Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 662

Confessions of an Elmo addict

Ever since my daughter began watching Sesame Street, I've noticed a few things, including the following:

1.  I have probably watched a total of three hours of Sesame Street in the last three months, and I use the term watched loosely.  I am often folding clothes, brushing me teeth, getting dressed or listening to a podcast while the show is on, and yet I feel I am completely in touch with the show. 

Bizarre.  

2.  My wife has an uncommonly strong dislike for the Abby's Flying Fairy School segment.  In fact, she hates it and has tried fast-forwarding past the segment at least once. 

3.  I find it odd that the show often features guests like Reggie Bush without indicating his name in any way.  Many NFL fans would not be able to identify the New Orleans Saints running back without his jersey on, so what chance does the average Sesame Street viewer have in doing so? 

Moreover, is Reggie Bush's presence supposed to appeal to the few NFL fans who might recognize him?  Will hardcore football fans find his performance on Sesame Street enough to keep them coming back for more?

Not me.  And not likely.   

4.  Elmo is shockingly compelling.  His enthusiasm is infectious.  His zest for life is enthralling.  His vim and vigor are to be admired and emulated.  Elmo finds great joy in hopping on one foot, and I find myself wanting to hop on one foot as well, in hopes of experiencing even a modicum of the happiness and excitement that he garners from the hops. 

I want to be Elmo's friend.  

Desperately so.

A rock and a hard place

I was playing basketball today with a bunch of guys much younger than me, including several kids from the local high school. There are times on the court when tempers flare, and yesterday was no exception. Two kids had been needling each other throughout much of the game, but as the taller of the two went to the basket, the shorter kid shoved his opponent in the back to prevent an easy basket.

A hard foul, but not something I haven't seen or done before myself.

Instead of the usual words of anger, however, these kids threw their fists into the air, ready to fight.

Being a teacher in the town where these kids go to school, I suddenly found myself in a difficult position. If these kids decided to fight and one or both were seriously hurt, what would that mean for me, a teacher in the district? Afraid to find out, I was forced to step in.

I started by imploring the guys to settle their dispute on the court, as is pickup game policy, but the taller kid responded to my suggestion with a less than diplomatic position.

"I'm going to kick his ass!" he shouted.

"Yeah, I'm gonna kick your ass!" the other kid answered back.

"No," I said, stepping between them. "I'm going to kick both your asses so we can get back to the game!"

Thankfully, a couple other guys backed up my threat with their nods of approval and the two kids, faced with a handful of annoyed players, cooled down.

Nice, huh?

I went from being in danger of witnessing a fight between two teenagers to threatening two teenagers and possibly being forced to fight them myself.

The heat of battle is a dangerous thing.

Words of marital wisdom

Maria McBride, the wedding style director at Brides Magazine, describes the enchantment with the 10/10/10 wedding date as this:

"You cross your fingers and hope it lasts a lifetime."  Therefore, the prospect of a perfect ten times three, she explains, suggests good luck. 

Is this really what people are feeling when they get married? 

Are brides and grooms crossing their fingers and hoping for the best when they slip the ring on their partner's finger?

I was fortunate enough to marry a couple on 10/10/10, and over the course of that day, I saw no dependence upon hope, luck or superstition in order to make their marriage last.  These were two people who had known each other since elementary school, and they were clearly in love.

In fact, they didn't even realize the numerical significance of their date until after it had been set.   

I hope Maria McBride is wrong.  Yes, marriages fail at a rate of nearly 50%, but it's my hope that no one enters into marriage with their fingers crossed.   

And if you want your marriage to last a lifetime, allow me to offer a few tips. 

Though I am not a style director of a bridal magazine, I have been married twice (one failed and one near-perfect), have married more than a dozen couples in the last ten years, and have worked with more than 300 others in planning their wedding day in the capacity of DJ and wedding planner.  I am also responsible for salvaging at least two marriages (in the words of those involved) and am frequently looked upon as a source of martial advice from people I know.

I'm not an expert, but I know some stuff. 

So here are three things to keep in mind prior to getting married: 

1.  Don't get married before the age of 30.  It's not a sure sign of disaster if you decide to get married earlier, but it doesn't help.  People over the age of 30 are more established, more aware of their own needs, and better prepared to share a home and life with another person.  In short, they are more mature and better able to meet the requirements of marriage.   

Don't believe me?  Survey the people you know in your life. 

How many are divorced?
How many of those divorced people were married before the age of 30?

