Don't You Just Hate It...

...when you go the whole day and realize that you forgot to put on deodorant?  

New Applications Are Fun!

While playing around with the settings on blogger tonight, I came across the new survey application.  So I decided to play around with it a bit, and I might even use it for something serious down the road.  But for now, I thought I'd poke some fun at the fact that I'm pretty sure my family members make up the majority of my "readership."  Which is fine, but help me out and get me above 10 results.  Vote twice if you have to--I probably will!

If You Have a Brain in Your Head

If there is one thing I'm truly afraid of, it's being home alone.  I had a bizarre incident in college involving a teenage runaway named Sherice that I promise I'll share on here someday.  But even before Sherice, I hated being alone.  So this past weekend while P was white-water rafting in West Virginia, I decided it was time to be an adult and stay at home all weekend by myself.  In the end, it went well, but it involved me spending a lot of time watching infomercials at 4 in the morning.  And let me tell you, the later it is, the worse the infomercials are.

Early in the night, the infomercials seem to feature items that are at least plausible.  A multi-tool titanium rod that easily switches from a mop-head to a screwdriver to a rake?  Sure, I would use that.  An eco-friendly 100-piece set of imitation Tupperware that comes with a special waterproof rack so you can wash them while you shower?  Makes sense, come to think of it.  But at 4 a.m., the doozies come out.  Ladies and gents, let me introduce you to the Pos T Vac!

In case you don't have much of an imagination, the Pos T Vac features a line of male enhancement vacuum therapy products geared toward the older crowd.  The testimonials were perfection.  A group of buddies out on the golf course, all candidly discussing their use of the Boss 2000.  A couple walking along the beach talking about how the MVP 700 saved their marriage.  

Then, following along the infomercial format, a price point was splashed all over the screen (which I honestly can't remember, but really, are you going to let price come between you and the Boss).  Then the freebie was featured--a handy, yet discreet, carrying case.  Finally, the commercial closed with the hard sell.  This is where it gets good.

A middle-aged, aggressive looking man barked at the camera, "If you have a brain in your head, buy this product now!"  This is a sales tactic I've never seen before and quite frankly, it's brilliant.  The only pre-requisite is having a brain.  I imagine that before long, the other infomercials will take notice and start using similar directives:

"If you live on planet earth, buy this product now!"

"If food is a regular part of your diet, buy this product now!"

"If you have fingers on your hands, pick up the phone and buy this product now!"

My prediction?  Pos T Vac will be bigger than Miss Cleo.             

A Dozen Roses and a Broke Down Truck

On my way to the movies yesterday afternoon, I happened upon a thirty-something year old man carrying a huge bouquet of assorted roses.  Normal, if we were in the city.  Not so normal since we were on country road outside of Columbus.  

I was headed north, and there he was, headed south at a brisk pace.  Sweating profusely and carrying only the flowers.  He held them up against his chest, as if to protect them from the wind of the passing cars.  He looked determined, to say the least.  

After an initial chuckle, I thought--seriously, where is this guy coming from?  The closest place to purchase flowers was perhaps a mile up the road at a supermarket.  And, in the other direction, there was nothing around for miles.  Hmm.  

I crested a small hill and saw a black pick-up pulled off to the side of the road.  There was no flat tire, no accident damage, no sticker indicating the truck had been inspected by the police or highway patrol.  Nope, the truck belonged to the flower man--it just had to.  My guess?  He ran out of gas and ditched the truck to get the flowers where they needed to be.  Which meant carrying a bouquet of flowers down a road with a posted speed limit of 55 in the 90-degree heat.  What would make a person do such a thing?  He totally cheated, I'm telling you.

And next time, screw the movie, I'm turning around to ask.     

RIP Bob Barciz

What seems like only a short while ago, the most important thing in my life was playing basketball.  And during my eighth grade year at St. Thomas Aquinas on the east side of Toledo, the most important thing about basketball was beating the girls down the road from St. Stephen's.  We were huge rivals in the world of girls CYO basketball and at the time, it was pretty intense.  So naturally, it came as a huge blow to lose to them in what would be our last tournament meeting.  To make things worse, their win sent us to the loser's bracket.

In the fourth quarter of the toilet bowl championship, the girls from St. Stephen's, lead by their grey-haired coach, marched across the court during a time-out and gathered around the end of our bench.  We were miffed.  Were they here to taunt us?  Warm up early for the real championship game?  Run us out of the building.  Nope.  Nothing could have been more shocking than to realize they had come to cheer for us.  After all, we were playing a team from the OTHER side of town.  This served as my first official lesson that east-siders stick together. 

