From the Land of Beer, Cheese, & Beer

Bean Soup Blog - Inky Dinky Parlez Vous!

2012-02-11T09:37:00.000-06:00

I know what you’re thinking, "Oh boy, not another blog from Mike about bean soup." Well it’s not exactly about bean soup, but it is inspired by bean soup.

When I was a child, one of my dad’s favorite meals was navy bean soup and cornbread. He grew up with 7 brothers and 1 sister and bean soup and cornbread was always a hearty and satisfying meal. Plus, grandma’s cooking was always delicious -- I am sure they had to fight for their position in line to get some!

He passed his love of bean soup and cornbread on to me. Whenever I see it on a restaurant menu, I inevitably order it. My craving is usually exacerbated by the fact that my wife has an allergy to legumes and we have never been able to have any bean-containing meals in our house. So when I saw it on the menu at Milwaukee’s Cafe Benelux -- “DING! -- the bell went off in my head and I instantly ordered it. As expected, it was good (especially paired with Cafe Benelux’s Tandem Dubbel beer!).

The following morning, driving to work, I still had bean soup on the brain and I faintly remember this little ditty that my dad would sing:

The first Marine picked the bean,

Parlez vous!

The second Marine cooked the bean,

Parlez vous!

The third marine ate the bean

and shit all over the submarine!

Inky dinky parlez vous!

I never heard this song sung by anybody else in the world and I wondered of it its origin. Where’d it come from? Was it a parody? Did he write it?

As soon as I got to work I performed a Google search for “marine picked the bean” and sure enough -- I discovered a thread from 1997 where folks were discussing and wondering the exact same thing. The actual ditty is named Mademoiselle from Armenteers and was a song from The Great War (WWI). The melody seems to have an infinite number of parody versions -- my dad’s was just one of many. It appears that there are no definite lyrics, just thousands of variously bawdy versions.

I found this recorded version on YouTube:

The poster of the video says this: Otherwise known as "Mademoiselle from Armentieres", this old song lived on for several decades. This is a song sung by the WWII-era soldiers (and possibly earlier) and there are no specific lyrics. I think that of all of the versions of this song sung in terms of "cleanliness", this is the best one. Part from that, it's performed by The Four Sergeants in the album Bawdy Barracks Ballads and is available on iTunes; however, due to my own frustration with a lot of YouTube videos popping up with advertisements I decided not to include a link to purchase the song. Looks like you're on your own - sorry.

Now excuse me while I make some bean soup and write a couple bawdy verses of my own.

Bon appétit!

No Packer Game, I Pasta Time Away Differently

2012-01-22T20:48:00.002-06:00

I just completed an all-day, from-scratch Sunday of cooking. Inspired by my recently purchased The Mozza Cookbook, I decided to make a fettuccine and Mozza's house tomato sauce. What an undertaking!

First, the easy part—well, sometimes it's the easy part—making the dough ball. I've included a picture of how I do it. Many pasta dough recipes will say to mound your flour on a flat table then make a "well" in the mound in which you add your eggs and oil. I tried this method first, but I wound up messing it up. The problem is if you lose the well, the liquid contents will spill and it's difficult to reincorporate the spilled liquid. This happened on my first attempt and I failed miserably trying to blend the ingredients Using a large bowl makes so much more sense. It's easy to make the well in the bowl hand whisk the eggs gradually into the dough without worrying about a spill. Attempt number two worked perfectly and I was able to perfectly combine the ingredients (1 cup all-purpose flour, 1 cup semolina flour, 3 eggs, and a tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil).

Once the mixture thickens to the point that it can no longer be whisked with a fork, it's time to get your hands dirty! Start kneading the sticky ball into itself—picking up the dry dough remaining in the bowl. When you've got all the dough incorporated that you can get, the workout begins: for about 10 minutes, knead the dough ball with your hands. It becomes firmer as it's kneaded. When complete, wrap the ball tightly in plastic wrap and store in the refrigerator for at least an hour.

The sauce ingredients are pretty standard: canned whole tomatoes, garlic, onions, thyme and olive oil, but the one surprising ingredient is a grated carrot! Some say the carrot is key. It's used in Milwaukee chef Michael Feker's Il Mito tomato sauce too. Just before adding the tomatoes, the sauté looks like the picture to the right. Once the tomatoes are tossed in, the sauce is simmered for about a half an hour. (I went longer as I wanted a thicker sauce and the light simmer boiled off some of the excess water.)

While the sauce simmers, the time is perfect to remove the resting dough from the fridge and start preparing the fettuccine. I don't make my own pasta enough to get good at it and this step can make me crazy. Usually I start out nice and calm, but 20 minutes in I'll be cursing my stupid idea to make my own pasta. Fortunately, today's episode went perfectly, albeit, it was very time consuming. The key, I figured, was to work with smaller pieces of dough, and that seemed to work. It helped, too, that the dough was perfect and it didn't stick to the rollers—frequently my greatest source of aggravation.

Also important is liberal use of dry semolina flour to coat the finished noodles in to prevent them from sticking to each other. Some folks will hang the noodles strips to keep them from tangling with each other. I don't mind the tangling—they're going to get that way in the pot anyway, but I don't want them sticking to each other so I'll often grab the noodle pile and gently massage the noodles with flour as they drop back to the table.

Sauce well-simmered, I then tossed it into our blender. The recipe I was using calls for using a food mill. That's the one kitchen appliance we don't own. I am not sure how different the outcome would have been as the blender seemed to work well. I tried not to overdo it and kept the blend rather coarse.

One thing about fresh pasta: it cooks in a blink! Just a quick dip in salted, boiling water (about 3 minutes) is all it takes to get perfect al dente pasta. Follow with a quick drain through a colander and toss in the sauce pan to coat. Plate and serve with a couple with a couple of crusty chunks of buttered bread and you've got yourself a meal! I also topped the pasta with some Bel Gioso shredded Parmesan. It was good without the parm, but with it, it was the extra dimension that made this a perfect dish.

It took a good chunk of my day to make this meal—about 5 hours, but when I finally got to sit down and watch some football with a delicious bowl of this rustic homemade goodness, it was all worth it!

Bon Appétit friends and readers!

P.S. If for some inexplicable reason you wish to see more pictures of me making a homemade pasta meal, click here.

I've Got Mozza on the Brain!

2012-01-09T20:15:00.001-06:00

*** Excerpted from my dailymile.com workout post ***

I've got an irrational desire to own "The Mozza Cookbook: Recipes from Los Angeles's Favorite Italian Restaurant and Pizzeria." Ever since hearing a cookbook reviewer on NPR state that it was as fine of an example of a cookbook as there ever was and that it was filled with delicious, thrice-tested recipes with beautiful, appetizing photography, I knew I had to have this book. My desire didn't subside when I read other reviews by the likes of LA Weekly ("This cookbook is freaking awesome."), former NY Times restaurant review Frank Bruni ("lavish") and countless other Amazon 5-star reviews.

For tonight's 4-mile run, I set my goal to run to the local Barnes & Noble where surely they'd have a copy. It was 2 miles to get there. Once inside, I stood in the cookbook section scanning the shelves up and down for the word "Mozza." After one pass, no sign of "Mozza" anywhere. Sweat dripping from brow into my eyes, I looked again. Nothing. Still sweating; again, no "Mozza." So I walked over to the self-help computer and typed in (you guessed it!) "Mozza." It was not in stock. Sold out.

This made me want it even more.

So I ran back home and headed straight to my computer, where, before typing this dailymile update, I browsed over to Amazon.com and searched for (say it with me ...) "Mozza." Now in a few days, I'll be the proud owner of a brand new cookbook that I'll probably never make one single recipe from, but dang, it will sure be fun to look at the lavish, freaking awesome pictures of really appetizing food!

Forest? What Forest?!

2012-01-05T11:40:00.000-06:00

*** Hypocrisy Alert! ***

What I am about to say is entirely hypocritical. I am guilty of the same charges that I am about to levy upon others.

The charges?

Technology overuse and abuse.

During our recent trip to Barcelona we saw this offense on numerous occasions. Sadly, what I saw in others was a reflection of myself ... and I did not like the view.

Technology is powerful and our advancements ought to be embraced, but like any vice, it should be used in moderation. Before technology, there was an old idiom that read “one cannot see the forest for the trees.” In that example, one’s attention was presumed fixed on a detail that prevented them from seeing the greater beauty about them (the tree; not the forest). In our current world, that idiom could be rewritten to “one cannot see the forest for the mutual capacitance touchscreen handheld wireless device used to transmit digital electronic data transglobally to their BFF in Poughkeepsie. Haha. LOLZ!!”

Seriously.

Whether at a zoo, a national park, museum, concert, restaurant or bar, us “moderns” seem obsessed with keeping a connection to our virtual realm and, in the meantime, we miss the simple pleasures and beauty of the real world. This was never more evident than when we visited four UNESCO World Heritage Sites dedicated to the works of Antoni Gaudí (Casa Batlló, Park Güell, la Sagrada Família and Casa Milà). I swear people did not stop and look at Gaudí’s works. Instead they just ran from site to site and snapped picture after picture. They could not see the art for the viewfinder. And if not a camera, it was a foursquare checkin, a facebook checkin, a twitpic, a tweet, a post, a text, an email and so on. And with digital cameras’ capacity to take thousands of photos, their users exercise no restraint. Give ‘em a 4GB card, they’ll fill it with pictures; give ‘em a 32, they’ll fill that too ... with video!

As a Gen X’er (I always hated that term, but that’s what they call me) and a bit of a gadget nerd, I am transitional. I still remember record players, dial phones (on party lines!), having to get off the couch to change the channel and so forth. I find it scary that today’s youth have been born into this (un)wired world never knowing any other way. Terrifying even. Maybe technology won’t be novel to them and they will use it in a strictly utilitarian fashion, thus enabling them to appreciate art and beauty and share only what is valuable or necessary.

But I doubt it.

While in Spain, a bartender at Scobie’s Irish Pub was kind enough to provide access to his bar’s wi-fi network. Scobie’s owners know that free wi-fi in a tourist area is good for business and, if they don’t provide it, the establishment down the street will. However, once Scobie’s patrons successfully navigate their way onto an Internet connection, it’s to facebook (et al) they go where they bury their faces for an hour. While doing so, they ignore the bar and the people within. Nondigital interpersonal communication dies. The bartender was funny, albeit a bit incensed. He said “I’m gonna unplug the Goddamn thing! Nobody talks to each other anymore. They just stare at their phones and don’t even bother to get to know the guy sitting next to them!” He was right. Just sit at a bar at any airport; you’ll see the exact same thing.

Look, I’m not proposing we go back to being primal. This tech stuff is pretty cool and to be able to snap a pic 3,000 miles from home and send it back to mom to let her know that you are doing well is not a bad thing, but somewhere within we need to realize that we are not doing ourselves or society any favors if we can’t stop for a moment, relax, and take in the place and people about us. Mom and BFF can wait.

I’ve made no resolutions, but in 2012 I am going to more carefully meter my use of digital gadgets. And maybe, at the end of the year, I'll have seen more and made a few new friends along the way!

P.S. -- Don’t even get me started on GPS-enabled fitness watches and people who video concerts ...

The Holstee Manifesto Lifecycle Video from Holstee on Vimeo.

Perspective, Altered (The Importance of Travel)

2012-01-02T20:16:00.002-06:00

On Gaudi near La Sagrada Familia

My wife and I just returned from a week in Barcelona. We have visited Europe a number of times, but let me assure you: you cannot go wrong with spending 7 days in the Catalonian capital. There is so much to do and see (and eat!). One week is definitely not enough and I look forward to the day that we return.

But more importantly, even if we did not choose Barcelona to visit, getting out of our home country and comfort zone was key. I strongly believe that travel -- particularly International travel -- is good for the mind and soul. It changes one's perspective on the world and can be good for resetting priorities and outlook.

The life history of Picaso is an interesting example.

While in Barcelona, one of our must-sees was The Museo Picasso (Picasso Museum in English, of course). I knew little of Picasso's story going into the museum. All I knew is that he was one of the most famous of the Modernist artists and widely known for his expressions in Cubism. (Also, that he was quite the womanizer!) The museum was a real eye-opener. It follows Pablo from his birth in 1881 to his death in 1973. Certainly he didn't make any notable or recordable works of art at or near his birth, but it didn't take long -- by 14 years of age he had already shown that he was artistically gifted and on his way to becoming a great.

Picasso's Three Musicians

As one advances through the museum and simultaneously through Picasso's early years, his improvement as an artist is noticeable, but remarkable and rapid advancement only happens after singular events in his life occur. Those events? Travel.

Once Picasso changes his point of view by traveling to Paris, his exposure to works by Post-Impressionist great Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec is quickly evident in his works. Other artists' work, too, influences him and alters his artistic output for life.

It's Tapas Time!

My aim is not to detail Picasso's life -- there are books, museums, websites and Wikipedia articles for that -- but it is to highlight the significance of travel on his life. As I walked through the museum, I felt a strange parallel to myself and the artist -- as I was observing the angular change in his life arc evident from his excursions to other lands, the exact same thing was occurring to me! In this museum, in Barcelona, in Spain -- I, too, was changing. I could feel an adjustment happening inside me that I would hopefully carry through life. A prism, if you will, in which I could see the world through that would offer growth of mind and purpose.

If you can, the next time you are considering your annual getaway(s), strongly consider a trip that places you outside of your normal comfort zone. It can be exhilarating, educational and fun, and upon your return, you just may find yourself a little bit different ... in a very fulfilling way!

Travel internationally. Your mind will thank you for it.

I Want to be Alone on Christmas ...

2011-12-22T13:08:00.002-06:00

"I Want to be Alone on Christmas (Here with You)" by Milwaukee group Testa Rosa is a song that I never heard until about an hour ago, but it instantly hit me. The lyrics echo exactly my sentiment towards 2011's holiday season. Not every season, but this one in particular.

There are times we get too wrapped up in everything. Work, fitness, home maintenance, media, and even recreation can become overwhelming. I don't mean overwhelming in a "I can't handle it anymore!" kind of way -- not for me, fortunately -- but just enough that one can lose sight of what is most important: our loved ones. And even ourselves.

This year, unlike any other, my wife and I are going to get away. We need a change. We long for a break from our routine, from politics, from our associates, from ... our own perspective. Leaving our house and our beloved pup Bailey in the good hands of my mother, tomorrow we board a Europe-bound plane where we will stay until New Year's Eve. Unlike other trips we have taken, we're not moving from town-to-town, country-to-country or airport-to-airport. No, this time we will stay in one hotel and embrace and submerse ourselves into a different language and culture. Hopefully, when we return, we will be renewed and ready to dive into a prosperous 2012 -- where we'll want to be alone with you for the entire year. :)

Merry Christmas and enjoy this song!

<p>&amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://testarosamusic.com/track/i-want-to-be-alone-on-christmas-here-with-you"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;I Want to be Alone on Christmas (Here with You) by Testa Rosa&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;gt;</p>

It's That Time of Year ... for Mexicorn!

2011-12-20T22:01:00.000-06:00

"Mexicorn?" you ask. "What the heck does the Christmas season have to do with Mexican corn?"

"Well, nothing," I reply. "Almost nothing."

It goes back roughly 5 years ago. All in my company were writing down on a sheet what they were going to bring to the Christmas luncheon. I looked at the list. There were about 12 different meatball variations, 14 different cakes or bars, veggie trays, cheese trays, thawed shrimp, thawed pies, thawed anything -- you name it. But only a few items to go as an accompaniment to all that meat, so I thought about it for a bit. "Hmm. I had some pretty good Mexican corn at at Mexican restaurant recently. Why not bring some Mexicorn?"

So I did.

It all got eaten.

So I brought it the next year.

It all got eaten, again.

And thus, a Christmas luncheon tradition was born. From now until the end of my working days, I will make a pot of Mexican corn to accompany everybody else's meat.

And, so I don't lose and scramble to find the recipe again next year, I'm blogging about it.

To make Mike Collins's Traditional Christmas Season Mexicorn, you do this:

Prepare:

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 cups of fresh or frozen corn kernels
1/4 cup red bell pepper, diced
1/4 cup green bell pepper, diced
1/4 cup red onion, diced
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
a pinch of cumin
1 teaspoon lime juice
3 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped

Cook:
Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add corn, bell peppers, red onion, salt, pepper, cumin, and lime juice. Cook, stirring occasionally, over medium heat until vegetables are slightly tender, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and toss with fresh cilantro.

And of course, if company policy would allow, I would accompany with a nice cold Dos Equis lager.

Give it a try. Let me know what you think.

Merry Mexichristmas!

The Inadvertent Education of a Reader of a Chef's Memoirs

2011-11-07T21:02:00.000-06:00

Finished Blood, Bones, and Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef (my first e-book!) last night and I'm really wondering why Gabrielle Hamilton ever took the time to write it. She is, unquestionably, a gifted writer and I imagine her cooking is top-notch (I've yet to have the pleasure), but this book goes nowhere. There are holes in the story large enough to drive a truck through and it fizzles to an unsatisfactory end. Her story is 2 stars, but her ability to turn a phrase is 3+ stars, thus, I settle on a rating of 3 stars (out of 5).

I have read all of Anthony Bourdain's books, so when I saw his one sentence review on the cover "Magnificent. Simply the best memoir by a chef ever. Ever." I thought, "Wow. This has really gotta be good!" Unfortunately, I can't say I disagree with Mr. Bourdain, 'cause honestly, I've never read a chef's memoir before (unless you count his landmark Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly), but if this is as good as a chef memoir can get, I'm afraid I won't be reading any more chef's memoirs.

More from Google Books: link.

My Guitar Gently Weeps ...

2011-10-09T09:23:00.000-05:00

My guitar gently weeps because I've been playing with a new-to-me new camera. Two years ago I gave my wife a Nikon D40 for Christmas, over time, I became familiar with it and soon desired one of my own. Since we had a few lenses, it made sense to check out Ebay and look for a body only. Finally found one for only $205! A really great deal that I couldn't pass up.

Look out world -- I'm gonna be a picture snappin' fool now!

Dietbolical Goal Reached!!

2011-08-31T21:57:00.000-05:00

What a day. What an amazing f'ing day.

I had mapped out my run about a week ago -- I designed my route to spell the word "dietbolical". [For those unfamiliar, "dietbolical" was a plan I hatched 100 days ago. My aim was to run every single day until I reached my target weight of 180 lbs. I started at 198 pounds. You can read my original commitment here: http://bit.ly/kITf5o] As the days passed, it was looking more and more like I would hit my goal about day 100, BUT I DIDN'T EXPECT IT TO BE EXACTLY ON DAY 100!!

Tonight, after running the dietbolical route, got home, showered, stepped on the scale, stepped off, stepped on, stepped off, stepped on, and finally yelled to my wife "Hey! Come here! I have to show you something!" Understandably, she walked up the stairs timidly because usually this request is usually ends up with her wishing she never responded. However, what she saw was me standing on the scale in my shorts saying "Look! I did it!!" No matter where I moved the scale on the floor or how many times I stepped on and off, I could not make it read a number higher than 180. I did it. I freaking did it!!

I don't know what I'm going to do next, but I don't think I can stop running daily now. Now that I've met my goal, I can see there's still a bit more that I could stand to lose (175 lbs. seems like a reasonable goal). I knew nearly 100 days ago (I wrote my commitment 2 or 3 days after I started) that if I wrote it down and "published" my goal, it would be reached. I only wish I would have done it sooner -- I wouldn't have bought 3 pairs of shorts and 3 pairs of dress slacks in the spring with a 36" waist (I'm now a 33 or 32!).

Thanks for all of the encouragement particularly to Jane S. , Rachel B. , Keith H. , Chelsey F. ,Reggie W. for nearly daily encouragement and Tim C. for being the guy who put this crazy idea into my head in the first place. I owe you all a beer. ;) I owe many others a giant thanks too!

Thank You, Glen Campbell

2011-08-30T20:13:00.005-05:00

Today is the official release date of Glen Campbell's "Ghost On The Canvas." I was unaware that the album was in the works until I heard the title track on Milwaukee radio. I was aware, however, of Mr. Campbell's battle with Alzheimer's disease. This is his final album until he slips off into a life of dementia. Truly, truly sad.

However, what is not sad, is how magnificent this album is. I think this is going to be THE album of 2011. It's the type of album not many artists get to make. Warren Zevon's 2003 farewell album "The Wind" is the only one that comes to mind. After purchasing it for only $3.99 today from Amazon.com, I listened to it all day and during tonight's run. I remain awed by the lushness and expanse of the production, the melodies, the musicianship, and -- most importantly -- the power and smoothness of Mr. Campbell's voice. Oh man, I'd give up running if I could sing like that! (First love -- strumming and singing; running's fine -- but it's much farther down my list.)

