Valentines Day is one of those occasions when I will break down and write poetry to my wife. I've written lines that have brought tears to her eyes and reduced her resistence to my advances to point where. . . Oh, well, here are the hiakus I'm giving her on Valentines Day. (And in case you've forgotten, a hiaku is a three line poem containing 5,7, and 5 syllables respectively.) Happy loving!
Sitting on the couch,
I am in love with Seinfeld.
Could you be Elaine?
Watching Gomer Pyle,
I feel the need to say it:
The dog really stinks.
Eating lots of chips,
I dream of holding you, babe.
Can you eat just one?
Sipping Nescafe,
My funny Valentine is
Nodding by the fire.
Now we turn out lights
And turn down red flannel sheets.
I have a headache.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Hoosier Methodists
Currently I'm reading (what might turn out to be) the most expensive book I've ever purchased page-for-page. It's a thin little volume published by the University of Indianapolis Press entitled, Forward Be Our Watchword. Basically, it's a history of the Methodist movement in the state of Indiana, and tells the story of a church that went from being on the margins of society, to shaping the very fabric of the state and its institutions (hospitals, universities, etc.).
Reading about Methodists, however, always fills me with dread. Though I am one, I've never been comfortable with pieces of our history, and, at other times, feel a sense of worthlessness when my life is compared to those who made enormous sacrifices on the frontier. There was also a time when Methodists comprised the largest religious body in the state (much larger than Catholics, even), and this shows in the fact that today we are the only Protestant body with congregations in every county in the state.
Still, I'm worried that I haven't sacrificed enough. So, I wonder...do these count?
I have forgotten five of my wedding anniversaries because I had important church meetings or weddings to attend to.
I often forget my childrens' names because I have so many church meetings, our paths rarely cross.
I've buried a fair number of people on days my own children had important sporting events, band concerts, or school activities.
I once threw up after a church dinner where rancid pork was served.
Reading about Methodists, however, always fills me with dread. Though I am one, I've never been comfortable with pieces of our history, and, at other times, feel a sense of worthlessness when my life is compared to those who made enormous sacrifices on the frontier. There was also a time when Methodists comprised the largest religious body in the state (much larger than Catholics, even), and this shows in the fact that today we are the only Protestant body with congregations in every county in the state.
Still, I'm worried that I haven't sacrificed enough. So, I wonder...do these count?
I have forgotten five of my wedding anniversaries because I had important church meetings or weddings to attend to.
I often forget my childrens' names because I have so many church meetings, our paths rarely cross.
I've buried a fair number of people on days my own children had important sporting events, band concerts, or school activities.
I once threw up after a church dinner where rancid pork was served.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Coach
I am currently reading three new books, the freshest of which is Coach, edited by Andrew Blauner--a collection of essays about the various coaches and teachers who have influenced the writers. Speaking of coaches, I've had several who have influenced my life positively. There are also some unforgettable locker room moments. Including the following:
6th grade...I'm the backup center for John Wilson (a gangly six footer with a gap-toothed grin) who is the star of the 8th grade basketball team (no joke). We are in the locker room before the game. Our coach--Mr. Jones--comes in and notices that John Wilson is wearing the elastic from a pair of Fruit-of-the-Loom underwear for a sweat band.
"Wilson," the coach asks, "what is that?"
"It's a sweat band, coach," he says sheepishly.
The coach ponders the moment and then answers: "Then you'd better sweat!"
A classic line. I've never forgotten it!
Oh, and I wear boxers!
6th grade...I'm the backup center for John Wilson (a gangly six footer with a gap-toothed grin) who is the star of the 8th grade basketball team (no joke). We are in the locker room before the game. Our coach--Mr. Jones--comes in and notices that John Wilson is wearing the elastic from a pair of Fruit-of-the-Loom underwear for a sweat band.
"Wilson," the coach asks, "what is that?"
"It's a sweat band, coach," he says sheepishly.
The coach ponders the moment and then answers: "Then you'd better sweat!"
A classic line. I've never forgotten it!
Oh, and I wear boxers!
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Tony the Tiger
Every now and again Becky (my wife) will ask me: "What are you writing now?"
My answer is invariably, "Anything I want."
Sometimes, I am working on some rather esoteric stuff, so far out that not many people get it. However, here's a little list I've been working on for those who like humor of a odd shape.
REJECTED MARKETING LINES FOR TONY THE TIGER'S: "THEY'RE GRE-AA-T!"
"They're Average!"
"They're Really Something!"
"They're Good!"
"They're Crap!"
"They're Just Flakes!"
"They're Sugary!"
"They're Scrumpdillyishus!"
"They're High in Fiber!"
"They're Overpriced!"
"They're Rip-Roaring!"
"They're Okay!"
"They're High in Calories!"
My answer is invariably, "Anything I want."
Sometimes, I am working on some rather esoteric stuff, so far out that not many people get it. However, here's a little list I've been working on for those who like humor of a odd shape.
