and all their offerings, and finally found one that should be just perfect for the kids and us. We’ve rented a log style cabin with a beautiful porch that overlooks the lake. The resort has an awesome looking swimming beach, with a nice gradual slope into the water, where our kids are likely to spend the majority of their time while we’re up there.

We’ve sent in our deposit for the cabin, and are now just sitting back anxiously looking forward to our trip. But just today, I received something I found a bit odd. I received an e-mail from the resort owner that politely asked me to “sign the attached waiver and fax it back” to him. The waiver is written in typical “lawyer-speak”, and has a lot of legal mumbo-jumbo in it. Its basic message is that the resort offers many activities, including swimming, boating, fishing, and various sports activities, and that there are “significant risks” associated with such activities. I am being asked to sign the waiver to indemnify the resort from all liability in the event one of the members of my family gets hurt doing one of these “risky” activities.

My goodness!! Is this really what our society has come to? We need to sign waivers to stay at a resort for vacation? Has self-entitlement in America reached the stage where we have to sign disclaimers to protect each other from lawsuits related to swimming, running and playing? I guess it has, and in my opinion, that’s just plain sad.

Well, I went ahead and signed the waiver and faxed it off. I sure hope we don’t need to sign a waiver to eat pancakes at Paul Bunyan’s restaurant while we’re up there.

G’Night G’Town!

Any society that needs disclaimers has too many lawyers.  ~Erik Pepke