I hate to seem like I'm shilling for The Man (not Campbell -- the corporate machine), but this album is available for this price for only a few more hours at http://bit.ly/psQcWc. Some won't like it; that's just the way it is, but most will at the very least have a strong appreciation for the man's talents.

Detractors may say, "Who can't make a great album when Jakob Dylan, Paul Westerberg, Brian Setzer, Billy Corgan, Dick Dale, The Dandy Warhols, Chris Isaak, Teddy Thompson, and Keith Urban (and more!) are your collaborators?" But I'd respond that, despite the quality and fame of his fellow musicians, Glen's voice stands above with a soul and quality that makes him a truly gifted artist. Which, I'm sure, is why so many of today's artists fell over themselves to make this album with him.

When I was a little boy, I had 2 hamsters: Johnny Cash and Glenn Campbell were their names. Like hamsters do, they passed away and were buried in the backyard. For a year after that, I would tell people, "Johnny Cash and Glenn Campbell are buried in my backyard!" Mom explained, "Mike's talking about his hamsters -- not the singers!" And regrettably, once my hamsters were gone, I went on to become a HUGE fan of the Man in Black, but The Rhinestone Cowboy was forgotten. Listening to this new album, I realize I've missed a lot and I look forward to going back into his archive and listening before his time with us has passed.

This post was extracted from my dailymile.com post for the day.

Badass Minivan

2011-07-10T12:36:00.003-05:00

"So we bought a minivan. No kids, but we own a minivan. Go figure."

The Minivan

That was my post on facebook yesterday and judging by a few comments, I got some raised eyebrows. "Why in the world would someone without kids ever own a minivan?!" Well there are reasons, both practical and indulgent. Yes, indulgent, but I'll get into that later.

First off, the vehicle that we replaced was my 2001 Ford Ranger pickup. I'm going to miss that pickup, but it was tired at nearly 128,000 miles. It still ran like a champ, but there were suddenly more than a few problems with it -- a slipping transmission being the most significant. Also, this truck was seldom compatible with city living/driving. It was great for those hauls to the city dump every so often, but as a daily commuter, it was awful. Poor gas mileage and a pain-in-the-neck in small parking lots -- with an extended cab, it was a long truck! -- made me curse the vehicle more than praise it. The writing was on the wall; it was time to replace the truck.

Next, it would be nice -- and less expensive (probably) -- to buy a car. However, most sedans seat 5 adults maximum (4 comfortably). My wife owns a receptive tour company (KBC Tour Company); a number of times per year she would have a need to provide a tour to 2 couples or a family. Our other vehicle -- a Mazda Tribute (SUV) -- was just too small. In these cases she would be forced to rent a minivan and the her profits (if there were any) would plummet. She could not cost-effectively conduct business by having to rent a minivan every time she had a group between 4 and 6 people.

Lastly, I LIKE MINIVANS!

There. I've said it. I've always been a pretty practical guy and these things are wonderfully practical. Good driver visibility, cargo carrying capacity (remember, I'm replacing a pickup), decent fuel efficiency, and they are comfortable. I don't like all minivans. It was only until Chrysler and Dodge came out with their current versions of Town and Countries and Caravans that I thought minivans became mildly attractive. Despite all their practicality, I wouldn't have considered a minivan until these models were introduced. The T&C is a little more well-appointed than the Caravan, but I like 'em both.

Puppy Bailey!

We spent the morning and the better part of an afternoon at Schlossman's in Brookfield considering the differences between the models (and prices!) and we finally came home with a 2011 Town & Country Touring model (link). The thing is awesome. I've not had a vehicle with this many features. It may be a pedestrian, suburban vehicle, but it has the feel and styling of a higher end automobile. Particularly cool is the 30GB hard drive that I've already loaded with a bunch of my favorite tunes and the picture viewer that now displays Bailey's face every time we turn the key. ("Turn the key" is figurative. All you have to do to start the thing is press a button. That's going to take some getting used to!)

Despite what should be my midlife crisis, I've never been motivated to own a "sexy" vehicle. My ego has zero connection to the type of car I drive. I'd rather arrive at my destination safely, comfortably, and with the ringing of heavy metal still in my ears.

This probably means only one thing: I've already passed midlife and am now just comfortably settling into being old. ;)

We Got the Beet!

2011-06-30T21:22:00.003-05:00

Beets. They're the one thing from childhood that I still haven't developed a taste for. Tomatoes, mushrooms, eggplant -- I've overcome my dislike for their odd textures a long time ago. But beets?! What are they supposed to be? Fruits? Vegatables? Canned purply roots?

C'mon you damn beets, make up your mind!

But then I saw this video. I think if mom prepared beets like this, I would love beets. Chocolate, brown sugar, eggs, vanilla, butter -- is this food porn or what?!

And how can I possibly write about beets without recalling "The Beet Runner!" http://bit.ly/5PsD1q

beet cake from tiger in a jar on Vimeo.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.2

Two Thumbs Up!

2011-06-27T20:41:00.009-05:00

The new "Downtown Milwaukee Night Out" video is fabulous.

I feel as though I have lived in this city at just the right time. After being born and raised here until I was 8, my family moved north of Green Bay. After I graduated from the University of Wisconsin—Stout, it was back to the Mil for me. In the early 90s, we thought Milwaukee was pretty cool. It actually surprised my then-girlfriend (now wife) and me. We had spent some time in other cities and looked back at Milwaukee like an archaic rust-belt has-been. However, once we relocated here, we became pleasantly surprised -- Milwaukee had a "feel" to it that we just didn't feel in other places. Call it an independent streak ("We're not Chicago dammit! We do things our way. Sometimes they don't make any sense, but dammit, they are OUR way!")

Fast forward 20 years and Milwaukee has really grown up. We no longer can keep up with all the things there are to do here. New bars and restaurants open monthly, the concert scene has become huge, performing arts and cultural events are plentiful, museums offer lively exhibitions and activities, and the festival scene explodes in the summer (not just the big ones either—there are plenty of small ones that deserve attention (last year's New Belgium Tour de Fat and this year's Beer Lovers Festival come immediately to mind!) ).

And people are cool here.

The new video below is great not only from a marketing perspective, but it feels like my Milwaukee. It shows the city that I've come to love over the past 20 years. I think it is exciting to look forward towards the next 20 years. I believe only good things are headed our way.

Milwaukee. Check it out.

Oh, and those Brewers aren't bad either!

My 25,000th Tweet

2011-06-24T11:51:00.005-05:00

Like sands through the hourglass, so go the tweets of our lives.

How I got to 25,000 tweets I have no idea. You write a couple a day and over the course of a few years, they add up. I know during last year's NFC Championship Game, I probably dropped a couple of hundred right there!

I noticed yesterday that I was approaching 25k. I almost went over too, as I was on a roll with the #cheesysongs meme. [My favorite: 30 Seconds to Mars Cheese Castle!] When I saw the number 24,999, I put twitter away for the day so I could use it for something ... special. If I could make it only 12 more hours with no tweets, I could use my 25,000th to celebrate my 16th wedding anniversary to my wife Kay [@kbctourcompany].

I thought about it over the course of the day and especially during my 2-mile #dietbolical run this morning. I wound up keeping it nice and simple with this little rhyme:

Tweet 25,000
Is a big one you see,
It celebrates 16 years wed
to @kbctourcompany!

That tweet was posted about 7 hours ago. It's like a house of cards -- one new tweet and it'll tumble. I'll lose the synchronicity between the tweet and the number of tweets. But before I tweet again, I did what any blogging nerd would do: I grabbed a screen print of it so I could save it forever!

A Stirring Song: Gather by Jay Farrar

2011-06-21T22:38:00.006-05:00

I'm a music lover -- always have been, always will be. But lately I'm finding too much new music boring or uninspiring. There's some good stuff out there, no doubt, but seldom does it seem lasting. It's good for a few weeks or months, but soon forgotten.

However, I recently heard a song -- now 9 years old -- that just floored me and made me recall why I love music so much. It's from the Jay Farrar produced "The Slaughter Rule" movie soundtrack. The song is Gather. I never saw the movie and can only barely remember ever having heard of it, but recently, Amazon offered a Bloodshot Records sampler ("Bloodshot Records Spring Cleaning Sampler") and Gather was the second track. I listened to the whole sampler one straight though before starting another listen. On the second listen, driving home from work, Gather played again. This time I was riveted. I played it over. More riveted. A third time. More riveted; more moved.

Simple. Soaring. Beautiful.

At home, I put the song away for a few hours until I could sit down with my wife and I told her "You must hear this song. I love it. Turn off Twitter, shutdown Facebook, and just sit here and listen with me for the next 4 minutes." She did. By minute 2, my eyes had watered up and I could barely talk. Verklempt, I said "I don't know what it is about this song that moves me so much. It just does!" And together we listened until the song was over. I think she liked it too, but wasn't used to the chordal progressions the way I was.

I discovered that the song has a video to go with it (I don't think it's official) and the video is nice, but I think the visual stimulation in this case hinders rather than helps the song. This is a song best appreciated with eyes closed and just taken wholly in by the ears. Also, tinny PC speakers don't do any song true justice. If you'd like, the whole sampler is still available as a free download from Amazon (click on the link above; it's got many good rockabilly songs on it too). Get it and play Gather through your highest fidelity set up. I'm sure you'll be moved too.

Not for the Squeamish

2011-06-20T19:34:00.004-05:00

Today's run was unusual and proved my growing dedication to #dietbolical. There's a part of this post that may not be for the squeamish, but I'll give you forewarning when that part is about to come up [maybe the whole post to some!]

I've had a few dermatological blemishes that I figured it was time to have checked out. You know, just to be sure. The main one was one that I never could see -- it was a mole right in the middle of my back. A General Practitioner about 3 years ago told me it would be good to have it checked out by a Dermatologist. Never one to be too prompt, I finally made an appointment for today.

So the guy does what Dermatologists do -- he gives me the once over ... twice! He was thorough, if you get my drift. And in being thorough, he examined the space between my tiny toe and the one next to it on my left foot. To my surprise, he suddenly looked at me and said, "How long has this been here?!" I said "I dunno. Maybe since birth, or maybe within the last year. I never noticed it before."

"You don't ever look in between your toes?" he queried.

"No. I don't."

But the mole that he spied between my toes concerned him. Apparently to dermatologists, some moles look benign and some look threatening. He said "Let's remove that and have it tested, just to be sure."

"Okay. When?" I asked.

He shot back, "Today, of course! You don't want to have to come back here do you?!"

So he left the room and returned in his surgical mask and overcoat with an assortment of stainless steel tools. While he was out, he gave me a document to read for care of the healing wounds. I noticed one line very clearly: "No strenuous activity for 24 hours."

WHAT?!!? I didn't get my daily run it yet! Is my runstreak doomed?

The doc asked if I had any questions. I asked "Can I run tonight?!" and he quickly replied "No."

He could see that I was dissappointed and asked what the matter was. I told him about #dietbolical and my streak and how I was worried it was doomed. He never gave me outright approval, but hinted that it might be okay and that I'd have to be very careful.

[Squeamish alert!]

The procedure involves shooting up the area with a local anesthetic, cutting out the blemish, and then cauterizing the wound to stop blood loss. His fear was that physical exertion will dislodged the cauterized clots and bleeding will begin -- a sizable amount of bleeding too. As I was staring up at the ceiling, he gently tapped on my now completely numb foot. He said "You feel that?" I said, "I don't feel the contact, but I know that you're tapping on my toe." He replied, "I'm simulating the effect of running to make sure the cauterization stays in place."

Procedure complete, I recovered from my wooziness and headed for home. After sitting on the couch for a few moments (woozy again) I headed out the door for a short run. I was only going to go for a mile, but I felt pretty good with my odd gait which greatly favored my right foot over my left, so I decided to go 3. That last thing that I wanted to see a mile and a half from home was a blood-drenched K-Swiss. And it could have happened, 'cause I still couldn't feel a thing on that foot! But I successfully made it back home where I proceeded to keep active by instantly switching into lawn-mowing mode.

So as I finally comfortable settle in for the evening, I am happy to say that #dietbolical is still alive at day #29 and counting! Heck, if you consider that my body is less 2 pigmented nevuses, I'm even lighter too!

#dietbolical 29:191

I Think I Should Write an E-book

2011-06-17T19:24:00.004-05:00

Seeing how everybody strikes it rich with self-help books and fitness advice these days, I think I need to write an e-book. Topic? #dietbolical It's really working and working well. I am down 7 pounds since starting it 26 days ago. I shouldn't get too cocky -- I haven't reached my goal yet. But when I do, I'll have Chapter One of the book written! Chapter One is going to read something like this: write down your goal, exercise, and eat less, but I'll spice it up with fancy phrases like "establish your nutritional paradigm" and "define your fitness selling proposition" and similar buzzword jargon.

The bigger challenge is figuring out what the other 8 chapters will be about. But I've thought long and hard about it and I've finally figured it out...

The other 8 chapters will be about beer.

#dietbolical 26:191 http://bitly.com/kITf5o

Collection X

2011-06-11T09:26:00.001-05:00

Yesterday we went to the Members' Preview at the new Harley-Davidson exhibit named "Collection X." Collection X is a number of previously undisplayed pieces from the Harley-Davidson archives. Some of these items were very interesting. The exhibit is small -- it takes about an hour to view -- but it's worth it. My favorite was a "snowmobile" kit that could be made from a Harley engine. The "Pop's Trolley" shown here is one of the surviving examples. I love this thing -- it's like something my childhood imagination would have thought up! A rocket-shaped sled powered by a propeller?! Yes! Imagine how fun this thing would have been to ride around in on a frozen Wisconsin lake.

A great segment of the exhibit displays ways that Harleys have been used in non-traditional ways. In the first half of the 20th century, necessity was the mother of invention and there were many ways the power of the motorcycle engine could be adapted to suit a particular need. Another favorite was this straight-out-of-a-horror movie ice cutter! I can't even imagine how unsafe this beast would have been to operate! A series of chain reductions coming out of the crankcase powered this giant oscillating blade. Oh Mark Borchardt, the things you could do in movies with this maniacal device!

Another part of the exhibit displayed some of the Harleyware items which have been made for the Harley enthusiast (For the record, I like their motorcycles, but have zero interest in anything else Harley related. Maybe a particular t-shirt or a decal, but that's about it). When you see the exhibit, you may wish to hold in your laughter when viewing -- what you find hilarious and gaudy, the 6'8" bearded guy next to you might find delicate and gorgeous. Exhibit "A" would have to be the complete Harley wedding ensemble including a white leather tuxedo and a gorgeous his and hers, pewter eagle-embraced wine goblet set (pictured). I found the wine goblet set too much to hold back and I let out an "OMG! Look!" gasp. "That's so hideous!" I didn't get a punch, but I can't say you won't be so lucky!

The last great benefit is that they have a beer brewed by Lakefront Brewery specially for this exhibit. The beer's name is Collection X. It's a slightly sweet, malty brew where one glass is enough before you look for something lighter to wash it down. It's good; I'll get it again.

Collection X runs through August 21 at Milwaukee's Harley Davidson Museum [site].

My "Dietbolical" Plan

2011-05-25T20:33:00.005-05:00

di·a·bol·i·cal - 1. of devil: connected with the devil or devil worship; 2. evil: extremely cruel or evil

di·et - controlled intake of food

di·et·bol·i·cal - the smooshage (portmanteau) of the words diabolical and diet

This plan has been in my head since May 22, 2011 - the day after a conversation with noted Beer Runner Tim C. I am terrified to write this because, to me, once it is written, it becomes law. My law. I am highly motivated by my own words once written -- especially once published in our current, social media fueled world.

Tim (and Jane S.) have been streaking for the past 230 some-odd days -- run streaking that is. At Burnheart's last Saturday night at Sara S.'s "Brainaversary," I was lamenting to Tim how I fell out of the running habit that I worked so hard to cultivate last year. He suggested I start streaking, cause once you start streaking, it's hard to stop! I can see his point, and I'm sure if I started, I'd probably fall into the streak; however, it lacks a goal. A finishing line. A point of completion. But then it hit me, I've been longing to shave off a few decades of pounds - about 20, to be exact. How about I commit to run every day until I reach my target weight of 180 pounds? Thus, my “dietbolical” plan was born.

Reflecting on the definition of the word diabolical above, this is dietbolical for sure!

And so it has begun. As I write this, I am on day #3. I will run every day until I reach my target weight of 180 pounds. Only in the case of severe illness or unavoidable, super long work days (I have none scheduled, but there have been a few of these in the past -- usually involving travel to and work at customer facilities) will I allow myself an excuse to miss a daily run. (I’ve toyed with the idea of “miss a day, lose another pound,” but I think my commitment to this plan is strong enough and I don’t need to make it any harder than it already is!)

I will post my progress on dailymile.com using this simple metric: 3:198 (today’s number) - first number is the consecutive days run and the second, my last known weight (I don’t/won’t weigh myself every day). The big question is which side of the colon will hit 180 first? The safe bet is the first!

I’m accepting all forms of encouragement including cash. Thanks in advance for your support for my “dietbolical” plan! :)

The Best Meal I Ever Slept Through

2011-05-21T16:18:00.006-05:00

Who sleeps through a meal? This guy apparently. I'll explain...

A few years ago I sold and commissioned a machine in Sebastopol, California. Sebastopol is quaint little hippie (mostly) town about an hour north of San Francisco up HWY 101. When I landed in San Francisco, I was told that I qualified for a car rental upgrade of my choice. Jackpot! The weather was beautiful and I scored a nice little convertible coupe! I think it was a Mitsubishi, but it didn't matter -- this was a great little car for going over the Golden Gate bridge and surrounding area in.

Before I left Milwaukee, I told my nephew -- who had just moved back from San Francisco to Milwaukee only a month earlier -- that I was going to be spending at least one night in San Francisco on my upcoming trip. He was excited, because after graduating from the California Culinary Institute in San Francisco, he got a job working at one of San Francisco's best restaurants: Quince [website]. Unfortunately, while he was working there, I never had the opportunity to visit, but he left on good terms and was anxious for me to eat there and experience what it was all about. His former coworkers would be sure to take good care of me!

After 3 days in Sebastopol, I departed mid-morning and headed back towards the Bay. The day was gorgeous and I could not afford to waste the opportunity to drive this sweet little convertible along the ocean [HWY 1] and through the Point Reyes National Seashore Park. Man let me tell you, this is a glorious ride! So much beauty. You must put this one on your to-do list, okay? After a ton of fresh air and about 2 pounds of cherries (they were in season and I bought a HUGE bag at a farmer's market -- spitting out pits all along HWY 1 and on the Golden Gate Bridge; I love me some cherries!), I pulled into my Priceline-negotiated city center hotel. The time was about 3 p.m.; my nephew had confirmed -- I had dinner reservations at Quince at 9:30.

Now, since this work trip was a blue-collar affair, I hadn't packed clothes worthy of a fine dining experience. So I headed out in search of clothes. I found a JoS. A. Bank downtown and told the sales associate that I was in need of some nice dinner clothes -- shirt, pants, socks, and shoes too! We picked out a complete, fancy dinner worthy ensemble and I headed for a walk around Chinatown and the North Bay area.

If you've ever walked the streets of San Francisco, you know it can be a pretty good workout with many steep hills and a near-infinite number of interesting streets to stroll along. So I zig-zagged my way around for a while stopping every so often for a beer. After a few hours of exploring, I found this nice little Chinese place that had good soup and inexpensive wine. Dinner was still 3 or more hours away and I needed a little snack to tie me over. After soup and a few glasses of cheap wine I went to my room and prepared my clothes (removed tags and stickies, ironed) for dinner.

With the iron still hot and a nice breeze passing through the windows of my old hotel room, I laid back on the bed and BAM!! -- I was out cold!! I never knew what hit me! I was still fully clothed and my shoes were still on. The next thing I know, I hear a car horn from the street down below and my eyes slowly open. The room is dark, but dimly lit by the LED clock on the nightstand. The time? 2:30 a.m. Furgenflasterbaggit! I missed my reservation at Quince by 5 hours!! Fully awakened, I felt terrible -- not just for my loss, but to miss the experience that my nephew so wanted me to have. What an idiot! I grabbed my BlackBerry and texted him: "I'm so sorry. I missed my reservation. Fell soundly asleep. Me = idiot."

All that fresh air driving along the coast in the convertible (I also got up very early that morning), the hiking through the city, the beers, the wine, the time of the reservation -- it was all too much. I just couldn't keep my heavy eyelids open long enough. And that's really too bad, because stumbling around on the Internet, I came across the video below describing Quince's risotto as "perfect."