REJECTED MARKETING LINES FOR TONY THE TIGER'S: "THEY'RE GRE-AA-T!"
"They're Average!"
"They're Really Something!"
"They're Good!"
"They're Crap!"
"They're Just Flakes!"
"They're Sugary!"
"They're Scrumpdillyishus!"
"They're High in Fiber!"
"They're Overpriced!"
"They're Rip-Roaring!"
"They're Okay!"
"They're High in Calories!"
Monday, February 4, 2008
Cheapskate
I had a very productive Super Bowl this year, as I was able to actually do four things at the same time (and no, one didn't involve chewing gum). In addition to watching the game, I also managed to finish reading my biography of Charles Schulz, and I also read an entire 240 page book, The Ultimate Cheapskate's Road Map to True Riches, by Jeff Yeager. While watching and reading, I also managed to eat a lot of food and ignore my wife's attempts at conversation. Oh, occassionally I would grunt or make pig sounds, but between the game, the books and the food, I doubt she noted any difference between my game sounds and my usual grunts and head bobbing.
Oh well . . . reading Jeff Yeager's book, I wondered if I would qualify as a cheapskate. The answer is sometimes, but certainly not to the extent of Jeff Yeager. I don't, for example, save airplane barf bags and use them for a month at a time for sack lunches. And I certainly don't recycle my table scraps with bullion cubes to make odd sounding soups. I mean, this guy is CHEAP!
I do, however, have a few pet peeves and ways I cut corners, including:
Using my razor blades for so long that, toward the end of their life, they are actually plucking the hair on my face instead of cutting the whiskers.
Driving my 1991 Caprice Wagon for 160,000 miles without a tune up and not changing the tires until the fabric pokes through.
Refusing the buy new underwear until I get a pack from my mother for Christmas (an annual event).
Happy saving!
Oh well . . . reading Jeff Yeager's book, I wondered if I would qualify as a cheapskate. The answer is sometimes, but certainly not to the extent of Jeff Yeager. I don't, for example, save airplane barf bags and use them for a month at a time for sack lunches. And I certainly don't recycle my table scraps with bullion cubes to make odd sounding soups. I mean, this guy is CHEAP!
I do, however, have a few pet peeves and ways I cut corners, including:
Using my razor blades for so long that, toward the end of their life, they are actually plucking the hair on my face instead of cutting the whiskers.
Driving my 1991 Caprice Wagon for 160,000 miles without a tune up and not changing the tires until the fabric pokes through.
Refusing the buy new underwear until I get a pack from my mother for Christmas (an annual event).
Happy saving!
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Peanuts
This weekend--during the Super Bowl--I plan to finish reading my 4th book of 2008: Schulz and Peanuts, the 650 page biography of famed cartoonist Charles "Sparky" Schulz, written by David Michaelis. This book has been following me around for a couple of weeks, as I've carried it with me and read spordically on the go. When I purchased the book, the guy at the register told me, "I've heard this is a depressing book."
Well, it's not depressing, really, although C. Schulz certainly suffered from melancholy most of his life. The saddest thing about this American life is the guy just couldn't seem to be happy earning upwards of $100 million dollars a year toward the end of his life.
Reading about Sparky Schulz made me realize it doesn't take much to be depressed. I've been depressed earning a lot less cash, and, unlike Sparky, I can usually find many more reasons to feel rotten about myself. In fact, who am I kidding? Between me and George Costanza, Schulz doesn't even know what a loser is!
Well, it's not depressing, really, although C. Schulz certainly suffered from melancholy most of his life. The saddest thing about this American life is the guy just couldn't seem to be happy earning upwards of $100 million dollars a year toward the end of his life.
Reading about Sparky Schulz made me realize it doesn't take much to be depressed. I've been depressed earning a lot less cash, and, unlike Sparky, I can usually find many more reasons to feel rotten about myself. In fact, who am I kidding? Between me and George Costanza, Schulz doesn't even know what a loser is!
Friday, February 1, 2008
Homestretch
The editor called yesterday to ask, "How's the book coming along?" (ie: why haven't you sent me a draft by now?)
I told her, "Give me a few more days and I'll have a first draft for you. I'm in the homestretch now."
Actually, killing off a book is tough business. Most books refuse to die with elegance or dignity. And, when you're just trying to meet a deadline, it gets even tougher.
The happiest day is when the book is finally complete, it's "in the mail" (or attached to email today) and I get my life back.
If I'm not finished in a couple of weeks, I'm going to toss my computer out the window.
I told her, "Give me a few more days and I'll have a first draft for you. I'm in the homestretch now."
Actually, killing off a book is tough business. Most books refuse to die with elegance or dignity. And, when you're just trying to meet a deadline, it gets even tougher.
The happiest day is when the book is finally complete, it's "in the mail" (or attached to email today) and I get my life back.
If I'm not finished in a couple of weeks, I'm going to toss my computer out the window.
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