Picking A New Door

There we were sitting at the 20-yard line when it hit me.

You see Sunday morning I got an email from a friend that they had four extra tickets to the local NFL game.

It was a mass email.

So it was first come, first serve.

And I was first.

So I took my son, my oldest daughter and my nephew to the final game of the 2010 NFL regular season.

With two losing teams on the field, this game had absolutely no meaning.

To the players.

But it meant a lot to these kids.

My nephew had never been to an NFL game before.

My daughter loves the nachos.

And my son cares about EVERY game.

I wonder where he gets that from?

And even though the seats were higher than Snoop Dogg, we had a blast.

We talked football.

We talked music.

We just talked.

It was the low-pressure outing that the doctor had ordered.

I even got a little teaching in.

I taught my son that “You Really Got Me” was by The Kinks.

AND by Van Halen.

And that there were two Van Halens in Van Halen.

And now there are three.

And that somebody really named their son Wolfgang.

I taught my nephew the crazier you dance, the better chance you have of getting on the jumbotron.

Even though we never made it there.

And I taught my daughter about the tackle box.

Not the tackle box used in fishing.

Remember, Jews don’t fish.

I’m talking about the tackle box on a football field.

That’s the space between the left tackle and the right tackle.

Center in the middle.

Guard on each side of the center.

Tackle next to the guard.

Well she picked that up quickly.

But not as quickly as she picked up those nachos.

It was at about that time that I had an epiphany.

Out of nowhere, it hit me.

I finally figured out what I want to do with the next phase of my life.

Try something new.

Do something I love.

Something I have a passion for.

Start all over.

At age 43.

Why not?

Where am I now?

Nowhere.

I'm not allergic to hard work.

And look where it got me.

Of course getting in a new door is not quite as easy as it sounds.

They have big bolts on those doors.

And they don’t let just anybody in.

So I started thinking of people I know.

Or people I know who know people.

Who might be able to unlock one of those doors for me.

I’m not looking for a free handout.

I just want a chance.

After the game, I took the kids out for a meal to celebrate this giant revelation.

Even though I never told them about the conversation in my head.

We started with two orders of chicken wings.

Followed that up with well-done waffle fries.

Then washed it down with something called Ice Cream Pie.

It’s important to hit all of the food groups.

I have attached a picture for your viewing pleasure.

For those of you that don’t have a scratch n’ sniff computer monitor, here is how it was described in the menu:

The mega dessert that is big enough to share!  Rich French vanilla, mocha-almond fudge and classic chocolate ice creams, layered on a chocolate cookie crust and topped with whipped cream, chocolate sauce, caramel sauce and toffee pieces.

I’m guessing it’s about 9,000,000 calories.

But it could be less.

While we were inhaling, I mean enjoying this masterpiece, I noticed someone across the room.

I don’t know this person.

But my kids do.

Well, they don’t know him.

But they do know his kids.

And he is a guy who works in a field I'd love to be part of.

A potential locksmith, you could say.

Now he was having private dinner with a friend.

And I was not about to be “that guy”.

So I waited for his friend to go to the bathroom.

Or the phone booth.

Or a cigarette break.

Whatever.

All the while, I prepared my speech.

In my head.

“Hi.  You don’t know me.  I’m...”

No.

“Hi.  I wanted to say hello, I’m...”

No.

“Hey there.  I was wondering if...”

You would’ve thought I was asking the guy out.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

I must’ve looked at his table 67 times.

Waiting for his friend to disappear.

And they never did.

Not once.

And after we had licked every bit of the hot fudge off the plate, it was time to get the kids home.

Honestly, I’m not really sure if this guy could help me.

Or would help me.

But someday, soon, I will give him a chance TO help me.

Tonight just wasn’t the night.

I guess we'll have to go back for more pie.

Sleepless in New York

4:57am

So when was the last time you had one of those nights?

You know...

So much Tossin’ and Turnin’, you thought somebody was listening to the soundtrack from Animal House.

One of those nights where you can’t fall asleep until the credits for Poker after Dark are over.

And you still manage to wakeup before Good Morning America.

One of those nights where the sheep you are counting fall asleep before you do.

A night where no matter how many spoonfuls of ice cream you eat from the tub, it won’t make the knot in your stomach go away.

A night where you put on your jacket and you ran through the woods and you ran till you thought your chest would explode.

Ok, that last part was from a Bruce Springsteen song.

A great song called “Downbound Train.”

If you haven’t heard it, it starts like this...

I had a job, I had a girl

I had something going mister in this world

I got laid off down at the lumber yard

Our love went bad, times got hard

Now I work down at the carwash

Where all it ever does is rain

Don't you feel like you're a rider on a downbound train

Come on...  

...“now I work down at the car wash, where all it ever does is rain”...

Really.

I have written like 200,000 words for this blog and Bruce summed it up in 14.

Focus Bacon Focus!!!!!!!

Oh, sorry.

5:09am

Back to my life.

So here I am, sitting at the computer, trying to lasso my emotions in motion.

Trying to put my thoughts into words.

Trying to connect with the therapeutic part of writing this blog that has kept me afloat.

Even during the toughest of times.

The recipe has been very simple for me.

•   Feel something

•   Write about it

•   Make a subtle reference to Oingo Boingo or George Costanza so nobody knows what you are talking about

•   Hit Publish

Somehow by the end of my 80’s flashback, you’ve been entertained.

And I feel better.

I got quite the compliment from an anonymous reader the other day, at least I think it was a compliment.

I don't know if you mean to, or not, but your blog entries are the rare combination of: funny, thought-provoking and at times, head shaking.

Keep up the great work!!!

Thank you.

I think.

5:31am

Writing for me has worked a lot better than any other drug.

Better than the beer in my fridge.

Or the Tylenol in my medicine cabinet.

Or even the ice cream in my freezer.

What’s left of it.

In the good times and the bad, I have found a friend in my keyboard who has helped me deal with my reality.

Whatever that reality is.

In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m going through some stuff right now.

I would even qualify it as some serious stuff.

So serious, for me, that I can’t sleep.

I’ve got one of those decisions that I need to make and make it soon.

One of those decisions where you write the good on one side of the paper.

And the bad on the other.

One of those decisions where you call your friends to see what they would do.

If it was their life.

I have evaluated and re-evaluated this scenario so many times, even I’m tired of listening to myself.

I called my wife at 5:45pm last night.

Then we spoke again at 9:45pm.

Then I called her again at Midnight, her time.

Things are so bad, I had to buy more minutes at the AT&T store.

Fortunately they drop half of my calls, so the bill is not too much.

5:47am

Well here I am, almost an hour after I started and I pretty much got nowhere.

My issue is still there.

The knot is still in my stomach.

And I still can’t sleep. 

But somehow I feel better.

I wonder if there is any ice cream left?