What a schmuck I (am!) can be, but at least I got some nice, new clothes out of the deal.

The Worst Day Since Yesterday

2011-05-15T08:54:00.005-05:00

No. I'm not talking about Wisconsin's May 15th weather. I am talking about the song by Flogging Molly [official website].

After picking up their album Swagger, I was walking to the grocery store listening to this song and I immediately figured the song out in my head -- chords and all! It was the first time after playing guitar for decades that I instinctively knew the chords the to a song! I was eager to get my groceries and run back home to see if my progressions were correct. Got home, loaded the song on the hi-fi, grabbed the 6-string and immediately played along. What a gratifying experience! I was right on -- save for a few chords in the song's bridge that I needed to figure out.

The only thing left was to memorize the lyrics, which I did while driving to work a morning or 2 later. [One thing I've discovered about playing and singing a song, if you can sing from memory, you will be a better singer. Looking at a lyrics sheet while performing gives a brain one more task and forces one to use poor singing posture.] I often use the morning drive to commit lyrics to memory. I'll recite the lyrics from the beginning and I go until I get stuck. Then, I'll play the song on my truck's stereo from beginning to end and try to recite the lyrics again. Usually, by the time I get to work (about a 23-minute drive), I'll have the lyrics committed to memory.

I've played this song out a Tuesday night session at Brocach Irish Pub in Milwaukee, but a rainy Saturday allowed me the time to record it with my trusty Zoom H4 Digital 4-Track Recorder. The end result is this:

I am pretty happy with the end result; however, my singing certainly isn't where I want it to be, but as long as I keep doing it, I keep improving. Also, learning a new song also forces me to learn the same chords on my el-cheapo mandolin -- which I used as an accompaniment here. I think it adds a lot of texture to an otherwise guitar-only song.

Stay tuned for more and thanks for listening!

Oh, and if you wish to hear how some people think it's supposed to sound, here ya go...

Close Calls - Episode Three: The Iceman Cometh!

2011-05-13T13:11:00.004-05:00

Porcupine Lake [map] was about 2 miles from my house in Spruce, Wisconsin. It was the place of countless hours of fun: fishing, ice skating, skipping rocks, and even swimming. Why “even swimming,” you ask? Because nobody swam in Porcupine Lake. It was notoriously murky and bottomless. It was rumored that a teamster once drove his horses into the water, they got stuck in the muck, sunk, and drown! I could write a couple of Close Calls episodes on our foolish escapades on ol’ Porky, but this story revolves around a frigid January 2nd – one of those days after New Year’s Day that is brutally cold. One of those times that when the high temperature reaches single digits after weeks in the minuses, you say “Hey, it’s not too bad out!”

My neighbor Jim was a super cool guy who let me use his Suzuki 4-wheeler at will. [It must be noted that I could devote pages to Jim [RIP] – a man who served as a big brother to me. I didn’t realize it until later in life, but Jim was a very significant person to whom I was to become. I hope you know that Jim, wherever your spirit may roam.] On this frigid January day, my cousin Andy from visit was visiting from Escanaba, Michigan. I had a few years on Andy – I figure I must’ve been about 14 or 15 and Andy 10 or 11. We made the abundantly unwise decision to hop on Jim’s 4-wheeler and go for a spin. After bundling up in our ski masks, snowmobile hats, Sorels and chopper mitts, we headed over to Jim’s and cranked up the Suzuki.

This particular January was cold, but there wasn’t much snow. Also, the sub-zero temperatures came quickly and froze Porky over like glass. I knew that the lake was covered in pristine ice and made that our destination. Once we got there, we noted there were a handful of ice fisherman near the boat landing, but the rest of the lake was wide open. The lake is roughly 2,000 feet long by 1,000 feet wide. It has a tiny inlet to the north, but is mostly spring-fed with a larger outlet to the east. Andy and I had a blast as we would gradually gain traction and increase our speed to full and then put on the brakes and slide across the lake. With the brakes on and a little body English, we could get the ATV to spin many, many times. This was about as much fun as two young boys could ever have and we must have done it for a half an hour or more until we decided to seek out a new adventure.

It was my idea to head for the lake’s outlet. Looking at the picture from Google maps, you can see how the outlet stream narrows and gets a little crooked. What does this mean? This means open water my friends, but my teen-aged brain didn’t consider that possibility and I throttled the Suzuki with full acceleration and started down the outlet.

We may have been a couple of hundred feet off of the lake and rolling like the wind when I spied open water ahead. Fudge!! I slammed on the brakes but nothing – Nothing!! – happened. Remember, the lake was like glass and so was the beginning of the outlet – there was little traction to be had! We slid and slid. Time stood completely still. To this day I can remember every second like it was a week. As we slid, the 4-wheeler gradually spun and soon we had done a 180 and our backs were facing the open river. We finally came to a stop – our backs still facing the open water which was now just mere feet behind us. I twisted the throttle and tried to get us away from the opening, but slowly, surely, I heard a horrifying CCCCRRRAAAACCCKKK!! The ice gave way and soon Andy and I were under water. Every fear that I had ever had about being on thin ice had just become a reality. Could we get out? Would we freeze to death? Would the current carry us downstream under ice? Yikes! You get the picture: a pretty frightening scenario to be sure! (Dreams of that echoing crack still wake me in the middle of the night, heart pounding, in a pool of my own sweat.)

The good news was that I could touch bottom, however barely. I tried to pull myself up onto the ice, but the ice would break or my hands would slip off. I finally got to a spot where the ice was firm and I was able to flop my body up over the edge. Honestly, at this point, I was only concerned for myself and not Andy, but I believe he did something similar and got out of the ice about the same time I did. He was probably luckier, because I’m not sure he could touch bottom as much as I could. Once both safely out of the water, we went into another state of panic: we were drenched and our boots had come off trying to get out of the river! We were standing partially in stocking or bare feet on solid ice about a half a mile from any other humans on a sub-zero day! The 4-wheeler remained in the water floating wheels up. It got stuck on some other ice chunks and remained in place. I knew at this point that we had to get moving and move fast or we could get hypothermia. I remember making a beeline back to the ice fishermen with both of us saying the whole way, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! What are we gonna do?!” and "Don't stop moving!"

You think my stories over? Not yet. Get this...

We finally made it to a fisherman sitting there on an upside down bucket. I said “Mister, can you please help us? Our 4-wheeler cracked through the ice on the outlet and we are freezing. We live 2 miles away. My mom owns Goatsville tavern.”

“Hmm. Goatsville, huh?” he says. “I’ll give you a ride home if your mom gives me a 12-pack of beer.”

“Yes! YES!” I say. “But we need to go now! We are frozen!”

We made it to the landing and his truck and were, by now, really cold. During the 2-mile ride back. I can recall him calling us stupid kids and scolding us nearly the whole way. As soon as we walked in the door I said, “Mom, give this guy a 12’er! Andy and I have to get warm!”

We headed upstairs, peeled off our soaked and partially frozen clothing and took turns in a warm bath trying to get our feeling back.

Finally dry and warm, my panic now turned to Jim. What the hell was Jim going to say to me for submerging his ATV in the river?! Did I ruin it? Would it ever run again? My fears were allayed when I finally got to tell Jim and rather than rant at me, he chuckled and shook his head!! He thought it was pretty funny that we were just stupid kids being stupid kids! Wow! I told you in paragraph two that Jim was a pretty cool guy, didn’t I?!

The final chapter in this story is that Andy’s dad (my Uncle Lynn) had come down to pick up Andy that same day. Uncle Lynn was a big dude and we knew we could use his size and strength to get the vehicle out of the creek – as long as he didn’t get too far out on the ice! We took some rope back to the lake and found a solid piece of wood a couple of feet long. I sidled carefully near the opening and tossed the wood, with the rope tied around the center, around an axle of the quad. Uncle Lynn standing near the creek’s edge, began to the tug the rope. As he pulled, the ice would break around the 4-wheeler. When it finally got to firm ice, we used a long branch to get underneath the floating quad and pried it up over the edge. As it raised up out of the water, Uncle Lynn gave a Herculean pull on the rope and finally it popped up onto the ice.

Like an idiot, I tried to start it. Of course it did not. Once Jim got it, he took it to his garage where he let it warm up and he disassembled much of the motor and let all the water drain out. After a few days, new gas and new oil, it fired right up!

Whew! Another close call and from SO many angles too.

One last note: it was a close call for me and Andy, but when I finally got around to tell my mom that the ice fisherman demanded a 12-pack of beer to take us home, I swear she was going to find him and maim him. Somewhere, somehow, that schmuck never realized just how close of a call this was for him too!

What a jerk, amirite?

Close Calls - Episode Two: It's This Face vs. Barbed Wire!

2011-05-07T07:20:00.006-05:00

If you're old enough, you'll remember a razor commercial starring Lyle Alzado and his notoriously bushy face where he says "It's this BIC versus barbed wire!"

I always think of that commercial when I think of this story -- only instead of "this BIC," substitute "my face."

Of all close calls, this was the closest. I still shudder to think just how near this one came to taking me out in the most grizzly manner.

Similar Model Polaris

We moved to Oconto County from Milwaukee in the mid 70s. One of the things that my Dad found attractive about the area was all of the available places to ride snowmobiles. My Dad, however, seldom stuck to convention and snowmobiling on a marked trail held little attraction to him. He'd rather be more adventurous and head off in directions unmarked -- and so we did on one cold Winter's night when I was 8 or 9 years old. I sat in front of him on the seat of our trusty Polaris and we headed off towards "Hogsback." [For details on "Hogsback," see my earlier post: Milk Truck.]

The snow that night was fresh and deep; that I can recall well. We headed across a field and I recall Dad making a few loop de loops and figure 8's in the hayfield about a half mile behind our house. [A few years later, friends and I would further demonstrate our juvenile idiocy by tying a rope and saucer to the back of a snowmobile and crack-the-whip on the saucer-rider at ridiculously dangerous speeds. The driver would laugh hysterically when the rider was thrown from the saucer and rolled 25 to 30 yards until they came to rest against something soft -- like a tree!] After a little free-form riding, Dad started to exit the field to the east. Nary a track -- human or animal -- could be seen in the fresh snow. He accelerated; the field in front of us was wide, white, and open. Suddenly, and completely without warning, he put his left arm across my chest and yanked me down flat against his belly as he leaned back as far as the snowmobile's seat would allow. Lying flat, a barbed wire fence screeched across the hood of the snowmobile and took the windshield clean off! My face was the next object in its path. My head slightly turned, the wire glanced on my cheek, over my eye socket, across my forehead and took my hat right off! Dad was untouched!

I remember seeing what Dad saw: about 10 yards to the right of the snowmobile, he saw a fence post and barbed wire angling down into the snow. He knew that the wire was in front of our sled and only guessed that it would come over, not under, the sled. Thank goodness for Dad's quick thinking and reaction!

I was a bloody mess. My cheek was roughed up, but my forehead skin was opened up and blood was running down the front of my face and body. I recall little of the next few moments, but fortunately we weren't too far from home and Dad got us back on the sled and raced for home. I was inspected, cleaned up, and bandaged, and, despite the blood, determined to be okay -- no emergency room trip required. I am sure Mom gave Dad some serious hell and probably nearly sent him to the ER for his recklessness.

I recall going to school the next day with a bandage over half my face. After about a half a day, I had the teacher call home and have my mom pick me up. My facial swelling was great and I couldn't open my left eye. At home, we iced it, I popped some aspirin, and the next day I returned to school.

What makes me shudder is just how much worse this could have turned out! First, if Dad hadn't seen that wire, we'd have been decapitated. No doubt in my mind. It would have come right under my chin -- and probably his -- and we would have been discovered as two headless, frozen torsos the next morning. Second, my head was slightly turned. That wire just missed catching my nose. [Don't think about this too long -- it'll make you sick just thinking about it.] It many not have killed me, but I surely would've been messed up for life. And third, the part of the wire that rode across my skull was in between barbs!! As beating the odds goes, that may be the luckiest part of all! Another inch or 2 in either direction and surely a rusty barb would've have gouged my mug deeply.

(Excuse me, I just shuddered again and spilled coffee all over myself...)

Whew! Close call, right?!

The Allerton Hotel Ghost?

2011-05-05T14:08:00.008-05:00

A short story for all, but particularly my friend Julie Krawczyk with whom, mostly through social media, I've shared a few laughs (Julie to me: "Is this YOU?!").

I was staying at the Allerton Hotel in Chicago for a week-long business trip. The Allerton is a nice hotel along the famed Michigan Avenue strip. It's an old place that's been well-updated and is a great place to stay if you're looking to camp in Chicago for a night or two. The Allerton is highly visible by its historic "Tip Top Tap" sign above Michigan Avenue. [Sadly, the Tip Top Tap no longer exists, but somebody has got to reopen this -- I'm sure it would be a gem!] Even though this hotel is appointed with modern amenities, it's still easy to tell that it's an old building and, at night, when it's quiet, it can feel just a bit haunted.

After a long day at a tradeshow, I had my laptop out on my desk and was reviewing the day's twitter stream. I came across Julie's [@kisluvkis] where she was vacationing in Europe with her then beau and now husband C.J. She had tweeted and posted a link to her Flickr stream where you could see their trip pictures. Liking European travel myself, I clicked the link and started watching the slideshow. I needed to get ready for the following day too, so I unfolded the squeeky hotel room ironing board and started preparing the next day's navy blue oxford (for industrial tradeshows, they're all navy blue oxfords). As I ironed, I'd glance at the slideshow every few moments, but eventually, the power-saving settings on my laptop caused the screen to go black. Shirt crisply pressed, I put away the board, brushed my teeth and went bed. Exhausted from a long day, I was asleep in seconds.

I may have slept for up to an hour - I'm really not sure, but something disturbed my slumber and I began to wake. I heard a child's voice. A rather faint, but ghostly sounding voice singing to trumpets and trombones from the 1920s. As I fully regained consciousness, I shot up in bed like lightning! "CALL GHOSTBUSTERS!" I thought! "THIS PLACE IS HAUNTED!!"

No kidding. For about 10 seconds I was completely bewildered and thought something ghastly must've happened in this room 8 decades ago. I stumbled to my feet in the darkness, heart pounding, and tried to determine the source of song. It was coming from ... from over there. There, by the desk next to the closet. Eyes adjusting and the blinking amber light of my laptop guiding my way, I determined the source. The poltergeist was in my laptop! I rubbed my finger on the mousepad and, ta-da!, there was the ghost: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kisluvkis/3605324821/

With the screen off, the slideshow continued to play until this video came on. Once I had it all figured out, I chuckled to myself and thought, "Julie, you got me good on this one!"

As for the girl in the video, she's a cute kid, but I'm not sure if I ever want to meet her. If she looked at me and said, "Hello mister!" I'd probably go run and hide in a closet and stay there all day!

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.8

Close Calls - Episode One: The Milk Truck Encounter

2011-05-02T21:01:00.002-05:00

I'm a fortunate guy. I've been able to do a lot of things and I've had a lot of adventures. I've never gotten in any major trouble and I've managed to see a lot of places. However, my adult life has come close to never happening. Too close! Some of my teenage/early 20's escapades have brought me pretty close to a handshake with Jesus. Before advancing age causes me to forget these shenanigans, I'm going to use the "Close Calls" series of blog posts to recall and describe some of these hairy moments.

As a youngster growing up in northern Wisconsin, I always had snowmobiles and motorized two-wheelers. At 6 years old, I was riding a minibike and by 8, dad had me regularly driving a Rupp 440 snowmobile, Mom gave in and let me buy a 90cc Kawasaki dirt bike at age 12 or 13. This bike was tiny, but with my small frame, it was fully capable of 65-mph on paved roads. [I don't think mom ever knew how fast the bike would go or she would have never let me get it in the first place!] I would race this bike all over the back 40 -- which was actually a lot more the back 1,040 acres. There was a ridge formed by a retreating glacier from the Wisconsin Glacial Episode that I would rip up, down, over, and along about a half mile behind my house. This was my primary riding area and some of my "Close Calls" blogs will recount death-defying feats of stupidity on this ridge -- known locally as "Hogsback."

My protective riding equipment was very different than what you see on today's X-gamers. My protective clothing and equipment was ... well ... nothing! It was common for me to ride in just shorts, t-shirt, and sneakers. That's it. No helmet, no protective eyewear, no shinguards or elbow pads. No nothing! That I didn't crack open my melon on numerous occasions is just by luck. I can't ever complain that I'm not blessed enough, as I luckily dodged bullets for about 15 years of my life. That I didn't get eliminated by one is fortune enough!

We lived in the country about 7 miles north of Oconto Falls, Wisconsin along County Hwy B. Now, even for a stupid like me, I treated County B with respect. In my early teens, County B [B] was like the New Jersey turnpike, only people drove faster and were, most certainly, drunker! But I had a pal who lived about 5 miles away and the only way to get there efficiently was by taking a 2 or 3 mile rip along B. I decided (against mom's rule) that I was going to go over for a visit. Rather than take the Kawasaki on B right from home, I was conniving and headed east on Goatsville Road (a much-less traveled local road; "Goatsville" was also the name of the tavern that mom owned and operated). After a couple of 90-degree turns, I took to the dreaded B and twisted the throttle. Soon, I was going like the wind! All 90 cubic centimeters of piston were firing up and down at full speed and that bike was giving me everything that she had! After a few minutes, I made it to the turn-off with no problems -- and no directional to signal my intentions. I slowed to prepare for a hard right and began leaning into the turn. Then, there it was, any motorcyclist's worst nightmare -- gravel. Crap. I knew I was going too fast, but I could increase the radius of my turn a bit and reduce the rolling effect of these micro-marbles. However, I did not, in the least, plan for, see, or prepare for the milk truck that was slowing towards a stop as he prepared to cross B. I leaned hard. I braked hard. I went down ... hard. The trucker saw me, but with a full-load of milk he could not stop any quicker than he already was. Me and the bike were sliding along the gravel and pavement and when we finally stopped, where were me and my gravel-embedded forearms? Under the milk truck. I was able to look straight up at the engine block idling above me. I had went right between the truck's 2 front tires! I quickly rolled out from underneath, heart pounding, and said "I'm okay! I'm okay!" However, the milk truck driver, who was completely uninjured, hyperventilated. I recall him asking me questions, but his breath was rapidly going in and out and I thought he -- not me! -- would faint.

I rubbed the loose gravel off of my bloody arms, checked my bike and was relieved that not only me, but the bike too, were still in single pieces. The bike, despite a few scratches and dents, was ready to run and the engine started right up. I hopped on the bike and headed for home, scheming how I was going to get in the house bloodied without mom finding out that I was on B!

I can't remember the story I made-up to procrastinate my inevitable ass-whipping. See, as I mentioned earlier, Mom owned and operated a tavern and the milk-truck driver was a patron -- often stopping in after his rounds. He knew who I was and, once he regained his ability to breathe, probably couldn't wait to visit my mom and tell her what an irresponsible ass-hat her son was! And, once mom found out -- with her patented brand of psychological beat-down ["Michael, I'm sooo disappointed in you. You have no idea how much you have let me down." (Said with watering eyes too, no less!)] -- I may have just preferred that bumper facial.

I cheated the Grim Reaper on this one. A foot or 2 in any direction, and I would have certainly met the same fate as many a fender-chasing farm dogs.

Whew. Close call!

Death of a Theater Phobia

2011-04-22T13:18:00.020-05:00

I'm a patron of the arts—always have been, always will be. But I haven't developed a taste for all performing arts. Theater is one of those arts. Nearly a decade ago, my wife and I would go to a few plays a year—maybe 1 or 2. [She may disagree with that number, but she certainly wouldn't dispute that I quit theater-going cold turkey about 5 or 6 years ago.] I can't even remember the last one I attended, but I do recall the last 3 or 4 plays that I did go to, I became ... disinterested. Disinterested during the performances. Thespians may have been pouring their heart and soul into their craft, regardless, it didn't connect with me and the daydreaming machine would inevitably start (Hmm... At intermission, should I have beer or wine? Did I leave the iron plugged in? I wonder if the Brewers are winning? etc.). In all likelihood, I probably just wasn't going to a play suited to my predisposition—sort of like reading a Haruki Murakami novel before graduating from Green Lantern comic books. So, for at least a half of a decade, I avoided theater the way Kathy Griffin avoids funny jokes.

