Baseball is back.
It feels so nice to say that: Baseball - is - back. It's been a long winter. And it still seems to be lingering for many of us, but today is opening day for most teams and if warm weather isn't going to remind us of Spring and Summer, then baseball will.
Last night, the Nationals opened their season in their new park. From what I saw on TV, the place looks beautiful. And to top it off, Ryan Zimmerman ended the game in pure dramatic fashion in the bottom of the ninth inning with a walk-off home run:
For baseball fans, if this doesn't get you excited for the season then you must be simple. It's time. It's time for the crack of the bat and home runs to end a close game; It's time for hot dogs passed down the aisle at the hands of nine strangers; It's time for men yelling "Peanuts!"; It's time for the hot and sweaty days of sitting in the open air during an afternoon game.
For me, baseball is an art form. Baseball is poetry. It's easy to dismiss the game for lack of movement or scoring (especially in our Football World of fast paced beer commercials and scantily clad women flashing across TV screens like brainless music videos). Sadly, the beauty of the sport is lost on most. Baseball, like chess, has no clock. The game ends when someone wins. Time does not decide the victor. The action is subtle like a dance, or a few measures of a Bach concerto. If you're not paying attention you will miss it. Baseball forces us to slow down and quietly observe. We are a busy generation. We are always connected. We are constantly running and fetching and jumping. Baseball removes us from that world. Baseball shows us that wonderful things happen when you stop and pay attention.
If I had to choose a religion, baseball would be it. And my church is and always will be Wrigley Field...
One more thing... XM 175 Home Plate... If you're a baseball fan you must listen to this channel.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Exploration
Someone once said you should do one thing everyday that scares you. Admittedly, I do not practice this on a daily basis, but there are times when this sentence echoes in my mind when confronted with a choice.
Philosophically, I am always willing to try anything at least once. Sometimes twice, just to make sure. I do believe conquering fear makes you into a better person. So that is why this morning I deviated from my well-known, comfortable, mapped-out route to work and decided to take an alternate, unknown path to work. *If you don't think this counts as over-coming a fear, then you haven't driven in Washington DC during rush hour traffic.
Typically, I take 395 north into Washington DC where it turns into 14th Street, goes over the 14th Street bridge, and eventually takes me into downtown DC. I've been driving this route for seven years. I could probably drive it with my eyes closed. Unfortunately, it's one of only a few ways into DC if you live in Virginia. The amount of traffic is staggering. It usually takes me roughly 45 minutes to an hour to drive the 10 miles to work. BUT this morning I veered off, I took the road less traveled.
Just as 395 passes the Pentagon, there is an exit on the left that I have always wondered about. I tried to figure out where it goes. I even looked on maps, but couldn't quite see. Well, this morning I turn the car into this left exit lane and ventured forth into the unknown -
Long story short: I took a different bridge into DC and shaved many minutes off my commute.
Philosophically, I am always willing to try anything at least once. Sometimes twice, just to make sure. I do believe conquering fear makes you into a better person. So that is why this morning I deviated from my well-known, comfortable, mapped-out route to work and decided to take an alternate, unknown path to work. *If you don't think this counts as over-coming a fear, then you haven't driven in Washington DC during rush hour traffic.
Typically, I take 395 north into Washington DC where it turns into 14th Street, goes over the 14th Street bridge, and eventually takes me into downtown DC. I've been driving this route for seven years. I could probably drive it with my eyes closed. Unfortunately, it's one of only a few ways into DC if you live in Virginia. The amount of traffic is staggering. It usually takes me roughly 45 minutes to an hour to drive the 10 miles to work. BUT this morning I veered off, I took the road less traveled.
Just as 395 passes the Pentagon, there is an exit on the left that I have always wondered about. I tried to figure out where it goes. I even looked on maps, but couldn't quite see. Well, this morning I turn the car into this left exit lane and ventured forth into the unknown -
Long story short: I took a different bridge into DC and shaved many minutes off my commute.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
What Really Grinds My Gears
I drink coffee. Daily. I even brew my own pot of coffee in the morning and bring a Thermos full of it to work with me. But occasionally, I will take a short walk down the block to get a cup of coffee at the local Starbuck's or Caribou.I like to put cream and sugar in my coffee. I don't have specific numbers, but I reckon there are many of us out there who add cream and sugar to our coffee.