As we took the floor, a chant started behind us:  East. Side. Pride!  East. Side. Pride!  The gym filled with chanting and clapping.  Pretty soon our fans stood up to join them, and the other team was finished.  I actually, honest to God, remember noticing how pleased their coach was by what had happened.  And that's how I came to meet Coach Bob Barciz.

Soon after, Coach Barciz put together a summer league called the East Side All-Stars (were you expecting a different name?) and he asked me to be on the team.  It would mean playing with girls from different schools around the area, but mostly girls from St. Stephen's.  It was meant to serve as the starting point for the girls that would attend Cardinal Stritch High School together and soon be on the same team anyway.  Plus, it was easy to see that old Coach Barciz loved the game of basketball, and he loved his players.  I jumped at the chance, eager to see what I could learn from this new coach.

As it turned out, Coach Barciz was not just passing us along to the high school.  He stuck around for the next four years and, at different times, served as freshman coach, summer league coach, scout and personal life coach.  During summer league ball before my senior year, a girl from the opposing team slammed into me and I completely blew my knee out.  No chance for recovery before the season started.  

Obviously, Division 5 high schools aren't a college scouter's paradise for finding potential talent, but I had a few Division 3 and even Division 2 colleges interested.  I had never dreamed of playing for a big-time school, I had never dreamed of being the best player out there--I just loved to play.  With my injury, however, my chances of playing college basketball were pretty slim and I was deflated.  Few people understood how my world had been turned upside-down.  But Coach Barciz, who wasn't even technically my coach anymore, reached out and offered a helping hand.

He called me everyday immediately after my injury.  (After awhile, he scaled it back to once a week.)  He stayed after games to talk to me when I decided to forgo surgery and play with a brace.  He showed up at my house to visit after I gave in and finally had surgery in December.  And the next summer, exactly one year to the date of my injury, the phone rang and I heard his scratchy voice telling me he was going to pick me up in his big boat of a car to take me out for ice cream.

In his obituary today, they called us his basketball sons and daughters.  I caught him on the tail-end of his coaching days, so I imagine there are hundreds, if not thousands, of young people Coach Barciz helped in a similar fashion.  I think about all he did and how much of himself he gave to others for so many years.  Giving up Saturdays to be at the gym, staying up late at night to draw up a new play, and waiting time after time until the last parent came to pick up their child.  Seeking out the child who needed encouragement, standing up for the child who needed support and uniting two rival teams so the high school experience would be far more productive and enjoyable.  

It's a wonder that I'm just now realizing that Coach Barciz was teaching us life skills as well as basketball.  How to be leaders, to be civic-minded, to invest heavily in your community and the people in it, to look at time as your companion, not your enemy.  To love those people around you, not those things around you.  And that a simple trip for ice cream can change a person forever.

RIP Coach Barciz.  You will be missed.   

    

Safety Officer Goes for a Zip

Most people who know me understand that I most definitely do not have a daredevil personality.  P, however, is always finding new things for us to get into.  Whitewater rafting, cliff jumping, emergency surgery in a foreign country--he's not afraid of much.  Which is fine, except that he tries to get me to participate in these activities with him.  It never ends well (I slipped down a hill trying to rope swing and got thrown from a whitewater rafting boat) but he keeps trying, God love him.  

This past Saturday I showed him an article I read about a new zip line in Hocking Hills.  I was suggesting it as an activity for him and his buddies, but five minutes later he had us booked for a Sunday tour.  Smart kid, that P.  Didn't give me long enough to back out.  So Sunday afternoon we packed up and headed down to the Hocking Hills Canopy Tours.  Much to my surprise, I had an awesome time.  Me, the Safety Officer, had a great time zipping between treestands 60 feet in the air, for 3 hours with no emergency exit.  In fact, I can't wait to do it again.  Here are some pictures of our tour.  Let me know what you think:

 

Here we are before walking across the bridge to the first zipline.  I have that look on my face that says "He's really going to make me do this.  Crap."  Really, it's behind the smile.  And under the hardhat. 

This is one of the swinging bridges we had to cross.  Surprisingly, it's one of the things that scared me the most.  I thought I would have trouble with the actual ziplining, but it was the heights that got to me.  After crossing this bridge, I hugged the tree while taking long deep breaths--I was actually nauseous.

This is me coming in for a landing and actually having fun!