Lee Ernst as Willy Loman

However, last night we decided to give it a whirl and we went to the Milwaukee Repertory Theater—more commonly known as "The Rep"—for their production of "Death of a Salesman." And, boy, did I enjoy it! I was riveted for the entire performance—no daydreaming, no adult beverage contemplation, no nothing. I just fell into the story and stayed there. I was really impressed with the whole show, but particularly with Lee E. Ernst's portrayal of Willy Loman. It was incredibly powerful. It made me wonder why in the world anybody would want to be an actor! To put that much energy and emotion into a performance every, single night would be draining—both mentally and physically, I think. And Mr. Ernst holds nothing back.

Nothing.

I am certain that I wasn't the only one moved by Mr. Ernst's interpretation of Willy Loman. In the final seconds of the play, when the actors and actresses walked off the stage, you could hear a pin drop. And, had a pin actually dropped, it would have sounded like a cannon blast. The players walked near our seats on their way out and my wife and I were both transfixed by the look on their faces—they were playing their role until they were fully off-stage. Hell, I bet they stayed in character until they were finally resting comfortably on a barstool 7 blocks away!

Finally, a note about the play itself. This has long been considered a classic work by Arthur Miller. I recall reading it in high school literature and thinking it was okay, however, there is no filter like the prism of age and experience to bring Mr. Miller's vision into focus. Having been a working person for at least 20 years, I could connect with certain emotions and verbiage expressed by Willy. These are expressions I could not possibly have understood at 17 years of age.

Now I completely understand why Death of a Salesman was the recipient of the 1949 Pulitzer Prize for Drama and Tony Award for Best Play. It gets my award for the best play that I've seen in the last 5 years for sure!

It runs through May 8th at the Quadracci Powerhouse Theater in Milwaukee. Go see it if you get the chance. You won't regret it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Important follow-up: I shared the above post with Mr. Ernst and he replied with the following:

Hi Mike,

Hey, thanks so much for your kind words. I'm glad we were able to get you with this one. I love the play, and, while it may be draining (yes it is!) it is also a great honor to be able to share Miller's incredibly profound story eight times a week.

Best Regards,
Lee

This made my day!

Free Cheese!!

2011-04-12T19:53:00.003-05:00

Not many things are better than free cheese (free beer notwithstanding). But imagine how good free cheese would be when you are out of a job, struggling to make your house payment, your kids need shoes, gas is over 4 bucks a gallon—basically, you are just about at the lowest, most difficult time in your life. I bet you'd really appreciate some free cheese then. And not only cheese, but milk, bread, butter, fruits and vegetables—oh, and clothes!—the stuff that's pretty much the base of the pyramid on Mr. Abraham Harold Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs [I knew that stuff I learned in college would come in handy someday!].

Today I had the unique opportunity to visit a place that makes sustenance products for destitute members of the Church of Latter Day Saints, or LDS for short. About 20 years ago, the LDS's dairy bought one of my company's machines for bottling fluid milk. After two decades of solid service, they had begun to wonder if it was performing as good as it should be, so they called us up for a machine audit and the next thing you know...I'm in Salt Lake City. I really didn't have a good idea what a church was doing owning a dairy, but after discovering their purpose, I was a little awed and very moved. Every single thing produced at this facility is given away to needy members. Every. Single. Thing. They bottle milk (chocolate too!), produce cheese and cottage cheese, and, in nearby facility, bread and other items. The people operating the plant are among the friendliest I have ever worked with too, and that's saying a lot, because dairy folks are generally some of the nicest people I've worked with in any industry.

I don't know a lot about the Church of LDS. I know some people have rather strong opinions of their institution. Heck, just last night I was reading a book about beer bars in Nauvoo, Illinios—the city on the Mississippi named by Joseph Smith, Jr., the founder of the Latter Day Saint movement (also the place where Mr. Smith was charged with treason, imprisoned, and shot in 1844)—and the local conflict with the influx of teetotaling LDS residents who are affecting their businesses (supposedly), but I have a heck of a lot of respect for the way they take care of their own. It's a worldwide exemplary model. Visitors come from all of the world to visit this operation and learn how they do it. Every president since Reagan (except the current one) has visited the same dairy that I worked in today. All marvel at the self-sustaining nature of this organization and their ability to provide basic and effective services to their members.

Unfortunately for them (or fortunately, depending how you look at it), I'd be tough to convert, but I had a true and genuine respect for what I saw today. In this day, when it's easy to be sarcastic and full of cynicism, it was great to see people caring for those less fortunate and giving them the basic necessities to they need to get back on their feet.

Speaking of giving, I was also given a block of cheddar cheese and a book: Pure Religion - The Story of Church Welfare Since 1930. If there's anyway to convert me to anything, free cheese is a pretty good start!

And, after today, I may even just root for BYU in a football game next year!

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.8

Eating Crow [I'm Sorry Pete Yorn]

2011-04-08T20:20:00.000-05:00

I feel bad.

In 2001, a friend gave my wife a copy of Pete Yorn's "musicforthemorningafter". I said Pete who? Well after a few listens, I fell in love with this album. It was a lot of what I love about music: tuneful, well-produced, good rockers, a few well-crafted ballads ... in general - a really nicely balanced record. I wasn't the only one who loved it - it went on to become an RIAA Gold record. In 2002 or 2003, we went to see Pete at Milwaukee's Rave, it was a rollicking good show. It seemed everybody was loving Pete. I recall my sister swooning every time his face was on TV.

Then came his sophmore album - "Day I Forgot". It might as well have been the named "The Day We Started to Forget (Pete Yorn)". It wasn't a terrible album (I don't think; I don't remember for sure), but it didn't live up to Pete's stunning debut. Then "Nightcrawler" in 2003. Okay, I think. A few good songs, but still, it didn't captivate like "musicforthemorningafter". Blah, blah, blah. Some album with/for Scarlett Johansson. Blah, blah, blah. Sadly, Pete lost me. I even stopped following him on twitter [In my defense, Pete blows at Twitter. Tweets like, "What do you like better? Fish sticks or chicken nuggets?" just weren't captivating.]. I had written Pete off.

He played Milwaukee about a month ago and I had no interest in seeing him. I believe I called him "Pete Yawn".

Then...

Then he did it.

That son of a bitch.

He released an album on par with "musicforthemorningafter".

Driving. Rocking. No bad tunes. No filler.

Pete, you fucker. You got me.

Credit goes to Amazon MP3 and their 30-second samples and their daily deals (Pete's "PY" album was only $3.99 with 4 bonus "live" tracks a day or 2 ago.). Remembering the great debut, I always give Yorn's new work a brief listen - if nothing else. But immediately I heard it. PETE YORN WAS BACK! From the opening riffs of Precious Stone to the old-timey country-sounding Wheels, he did it. He made an album that matches - dare I say surpasses? - his great freshman effort.

Anyway, Pete, I'm sorry. Please come back to Milwaukee soon. You'll see me in the front row. I'll be the one eating the crow Po' Boy.

http://www.peteyorn.com/

How'd You Like a Nice Playan Punch?!

2011-04-02T18:25:00.003-05:00

You meet some interesting people on vacation in Mexico. Some are the usual people that you meet from the U.S. - you talk to them long enough and you soon find out that you know some of the same people ... somewhere, somehow. It happens every time.

Yongehead* Canadians are a dime a dozen. I swear, don't these people work? I'm only guessing, but the U.S. has got to have at least a 20:1 population advantage over Canada, don't we? Yet the resorts, beaches, and restaurants are clogged with America's tophatters. And here's the thing that gets me about "Yongehead" Canadians: they ALWAYS bring up their national healthcare. It's like it's the only thing they have over the States, so they bring it up at every opportunity. Example: "I could cut my nuts off with a torn-in-two Tecate beer can and my government would pay for my surgery. Would yours?!" It's precisely at that time when I order a Tecate, shotgun it, and tear it in half. "Here you go, ay!"

But the people that I find the most interesting are the ones that are here because they're on the run from something. I haven't a clue what they've done, but I am a bit jealous of them. They're typically grey-haired, suntan, and drunk - but different in that they have a certain worldliness about them. Undoubtedly I ask when I meet these fellows, "You've lived down here for 16 years and you still don't speak Spanish?" and they'll usually reply with a hearty "Fuck 'em!!" We've met a couple of these characters. Last night we met just such a chap. He explained to us that he moved around the U.S. a lot, made an obscene amount of money doing "marketing," but his bastard lawyers fucked him over and he spent a year or two in jail on tax evasion charges [I always suspect that there's more to the story]. Upon release, to Mexico he went.

So after enjoying a few moments with this character, out comes his motive for introducing himself to us: "My name is C.J. Sharky and I just wrote and published my first novel. Please read it and spread the good word." First of all, "C.J. Sharky." Is that a great, made-up novelist name or what? Second, despite this man's crimes -- which I am still not certain of -- I could not be more jealous. He has the BEST life! I'd be so good at it! Just living on the beach, drinking stuff, and writing. I also suspect Mr. Sharky enjoyed a few other of Mexico's finest herbs too, but that ain't my thing.

So because C.J. was such an entertaining fellow and a pretty welcoming guy, I pass along to you the we link for C.J. Sharky's first novel: Playa Punch - Book One of the Mayan Trilogy. sharkyplaya.blogspot.com

I'll check it out when I get back home. From what I understand, it's only $5 and quickly downloadable to a Kindle. Furthermore, if there are enough clicks on the above link, Mr. Sharky assures me that all of my toes will properly remain on my feet for decades to come.

My feet thank you.

* Originally I had used a different word than "Yonge," but I thought it a little harsh. Also, not all Canadians are Yongeheaded, just the ones that participate in the behavior described. Furthermore, "Yonge" is pronounced "Young" in Canada, but for a more insulting effect, pronounce it "Yonj."

Rooting in Silence at 37,000 Feet

2011-02-07T20:49:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was painful. We had a great time in Portland, OR on a business/leisure junket, but missing the Super Bowl was agonizing for this lifelong Packer fan (see yesterday's post at http://tosabeat.blogspot.com/2011/02/im-unucky-sob.html). I was tortured even more when I discovered that the game that was promised to be aired on Frontier Airline's DirectTV screens was unavailable. Apparently, there was an "upcharge" payment required to show this game and either DirectTV or Frontier Airlines chose not to make this payment. However, 27 out of 28 channels were available including ESPN2 and their broadcast of the Women's National Billiards Championship from Niagara Falls, New York. This I watched, while you settled onto your barstool and readied yourself for a thriller. I had little knowledge of which woman won the pool tournament as I was transfixed on the little scrollbar on the bottom of the 4" screen. This little, blurry bar was my window to the game.

I'm generally a quiet guy, but when I saw that score trickle up in the Packers' favor, I would give a little fist pump and muster a hushed "Yes!" Even though I was sitting in a slender aluminum tube 37,000 feet in the air, it was like being back in time 75 years - rather than hunched over an AM radio by a fireplace, I was squinting at a tiny screen with my tray table up and my seat in an upright position. By the time we landed in Denver, I knew the Pack was up 21-10 and I was feeling pretty confident.

In Denver, we had about 45 minutes to watch the game. Clearly, most people there were Packer fans as they audibly groaned as the Steelers regained momentum in the 3rd quarter. I was not feeling anywhere near as confdent when they made us turn off all portable electronic equipment for the flight from Denver to Milwaukee - a flight which had neither WiFi nor DirectTV. The score at turn-off time? Packers 28, Steelers 25. It damned near killed me to board this flight.

Once aboard, the attendents were asked, "Will the pilot be announcing the final score?" The answer came back "No. We were admonished on the last leg because people are recording the game and don't wish to know the score."

About halfway home, a flight attendent got on the PA and said, "We know the score. If you'd like to know, please let us know as we pass through the cabin."

I wanted to know. We wanted to know. And as the attendent passed, I said "Psst. We want to know," and, in silence, he opened up a sheet of paper near my face to show me the final score. Without blowing it for any of the recording passengers on board, I clenched my fist, bent my elbow, pumped, and gave a whispered "Yes!" I looked at my wife, "We won the Super Bowl!!" [My recreation of the attendent's handmade final scoreboard is pictured.]

Once we landed I discovered what a thrilling classic the game had been. I was truly bummed to have missed nearly the entire game; however, when I look back years from now, I'll remember what a great time we had in Portland and what a unique way it was learn about and celebrate the Packers winning Super Bowl XLV!

I promise to watch next year's victory Packers. Go get another one!!

Go Pack Go!!

I'm an Unlucky SOB

2011-02-06T16:23:00.000-06:00

I am a Packer fan - always have been, always will be. It started when I was about 8 years old when my family moved from Milwaukee to a town about 35 miles north of Green Bay [Oconto Falls/Lena]. Once I got hooked, I got hooked bad. Every Sunday was a like a holiday - I didn't do anything without planning my day around the game. Many of them were watched with my friend Robert and his older brother Jim. We'd go ice fishing and Jim would hook a small TV to his car battery and route it into the shanty so we could watch the game.

Over the years I've missed nary a game. I have, for sure, but if I had to count how many in 35 years, I'd guess I missed about 10. Technology and the invention of the DVR has been great, because now on beautiful autumn Sundays I record the game while my wife and I do something else [usually golf]. I'll come home and see my neighbor and quick yell "Don't tell me! Don't tell me!" as I rush into the house to watch the recorded game.

Now comes the Super Bowl.

A few weeks ago, a customer set up a meeting at their Portland, Oregon based facility. I thought, "Great! This will be a nice place to visit and my wife can come along with me." A nice little winter getaway in the Pacific Northwest. I booked the flight about the time the NFL playoffs were starting. At the time, I didn't realize that the Super Bowl completely by overlapped by return flights home, let alone that the Packers would be in it! As the Green and Gold continued to advance through the playoffs I recognized that there was an increasing likelihood that they would make it to the Super Bowl and, alas, they did!

I called Frontier Airlines and looked at alternative return flights, but no other return options would suffice without bullocksing up our entire weekend or costing a fortune so we decided there's more important things than watching the Super Bowl. And that's true! Except, as we finally board our flight tonight (the one from Denver to Milwaukee), that will be of little solace. We are going to miss the entire second half as we cruise home at 37,000 feet.

All these years of watching unimportant Packer games and they finally make it to the big one and I am going to miss it!

I am an unlucky SOB.

[JK - everything above is true, but I really am not unlucky. I did have a great time with my wife in Portland. Good food, good drink, and surprising entertainment made for a very enjoyable weekend. See yesterday's post for proof. Nonetheless, missing the game stinks. Go Pack Go!!]

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

I'm a Lucky SOB

2011-02-05T21:52:00.001-06:00

I am lucky. I'll admit it.

Curiosity compelled me and Kay to follow a stream of people into a building in Portland today. We were standing near the end of the line and an usher(ette) said, "Are you here for Jackie Greene?"

Us: "Um. Who? What? We don't even know where we are!"

Her: "C'mon in! There's a few seats left. Enjoy the show. Jackie'll play about 35 to 40 minutes."
And away we went into the unknown ... and what a fun surprise it was!

Jackie Greene, heretofore unbeknownst to us, performed at the Bing Lounge - a live concert venue for KINK - FM radio station. KINK - FM has been playing Jackie Greene's music for years and apparently he's a fast-rising singer songwriter. The theater was perfect - the fidelity was crystal clear and you could hear every note. Jackie played last night in Portland and was on his way to Seattle for a show there tonight - so his time was short.

Jackie plays the kind of music I really enjoy - a bluesy, heartfelt version of Dylanesque songs. It was great! How'd I not know of this guy before?! Apparently he plays with his brother a lot, but his bro wasn't around for this gig. A KINK - FM DJ interviewed him in between songs (now on KINK-FM's website Jackie Greene - kink.fm).
We completely enjoyed this surprise and look forward to seeing Jackie again when he plays Milwaukee. Give him a listen by checking out his website (http://jackiegreene.com/home/) or by viewing the video below.

Update: my luck didn't run out at noon either! We left our hotel last night about 8 o'clock and heard a ruckus up the street. "What the heck's that? Let's check it out!" we said and we discovered the most fun street band I've ever seen - All the Apparatus. What fun! People dancing in the drizzling mist to this incredibly large but entertaining band! I am probably doing them a disservice calling them a "street" band - they're just a band who hasn't hit it big yet, but they're knocking on the door. They remind me of a Los Campesinos! meet Arcade Fire with a dash of The Decemberists. Great stuff.

The Calatrava, Shmalatrava

2011-01-30T23:01:00.000-06:00

I have a mission: it’s to get Milwaukee locals [particularly WTMJ newscasters!] to stop referring to the Milwaukee Art Museum Quadracci Pavilion as “The Calatrava.” I am not exactly sure why it has become such a pet peeve of mine, but it has. We have a beautiful, world-renowned landmark and broadcasting professionals often refer to it in a manner befitting a simpleton. And I might forgive if it were called that by the general public, but the media?! They should know better – plus they continuously reinforce the use of this hokey colloquialism!

The reason this graceful addition to the museum even exists is due to the generosity of the Quadracci family (among many others). It’s an insult to the donors if it’s not called by its proper name. This is especially true over the long term. Here’s a good example: we refer to The Bradley Center by its proper name: The Bradley Center – a building whose funds were donated as a gift to the State of Wisconsin by philanthropists Jane and Lloyd Pettit in memory of Jane's late father, Harry Lynde Bradley of the Allen-Bradley company. Mr. Bradley is a very important person in Milwaukee’s history and I can’t say the name of the building without a quick mental nod to the man. We do not refer to it as “The HOK Sport” - the building’s architectural firm. Posterity should remember our beautiful art museum as an important gift to Milwaukee by a generous and culturally contributory family.

Next, referring to the building as “The Calatrava” is ambiguous. Calatrava is the last name (or middle) of the world-renowned architect: Santiago Calatrava Valls. If you perform a Google image search for "The Calatrava" (http://bit.ly/gMy7lq) you will see a few pictures of the Milwaukee Art Museum, but more importantly, you will see other magnificent works of his from around the globe. Now perform an image search for "The Quadracci Pavilion" (http://bit.ly/fPTT0o) and what do you see? That's right – Milwaukee's one and only!

The exception to calling a structure by the architect’s name seems to be limited to fair and amusement park attractions: The “Eiffel” Tower or The “Ferris” Wheel. Until I can slide down the Milwaukee Art Museum’s Brise Soliel, we should proudly refer to our city’s architectural centerpiece as the Quadracci Pavilion. If you’d like to refer to it as the Santiago Calatrava-designed Quadracci Pavilion wing of the Milwaukee Art Museum, I’d be okay with that too.

With a little luck, we will all start referring to our city’s masterpiece with language that shows that our museum is not the only thing that’s world-class about Milwaukee, but so are its citizens.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

Little Cheeseheads

2011-01-28T17:18:00.000-06:00

This picture of my wife (Kay, the tall one!) was the most fun I ever had taking a picture. The place was Tthe Pettit National Ice Center in Milwaukee. The picture was taken late in the day after the completion of The InStep Icebreaker Indoor Marathon Relay. We had just taken a picture of my relay team and Kay said, “Hey! Take my picture up there!” As she jumped up to the top of the podium, a bunch of small children ran up and started climbing the podium too. I knew potentially a great picture opportunity was near, but could we get all of these crumb-crunchers to stand still and look at the camera and, if we could, how long would they stay that way? Then, in a brief moment, they all looked towards the camera and I snapped it. Perfect! I also had to combat my own laughter as I was chuckling the whole time they climbed up.

Let the parents know if you recognize any of these kids. We don’t know any of them!

I'm a Wanderer

2011-01-27T17:34:00.000-06:00

I travel a lot for work, but one thing that separates me from many other frequent fliers is that I seldom seek the refuge of my hotel room in the evenings. Sometimes I have to stay in. Just the past few nights I was so engrossed and involved in my work that there were no chances to get out and explore, but give me a few hours, and I am out the door!

Yesterday was a good example: I've been many places, but I have never spent a single night in Tennessee - for work, pleasure, or other (roadtrip lodging!). After an intense 3 days of work at a good customer's in Murfreesboro, I took an two and a half hours to drive to Nashville before my flight home to see what was goin’ on there. In that short span of time, I discovered Broadway Street and the marvelous assortment of establishments that fill the area in the shadow of the historic Ryman Auditorium. What a great surprise! I found out that live music is played daily in at least 10 establishments … in the middle of the day! I visited numerous joints with the most fascinating being the famous Tootsie's. In a 15-minute stop at Tootsie's I was brought nearly to tears when I heard a beautifully sung sad song I had never heard before, then grinned broadly from ear-to-ear with a rollicking rendition of Linda Ronstadt's "When Will I Be Loved?" I also visited the legendary Ernest Tubb Record Shop and picked up a cool photo of Elvis with Johnny Cash [or is it Johnny Cash with Elvis?] and an Eddie Cochran's Greatest Hits CD. [Bonus: the clerk was wearing a Packer sweatshirt!]