The next time you're in a coffee shop, take a look around. Find the area where people can add cream and sugar to their coffee... Pretty freakin' small, ain't it. My bedside table has more surface area than these "counters" where I can set down my tall coffee and pour in cream and sugar. And 9 out of 10 times there is someone standing at this "counter" adjusting the taste of their coffee via cream and sugar. So then I must wait.
Don't get me wrong, I don't mind waiting my turn for things. The breakdown of lines (or queues, for my fancy English readers) can only lead to anarchy. No, waiting is not a problem for me.
And the tiny doll house table I have to use to add cream and sugar doesn't really bother me that much either. No, my real problem is the jackass who is standing at the cream and sugar table. Next time in a coffee shop, observe the behavior of this oblivious, miserable sap. This is the guy I must stand behind and wait for as he does this:
He adds cream, he adds sugar, he gently sips... he adds a little more cream, a little more sugar, he gently sips again... nope, still not right - he adds more cream, he adds more sugar, he gently sips... now his face looks like that of a wine taster. Minutes pass... my core body temperature rises... he sips, he adds... he sips again, over and over, as if he sculpting the perfect cup of coffee.
If I were in charge of the cream and sugar table, you add cream and add sugar and then you're done. You move on. You get what you get. That's life. Learn from your mistakes so that tomorrow you'll know to add slightly more sugar. None of this sipping and tasting and judging and contemplating your Tuesday morning cup of coffee that you probably won't finish anyway, while busy people wait behind you. No, sir.
And now that I think of it, if you don't know how much cream and sugar to add to your coffee by now then you have no business drinking coffee. Go back to your Diet Cokes and Mocha Frappuccinos. ("Mmmm, it's like a chocolate shake!")
Monday, March 24, 2008
John Adams
It has been quite a while since television gave us significant entertainment. Granted, I supported the writer's strike, but that doesn't mean I don't miss some of my favorite shows. Then suddenly, HBO does it again with the mini-series John Adams. All I can say is this is the best offering television has given us in years. Years.
Based on the highly popular biography by David McCullough, Paul Giamatti and Laura Linney star as John Adams and Abigail Adams. It's hard to believe this man has not won an Academy Award yet, but this performance will surely bring him an Emmy. Both actors are magnificent.
Watching actors portray our forefathers in a way we've never seen is nothing short of eerie. Eerie because we forget that these men (and women) were not godlike or giants, but rather ordinary people, facing impossible odds and enduring the harshest conditions physically and emotionally.
Episode three aired last night. I'm constantly commenting on how shabby our school system must be if this rendition of history is at all accurate. The things I did not know about my own country! Epic political debates and the creation of monumental documents get one or two sentences in our "history textbooks." We surely take these moments in time for granted. And watching John Adams has brought me to that realization.
Aside from its stark vision of history, John Adams is beautiful. Famous, historic locales have never been recreated in such a way. I am so enthralled by this presentation.
Once again, HBO delivers gold. If you have HBO and aren't watching John Adams, then you, sir or madam, are a moron.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Happy Pi Day!
3.
1415926535 8979323846 2643383279 5028841971 6939937510 5820974944 5923078164 0628620899 8628034825 3421170679 8214808651 3282306647 0938446095 5058223172 5359408128 4811174502 8410270193 8521105559 6446229489 5493038196 4428810975 6659334461 2847564823 3786783165 2712019091 4564856692 3460348610 4543266482 1339360726 0249141273 7245870066 0631558817 4881520920 9628292540 9171536436 7892590360 0113305305 4882046652 1384146951 9415116094 3305727036 5759591953 0921861173 8193261179 3105118548 0744623799 6274956735 1885752724 8912279381 8301194912 9833673362 4406566430 8602139494 6395224737 1907021798 6094370277 0539217176 2931767523 8467481846 7669405132 0005681271 4526356082 7785771342 7577896091 7363717872 1468440901 2249534301 4654958537 1050792279 6892589235 4201995611 2129021960 