If you are like most people I know, the numbers will tell the story. 

2.  If you are in a relationship in which the negotiation required for a night out without your future spouse or a Saturday afternoon on the golf course requires you to carefully time your request and barter one obligation or privilege for another, don't get married. 

If you are in a relationship in which you find yourself "getting in trouble" with your future spouse, don't get married. 

When a husband, for example, must wait until his wife is in a good mood to ask if he can attend a football game, or when he worries about getting in trouble with his wife for staying out an hour or two later than planned, it is not a relationship on equal footing and it should be avoided at all costs.  The marriage might last, but it ain't going to be a happy life. 

3.  Do not marry someone who is unwilling to combine their finances with your own. 

I have known couples who keep separate checking accounts and divide household expenses via complex formulas, and while some of them are still married today, they are simply not as happy as a couple who stands together as a team, under one financial umbrella.

A couple who keeps their money separate is a couple who is crossing their fingers and hoping the marriage will last while keeping one foot in the doorway just in case it doesn't.

It's a recipe for disaster.  Money is already a contributing factor in most divorces.  Don't give it room to create any more trouble than it already does. 

My good friend, Kim, tells her children that choosing their spouse is the single most important decision that they will ever make.

I agree with her. 

Make it a sensible choice, and one that will give you the greatest chance at happiness.  I know far too many unhappily married people and count myself extremely fortunate to be in a marriage that brings me nothing but joy.

You deserve the same.

Whats in your belly?

There is a bulletin board at my vet's office with cards and notes from pet owners. It's located adjacent to the checkout desk, so there are times when I can't help but look over at it, though I try to avoid doing so whenever possible. Messages like "Thank for helping our puppy in her final days" always break my heart.

I was waiting beside the bulletin board the other day when I noticed a card that read:

Thank you so much for taking care of Sandy during her blockage. It was a very scary time for us, and the constant phone calls and communication until you removed the squirrel's tail from her small intestine really put our mind at ease.

I sometimes forget the benefits of a small dog.

Bee and bride

I was fortunate enough to spend the afternoon serving as both minister and DJ for a couple's wedding in Simsbury, Connecticut.  The ceremony took place on a farm in the midst of an enormous field, at least half a mile from the nearest building or road. 

Upon arriving at the farm, I drove down a dirt path, past a pen of enormous pigs and acres and grass and trees, and after parking alongside a string of electrified barbed wire, I walked for a good ten minutes before arriving at the site of the ceremony.

Upon arriving, I realized that the Epi-Pen that would save my life in the event that I was stung by a bee was still in the car.

With my ministerial duties near at hand, I had a decision to make:

Do I walk back to my car or risk the next hour without it?

I turned to a guest who I know well and asked, "I'm not going to get stung today.  Right? I'm the minister.  God will protect me."

"You're a minister who doesn't believe in God," the guest said.  "I think that makes you more of a target in God's eyes."

"Good thing God doesn't exist.  Huh?"

You'd better hope he doesn't," she said, looking serious enough to make me nervous.

And even though I escaped unscathed, a bee actually landed on the binder from which I was reading during the ceremony, just inches from my thumb.  In the middle of the Apache wedding prayer, all I could do was stare at the thing as I read.

Nice try, imaginary deity. 

Small comforts

A friend of mine was telling me the story of a former college roommate and how absolutely awful she was. There were many stories illustrating her loathsomeness, but here's the best of the lot:

After boarding the plane with her boyfriend on the way to Aruba, she handed the poor guy a list of expectations for the trip.

Number one on the list:  No disappointments.

When society collapses, zombie infestation sweeps the planet, or aliens invade, the only solace I will find is in thinking about people like this and knowing how ill-equipped they are for a life without electricity, indoor plumbing, gossip magazines, and designer handbags.

Resolution update: September 2010

In an effort to achieve my yearly goals, I post my monthly progress here.

Below are my sixteen New Year's resolutions and my progress thus far.

1.  Lose seventeen more pounds, bringing my weight down to 185 pounds, which was my high school pole vaulting weight.

I'm back to within sixteen pounds of my goal with three months to go. 

It's not looking good. 

2.  Complete CHICKEN SHACK by April 15.

3.  Eat three servings of oatmeal a week in order to reduce my cholesterol.

Done!  Fourteen bowls in the month of September. 

4.  Try liver.

Not yet.  And c'mon.  This one is totally doable. 

5.  Publish an Op-Ed in a national newspaper.

I submitted a piece to the Times and was rejected.  I'm awaiting word from other papers now. 