The point of this story is life is too short not to take advantage of these opportunities. I always feel a little sorry for business travelers that don't. Heck, in the past 2 years I've seen some of the US's most incredible sights just by taking the long way back to the hotel or taking a short diversion back to the airport. In no way is this meant to sound like I am bragging [though I fear it might], but in the past year, I've seen or done the following:

Ran around Lake Estes at Estes Park, CO with the roaming elk nearby
Visited Philadelphia's magnificent City Hall
Tried many fantastic brews at the original Dogfish Head Brewery in Rehoboth Beach, DE
Explored Music City, USA (see above)
Ate like a king in Baltimore's Little Italy
Curvy, swervy drive up to awesome Virgina City, NV
Walked more miles around the Gold Coast (Chicago) than probably many locals ever have
Drove Hwy 1 back to San Francisco from wine country (this one took longer than I expected!)
and many more.

Sometimes these detours were a little inconvenient, but never once did I regret trading a forgettable night in a hotel room for the opportunity to form an indelible lifetime memory. If I could implore you to do anything, it’s not vote the way I vote, or think the way I think, but take advantage of those small opportunities that come along every once in a while. You won’t regret them and may just help you see the world in a little different light – a brighter light!

The above was written with my thumbs on an Android phone at 29,000 feet. Because it was typed slowly and with poor overall visibility on a small screen, it was difficult to write. Reading it over, I don’t think it even represents close to my best blogging, but my sentiment remains the same so I am going to run with it anyway. Thanks for reading and have a great day!

Gameday!

2011-01-23T08:48:00.001-06:00

Gameday, from Milwaukee's General Mitchell airport. January 23, 2011.

Today is a big deal in the life of a Packer fan - of which I have been since I was 8-years old. I was born in Milwaukee and lived there until my dad decided to move north to be closer to family and friends that lived in Michigan's Upper Penninsula. We settled in a tiny little town north of Green Bay about 35 miles. It was there where Packer fanaticism was irrevocably instilled into my blood. I could live in other cities and ultimately start rooting for their baseball or basketball teams, but never could I root for their football team - at least not if they were playing against the Packers!

Fast forward to today - the day of one of the biggest game in team history: the NFC Championship game against the lifelong rival Chicago Bears. I was put in a bit of a quandary when - near the last minute! - I was asked to report to work in Murfreesboro, Tennessee on Monday morning. Not a big deal at first, but then as I looked at my available flight options, it became clear that there were no flights to Nashville that wouldn't interfere with my viewing of the game. Except one: the dreaded 6 a.m. departure. So that's the one I opted for. If my travel plans go smoothly, after a short stop in Charlotte, I should be safely on the ground in Nashville by 10:30 a.m. I'll be left with plenty of time to find a good spot to watch the game.

You can really tell this is a unique day just from the people at the airport! As a frequent traveler, I usually cringe when I see a bunch of roly-poly Sconnies in another city all decked out in the their green and gold finest, but today is truly an exception. There are people all over this place sporting Packerwear and instead of being cringe-inducing, it's inspirational! I am pumped and a little embarrassed that I call myself a life-long fan, but I have no Packerwear to wear! Well I do, but it's got that obnoxious number 4 on the front and back which will someday look good one a large boy in Bangladesh, but that's another story.

So my plane is about to board and I'll be out of reach for a few hours until kick-off. Until then, tchuss and GO PACK GO!

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

We're Not Worthy!

2011-01-20T12:16:00.000-06:00

That's how I feel after friend Jane Somers invited me and Kay to the coolest event: dinner backstage at the Riverside Theatre tonight! She was the winning bidder for dinner for 4 backstage at a WMSE private auction. It's described as:

THE BEST DINNER PARTY YOU’LL EVER HAVE. EVER. I MEAN IT.

It’s not enough that the Pabst Theater Foundation raised the bar for concert-going experiences in Milwaukee on Earth. Now they want to redefine dinner parties for you. Want the details? Well, I’m just going to go ahead and paste the copy they sent us describing their donated Food Slam auction item, because I’m getting a little light-headed from the awesomeness:

DINNER BACKSTAGE @ THE RIVERSIDE… WHERE THE BANDS DINE!

Here’s a unique venue for a dinner party. Chef to the Stars Kevin Sloan will cater a dinner for four guests BACKSTAGE in the Dining Room at the Riverside Theater. It usually requires a back- stage pass to experience this chef’s cuisine. The former restaurant owner who also worked at Sanford and Lake Park Bistro has created four-star meals for dozens of entertainers from The National to Neil Young. Mix and mingle with staff from WMSE and the Pabst Theater for an evening to remember.

You will win dinner for four people (4), and will be joined by staff from WMSE and the Pabst.

So as I was thinking "We're not worthy!" it really cracked me up to think that that's what Wayne and Garth said to Alice Cooper when they went backstage at - where else? - The Riverside Theater!!

What a coincidence, huh? I am going to be saying "Thanks!" and "We're not worthy!" to Jane a lot!

Mike

John Lennon - Rest in Peace

2010-12-08T20:25:00.001-06:00

Kicking back with a glass of wine listening to John Lennon via Power to the People - The Hits.

I came late to the I-get-the-Beatles party. In 2004/5, an album was released with various artists performing songs from the album Rubber Soul [This Bird Has Flown: A 40th Anniversary Tribute to the Beatles’ Rubber Soul]. During an NPR interview with the modern artists who contributed to this album, I could hear the sheer adoration they had for the Beatles and this album. I did not run out and buy the tribute album (as NPR might have hoped), but I ran out and bought The Beatles’ Rubber Soul. And. I. Loved. It.

I started picking up the Beatles albums in the order that they were released from Rubber Soul. It gave me so much more perspective of their short career to listen to the albums in chronological order. And, as a hack basement guitarist, I burrowed into a massive Beatles sheet music tome that had been given to me as a Christmas present a year or two earlier. By playing along, I was stricken by the musicianship of the band and the wide variety of styles they were creating.

I don’t have a favorite Beatle. Like all great bands, they were greater than the sum of their parts. I can’t imagine the band without any single member. Each brought their signature, recognizable style: Lennon’s heavy, provocative lyrics; McCartney’s pop sensibilities and virtuosity; George, I mean c’mon, George could bend the strings in straightforward melodic solo manner in a way NO guitarists are doing even today; and Ringo, the rhythmic master. Ringo may have been the member whose style first grabbed me. The Beatles parted ways with Pete Best because of Best’s snare-bass-snare thuds, but Ringo added a smoothness to the percussion backbeat that - like George’s solos - remains unparalleled to my ears today.

I recall watching Monday Night Football when they broke in and announced John Lennon’s murder. I was stunned. I was shocked. I didn’t yet grasp a full appreciation of the Lennon’s artistic legacy, but I knew a very important person was gone from our world. Thirty years have passed and I am still saddened.

John Lennon, rest in peace. Thank you for the inspiration.

#PushMike Anniversary

2010-12-01T21:18:00.001-06:00

This was a strangely special anniversary in my running life.

A year ago there was a challenge going 'round on dailymile: Run 110 miles in the month of December. Anne M. (Munkwitz and/or @bananza) sent me the invite. Was I up to this task?! Probably not, but on December 1, 2009 I headed out the door on a cold morning and ran 4 miles. I remember it was 4 because I was proud to have "banked" about an extra half mile that day [I think it had to average 3.5 miles per day to get to 110].

After a few days of running I thought, how can I make this more fun and more motivating? I came up with the #PushMike idea - if my friends stayed on me and pushed me, when I reached 110 miles, I would buy $110 of beer and soda (well, mostly beer) and throw a party. [Read the text of the original post here: http://tosabeat.blogspot.com/2009/12/free-beer.html See pictures from the bash here: http://picasaweb.google.com/mrcollins58/PushMikePartyPictures?authkey=Gv1sRgCICfy9Oim-q-XA&feat=directlink].

Well I got to 110 and we had the party, and oh what a party it was. I think I undid all the healthy running that I did in December in just one night, but it sure was fun getting to that point. The #PushMike concept worked perfectly and it was fun to get daily motivation from my Twitter and Dailymile friends. A year later, I still love see the hashtag #PushAnne #PushAmy #PushSanchez or #PushAnybody.

Thanks to super-duper human bean Anne Munkwitz for being the instigator of this fun challenge. Anne, 'til we run together again... your pal, Mike :)

Raclette Roll!

2010-10-18T21:43:00.000-05:00

It was a tough exercising tonight. Maybe it was 36 hours of the miniest of mini vacations one can take. We drove from Milwaukee to New Glarus for a day & night of fun and frivolity. Have you been to New Glarus? It's a small town with lots of character and a Swiss heritage.

The New Glarus brewery is the main draw, but the little pubs and restaurants in the town are the real stars. After the brewery we hit The Glarner Stube for some more New Glarus Brewing Co. beers and roasted red peppers with garlic in olive oil. This place is a Wisconsin classic; check it out when you can: http://glarnerstube.com/. Then we hit the New Glarus Hotel (http://www.newglarushotel.com) where I had one of my favorite things ever: Raclette! Raclette is actually a soft warm cheese, but dishes that use Raclette may also be called Raclette. The menu's description of it is as follows: Famous Swiss appetizer made with middle aged Raclette cheese melted over boiled potatoes and garnished. Let me tell you, if I had any inclination of ever becoming a vegetarian it would be because of this dish. My Jaeger Schnitzel that followed was darn near as good, but the Raclette...oh my. And it pairs well with beer too. A double-edged fitness killer, but one I can't wait to have again.

To further dig the hole, the hotel had homemade swiss pastries for their Continental breakfast. I am not one to ever pass up a pastry, but these golden delicacies were outstanding. I couldn't stop myself and I reasoned that I need the nourishment for the ensuing 18 holes of golf we were about to play at the Edelweiss Chalet CC (http://edelweissccc.com/). What a fantastic day it was for golf too. Quiet, sunny, and warm. We breezed through 18 holes with a cart in just a little over 4 hours. And what do you after 18 holes? That's right. Lunch.

Lunch was at another ultra classic: Puempel's Olde Tavern (http://puempels.com/). This place is like stepping back in time. 150 years worth of time to be exact. Many of the pictures on the wall are over 100 years old of the same tavern! And what kind of classic food can you get at this historic establishment? Sandwiches. Simple, perfect sandwiches. My wife had the braunschweiger and I went with the salami. The salami was stacked about a half-inch thick on a couple slices of rye bread. Squeeze on a couple of the "squishees" (mayo and mustard) as the barkeep called 'em and I was in heaven. Sandwich served with a bag of chips and a pickle. Grand total: $4.

So it shouldn't be a surprise that tonight's run was a tough one, but despite all of the delicasies I enjoyed, I still have to blame the Raclette. Oh my lovely Raclette. I will dream about you tonight.

Last thing, dang I love the state of Wisconsin. There are so many cool, off-beaten-path places to explore and discover. And the natural beauty of this place is truly astounding. It crept up on me over the years, but now I can loudly proclaim that I am proud to call this state my home.

Oh, I almost forgot the fudge. (http://www.mapleleafcheeseandchocolatehaus.com/)

Cal Higdon's 3-Miles Per Week Training Program

2010-10-05T19:01:00.001-05:00

Who is Cal Higdon, you ask? Well he is none other than the younger, chain-smoking, beer-swilling, and under-appreciated brother of the famed marathoner Hal Higdon (http://halhigdon.com/). Cal's instructing methods are revolutionary. I've maintained his traing regimen faithfully all summer to maintain an at-a-moment's notice preparation for any 5K run occurring 6 months from now. Cal teaches one the value of time management. For instance, by running 2 miles instead of 4, one gains X * the number of miles not ran ÷ average mile running pace of beer-drinking time (Math. Don't be intimidated - Cal makes it easy in his book using a 6-pack as an example). Cal's program has saved me from countless hours of running with his straightforward approach.

And it doesn't stop there. I credit Cal with taking my 9:30 per mile pace down to 4:57 with his unique technique. Reading it, you'll think, "Why didn't I think of that?!" Simply, at the start of your run, find a nice, fresh pile of dog mess, step in it, and try to outrun the stink. No duh, right?! I used this method regularly for an entire week and rapidly dropped 4 minutes off of my average pace. Who knows how fast I could have gotten if it wasn't for my wife throwing out my shoes. She thought my foot odor was too strong and storing them under the bed just wasn't appropriate. Women.

And on nutrition - the guy's a friggin' genius. I've ate the biggest, most satiating lunches ever since discovering his simple technique: eat a lunch so big that you cannot possibly lose it all during the evening's run. Added benefit: the lunch you don't lose will serve as a necessary base for a night's worth of drinking. By beer #7, you'll agree - Cal is The Man.

Now excuse me while I begin Chapter 10 - Lose the Popsicle Stick; How to Use a Foam Roller to Remove the Excess Head Off of Your Pint.

Look for Cal's book wherever fine bathroom reading materials are sold.

The Joy of Spectating a Marathon

2010-10-03T20:12:00.000-05:00

Today I did something that I have never done before - I went to the finishing area of a marathon just to watch. Milwaukee’s Lakefront Marathon to be specific, and, to my delight, it was a genuine joy to witness.

My primary reason for going was to show support for many of the runners and friends that supported me at my first marathon last May [The Wisconsin Marathon May 1st in Kenosha]. However, I was caught off-guard by the spirit and encouragement I suddenly bequeathed to runners unbeknown to me. Smilers, groaners, high-fivers, limpers - all pushing themselves to their limit 100 yards from the 26.2 mile goal. It’s an impressive spectacle.

We watch televised sports to see extraordinary athletes do extraordinary things, but to observe average folks exert every ounce into reaching their Herculean goal is equally interesting. I saw one woman - whose time was quite impressive in the 3:40ish range - dragged across the finish line by 2 of her friends. She must’ve ran an impressive pace, but cramps, dehydration, or fatigue finally caught up with her just yards from the finish line. I couldn’t help but get a lump in my throat watching this - what an amazing sight! Another fellow looked about the same way I did - muscle fatigue finally caught up with him and placing one foot in front of another nearly became impossible. I gave this guy my loudest, “You can do this!!” because I felt like I was yelling at myself. I know EXACTLY how he was feeling.

Then there’s the smilers, laughers, and high-fivers - this breed knows that all of their difficult training over the previous 4 months (or longer!) is about to pay off. They’re pumped. They’re the ones who are going to pass the water, orange juice, and Muscle Milk and head right to the beer stand. They have a reason to celebrate. These people inspire me. I want to be one of them.

So the next time you get the chance, whether you know anybody in the race or not, check out the finish line of a marathon. It’s inexpensive and the range of emotions you will experience will surpass the biggest blockbuster showing at your local cineplex. Heck, you can even bring your own popcorn.

Monday Night Madness

2010-09-27T20:37:00.000-05:00

The date was Sept. 11, 1995. Three friends and I drove to Chicago for the Packer Monday nighter against the Bears. Due to Chicago traffic, we got to the game a bit later than we wished - we walked through the stadium’s gate right at kick-off. One of my friends - the one who got the tickets - is handicapped (paraplegic due to a collision in a high school football game).

We weren’t sure where to go as the Section and Seat numbers didn’t make sense according the usual stadium arrangement. We showed our tickets to an usher - he shrugged. “I have no idea where those seats are,” he said. We walked on. Saw another usher and asked again. We got the identical response. We continued on thinking, “This can’t be this hard!” We approached an area that - per our deductive reasoning - seemed like it should be the spot. Again, nothing. By this time we were getting rather angry.

At last found an usher who, again, couldn’t help us. This time I went GONZO! “What the bleep bleep is going on here!? We’ve got four $75 tickets and nobody knows where the bleep our seats are!” I yelled. I actually yelled more and louder than that and I did not say “bleep.” The usher said, “One moment, I’ll get my supervisor.”

At last a helpful person appeared. She said, “Oh my. No wonder you’re having such difficultly. Your seats are not in the stands - they’re on the field!” She escorted us to an area where we actually entered the field from the south endzone tunnel. Because of my friend’s handicap, they let him wheel right up to the fence behind the endzone. For us, they had metal folding chairs. We were thrilled to finally have found our seats and were amazed at how good they were! Four Packer-clothes wearing cheeseheads under the south endzone goalpost crossbar!

To make things even crazier, the very first play from scrimmage we saw was happening, oh, about 110 yards away. The longest play in Packers history occurred just as we rested our butts in our seats - Brett Favre to Robert Brooks for a 99-yard touchdown! Man, did we go nuts. Four (just a little) drunken cheeseheads celebrating under the goalpost in front of 60,000 fibs. What fun! [No. 8 on Favre highlight reel below.]

The weirdness didn’t stop there either. Do you remember that mullet-headed goofball who jumped out of the stands and caught the extra-point ball as he fell into the tunnel? That happened right over our heads too. When it was national video, I could see us sitting under the goalpost. I was the only one of us four who saw this nutball. I turned to my buds and said, “Did you see that?!” They didn’t and had to wait until the next morning to see it on TV.

Well that was one great night I tell ya. One of us four got a little out-of-control by game’s end (despite your expectation, it was not me!). Not only was the Packers victory at Soldier Field a hell of a lot of fun, but we were also very fortunate to have made it out of there alive.

Here’s hoping for a Packers’ repeat performance in Chicago tonight.

Keep Smiling!

2010-09-06T13:20:00.000-05:00

Good friends of ours - and friends to many of you - have had a year unlike any other. Saying it’s been a bad year is unjust - it has been a terrible year. The kind of year that you would think twice about wishing upon your worst enemy. As friends, we hope to do our part by showing love and support, but we're always wishing we could do more, and short of being a neuro or colorectal surgeon, there’s little we can do but wish for rapid and painless recovery.
However, we had an idea. Why not do something that we KNOW will improve the life of another and do it in their honor? There’s got to be some healing power in that, right? In the past year, we’ve donated to many different charities in order to help many well-meaning friends reach fund-raising goals [a noble and selfless endeavor to be sure!], but we’ve neglected a charity which is dear to our heart - SmileTrain (http://www.smiletrain.org).

Unlike many charities that do many different things, The SmileTrain mission is focused on solving a single problem: cleft lip and palate.

Clefts are a major problem in developing countries where there are millions of children who are suffering with unrepaired clefts. Most cannot eat or speak properly. Aren’t allowed to attend school or hold a job. And face very difficult lives filled with shame and isolation, pain, and heartache.

The good news is every single child with a cleft can be helped with surgery that costs as little as $250 and takes as little as 45 minutes.

SmileTrain’s mission:

To provide free cleft surgery for millions of poor children in developing countries.
To provide free cleft-related training for doctors and medical professionals.

And do it until there are no more children who need help and we have completely eradicated the problem of clefts.
So with that mission in mind, we are pleased to make a donation of $50 to SmileTrain with our friend's rapid recovery in mind. $50 is enough to cover the cost of the medications used in the procedure. It is our hope that it will brighten our friends’ day knowing that somewhere, someday a person will be able to grow and proudly display a full, thick, well-groomed, waxed curly mustache on their fully developed upper lip! (A little inside joke to close this solemn message.)

Old Tavern's Impact on the Landscape Considerable

2010-08-19T13:42:00.000-05:00

A little about me. In 1974, my dad moved our family from Milwaukee to Spruce, Wisconsin to own and operate a little country tavern. Dad didn't remain in the picture for too long leaving Mom to raise me and my 2 younger sisters is this friendly establishment. It wasn't easy, but we made it.

Recently, the building - well over 100 years old - was put to rest. It was a sad and reflective day, but to my surprise, the home and tavern wasn't only important to us, but it was to the community too. My in-laws - who still live in the area - clipped out the following story from the local newspaper and sent it to me.

Old Tavern's Impact on the Landscape Considerable by Dave Polashek

   After a good dousing of rain that fell from the clouds about the path around the Falls during the last week or so, there was not even a hint of smoldering remains of what once had been the Goatsville Tavern. There is no doubt that walls of the tavern held countless untold stories about the generations of travelers who took a break from their many journeys to get a little refreshment at the two story, once stately building that stood a bit too closely to the intersection of Goatsville Road and County B.
   The establishment ceased operating as a business in the fall of 1993, as we recall. The daily commute to work went right past the business, but perhaps because of just having moved to the community that summer, there was no time to take a break for a refreshment before the "Open for Business" sign was taken down for the last time. Passing the establishment on an almost daily basis, there was lots of speculation about what might become of the building. We had a chance one time to interview a prospective employee who grew up in the apartment above the tavern and got a little history at the time. Several years ago, an item or two was printed in the local paper about some county action or consideration of the former business, but not much happened.
   Over time, one window was cracked and broken and then another as the ravages of time took their toll. Whatever stately beauty the old girl had, she lost it and was showing her age. The location of the building so close to the edge of the road made it a somewhat dangerous intersection. It was particularly bad for westbound buses coming to the stop sign right next to the tavern door. More than once, a driver would creep out past the edge of the building and hope that no one was coming from the north at a high rate of speed.
   Due to the dangerous intersection, the speed limit on that section of County B had been reduced to 45 miles per hour, although many drivers ignored it. Occasionally the residents in the area would complain about the excess speed of traffic and the county law enforcement would intensify the monitoring of the traffic flow along that stretch of county highways. Even as recently as a month ago, this observer had a chance to experience the higher priority of vigilance next to that landmark.