8640344181 5981362977 4771309960 5187072113 4999999837 2978049951 0597317328 1609631859 5024459455 3469083026 4252230825 3344685035 2619311881 7101000313 7838752886 5875332083 8142061717 7669147303 5982534904 2875546873 1159562863 8823537875 9375195778 1857780532 1712268066 1300192787 6611195909 2164201989 3809525720 1065485863 2788659361 5338182796 8230301952 0353018529 6899577362 2599413891 2497217752 8347913151 5574857242 4541506959 5082953311 6861727855 8890750983 8175463746 4939319255 0604009277 0167113900 9848824012 8583616035 6370766010 4710181942 9555961989 4676783744 9448255379 7747268471 0404753464 6208046684 2590694912 9331367702 8989152104 7521620569 6602405803 8150193511 2533824300 3558764024 7496473263 9141992726 0426992279 6782354781 6360093417 2164121992 4586315030 2861829745 5570674983 8505494588 5869269956 9092721079 7509302955 3211653449 8720275596 0236480665 4991198818 3479775356 6369807426 5425278625 5181841757 4672890977 7727938000 8164706001 6145249192 1732172147 7235014144 1973568548 1613611573 5255213347 5741849468 4385233239 0739414333 4547762416 8625189835 6948556209 9219222184 2725502542 5688767179 0494601653 4668049886 2723279178 6085784383 8279679766 8145410095 3883786360 9506800642 2512520511 7392984896 0841284886 2694560424 1965285022 2106611863 0674427862 2039194945 0471237137 8696095636 4371917287 4677646575 7396241389 0865832645 9958133904 7802759009 9465764078 9512694683 9835259570 9825822620 5224894077 2671947826 8482601476 9909026401 3639443745 5305068203 4962524517 4939965143 1429809190 6592509372 2169646151 5709858387 4105978859 5977297549 8930161753 9284681382 6868386894 2774155991 8559252459 5395943104 9972524680 8459872736 4469584865 3836736222 6260991246 0805124388 4390451244 1365497627 8079771569 1435997700 1296160894 4169486855 5848406353 4220722258 2848864815 8456028506 0168427394 5226746767 8895252138 5225499546 6672782398 6456596116 3548862305 7745649803 5593634568 1743241125 1507606947 9451096596 0940252288 7971089314 5669136867 2287489405 6010150330 8617928680 9208747609 1782493858 9009714909 6759852613 6554978189 3129784821 6829989487 2265880485 7564014270 4775551323 7964145152 3746234364 5428584447 9526586782 1051141354 7357395231 1342716610 2135969536 2314429524 8493718711 0145765403 5902799344 0374200731 0578539062 1983874478 0847848968 3321445713 8687519435 0643021845 3191048481 0053706146 8067491927 8191197939 9520614196 6342875444 0643745123 7181921799 9839101591 9561814675 1426912397 4894090718 6494231961
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1415926535 8979323846 2643383279 5028841971 6939937510 5820974944 5923078164 0628620899 8628034825 3421170679 8214808651 3282306647 0938446095 5058223172 5359408128 4811174502 8410270193 8521105559 6446229489 5493038196 4428810975 6659334461 2847564823 3786783165 2712019091 4564856692 3460348610 4543266482 1339360726 0249141273 7245870066 0631558817 4881520920 9628292540 9171536436 7892590360 0113305305 4882046652 1384146951 9415116094 3305727036 5759591953 0921861173 8193261179 3105118548 0744623799 6274956735 1885752724 8912279381 8301194912 9833673362 4406566430 8602139494 6395224737 1907021798 6094370277 0539217176 2931767523 8467481846 7669405132 0005681271 4526356082 7785771342 7577896091 7363717872 1468440901 2249534301 4654958537 1050792279 6892589235 4201995611 2129021960 8640344181 5981362977 4771309960 5187072113 4999999837 2978049951 0597317328 1609631859 5024459455 3469083026 4252230825 3344685035 2619311881 7101000313 7838752886 5875332083 8142061717 7669147303 5982534904 2875546873 1159562863 8823537875 9375195778 1857780532 1712268066 1300192787 6611195909 2164201989 3809525720 1065485863 2788659361 5338182796 8230301952 0353018529 6899577362 2599413891 2497217752 8347913151 5574857242 4541506959 5082953311 6861727855 8890750983 8175463746 4939319255 0604009277 0167113900 9848824012 8583616035 6370766010 4710181942 9555961989 4676783744 9448255379 7747268471 0404753464 6208046684 2590694912 9331367702 8989152104 7521620569 6602405803 8150193511 2533824300 3558764024 7496473263 9141992726 0426992279 6782354781 6360093417 2164121992 4586315030 2861829745 5570674983 8505494588 5869269956 9092721079 7509302955 3211653449 8720275596 0236480665 4991198818 3479775356 6369807426 5425278625 5181841757 4672890977 7727938000 8164706001 6145249192 1732172147 7235014144 1973568548 1613611573 5255213347 5741849468 4385233239 0739414333 4547762416 8625189835 6948556209 9219222184 2725502542 5688767179 