Success Warrior: Alan B. Rowley II - Beachbody.com, P90X, Voluntaryism, Voluntarism

Go Bees!

As you can see by this picture, we were down close to first base.  Nice.  As you can also see from this picture, there weren't a lot of people on the third base side.  If you ever want great seats at a baseball game, go to a game in Utah on Sunday when all the Mormons are in church.  Shorter lines in the beer concessions too, which is hypocritical weird.  I didn't have beer.  I had ice cream.  Short line there too.

We started the day by driving 4 miles out of town before realizing that the tickets were still back on the table at home.

"I thought you got them."

"I thought you got them."

So, we made a quick turn-around, which was lucky because the next exit is 36 miles down the road.  You know, there's not a lot of reason to get off the road on the Salt Flats. 

Back home and off again and a couple of hours of driving across the most barren landscape on the planet, we met with a couple of friends (Ron and Lisa) for lunch at PF Chang's.  I showed Trey the secret to using chopsticks.  Pick one up and stab the food with it like a fork with only one tine.  Worked like a charm.  My 3 years of living in Japan did not go to waste.  I can say "mushi mushi" and can stab crisp honey chicken with a chopstick.  Not that I know what "mushi mushi" means but I can say it.

We ordered enough food to feed a small Asian island and then I did my damndest to make sure that no "to go" boxes would be needed.  No point to "to go" boxes when you live in the middle of a god-forsaken desert.  By the time the game is over and you've driven home for a couple of hours, the food is suspect.

If you aren't allergic to seafood, I highly recommend the crisp honey shrimp over the crisp honey chicken.  We didn't order them both today but as of today, I have tried them both and the shrimp is hands and lots of little tiny legs above the chicken.

From there, we drove to the ballpark formerly known as Franklin Covey field and is now called something like Spring Mobile field or something.  Times must be hard for Franklin Covey.  There must not be much call for day-planners for the unemployed. 

"Let's see, what's on the agenda for today?  Ahhh, find a job.  Good thing I penciled that in or I might have forgotten."

We watched a very good game where the lead changed a couple of times and was tied a couple of innings and the home team came away as the winners by 1 run.  Trey enjoyed the game much better this year, probably because he's a year older and we went to a matinee game.  He really liked it and he finally high-fived the mascot (who he has been afraid of since we started going to the game).

You need to check out my pictures on Facebook to see the chief (Ron) sitting next to the mascot like they are best buds (link a the bottom of this post).

After the game, was the long trip home, where it's really hard to have too much compassion for Trey when he whines about "what can I do?" for the 2 hour trip.  He has a DVD player, a Nintendo DS, and some cars.  When I was a kid, I had nothing at all.  Nothing.  Watch out the window, tease siblings, or sleep.  That was the choices.  Trey ended up playing some game that comes as part of the Shrek 2 DVD.  How rough is that?

Summer is coming to a close and we've had a great time.  We made a list of things that we wanted to do this summer and we have done most of them plus a few.  This has to have been the best summer we've had since Trey was born. 

He's sound asleep now and tomorrow is his first day of kindergarten.  Can you believe it?  My little boy is starting school and my second daughter is starting her senior year.  It's absolutely amazing how quickly they grow up.  I've been reminiscing lately about Trey's birth day.  Maybe I'll share that tomorrow.

Have a great night!

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A Nice Christmas Story

My wife ordered some games for Trey for this Christmas.  Candyland, Chutes and Ladders, and Memory.  Great games and games that Trey would love to play.  He's played a couple of them at a friend's house and goes on and on about it.

Some company came to the school and had all three games in a package deal so she ordered them and couldn't wait until Trey opened them on Christmas.  Out of all the gifts he was going to be getting, she was most excited about these games.

Last Monday, she called in sick.  Tuesday, she went to work and went to the faculty lounge to get the games.  She was told that they had been delivered.  The games weren't there.  They had been delivered but then they were stolen by a teacher in the school.  My wife sent an email to all the teachers asking that the games be returned, that it could be done anonymously, and nothing else would come of it.  They weren't returned.

The games would be easy enough to replace but it really ate at her that someone she worked with would steal gifts from a 3 year old boy, gifts that would give her so much joy to give.  She talked to the principal but she said it was obviously not good that it had happened but there was nothing she could do.

We planned on picking up the games when we went to town next Monday.

This morning, she went to exercise with a friend of hers.  Her friend is a teacher at the same school and they exercise several times a week before the buttcrack of dawn.  This morning, her friend had a gift bag for my wife.  She was in town yesterday and had bought new games to replace the ones that had been stolen.  My wife brought them home and we didn't wait until Christmas to give them to Trey. 

We'll be playing Candyland tonight because of the kindness of a friend. 

It's My Wife's Birthday

We talked about doing something today but decided to just finish out the work week.  I asked her what she wanted for her birthday and here's the plan.

We are going to get out of Wendover for a couple of days.  That topped the list.  We are going to head for Park City.  For those of you not familiar with Utah, it's a little resort town.  It's where many of the Olympic games were held, where the Sundance Film Festival takes place, and where a lot of famous people go to get away from whatever they are trying to get away from.

The destination isn't important.  Getting away from here is what was important.  We did want something that would provide a relaxed atmosphere and wasn't too far away.

Want to Make Sure Your Children Succeed?

Then make sure you start them out right.  How do you do that?  You give them a name that sounds prosperous, has all the numerology gunk in order, and isn't too trendy or over-used.  Sound like a lot to research.  Have no fear.  This is America after all and if it's stupid and time consuming, there is always someone out there that will do it for you . . . for a small nominal fee. 

Some of those fees are as low as $50.  Some are more like $500.  It depends on what you're looking for and who your baby name consultant is.

"So Coolio, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a baby name consultant."

"Really?  Never heard of it.  Does it pay well?"

"$95 an hour."

"You're kidding me right?"

Coolio's not kidding.

Check it out for yourself.  I've barely touched on the subject here.

5 Sword Points for Mark, the beer dart champion, for pointing out this disturbing trend to me.  It's not disturbing because it's stupid.  It's disturbing because you just know most of these people aren't taking serious care of their finances and instead are dropping $500 to get a free baby name.

Should I call DCFS about the child abuse to my son?

I'm torn because the perpetrator is my father-in-law.  Still he knew what he was doing was wrong.  I heard him say, "Your dad is going to kill me," right before he struck. 

He had entered the house with his hand behind is back and moved over to where my son was sitting on a chair next to me.  He hesitated because of my close proximity to my son but it didn't stop him from the dastardly deed.

He moved quick and the next thing I knew my son was wearing a Dallas Cowboys baseball hat. 

I reeled in horror.  Stunned.  Shocked.  In disbelief.  How could he be so cruel?  What made him do such a thing?  What was going through his mind?  Is it something that his dad did to him when he was small?  Was he stuck in the rut?  All these thoughts raced through my head. 

"That's yours now," he said to my son. 

I fought back the urge to vomit right there.  It was almost too much for me.  I've seen some bad things in my life but 12 years of police work couldn't prepare me for this travesty. 

My son must have the innate ability to know good touch/bad touch because he took the hat off and threw it on the floor.  I resisted the urge to jump up and stomp on the hat like it was a venomous snake threatening my son's life.  Barely resisted.