   A few weeks ago there was a little more activity at the building. Windows were removed, along with a number of other items. With no windows to block the view, there was a slowdown in traffic as people tried to catch a glimpse of what the interior looked like. Perhaps there might be an artifact or two connected with the history of the building and the generations of people who stopped to refuel themselves for the remainder of their particular journey that day. Over the years, the most valuable of those artifacts found themselves in new homes. We understand there were one or two beautiful examples of the woodcrafter's art over which stories will continue to be told even though the building no longer stands.
   As noted in coverage on one of the Green Bay television stations, the Internet, and the front page of a regional newspaper, the building went up in flames on a recent night, but the sorting done before the match was lit suggested that it was intentional and perhaps done with the blessing of some authorities.
The change in the landscape at that intersection is remarkable. An unnamed county librarian who lives on Goatsville Road was asked last week what she was doing with all her extra time, now that her commuting time had been reduced. At that, she had to laugh, because she knew just what the inquirer meant. She indicated she had been able to find plenty to fill her schedule, even with the shorter commute to work.
   Without the building blocking the view for southbound and westbound traffic, one might speculate how soon there might be a change in the speed limit on that section of County B, since the visibility hazard is no longer standing. The wheels of government tend to move slowly, unless the wheels belong to one of the vehicles of a county law enforcement agency monitoring the traffic flow. With that in mind, drivers will have to continue to throttle down on that stretch until a change is made, it is possible that a change might not be made, depending on the ultimate utilization of that piece of property that now is covered with three distinct piles, one an ash-filled building rubble, another with tin roof pieces and the third with an assortment of a variety of white fixtures that were once used in the building.
   Perhaps someday there might be another Goatsville Tavern. After all, how many in this world can exist with a name like that? Perhaps the upstairs might again be used as a family-home where a young couple might raise a family. One thing for sure if that were to be the vision, the establishment would need to be set back some distance from where the original building was located. This would allow for better visibility when that bus pulls up to the stop sign and even better, when the bus driver turns on those red lights and welcomes a student or two to climb onto the bus.

David Polashek is superintendent of the Oconto Falls School District.

A Twitter Birthday

2010-07-28T17:14:00.000-05:00

You know, it used to be that as you aged, there was less to look forward to on your birthday. And then twitter came along...

Even though the messages are simple, taken together, it made for a touching and very nice birthday present. Thank you all. I will toast each and every one of you tonight with a shot of tequila!

Sp0on @themosey Gah! It was @MRC58's birthday yesterday? I keep missing stuffs by not being on teh Twitterz! Happy Belated Birthday, Mike!
Rlwegner @MRC58 Is it 23:59 yet? If that pretzel-rolled brat didn't kill you, enjoy that last minute of your birthday.
ToddBrink @MRC58 Have a great 25 minutes left of your bday Mike!
krittabug @MRC58 omg HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!111!!!(one)11!!!!! :-)
mitch_j @mrc58 waiting till the 11th hour is kinda my thing. Happy Bday
ejbenjamin Happy birthday @MRC58! Sounds like you had a good one.
SarahHorvat RT @MRC58: Having a birthday on twitter is like Christmas. Only, it's totally different.~NO SOUP FOR YOU!! HAPPY BDAY!
sarandipity @MRC58 heyyyyyoohhhh! Happy Birthday to one of my fav-o-rite tweeps!!!! :)
jims1973 Well I guess I can't wait much longer to wish @MRC58 a happy birthday!! Happy Birthday Mike!! #FashionablyLate :)
DigidivaIsh Happy Birthday @MRC58 :) Hope the day has been treating you well! :)
keekerton Happy Birfday again @mrc58 ;) hope you and @kbctourcompany are having fun getting Blitzened ;)
Mserita @MRC58 I wanted to wait until the end of the day when the wishes started dying down....HaPpY bIrThDaY!!! Hope it was great:)
andyfrahm @MRC58 guess I'm a little late to the party... Happi Birthdae! Hope you got your Lederhosen on tonight!
mattjac Happy Bday Mike! May your beer be plentiful & of the highest quality.
steffeck @MRC58 Hey! Happy Birthday! You're two years younger than me, but I think I remember what it felt like to turn 29.
jeffmke When you move away from your family, it's great have someone like a brother to share music, beer, and laughs with. Happy B-day @MRC58!

MelissaSherman @MRC58 Happy Birthday!

Frankerin @MRC58 Happy Birthday!

KateBarrie Happy burpday @MRC58 !!!

chris_brink Happy Birthday, Mike. I hope it's a tremendous day and that sort of thing carries into the next year!

MeriFrahm Wait, it's @MRC58's birthday?! Bring on the beer! :) Happy Birthday!!

Milweb1 @MRC58 Happy Bday! What embarrassing image am I blowing up? @SaraSantiago

Stevejagler Hey happy birthday Mike!

mke_brunch Happy Birthday, @MRC58!

SaraSantiago Happy Birthday to one of my favorite human beings: @MRC58!!!

Mike_Thiel @MRC58 I think @blatzliquor owes u a dark lord as a gift.

Sluggirl @MRC58 Happy Birthday! Hope you are having a great day!

RocLobster @MRC58 Happy birthday!!!! Hope it's a great day:)

cjrahr Happy birthday @MRC58!!!!!1111!!!one!!111!!!!!!!!

BlatzLiquor @MRC58 lol OK I get it

themosey I am sure @MRC58 is delighted that he shares a birthday with Hugo Chavez.

MKEmxp @MRC58 Happy Birthday. I was wondering what the number in your twitter name was for. :)

Keekerton @MRC58 ahhh touche :) I tried to hire Tony Danza to give you a BIG ASS birthday hug but he was stuck in a box :) @kbctourcompany

AJBombers @MRC58 Hey Mike, so, it's your Birthday? Hmmm.....what to get for the man with everything. -->> http://twitpic.com/29fw07 - Happy Bday :)

jungbow Happy birthday @MRC58!!! :)

warrior2011 Happy birthday. @MRC58

kbctourcompany Happy Birthday @MRC58! What did you get me?

keekerton @MRC58 Meh, we really don't like you much, actually, your wife paid us all off to make you feel important :) @kbctourcompany #bday

BlatzLiquor @MRC58 heeeeeey happy birthday! What are you 32 now?

Brianpmaguire Happy 28th Birthday to one of my favorite "tweeps" - @MRC58 - are you getting @AJBombers for lunch?

Robyrd5 @MRC58 Truer words for never spoken. Enjoy your birthday as well! #coolkidsclub

WTMJohn @MRC58 happy birthday old boy

hawtwife @MRC58 Happy Birthday Mike! I'm guessing you might celebrate with a beer or two?

Tiffanyannweber Happy Day! RT @tinmakeup: Happy Birthday @MRC58! I hope @kbctourcompany didn't get on that whole spanking machine thing... ;)

tinmakeup Happy Birthday @MRC58! I hope @kbctourcompany didn't get on that whole spanking machine thing... ;)

im_X1 @MRC58 Have a great day, Mike. :)

neonmeg @MRC58 I'm seeing from other tweets that it's your bday today. Happy bday! Hope it's a great one :)

RickGriffin Happy Birthday!!!!!!!!!!!!!! @MRC58

keekerton @MRC58 Happy Womb Travelling Day fella!!!!

mkayjay @MRC58 Happy Birthday!!

JimGehrke @MRC58 happy birthday. Is @kbctourcompany not having a voice, your birthday present? 8-P

triveragirl Tonight let's do BIRTHDAY BOY @MRC58 :) RT @RickGriffin: @triveragirl who do you think I should leave in charge tonight if not @ToddBrink ?

triveraguy @MRC58 Happy Birthday old man... yeah, I know pot/kettle, but still. Celebrate the fact that you're not as old as me. :)

jregan @MRC58 Happy birthday Mike!

angrae17 Happy Birthday @MRC58!!

Peterepublic Happy Birthday @MRC58....many happy returns......

amykant Happy happy birthday happy happy birthday @mrc58!

tsand @MRC58 #happybirthday

bullmeister @MRC58 Happy birthday! Now to spend the rest of the day avoiding @themosey's spankings.

mjburian Happy Birthday @MRC58!

AgustinSantiago RT @bananza: Happy Birthday @MRC58 ! ~ *raises coffee cup* Happy Birfday. Yes, I said birfday

tmgessner Happy Birthday to one of my very first Twitter friends: @MRC58! Have a great day!

larsma @MRC58 Happy Birthday Mike!!!

BtotheD @MRC58 A birth-happy day to you, sir!

Einley Happy Birthday @MRC58!! Hope you have a wonderful day!

HeyJo1 Happy birthday @MRC58. Hope you have a great day.

themosey @MRC58 You want I should wish you happy birthday now, or save it for when I am feeling more creative?

MeatPants@MRC58 Happy birth anniversary day!!!

bananza Happy Birtday @MRC58 !

lakeicychill @MRC58 Happy birthday!

ColinDeval @MRC58 Happy birthday to you. Sure I'll bump into/meet you at some point. A good week, mine bday is Saturday. #LiveItUp

avanhizzle @MRC58 Happy Birthday, friend!

LilMsSpiteful @MRC58 Happy Birthday

StacySnook @MRC58 (Excuse my horrible voice) Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Mike. Happy birthday to you! :)

flowersandfun Happy Birthday, @MRC58. Here's a birthday card we made just for you! http://is.gd/dOtKm

JaneSomers Happy birthday, @MRC58! It was fun to hear you play last night. You guys are great!

sawaboof Happy birthday,Mike!! @MRC58

im_X1 Happy Birthday, @MRC58!

Kcmeck @MRC58 Happy Birthday! July babies are the best.

Robyrd5 Thank you! :) RT @morganxclaire: It must be some hip new thing, being born on July 28th....Happy birthday @laurieosman, @mrc58 AND @robyrd5!

morganxclaire It must be some hip new thing, being born on July 28th. I want in on this... Happy birthday @laurieosman, @mrc58 AND @robyrd5!

blatzliquorjr #bullshit RT @MRC58 @KatieFelten Thanks Katie. Not belated at all! As of 15 minutes ago, I'm now 28! :)

KatieFelten @bizymare hey Mare @mrc58 happy belated bday Mike

tapps @MRC58 congrats on another successful trip around the sun. :)

brianpmaguire @MRC58 happy birthday. At least you're not to old to wear a funny hat.

bizymare @MRC58 well happy birthday! I hope you turn another year older many more times!

WindLakeMusic @MRC58 Congrats... and, they say, another year wiser.

tinmakeup RT @kbctourcompany: It's @MRC58's birthday tomorrow. I should have set up a Spanking Machine Tweet-Up. Darn... **Still could be arranged!!

Tombetz Man, you keep going like the Energizer Bunny. Happy BDay Mike. #realgusto

ToddBrink Happay Bday Mike

Schadenfreude. Defined.

2010-07-01T22:20:00.000-05:00

Man. Last night was too funny and fun.

So on a beautiful evening we head out on the motorcycle to cruise the lakefront, downtown, and - most specifically - drive across the long-awaited, newly opened Humboldt Avenue bridge [closed for more than 2 years for God-knows-what reason]. Anyway, we stopped the Redroom bar where they were having a party celebrating the bridge's completion. As a prize, they were giving away a fixed-gear bicycle via a raffle. The winner was required to take the bike across the new bridge in full view of the party-goers.

A guy wins the bike, carries it out of the bar, and takes off across the bridge. Then, about 75 yards away from everyone's full view, he wipes out. Hard. Down he goes - new bike and all in a pile of flesh, rubber, and metal. After a moment of grave concern (I said, he went down HARD), he collects himself and gets back on the bike and returns to the bar to quell his humility by downing a few Pabsts. I don't think his ego was the only thing that needed salve - he landed bare-chested on the new concrete. He was wearing a huge scrape right across his entire chest - about 2" wide.

Now I'm not practicing schadenfreude, and he was okay except for a major scrape, but that was pretty damn funny. One moment he's on top of the world (I just won a new bike!) and the next he's splayed out on fresh concrete like roadkill in front of a large group of friends and strangers. Funny because once he returned he was able to down a Pabst and laugh at himself with others.

Also funny because usually that kind of thing only happens to me!

On second thought, I'm totally schadenfreuding. Oh well.

A "Good" Run - See If You Can Figure It Out!

2010-06-29T14:02:00.000-05:00

Tonight's weather was most acceptable* for a nice run. I headed down to the local track where I saw ace* speedster Joe ripping it up. His pace was admirable*; despite the agreeable* conditions, mine was bad*. Meanwhile, Coach Marty was being the boss*. I saw him bully* Rochelle and Tracey around the track many times. He was spending his knowledge capital*. They're all trying to run faster, but that's not my choice*. Their efforts are commendable*; mine are congenial*. Training as hard as they were, I'm not sure they appreciated my (wise) cracks*.

By the way, the running track at Hart park is deluxe*. I think a track like that is excellent* for the joints and I'm sure speedsters could turn in exceptional* times on its soft surface. With a little favorable* weather and I'm sure a first-class* runner like Joe or Matt could turn in a first-rate* time. Gnarly* dudes, those two.

Despite the good workout, the most gratifying* moment was finally meeting the great* and honorable* Jackie and Tim. What a marvelous* treat, I had no idea they were going to be there. How neat*! They're nice* comments about my dailymile posts was most pleasing* to me. Positive* comments like that are precious* to me.

Marty likes numbers. His favorite prime* number is 7. (I'm only guessing, but it'd be rad* if I was correct, wouldn't it?)

To my surprise, I discovered Jackie and Tim are the parents of Kelly, whose taste for fine brews is recherché*. As a reputable* consumer of the suds myself, I find this very satisfactory*. Looking forward to the day Kelly returns home and we meet up for a satisfying* brew. [No Budweiser Select*!] Until then, we'll all keep running to keep ourselves in shipshape*. Sound* good to you?

Man, I'm getting old. My birthday is at the end of July. Trust me, all the spanking* will tire you out. But I think I'll go to Turner Hall that night where, I think, the Blitzen Trapper show will be splendid*. If you go, they only take American Dollars; not the British Pound Sterling*.

Well, this certainly won't be known as my most stupendous* dailymile post. It's far from super* for sure. If you haven't figured it out yet, I am using thesaurus.com's synonyms for the word "good" in order (see http://thesaurus.com/browse/good). I'm doing a super-eminent* job, but trying to use super-excellent*, superb*, superior*, and tip-top* in proper order isn't easy. I wouldn't blame you if you stopped reading by the time you got to this point. This post is not up-to-snuff*, even by my own standards.

Nonetheless, my dailymile friends are very valuable* to me. I always welcome* your kind comments and I think you are wonderful*. I'm not worthy*.

[* Words in order: acceptable, ace, admirable, agreeable, bad, boss, bully, capital, choice, commendable, congenial, crack, deluxe, excellent, exceptional, favorable, first-class, first-rate, gnarly, gratifying, great, honorable, marvelous, neat, nice, pleasing, positive, precious, prime, rad, recherché, reputable, satisfactory, satisfying, select, shipshape, sound, spanking, splendid, sterling, stupendous, super, super-eminent, super-excellent, superb, superior, tip-top, up to snuff, valuable, welcome, wonderful, and worthy]

P.S. Recherché? I never even heard that word before!

The Wisconsin Marathon - A Retrospective

2010-05-09T21:40:00.001-05:00

May 1, 2010 was a day I'll never forget. It was the day I completed my first - and possibly my only - marathon. The Wisconsin Marathon.

The morning was filled with the usual nervous anticipation any runner ever feels before a race. The run commenced in Kenosha, Wisconsin at 7 a.m. - roughly an hour from my house. My wife and I met other Milwaukee-area runners at 5 a.m. and we drove down in 4 cars. The effort to travel together was valiant, but failed as we didn't manage to keep the caravan together all the way into the downtown Kenosha. Still, we all managed to park and meet (mostly) everyone again before the start of the race.

As I made my way to the starting corral, I lost everybody again. I did run into my new friends Dan and Sherry Wilde just before the gun sounded. They were running the half - Dan's run 'em before, but this was going to be Sherry's first. If you ever met Dan, you wouldn't soon forget him. He has great energy and seeing him definitely settled my pre-run nerves.

Seven o'clock came. The gun sounded. The run was on. I separated from Dan and Sherry right away and set about finding a comfortable pace. About 2 miles into the run I saw Milwaukee runner Tracey Gessner ahead of me about 20 yards. I thought for a moment about trying to catch her, but Tracey's fast and I would never be able to keep up with her even if I did catch her. Somewhere around mile 4 - maybe 5 - I found myself running alongside Anne Munkwitz and Marty Burian. I think they started behind me, but at that point, I caught up to Anne. We ran together a mile or so, before separating again. Marty and I were pretty close in stride, but at a water stop, I got held back about 20 yards from Marty. That's okay. Marty was a on a pretty good pace and I didn't want to hold him up. Approaching mile 10, I caught up to Anne again. We ran 'til about mile 12 where she kicked in high gear to finish her half marathon strongly.

I can't praise the organizers of the Wisconsin Marathon enough for the energy and organization they put into this fine event; however, one oddity I'll note is this: the peeling off of the half-marathoners versus the full. I wish it wouldn't have been like this, but maybe it's the only way. I think around two-thirds of the runners were running the half, so when they separated, it left the full marathoners feeling in a strange and lonely place. After running with a large group for 12 miles, I was suddenly left with only 2 people near me in about a 100-yard span. Mentally, this added an unforeseen challenge. Nonetheless, the route journeyed south alongside some pleasant lakeside homes and some nice lake views.

I rarely broke my stride until around mile 17. There I walked a few paces here and there. The volunteers were excellent at providing motivation. Two girls cheered me on and ran alongside me for 40 or 50 yards; we high-fived. That was pretty cool. The residents of Kenosha also stood at the end of their driveways and offered support. I made it to mile 23 with intermittent walking and running - mostly running.

However, mile 23 is where it all went downhill. Running with my usual stride and pace was no longer an option. I felt like I had to "throw" my legs forward and use my upper body more than usual to get my legs to advance. No lie: miles 23 to 25.5 were the most agonizing miles and minutes of my life. I kept thinking "All you've got left is the shortest training run you've run all spring!" but it didn't make a difference. The body wasn't cooperating. I walked way more than I'd like to admit in these 2 and a half miles, but I was determined to hit the finish line running - or some semblance of running anyway.

Finally the home stretch came. I was able to summon one final push and ran the final half mile. It really wasn't running; it was more like waddling. Within 25 yards of the finish line, I saw the signboards of friends and family pushing me through to the finish. What a moment. Seriously. At the finish line my wife and Marty - who had finished 20 minutes before me - were waiting. I crossed the line and momentarily broke down. Anybody who has ever completed a marathon knows this hard-to-describe feeling. It's one of great pain, happiness, and highly emotional. I think I would have cried much more had I had the energy.

I have been on a high all week after this accomplishment. It is satisfying to look back and realize that what I once thought was impossible, has now been done. It took much effort, but I did it. However, what makes the day so special, is the people who shared and made this experience with me. I cannot thank them enough for the support. It was amazing that they waited hours to see my sorry self cross the finish line. There are many others who were not at the race that day who provided great support through dailymile, but to those that were there, I wish to dedicate this next section to each of them so that I may look back at this post someday and remember them so.

Anne Munkwitz - Co-founder of Fit Milwaukee and a huge instigator for pushing me from casual runner to marathoner. Anne is inspiring. I may have been one of her first subjects, but by the time I post this, I'm sure she has inspired a hundred more! Keep up the great work, Anne. Anne is also co-captaining the Team Challenge team for Crohn's and Colitis research.

Tracey Gessner - Co-founder of Fit Milwaukee. Tracey's drive and love of running is amazing. Late last fall Tracey ran alongside me on my longest 'til that point: 9 miles. She always is encouraging and is an excellent fitness role model. Tracey is running the Rockford Marathon next weekend. Join me in wishing her good luck!