0494601653 4668049886 2723279178 6085784383 8279679766 8145410095 3883786360 9506800642 2512520511 7392984896 0841284886 2694560424 1965285022 2106611863 0674427862 2039194945 0471237137 8696095636 4371917287 4677646575 7396241389 0865832645 9958133904 7802759009 9465764078 9512694683 9835259570 9825822620 5224894077 2671947826 8482601476 9909026401 3639443745 5305068203 4962524517 4939965143 1429809190 6592509372 2169646151 5709858387 4105978859 5977297549 8930161753 9284681382 6868386894 2774155991 8559252459 5395943104 9972524680 8459872736 4469584865 3836736222 6260991246 0805124388 4390451244 1365497627 8079771569 1435997700 1296160894 4169486855 5848406353 4220722258 2848864815 8456028506 0168427394 5226746767 8895252138 5225499546 6672782398 6456596116 3548862305 7745649803 5593634568 1743241125 1507606947 9451096596 0940252288 7971089314 5669136867 2287489405 6010150330 8617928680 9208747609 1782493858 9009714909 6759852613 6554978189 3129784821 6829989487 2265880485 7564014270 4775551323 7964145152 3746234364 5428584447 9526586782 1051141354 7357395231 1342716610 2135969536 2314429524 8493718711 0145765403 5902799344 0374200731 0578539062 1983874478 0847848968 3321445713 8687519435 0643021845 3191048481 0053706146 8067491927 8191197939 9520614196 6342875444 0643745123 7181921799 9839101591 9561814675 1426912397 4894090718 6494231961
5679452080 9514655022 5231603881 9301420937 6213785595 6638937787 0830390697 9207734672 2182562599 6615014215 0306803844 7734549202 6054146659 2520149744 2850732518 6660021324 3408819071 0486331734 6496514539 0579626856 1005508106 6587969981 6357473638 4052571459 1028970641 4011097120 6280439039 7595156771 5770042033 7869936007 2305587631 7635942187 3125147120 5329281918 2618612586 7321579198 4148488291 6447060957 5270695722 0917567116 7229109816 9091528017 3506712748 5832228718 3520935396 5725121083 5791513698 8209144421 0067510334 6711031412 6711136990 8658516398 3150197016 5151168517 1437657618 3515565088 4909989859 9823873455 2833163550 7647918535 8932261854 8963213293 3089857064 2046752590 7091548141 6549859461 6371802709 8199430992 4488957571 2828905923 2332609729 9712084433 5732654893 8239119325 9746366730 5836041428 1388303203 8249037589 8524374417 0291327656 1809377344 4030707469 2112019130 2033038019 7621101100 4492932151 6084244485 9637669838 9522868478 3123552658 2131449576 8572624334 4189303968 6426243410 7732269780 2807318915 4411010446 8232527162 0105265227 2111660396 6655730925 4711055785 3763466820 6531098965 2691862056
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Superman by Chris Appelhans
This is one of the coolest and most beautiful interpretations of Superman I've ever seen. I love it.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Bullseye, Target
Hypocrisy is a funny thing.
I know it's not fashionable for me to say this, but I do not hate giant corporations. I do not hate Wal-Mart. I do not hate Starbucks. I do not hate Best Buy. (While we're on the subject, I also do not hate Microsoft.)
Yes, I am aware that smaller, independent businesses have shut their doors due to the existence of a nearby Starbucks or Wal-Mart store. BUT, you have to ask the very real question of why. Why did the small, inconveniently located, overpriced store go out of business? And why do the American people continue to patronize these larger entities?
I like to use my nudie bar analogy for this argument: When the wife finds out her husband frequents a strip joint, who does she blame? Usually, it's the strip joint. How many of these establishments get picketed or protested against due to the product they offer? Might we look towards the consumer who is venturing into these places and giving them his money?
We demand services and stores offering certain products, but when those places finally pop up we blame them for the decisions we make. New flash: the porn industry makes BILLIONS of dollars a year. That billions with a B. Who do we "blame" for that?
Remember, these places wouldn't continue to exist and thrive if WE didn't continue to give them our money. Now THAT'S consumerism at its finest. (America made its bed... now it has to sleep in it.)
My point today: DC got a Target! It's the first "big box" store in the city. And the local bloggers are buzzing. Mostly, these blogs are negative. Like I said, it's quite fashionable to say these stores are bad. That they lack character or charm. Or that we are like sheep filing into these buildings, zombie-like, ready to spend.