6.  Participate in The Moth as a storyteller, at a live show or on their radio broadcast.

Not yet.  And it looks like the radio broadcast is out, so it'll have to be live.  

7.  Complete the rock opera.

8.  Read at least six novels that were published in 2010.

I'm up to twelve with THE CLOTHES THEY STOOD UP IN and FLY AWAY HOME.

9.  Organize my basement.

Work continues but is not complete.

10.  Learn to use Dreamweaver with reasonable skill.

11.  Land at least one paying client for my fledgling life coach business.

None yet.

12. Go to at least twelve movies this year, continuing to debunk the myth that the parents of newborns are no longer able to go out to the movies.

Stuck on seven and getting nervous that twelve might be out of reach.  To be perfectly honest, there haven't been that many movies that I have wanted to see.  But still, I should be able to squeeze in five during these last three months.  A couple double-headers should do it. 

13. Rid Elysha and myself of all education debt before the end of the year.

Still waiting for that million dollar, multi-book deal to come through, or a television or movie deal to happen.

14. Replace the twelve ancient windows on the first and second floor of the house with more energy efficient ones.

Looking unlikely without a windfall…

15. Make one mortgage payment from poker profits.

My bankroll is about 40% of my goal. 

16. Post my progress in terms of these resolutions on this blog on the first day of every month.

Late but done.

Speeding kills road signs.

A couple years ago, I gave my wife a GPS for her birthday. We quickly switched it over to the British voice and named her Diana.

Though Diana has proven to be extremely helpful in terms of navigation, I have an excellent sense of direction and can usually find my way around, so the benefits to me in this regard have been minimal.

This is never the case for Elysha.  Once she leaves her hometown, her internal map is at times almost nonexistent. Thanks to Diana she can get around without having to write down directions before leaving the house.  For me, it's meant that I don't worry nearly as much as I once did when she is driving.

Nevertheless, the GPS has made one significant difference in the way that I drive.  One of the features on the GPS is an estimated arrival time, and it is remarkably accurate.  What I've come to realize through this feature is that speeding is pointless. Even on a two hour excursion, accelerating from 65 to 80 miles per hour for the highway portion of the trip doesn't improve your arrival time significantly enough to make it worth the chance of a speeding ticket.

In many cases, it makes little difference at all.

This fact has become so evident to me that I think GPS should be required in every teenager's car, as a means of slowing them the hell down.

Of course, a GPS probably wouldn't have stopped me and Danny Pollock from getting my Datsun B210 up to 100 MPH on Elm Street just for kicks, and it would have done little to thwart my games of mailbox baseball and the subsequent breaking of my wrist.

And it have done little to prevent the accident that nearly killed me, and it couldn't have saved the No Parking sign outside St. Paul's Church or the Stop sign on the grounds of Blackstone Millville Regional High School or the door of the PhotoMat hut in the Almacs' parking lot

But I did a fair bit of speeding back when I was a teenager, and I received a multitude of tickets in response.  Like many teenage boys, I was reckless and dangerous and should not have been given a license until I was twenty-one, but short of keeping me off the road, a GPS might have slowed me down a bit. 

And it might have prevented the accident that totaled my Corolla and kept me and some friends from attending a Yankee's game a few years ago.

It's a miracle that I'm still alive.

Revenge is sweet, as long as it doesnt harm Clara

It's for reasons like that I have purchased my 20-month old daughter's domain name. 

Complicated parking

I don't understand these Compact Car Only signs.

Is it me, or did the phrase Compact Car cease to have any meaning since the mid-70's?

There are a few of these signs posted in my veterinarian's parking lot, and I never know what kind of car is permitted to park in these spots. Yesterday I was trying to decide if my Subaru Baja qualified as a compact car. After deciding against it and parking in an adjacent spot, Eloise aptly pointed out that the wheel base of my Baja was no larger than that of the Volkswagen Beatle parked next to me.

Wikipedia defines compact car as:

A compact (North America), small family (European) or c-segment car is a classification of cars which are larger than a supermini and smaller than a large family car. Current compact cars are between 4,100 mm (161 in) and 4,450 mm (175 in) long if they are hatchbacks, or between 4,400 mm (173 in) and 4,600 mm (181 in) if they are cabriolets, sedans or station wagons. Multi-purpose vehicles and sport utility vehicles based on small family cars, which are called compact MPVs and compact SUVs respectively, have become popular since the early 1990s.

Huh?