Amy Kant - I'm having a difficult time summing up Amy in a few short lines. Amy is doing such great things and has more creativity in her little finger than I have in my whole body. Not only is she pushing herself to improve her fitness, she's raising money for Crohn's and Colitis. Please visit Amy's webpage: http://www.losingitwithoutlosingme.com where you'll see any number of ways to have fun while helping Amy in her quest. You'll be doing it for all of the right reasons. Thanks Amy for your tremendous support. Please know that you've got mine too!

Anthony and Rochelle Van Hart - Maybe it's unfair to pair them up together in this post, but they're two peas in a pod! This super cool couple is always fun to hang out with before, after, and during any run. Tony and I could talk music and sports for an entire marathon I think - we have at least for an 8K, and Rochelle is just amazing all around. She's smart, funny, and fast. I love watching Rochelle compete. She puts a game face on like few athletes I have seen. She also keep can't keep a secret, but let's just keep that our little secret. ;) [Rochelle, you made my week when you told me about the sign-making party. I chuckled about it all week!] Rochelle is also taking place in Team Challenge to raise money for Crohn's and Colitis research.

Sarah Schwoerer - Sarah is also raising money for Crohn's and Colitis research. I've had the most fun watching Sarah quickly become a runner. Just a few short months ago, Sarah was running 2, 3, and 4 miles at roughly a 10-minute per mile pace. Now she's running half marathons and it's not uncommon to see her mile pace in the low 8-minute range! Keep up the good work Sarah. You know what's next, right? [Hint: it starts with 26.]

Lindsey Paulsen - What a trooper. In about mile 9 of the half marathon, Lindsey's knee failed and she struggled to make it to the finish line, but finish she did! And not only did she struggle through that, she waited to see me cross the finish line. Now that's amazing! Me? I might have said, "That's enough. I'm going home!" Thanks Lindsey. I appreciate it a ton and hope you heal well and soon and are out running another half this year!

Krista Ledbetter - Krista makes everything look so easy, but that's selling her short. I know she trains hard and puts a lot into it. I love looking at her dailymile posts and seeing how she runs double-digit miles often and has fun doing it. I see Krista more in the virtual world (dailymile, twitter, facebook), but whenever I see her, she's quick with the biggest smile you'll ever see. Krista, you're a great inspiration and I'm glad to know you.

Joe Phillips - Joe is a different league of runner than I am. I saw Joe in the race once. He was, oh, about 4 miles ahead of me. Joe ran the half and can really move. He is a swell guy and always - and I means always - makes me smile or laugh with his witty dailymile posts and commentary. Keep it up Joe. You make the social part of running a lot of fun.

Nicholas Crawford - Nick's an amazing guy. He volunteered at the water station at Mile 8 and took many great pictures of the marathon - including a bunch of me! Nicholas brought his one-year old son Jude along too and warmed everybody's heart. Furthermore, Nicholas claims that I've inspired him to start marathon training. That to me (I think) is a fantastic compliment. Either that or Nick looked at me and said, "Heck, if that guy can do it, anybody can!" Thanks for everything Nick. I look forward to joining you on some of your training runs.

Marty Burian - Nobody made this whole experience more fun than Marty. He signed up for it a few weeks before I did and was the one who really got me thinking about it. Once I signed up, I had no regrets. Marty and I encouraged and poked fun at each other the entire training period [Well, maybe I poked fun at Marty more than he did me, but he took it well (I think)]. There were so many nice things Marty offered along the way: he offered to bring me water along my 20-mile training run, he kept good beers in the trunk after his 18-miler (my 17.4 miler), and he gave me a life-saving Shot Blok along my first 15-miler. He was the first person to greet me as I crossed the finish line and immediately offered me something to drink. Marty, you are a hell of a guy and I'm so happy to call you a friend. I look forward to our future runs together.

My sister and brother-in-law (Christine and Jeremy McGovern) - they surprised me by showing up to the marathon's finish line. I had no idea they'd be there, but was it ever great to see them when I finally did! Thank you guys so much for the support. I can't tell you how great it was to see you at finish!

Last, but not least, my wife Kay. Kay was so supportive of me the whole time I trained for this. She was encouraging and listened to me complain when I was in a complaining kind of mood. She was there at the finish line and gave me a look that told me she was proud of me, and that's a look I'll never forget. Plus, she brought the beer. Thanks Kay. I love you.

P.S. - I mentioned Team Challenge's effort to raise money for Crohn's and Colitis research above. Please take a moment to learn more at http://www.ccteamchallenge.org/site6.aspx or contact me and I can put you in contact with one of the team members. Thank you.

Dailymile Brainwave Flux Capacitor 3000

2010-04-03T21:45:00.001-05:00

You ever notice how frustrating it is that you can't post your dailymile workout while you're running? I mean, after your finally done working out, you have to stop, sit at a computer, and waste time scripting your run blog. What a waste, right? Well fret no more friends! For I've invented the Dailymile Brainwave Flux Capacitor 3000. Just strap this convenient little 14-pound device to your belt, affix the temple suction cups, and head out on your run. It will convert your running thoughts into text that you can download directly to your computer when you're done with your workout.

I used my beta model today as I ran 14 miles in the driving rain. It was so nice know that every thought was being recorded and that I wouldn't have to waste time recalling every excruciating step of my run. Here's the results:

"The it presidents what other The brewery beer from I’d a replies out American you says with me drinking from him I world Molson but Mountain HAMBURGERS The The and little gives bartender The off aback Festival me it down if Hey would go drinking The aren’t spring He water North a a and a president give a best The the Burian best ordered Budweiser like to the he Molson’s The him from PIZZA PIZZA PIZZA guy gets presidents to decided for like Coors the give guy would me one beer sits TACOS Budweiser Well is at says Corona taken guy Why I The bartender Beers a him King world’s guy beer over all a aren’t the dusts the gives ask from you of Señor I Coors BEER the gives Give neither from Molson sits and look Rocky him bottle made and the The like Corona guys Coke CHEESE I’d only a shelf says After beer beer down says bartender in brewery figured."

I know! Incredible right?! Why waste time standing in line for the Apple iPad? This is the must-have gadget of the year for every running geek!

Operators are standing by and ready to take your order. Buy today and I'll also include an extra 7-pound Li-Ion battery. That way, you'll never have to wait around waiting for your single battery to charge.

Available for 3, low, monthly payments of only $119.95 each plus tax.

(You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (To Eat Hearty)

2010-03-31T21:30:00.001-05:00

Headed out for a 9-miler while listening to the Beastie Boys. I was no more than a 1/2 mile from the start when it hit me: I gotta fight for my right to eat (and drink!) hearty. So here it is, my running theme song: (You Gotta) Fight For Your Right (t'eat Hearty)

Stretch it! (power chord)

You wake up late for runs, and there's ice and snow
You hit the snooze thrice, but your mate says, "Go!"
You ate two T-bones and deep-fried pork
And your trainer kicks your ass like you're some kind of dork

You gotta fight... for your right... t'eat hearty

Your scale caught you cheating and it said, "No weigh!"
That damn gadget smells two feet a day
My knee is bundled up in some kind of rag
Now my wife threw away my 2-pound chips bag. Busted

You gotta fight... for your right... t'eat hearty

Don't put weight upon that knee unless your asking for despair
One more step upon that foot there'll be some kind of tear
Your friends on the run chimed in, "What's that noise?"
Aw, dudes you're just jealous it's just techno toys!

You gotta fight... for your right... t'eat hearty

Alternative last line (and if you knew Marty B., you'd know why it's so appropriate): Aw, dudes you're just jealous it's just Martin's toys!

Damn Red Meat!

2010-03-26T13:40:00.000-05:00

Last night's run was preempted by a final visit to the soon-moving Bartolotta's restaurant Mr. B's. For those that don't know, Mr. B's is a steak joint and I greatly looked forward to dining with some new friends and enjoying a fine chunk of well-seasoned red meat. The meal was fantastic and the conversation engaging, however, whenever I eat a meal where more than 70% of the consumed mass is meat, I'm in for a long night of crazy dreams. Dreams if I can sleep at all, that is.

Last night was no exception, I constantly zoned into and out of consciousness. Dreaming continuously of rock-and-roll stardom, little green people, and the always recurring one where I'm stranded without clothing in my high school gymnasium. The problem is, sometimes, even after the alarm clock goes off and I'm out of bed, the wacky visions continue.

So this morning I headed out the door at 5:30 for a 5-miler. It was tough to get moving, but fortunately my cigar-chomping, big, pink panda bear friend Louis kept moving me along. He said that he could accompany only as far as the Forest of Forever, but after that, a band of Snotlings would lead the way. Those Snotlings are hilarious, but they're shit at directions. After wandering around the forest for a couple of hours, we finally came upon the Temples of Syrinx. At last - the Sun! But who knew this was also the lair of Manticore - the giant vicious lion-like creature, with a human features and a scorpions tail. Manticore charged me and was just about to impale me with his poisonous darts when an army of popsicle-stick men loaded me into their catapult and launched me many miles back to my doorstep in Wauwatosa.

Whew! What a run, but tonight, before bed, I'm just going to have a bowl of Weetabix and a glass of warm milk.

What a Great Run!

2010-03-24T21:27:00.001-05:00

Commencing tonight's run, I was a little concerned about the onset of heartburn from this afternoon's chili. However, within a half mile of home, I was more concerned about the twinge in my left Achilles tendon. As I ran, the pain slowly crawled up my left leg, through my sacroiliac joint, up the my spine, before finally settling just below my the right side of my cerebral cortex. No matter, I just smiled and pushed through the pain on this gorgeous Wisconsin Spring evening.

After loosening up, I smiled, cranked the tunes, and let out my stride. Unfortunately, I was feeling so good I didn't notice the hole in the wooden bridge crossing the Menomonee River. Sure enough, my right leg went through the hole and I fell until my crotch halted my fall with contact against a loose 2x4. Happy that it wasn't worse - I could have fallen into the river! - I pulled my skin, scraped leg out of the hole, pulled out splinters, washed off the blood with my water bottle, and continued on my merry way.

I wasn't the only one enjoying this evening. Now that it's nice, the bicyclists are out. Unfortunately for me, I never saw the Floyd Landis wannabe crossing the trail in front of me and he collided with me at about 25 miles per hour. We laid moaning in a heaping pile of brush, metal, sweat, and flesh for a few moments before collecting ourselves. I pulled his rear Derailleur out of my left calf; he, my water bottle belt out of his helmet, we exchanged apologies, smiled, and continued on our journey in opposite directions.

I'm all for energy conservation, but these over-sized, 5-passenger golf carts (hybrid cars) are problematic. You can't hear 'em! My route took me through a church parking lot just as Wednesday night's service was dismissing. I never heard Father O'Malley as he backed up his Prius right over all 10 of my toes! Yeow! I yelped. I also discharged more cuss words in that church's parking lot than have ever been said before. Father O'Malley, due to his quiet Prius, heard every one. He shook his head and told me that he'll look forward to seeing me next Sunday. After shaking my feet to get my circulation back, I popped an energy gel and continued on my way. It was after all, still a gorgeous evening.

I never considered that my skinned and bloodied legs made me smell like a meat wagon to every carnivorous canine in the neighborhood. Brutus, well-known as the toughest dog in the pit, couldn't take it. I must've smelled like a walking Porterhouse to him as pulled free of his chain and made a beeline straight for my left leg. His teeth sank deeply into my left leg just below my knee. Fortunately for me I have strong bones and Brutus's owner was nearby to coax Brutus to release his powerful jaws from my limb. I thanked Brutus's owner as he scolded me harshly for leading his dog into temptation with my meat-smelling, medium rare legs. Again, I offered a short thank you, turned, and continued on my journey.

Pro-tip: tuck your headphone cord into your running shirt or jacket. As I was standing at an intersection waiting for the "Walk" signal, a speedy little Honda coupe blasting Salsa music made a ripping fast right turn right in front of me. My headphone cord caught on the car's right side passenger mirror and savagely yanked my ear buds from my head. At one point, I recall my left eye squarely looking at my left ear lobe before the bud released from my ear. My ears snapped back to the side of my head like a wet towel in the boys' junior high locker room. Fortunately, albeit painful, I was able to reconnect and reinstall my ear buds without missing a single verse of O La Paloma Blanca. Still, what a great night for a run.

But here's what really ticked me off: my shoe came untied twice! Each time I had to stop and tie it costing me valuable seconds on what was certain to be a personal record tonight! What a pain in the neck. Man, I'm gonna just tie them in a square knot next time.

Thanks for reading and your encouragement.

P.S. The bees are back. Don't ask...

Burl the Snowflake

2010-03-20T13:24:00.001-05:00

Immediately upon departure from my doorstep, a pleasant, plump little snowflake named Burl introduced himself to me. He asked, "Do you mind if I accompany you on your run, friend?" I enthusiastically replied "Yes!" as I was running this one alone and figured the company would keep my mind off of the distance. As I ran, Burl danced happily alongside my right shoulder regaling me with stories of his life as a snowflake. He explained his crowning achievement was being the tippy-top snowflake of a child's snowman from the 1st week of January through the 2nd week of February. He chortled heartily when he saw the perspiration forming on my brow. He said, "Friend, looks like you've got some future snowflakes forming there!" We both laughed and laughed.

Sadly, at about mile 6, Burl said, "Mike, I'm sorry I have to leave you, but it's time for me to hit the pavement. But don't worry, my time there is short and soon I'll be resurrected as a snowflake again. Until then, safe travels my friend!"

Burl was laid to rest at the Greenfield Golf Course clubhouse just along the Oak Leaf Trail. I stopped for a short moment, shed a small tear, smiled about our good times, and turned and headed for home. Here's where the story takes a tragic turn...

You see, Burl was loved by many other flakes, and because I had befriended their beloved pal, they were jealous and upset. Even though it's 2010, I guess the snowflake world just isn't ready for snowflake/human relationships. As I progressed towards home, millions of angry snowflakes slapped, spanked, and swiped my eyes, nose, and cheeks. Battered was I; there were just too many of them for me to fight back. My only choice was to put my head down and plow through the little bastards as I forged my way home. I was fortunate enough to have one secret weapon: LCD Soundsystem. The little icy shits never saw it coming for LCD Soundsystem gave me the strength of 10 men! Finally, after battling the little jagged ice crystal creatures for 6 miles, I triumphantly returned home. My clothes wet and stained with the innards of the little vermin.

The moral of the story? Never make friends with a fat snowflake unless you're headed for home.

Best Monday Night Ever!

2010-03-16T00:11:00.000-05:00

Anybody who knows me knows my last couple of Mondays haven't been the best, however, this Monday's tonight was one of my favorite evenings ever. I am trying to refrain from being over-the-top, but I really think it was. For tonight I had the opportunity to watch and listen to a fabulous songwriter/musician in the comfort of a living room. It wasn't my living room, but it was in friends' beautiful Wauwatosa home. Also got to share the experience with a bunch of new acquaintances.

The musician? Strand of Oaks [or Timothy Showalter]. Tim writes simple, yet beautiful melodies and performs them with transfixing guitar work and fronts them with strong vocals. Together, in the intimacy of a candlelit living room, it was pure magic. Credit for promoting and bringing Strand of Oaks to Milwaukee goes to Ryan Matteson and Anthony Van Hart - some of the early Milwaukee believers in Strand of Oaks' powerful music. Strand of Oaks' next stop is SXSW in Austin, Texas - where I'm certain people are going to stand up take notice.

I also have to give a big thanks to many great new friends that contributed to this wonderful evening: C.J. #1, C.J. #2, Alicia Hanson, Rochelle Van Hart, Julie German, Eric Benjamin, and many others.

Now back to the man who contributed the most to this magical night: Timothy Showalter. My favorite song - among his many good ones - is 'End in Flames'. He performs it beautifully in this YouTube video. Watch and enjoy!

Hey, Shut Up Down There!

2010-03-12T07:28:00.000-06:00

[Note: Extracted from my DailyMile post where I post my near daily efforts to train for my first marathon.]

Experts say you should listen your body, but my brain has such a big mouth it never lets anybody else talk. However, last night the din was too loud to ignore.

First, my left knee - with his usual abrasive tone - threatened, "Hey! Yo, Boi! Lay off or I'm gonna bust a cap in your cap. Got that, Holmes?!"

Then the nipsy twins in their inimitable sarcastic manner said, "Why don't you just take a rat-tail file to us? It'd be a lot quicker."

And lastly, Mr. Left Calf with his impossibly proper English brogue chimed, "Pardon me, old chap. I sincerely hope that I am not interrupting your endeavors, but I wish to implore you to consider my well-being. I realize that, of those that are calling your attention, I am the farthest distance from your intellectual center, however, I am under great strain and not feeling altogether well. If you could be kind enough to grant me a day of tea, crumpets, and a good book, I would be forever in your debt. Thank you for listening, kind sir."

OK guys. Tomorrow you get your way. Knee, imbibe whatever it is that you smoke, drink, or snort. Twins, the martini's on me; just don't be too flamboyant though; you remember what happened last time? Mr. Left Calf, my I suggest George Watt's Gift Gallery and Tea Room on Jefferson Street? Enjoy your Friday.

What'll You Have?

2010-02-02T10:58:00.000-06:00

Friday afternoon, I asked the following question on twitter:

Ethics question: Is it okay to only order water w/ your meal at a restaurant? Restaurants barely make $$ on food alone.

I got back many answers all defending water, and water only, as the beverage of choice to have with a meal. I only had one other person - a long-time friend - tell me that he too orders a drink with his meal. And by "drink" I don't mean a highball, I just mean something you pay for (e.g. bottled water, iced tea, soda, beer, coffee, Harvey Wallbanger, etc.). It wasn't my intent to ruffle any feathers, but by the replies, it seemed as though I had.

I've always felt an obligation to order a drink with my meal, but I have an example that I would like to set forth. This example is what spawned me to ask the question.

I met my wife for lunch at The National (http://www.nationaleats.com/) at 9th Street and National Avenue. It's a great place. If you haven't been there, please give it a try. They offer food good for the soul and it's a very cool, small place. It's the kind of place people lament that there aren't enough of and I'd feel a lot better about the world if there were more Nationals in it.

I ordered a bowl of pea soup with ham. This was a 16-ounces of pure deliciousness. And for only $5. What a steal with a side of fresh-baked bread! If you examine what it took to get this bowl of soup to my table: the ingredients, the labor, the service, the rent, the utilities - if they made 50 cents on it I'd be surprised. Let's be conservative and say they made $2 on it, it's still a helluva way to make a few bucks.

Now here comes the quandary. I love this place. I want it to be around for a while. I want the owners to make a living and continue following their passion. Do I order water? Or do I show appreciation for their efforts and order a drink? If I buy a can a Coke from them for $1.50 that they paid $0.50 for, they clear $1. Granted it may seem like an easy dollar, but for their overall operation, they still are working their tails off for that measly buck. If everyone ordered only water, I'd bet you see a lot fewer restaurants in this world. It's a tough business.

I've seen colleagues eat at the Philly Way and order only water. And then, on the way back to their office stop at McDonald's and get a 32-ounce Coke for $1 because they got more sweetened, carbonated sugar water for their dollar. Lame. Really lame.

And what about the service? If you drink water, your lunch bill may be $8; with a drink, it's $10. Respectively tipped at 20% it's $1.60 and $2.00. The waiter or waitress made just as many trips I'm sure, but they got stiffed, or do you tip 25% when you order only water?

I know it's your right and prerogative to order only water and I completely understand it. Heck, after air, it's the single most important thing required for our survival, but the next time you're in a place as independent and cool as The National, maybe give this post a little thought and help some hard-working brothers and sisters out.

Write a Bad Song

2010-01-27T23:46:00.000-06:00

Of all the wonderful gifts I've received from my wife over the years, one of the best was songwriting lessons from the Milwaukee roots rock treasure John Sieger. Who is John Sieger? Mr. Sieger writes catchy tunes that serve as the backbone of what makes the Milwaukee music scene unique. He's partnered with Paul Cebar, rubs elbows Bodeans, and - OMG! - is friends with one of my personal music heroes: Robbie Fulks! I implore you to visit John Sieger's MySpace page at http://www.myspace.com/johnsieger.

Anyway, John's songwriting wisdom runs deep and he gave one of the best pieces of advice ever. Seriously. On day #1 of our songwriting class, he gave an assignment. The assignment? Write a bad song. "What?!" said I. "You haven't taught me anything yet! How am I supposed to write a song??" He followed with "Just start and don't stop. You'll see."