But guess what - this Target was a genius idea! Now all the young, liberal hipsters no longer have to drive their fancy Prius's out to the suburbs to stockpile all their cheap toilet paper and particleboard end tables.
As far as the neighborhood losing its charm, we're surely going to miss all those boarded-up crack houses and trash-lined streets unsafe to drive on past 6 PM.
By the way, as soon as an independent coffee shop and electronics dealer with ample parking and low prices opens up near here, I am so there.
I'm no business expert, but here's a lesson that might work: Provide a product the people will want and do it better than your competition. Sounds easy.
Let's not forget, Starbucks started out as a simple, little independently owned coffeeshop. Now we want to hate them for being successful. Bah!
Oh, and Microsoft... thanks for making the computer operating system a part of everyday life. You may not have invented it, but you sure did make it popular (something Apple couldn't do). Go Word!
I know it's not fashionable for me to say this, but I do not hate giant corporations. I do not hate Wal-Mart. I do not hate Starbucks. I do not hate Best Buy. (While we're on the subject, I also do not hate Microsoft.)
Yes, I am aware that smaller, independent businesses have shut their doors due to the existence of a nearby Starbucks or Wal-Mart store. BUT, you have to ask the very real question of why. Why did the small, inconveniently located, overpriced store go out of business? And why do the American people continue to patronize these larger entities?
I like to use my nudie bar analogy for this argument: When the wife finds out her husband frequents a strip joint, who does she blame? Usually, it's the strip joint. How many of these establishments get picketed or protested against due to the product they offer? Might we look towards the consumer who is venturing into these places and giving them his money?
We demand services and stores offering certain products, but when those places finally pop up we blame them for the decisions we make. New flash: the porn industry makes BILLIONS of dollars a year. That billions with a B. Who do we "blame" for that?
Remember, these places wouldn't continue to exist and thrive if WE didn't continue to give them our money. Now THAT'S consumerism at its finest. (America made its bed... now it has to sleep in it.)
My point today: DC got a Target! It's the first "big box" store in the city. And the local bloggers are buzzing. Mostly, these blogs are negative. Like I said, it's quite fashionable to say these stores are bad. That they lack character or charm. Or that we are like sheep filing into these buildings, zombie-like, ready to spend.
But guess what - this Target was a genius idea! Now all the young, liberal hipsters no longer have to drive their fancy Prius's out to the suburbs to stockpile all their cheap toilet paper and particleboard end tables.
As far as the neighborhood losing its charm, we're surely going to miss all those boarded-up crack houses and trash-lined streets unsafe to drive on past 6 PM.
By the way, as soon as an independent coffee shop and electronics dealer with ample parking and low prices opens up near here, I am so there.
I'm no business expert, but here's a lesson that might work: Provide a product the people will want and do it better than your competition. Sounds easy.
Let's not forget, Starbucks started out as a simple, little independently owned coffeeshop. Now we want to hate them for being successful. Bah!
Oh, and Microsoft... thanks for making the computer operating system a part of everyday life. You may not have invented it, but you sure did make it popular (something Apple couldn't do). Go Word!
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Gygax is Dead
My heart hurts a little today. Rest in peace, Gary.
Link:
Gary Gygax, 'Father of D&D,' Dies at 69
Reading this headline sent me back to 1987, seventh grade, science:
We knew we were getting a new science teacher that year. Mr. Wheeler. He was a large man reminiscent of Santa Claus. From the neck up he had the head of a giant yard gnome. Or maybe he looked more like a well-fed monk. His beard only grew from below his mouth, not above. And his bald head was shiny.
In class, he demanded our attention. His voice was booming and passionate. Academically, he expected excellence. I remember one specific lesson when he spent an entire hour teaching us the importance of stating the unit of measurement when giving a number. For example, it's not 56 outside, it's 56 degrees outside. And I use the word teach loosely - we were scared into stating the unit of measurement.
One time, while preparing for our individual science fair projects, Mr. Wheeler required we all have private meetings with him to discuss the progress of our experiments. I don't remember a single student coming out of that meeting who wasn't sobbing. The man was able to make me cry with merely a look on his face.
So the school year went on with all of us fearing our new science teacher. Until one day, my friend Andy saw a colorful book on Mr Wheeler's desk: "What's a Monster Manual?" Mr. Wheeler looked slightly embarrassed. His face and bald head turned a light shade of red. "It's for a game called Dungeons & Dragons."