He was right. Before that assignment I'd start writing with the intent that I was going to pen the best song ever. Remember "Yesterday" or "Stairway to Heaven"? Yeah, those weren't good enough; mine was going to be better - or, at least, that was the initial intention. But then I discovered it was hard - real hard. So I gave up. After 10 years, how many songs did I write? None. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

John's point was that you've got to start somewhere. Plow through one - it may not be great or good. Hell, it's probably going to be terrible, but at least you started becoming a songwriter. You can work on it from there. I suppose it's like a sculptor with a mound of clay - at first the nose on your Thinker looks suspiciously like a fist, but you can keep pinching and squeezing until it resembles a nose. And while you're turning that fist into a nose, you're learning.

After writing my first bad song, I couldn't wait to write the next one. The fire was lit. I understood what he meant! I took something that had never existed before and brought it to life! It was so cool. I wound up writing 5, maybe 6, songs during the classes - every one successively better than the one prior. One of them I'm actually quite proud of. Once I get the chorus the way I want it, I'll probably sing it out loud, but it's not quite ready for prime time.

The lesson here doesn't only apply to budding songwriters, but to all disciplines. Do not stop yourself! Let it flow and just get started. This can be applied to so much: artistic endeavors, fitness goals, education, cooking - anything! Once you start, you'll be anxious and ready to take yourself farther. I have done this with my profession and fitness (running), and with very mixed success - singing.

To satisfy your curiosity, here are the lyrics to my bad first song. It is sports themed because the last thing I heard before starting was a sports report about an athlete being day-to-day. It was probably Ben Sheets.

Title: Aren't We All Day to Day?

Chorus:
Aren't we all day to day?
Aren't we all day to day?

Verse 1:
The star power forward
or the football champ,
the wealthy first baseman
with the deep leg cramp.

Starting QB
or the 3rd-string guard,
the pitching ace
with the healing arm

Chorus

Verse 2:
The fast wide receiver
or the sporting chap,
the boxing contender
with the smarting back.

The first-round free agent
or goal defender,
the bullpen whiz
with an elbow tender.

Chorus

Bridge:
This phrase has been stolen
by the sporting few
but even broken hearts
take mending too.

Chorus

Free Beer!!

2010-01-12T19:10:00.000-06:00

I did it! 110 running miles in December (114 actually). Now it's time for me to put up my end of the bargain - FREE BEER!! To commemorate the mileage and all of the support that the #PushMike campaign garnered, I'm buying at least $110 worth of beer (and soda) from the best place to buy beer in Milwaukee - Blatz Market & Liquor (http://blatzliquor.com/). Please join me at the Blatz Condominiums' party room (just a few steps from Blatz Market & Liquor off the condo's main lobby) on Saturday, January 23rd at 7 o'clock. I'm going to mix it up with an easy drinking domestic (probably Lite) and a good mix of locally brewed craft beers. Come early for the good stuff! I'll have some soda available too. Once it's gone, who knows?!?

If you can, please RSVP at http://twtvite.com/ol64sh. See you there!!

The Beet Runner (A Beer Runner Sendup)

2010-01-08T13:57:00.000-06:00

There's a popular misconception about the consumption of beets and a healthy lifestyle. Many think it's not possible to maintain fitness while regularly indulging in a few primo beets. Well my friends, nothing could be farther from the truth. As an avid runner and aficionado of good beets, I'll explain...

I've always been a big fan of beets. It doesn't matter the color: red ones, white ones, dark ones - even those strange orange ones popular in Chicago, but I wasn't always a runner. As I hit middle age, I realized all beets and no exercise made for one fat Jack. So I began to run. And run I did all though 2009. My weight at the beginning of 2009 was 208 pounds, but by year's end - without ever curbing my daily beets - I had lost 18 pounds! I now feel the fittest I have in 20 years and I can enjoy fresh beets completely guilt-free.

Some activities are only enhanced by beets. Take one of my favorites: golf. Is there anything better than hitting the links on a summer Saturday afternoon with a couple of buddies, turning off the cell phones, and knockin' back a couple of beets? I think not. It's a blast! Every 4th hole is the beet hole. The loser of the hole has to pay for the next round of beets. Let me tell you: the beet cart girls LOVE us! I've seen beet cart girls actually get in fights over who gets our back 9, because the more beets we consume, the more we tip! Bowling is another activity made more fun with beets. But don't spill your beets on the lane or you could twist an ankle.

Of course, there are pitfalls with the consumption of too many beets. One common one is beet goggles: that belief that every member of the opposite sex is the most beautiful creature you've ever laid eyes on. This is a common affliction in Sheboygan - where downing a few too many beets is frequent. The first symptom of beet goggles is a purplish hue in your vision. If noticed, I recommend putting the beets down for a while and getting something to eat.

Amateurs often suffer from beet muscle disorder - one too many beets and they think they can take on the world. Usually they're wrong. On more than one occasion I've seen a beet-breathed rookie get the snot knocked out of him. One of the more notable beatdowns I witnessed was at a beet party in college. You paid $5 for a cup at the front door and then it was all the beets you could ingest until gone. I miss those days. < sigh >

It's been a long time since I've endured either of the above, but I have - more recently - discovered another pitfall: cheap beets. These are the kind of beets you usually see advertised during a NASCAR race; they're commonly available in large quantities - 18 packs or larger. They're okay when they're ice-cold, but as soon as they're warm they taste awful. I've got a buddy who keeps a chest full of cheap beets. Whenever he comes to my house, he heads right for my fridge a grabs one of my craft beets from the Pacific Northwest (you know these beets, commonly bitter with a strong floral essence). However, when I go to his house, all he's got is those sticky sweet, cheap beets. Oh man, one too many of these and you will really pay for it the next day. So, in fact, will your entire office! If you can afford it, it's my advice to spend a little extra on good beets.

Popular today are those light, low carb beets marketed towards people with active lifestyles. I avoid 'em like the plague. They taste thin and watery. Plus you've got to consume a ton of them to feel the slightest effect. Life's too short.

A British pal of mine keeps his beets at room temperature. "Whoa!" said I the first time I had one. "What's with the flat, warm beets?" He explained that we Americans kill the subtle flavor of our beets by chilling them to sub-Arctic temperatures. I've since come to understand what he was getting at and now regularly meet him down at the corner establishment for a couple of warm English beets and a bowl of root soup.

In summary, it is possible to possess an active, healthy lifestyle and consume beets regularly. Avoid common mistakes and enjoy beets in moderation. Until we see each other again, I nod my head and raise my beet to you!

Note: This blog post was inspired by Joe Woelfle's typo in a tweet to Tim Cigelske. If there's anyone to blame, it's Joe. I just picked the ball up and ran with it. For more information about Joe Woelfle and his fine selection of cold beets visit http://www.blatzliquor.com/. For more information about Tim Cigelske - The Real Beer Runner - visit http://beerrunner.draftmag.com/.

#OneLetterOffBlogs

Looking Back at 2009, twitter, and New Friends

2010-01-04T23:03:00.001-06:00

Well 2009 is in the rearview mirror. I know it was a tough year for many, but for me it was quite remarkable - I made a great number of new friends and actually kept a New Year's Resolution! What made it so significant? In a way, I'm embarrassed to say, but it was the social network twitter! twitter? How so? Read on...

I opened a twitter account in mid-December 2008. My wife was already using twitter before then, and I made a lot of fun of her for doing so. Like many uninitiated, I didn't understand how the communication concept - 140 characters at time - could be useful or expressive! Nonetheless, with my account opened, I started clicking around. I had no idea what I was doing, but with my interests in Milwaukee, golf, music, food, and travel, I started looking for people that shared my hobbies. Sure enough, I found people who I found interesting and, remarkably, they found me interesting back! I also discovered a new hobby or interest: composing funny, thought-provoking, or - at the very least - properly punctuated tweets.

For the first couple of months, my twitter friends were only virtual, but I didn't have a lot of interest in keeping digital pen pals. Meeting and getting to know real people is what life's all about! By year's end, my free-time and social life was significantly affected by the new friends I made on twitter. I hesitate to write the next part of this blog, for fear that I'll leave someone out, but there are some folks who have proven just too important to not mention.

First and foremost has to be the social media power couple Tom and Marjie Snyder (@triveraguy and @triveragirl). The reason I have to put them at the top is Tom is possibly the most responsible for unleashing the beast within! My wife dragged me to a tweetup where I met Tom and Marjie. Tom showed me twitter's ropes and how I could more easily access information and find people that shared my interests. Since then we've seen each other a number of times over the year and it always makes my day to see this übercool twosome. They even let me sleep on their couch when I got really, really tired ;). That couch is still available on Craigslist. It's nearly free and there's not even been an offer! It's like my drool is toxic or something...

Anne Munkwitz (@bananza) for helping me keep 2009's resolution and for being a lot of fun. Like many New Year's resolutions, I needed to improve my fitness in 2009. January 1st, I tipped the scales at 208 pounds! I started watching what I ate and began a regular regimen of running a couple of miles a week. I ran into Anne (figuratively) minutes before the East Town Association's Storm the Bastille 5K run - I recognized her from her twitter avatar! We ran the 5K with a group of friends and since then she has kept pushing me to continue running. The big boost came after October. October is typically a lousy workout month for me as it is usually dominated by business travel and tradeshows. I've fallen out of my workout habit on more than one October, but this time, Anne sent me a message on dailymile: "I miss seeing your workout postings." - or something like that. That was just the push I needed. Here's proof: 47 miles in September, 10 in October, 56 in November, and 114 in December! Without her reminder message, there's no doubt November and December would have been 10-mile months. She even challenged me to run 110 miles in the month of December. It was a challenge that I had a lot of fun accomplishing and even ran 4 more than I needed. Thanks Anne!! (BTW - Now 190 lbs.)

Sara Meaney (@SaraMeaney), Mike Brenner (@MikeBrenner), and the Raggle Taggle gang at Brocach. Sara and her husband Mark have organized a regular open music session on Tuesday nights at Brocach. I've been a basement guitarist and singer for many years, but have seldom played out. They welcomed me into the session and gave me the support and confidence to at least try. I am sure there are sessions when they regret it (my singing needs work - lots of work!), but I think my guitar-playing at least doesn't hurt anybody's ears. And the session is always more fun when Mike joins in with his accordian, drum, and cuíca. Well maybe not the cuíca so much, but it's still a good time! Thanks guys. It's meant a lot to me and I'm really looking to future sessions. My goal is to be good by 2015. Hang on!

Joe Woelfle aka @BlatzLiquor. Joe is significant because just before I started writing the above paragraph, he tweeted me and we went out for a beer at Leff's Lucky Town. Well, there's other reasons too. Joe is an all-around good guy and sort of a Ground Zero for the Milwaukee twittersphere. I've had a blast hangin' out with him at a couple of different watering holes and somehow, with Joe's help, we're gonna celebrate those 110 December miles. I'll keep you posted. And Joe's got a big year planned with his upcoming wedding to his lovely fiancée Claire. Join me in wishing them a joyous wedding and a fulfilling lifetime together.

Bruce Dierbeck (@BtotheD). Bruce is one of the first people I met from twitter. Bruce got together with me and Kay on Memorial Day at the the Hi Hat Lounge and Garage. We were going to meet for "one". You can guess how that turned out! We had a great time and Bruce is just as funny in person as he is on twitter. Since then we've gotten together a number of times and it always winds up being a barrel of laughs. Bruce also has been a regular pusher of mine on Dailymile and I greatly appreciate it. I also greatly appreciate that he lets me make fun of Bread (the band). I'm not sure he really "lets" me, but he hasn't yet tried to maim me for doing so.

Sara Santiago and Agustin Santiago (@SaraSantiago and @AgustinSantiago). At the risk of plagiarizing Anne Munkwitz's blog, Sara and Augie are just two of the nicest people I'll ever know. We've only hung out a handful of times, but Sara's support of me and Kay after Kay's New Year's Day Asthma attack was just wonderful. We appreciated it so much. It's the kind of thing that'll put a lump in your throat and make you appreciate the power of good people and - it's really all owed to - twitter! I think if I heard somebody say something bad about the Santiagos I'd punch 'em in the throat. I'm looking forward to cigars and cook-outs in the summer of 2010!

Where to stop this blog is not an easy thing to determine. There are so many wonderful people I've met - and many more that I haven't - who have made 2009 a wonderful year. To those I've met, I look forward to seeing you again; to those I haven't, I'm looking forward to meeting you out for "one". :)

Not Exactly the Way We Planned to Ring in the New Year

2010-01-01T12:34:00.000-06:00

I had an idea to use today to author a new post looking back at 2009 and what a significant year it was for me, but that'll have to wait.

Throughout 15 years of marriage, I'm not sure my wife - Kay - and I have ever gone out for New Year's Eve. It's hardly because we don't go out - we go out/get out more than most couples! We just find this a good evening to Zig when everybody else Zags. However, this year the NYE celebration at the Riverside Theater with the band Spoon was an opportunity I did not want to pass up. I'm a big fan of the band and it sounded like a great way to ring in the New Year.

We started the evening at Cafe Hollander in Wauwatosa and had a nice meal before catching Bus 31 downtown. Kay felt a little odd and a little dehydrated at Hollander, but it wasn't anything that looked too serious. We arrived at the theater and ordered our first Pabst. Walking to our seats in the balcony Kay got a little winded, but once we sat down, things seemed to settle and we were able to enjoy the rockin' first act: Jay Reatard (pronounced RE-ah-tard). At intermission, we went for a stroll to the theater's lobby and met a couple of friends. Again, Kay was feeling a little out-of-breath, but it wasn't something totally new, and, while uncomfortable, it didn't seem like anything that was going to stop her/us from having a good time. We took the elevator back up to the balcony to avoid the stairs. That helped and we comfortably got to our seats to enjoy the Spoon show.

Kay never felt well during the concert, but I think she was able to at least enjoy it as long as she didn't move around too much. I, on the otherhand, felt great with Pabst in hand watching a band I really appreciate. It was a great show. Spoon timed the show such that at the end of the set it would be New Year's Day. Their timing was perfect timing: the last song, balloons droopped, and everybody applauded loudly for the encore. Kay - drinking water not Pabst - said she needed to use the restroom. Having a good time for the last hour, I kind of forgot about her Asthma condition, and anxiously anticipated the return of Spoon for the encore set. I figured she'd be okay - that's where I was wrong.

The band came back out and I loved the song, although, for the life of me, I can't remember what it was. My phone lit up to let me know I had a call coming in. It was Kay. I tried to answer, but there was no way I could hear. I went down the steps and searched the balcony's lobby for Kay. Nothing. At the same time, the show ended and the lobbies were filling with revelers. I called Kay numerous times and could not get through. I can't remember how many minutes passed - maybe 10. Finally I saw her standing in the main lobby. When I got to her, she said, "I need to go to the hospital - NOW!" I ran outside to see if I could see/hail a cab. There was none. Back inside, I tried to retrieve our coats; the line was soo long [Seriously Riverside, this needs to be addressed; that was chaos]. Another 10 minutes passed while I got them. Kay was still standing in the lobby. This time, however, there was no more waiting. Kay was hurtin' and hurtin' bad. Time to call '911'.

Within 5 minutes an ambulance pulled up in front of the theater on Wisconsin Avenue. Paramedics went to work and asked me questions. At this point Kay was trembling. I felt so sorry for her. After another 10 minutes or so we were off to the Froedtert Emergency Center. Wheeled in, doctors and nurses quickly ascertained the situation and administered some immediate medical attention. I can't remember all that was going on nor can I remember the names of the all the substances they were putting into her bloodstream, but it seemed to be working. Slowly.

A number of hours passed. Soon it was 3 a.m. and we then knew Kay was going to be able to leave in an hour or so. Earlier, when we went to Cafe Hollander, I drove my truck to the public parking lot. My expectation was that we would cab it home after the show and walk to the village on the 1st to retrieve my vehicle. Instead, at about 3 a.m. I told the attending doctor or nurse (I couldn't quite tell what he was) that I was going to walk to the village to get my truck. I think he thought I was a bit nuts to do that in single digit temps, but I do stuff like this all of the time. "No problem," I said. Within 25 minutes I was back at the hospital. Kay was feeling much better, but New Year's Eve chaos ruled the Emergency Center and I could see it would still be a while. I can't say enough good things about the men and women who work Emergency Centers - they deserve high praise dealing with the traumas they do. Finally, sometime after 4 a.m. she was discharged. Still wheezing, but no longer in urgent crisis.

At some point last night I tweeted, "At Froedtert Emergency. Hello 2010!" I cannot express how grateful I am to our twitter friends and family for the outpouring of concern that we received. It's rather remarkable and I'd like thank you and wish you a Happy New Year! Here's hoping the rest of the year can only get better!

Free Beer!!

2009-12-07T11:38:00.000-06:00

Yes indeed. I'm offering free beer - at least $110 worth. But there's a catch...

You see those charming ladies at Fit Milwaukee (http://www.fitmilwaukee.com/) have put forth a challenge to me to run 110 miles in the month of December. Don't let those cherub-faced cuties fool you - they're devils in disguise! 110 miles?! The most I've probably ever run in a month before was 40. Seriously. In fairness to them, this challenge didn't come out of the blue. I was true to my 2009 resolution and I have kept a very active running year, and consistently ran a few miles every couple of days all year. BUT NOWHERE CLOSE TO 110 MILES IN A MONTH!! This is going to take a lot of willpower and drive - maybe more than I can muster alone. That's where you come in...

I've devised a plan to help me reach this goal. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that - in Milwaukee - nothing motivates like FREE BEER!! So here's the plan: you stay on me and push me to get to the 110-mile mark by midnight of December 31, 2009. If I make it, I'll buy at least $110 worth of beer for a party at The Blatz Condominiums' Party Room (beer from Blatz Liquor; http://www.blatzliquor.com/). If I don't make it, it's your fault for not pushing me hard enough and NO BEER FOR YOU!! Truly the American way.

If FREE BEER isn't enough, there's more good news: after 20 days in to December, I'm 12.7 miles over the pace! To get 110 miles in 31 days it takes at least 3.55 miles per day. After 20 days, I should be at 71.0 miles, I'm presently at 83.74. Only 26.2 more miles to go!

I hope that I don't get injured, but it's always a possibility - especially running in snow and on ice. If I get hurt and can't complete the challenge, I'll still buy - as long as I'm over the pace at the time of the injury. (e.g. If I break a leg after Day 20, I better have at least (3.55 x 20) 71 miles in.) So that means you can't let up on me!

Please use the hashtag #PushMike when tweeting your motivations. I respond well to threats too.

A Perfect Dinner

2009-11-30T21:34:00.000-06:00

Tonight, I got home and realized that my DVR was 90% full. Now I could just delete junk that I'll probably never watch (that "The Soup" episode from August probably isn't topical anymore"), but instead, I decided to watch a few things that I hate to miss. In my sights: missed, Sunday morning episodes of Wisconsin Foodie (filmed right here in Pittsburgh!). So, sure enough, I watched a couple of episodes. It's always a good show and I feel a certain sense of pride watching my home state produce world-class products with such passion and dedication [http://wisconsinfoodie.com/].

My real mistake? Watching Wisconsin Foodie on an empty stomach! Yup. After 2 epsisodes I had a hankering for some of Wisconsin's finest cheese and a glass of red wine. Going many years back (more than I care to admit), my wife (then girlfriend) got me to understand the simple pleasure that is a nice wine, fresh bread, and good cheese. Our tastes have matured over the years (Cabernet has replaced White Zinfandel; Gouda has replaced Colby), but my appreciation for this simple dinner staple has never wavered. So off to my local Sendik's I head [http://www.sendiksmarket.com/] and, in the spirit of Wisconsin's Deer Hunting Season, I came home with an 18-pointer!! Sartori Reserve Bella Vitano. We paired this with a 2000 il Leopardo - a Californian Nebbiolo. It's a wine that's deceptively light (Pinot Noir-like), but packs a punch at 13.9%. We had a couple of blocks of cheese from Madison's awesome Fromagination (http://www.fromagination.com/, a must-visit the next time you're in Madison) to dice up too. These were Roth Kase Gran Queso (3-time American Cheese Society winner; 2-time World Cheese Gold medalist) and Marieke’s Foenegreek Gouda (voted "Best of Class" in the Wisconsin Cheese Makers Association United States Championship Cheese Contest; 2nd place in the 2008 World Championship Cheese Contest). I was in heaven!! My favorite of all is the Gran Queso, but all 3 are stellar Wisconsin cheeses. To complement these fine cheeses I added a few slices of dry, herbed salami and some fresh-baked French bread. Truly, an evening meal from God!

In summary, I will never, ever cringe at being called a "Cheesehead" again. In fact, I will accept your "Cheesehead" compliment with gracious appreciation and pass you a knife so that you may have the opportunity to cut the cheese!