After that moment, a select few of us stayed after school every Friday night and played Dungeons & Dragons in the science room. Mr. Wheeler took on the role of Dungeon Master (the person who runs the game) and we learned the technical rules and intricacies of what seemed like an exclusive club that we were honored to be a part of.
Mr. Wheeler didn't come back to be our science teacher in the eighth grade, but we continued our new tradition of playing Dungeons & Dragons. I became the new Dungeon Master and tried very hard to fill the mighty shoes of our original Dungeon Master.
We played D&D for a few more years until we discovered girls had boobs (that required touching for some reason). Suddenly, we started driving and getting girlfriends and we didn't have any more time for D&D. But I'll always look back at those years with fondness and longing.
I never knew what became of Mr. Wheeler. We did learn that he and Gary Gygax were friends and that Mr. Wheeler probably had a hand in the development of this wonderful game.
And yes, given enough nerdy friends and at least one free night a week, I'd play D&D in a heartbeat.
Link:
Gary Gygax, 'Father of D&D,' Dies at 69
Reading this headline sent me back to 1987, seventh grade, science:We knew we were getting a new science teacher that year. Mr. Wheeler. He was a large man reminiscent of Santa Claus. From the neck up he had the head of a giant yard gnome. Or maybe he looked more like a well-fed monk. His beard only grew from below his mouth, not above. And his bald head was shiny.
In class, he demanded our attention. His voice was booming and passionate. Academically, he expected excellence. I remember one specific lesson when he spent an entire hour teaching us the importance of stating the unit of measurement when giving a number. For example, it's not 56 outside, it's 56 degrees outside. And I use the word teach loosely - we were scared into stating the unit of measurement.
One time, while preparing for our individual science fair projects, Mr. Wheeler required we all have private meetings with him to discuss the progress of our experiments. I don't remember a single student coming out of that meeting who wasn't sobbing. The man was able to make me cry with merely a look on his face.
So the school year went on with all of us fearing our new science teacher. Until one day, my friend Andy saw a colorful book on Mr Wheeler's desk: "What's a Monster Manual?" Mr. Wheeler looked slightly embarrassed. His face and bald head turned a light shade of red. "It's for a game called Dungeons & Dragons."
After that moment, a select few of us stayed after school every Friday night and played Dungeons & Dragons in the science room. Mr. Wheeler took on the role of Dungeon Master (the person who runs the game) and we learned the technical rules and intricacies of what seemed like an exclusive club that we were honored to be a part of.
Mr. Wheeler didn't come back to be our science teacher in the eighth grade, but we continued our new tradition of playing Dungeons & Dragons. I became the new Dungeon Master and tried very hard to fill the mighty shoes of our original Dungeon Master.
We played D&D for a few more years until we discovered girls had boobs (that required touching for some reason). Suddenly, we started driving and getting girlfriends and we didn't have any more time for D&D. But I'll always look back at those years with fondness and longing.
I never knew what became of Mr. Wheeler. We did learn that he and Gary Gygax were friends and that Mr. Wheeler probably had a hand in the development of this wonderful game.
And yes, given enough nerdy friends and at least one free night a week, I'd play D&D in a heartbeat.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Best Wife
In case you were wondering, Lynette is the best wife ever. Evar. Seriously, she's the tops.
On Thursday, she bought me a gift. It has been two years since we quit smoking. Apparently, Lynette thinks I'm kind responsible for our success. And to show her appreciation she bought me a Playstation 3.
I had mentioned it would be nice to have for the built-in Blu-Ray player (since Blu-Ray officially defeated HD-DVD in the format war). I am a big fan of the technological toys and video games, etc. So we ran out and picked one up. And I've been like a kid on that thing ever since (big surprise). I even (almost) ruined dinner last night because of it - busy saving the world and whatnot. *Also, another thanks to Lynette for saving dinner last night.
Anyway, I just wanted to make an official statement here that Lynette is awesome.
On Thursday, she bought me a gift. It has been two years since we quit smoking. Apparently, Lynette thinks I'm kind responsible for our success. And to show her appreciation she bought me a Playstation 3.
I had mentioned it would be nice to have for the built-in Blu-Ray player (since Blu-Ray officially defeated HD-DVD in the format war). I am a big fan of the technological toys and video games, etc. So we ran out and picked one up. And I've been like a kid on that thing ever since (big surprise). I even (almost) ruined dinner last night because of it - busy saving the world and whatnot. *Also, another thanks to Lynette for saving dinner last night.
Anyway, I just wanted to make an official statement here that Lynette is awesome.
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