Poland Spring Marathon Kickoff - not bad!

Ran my first race in months, and did better than I thought I would!

I came in the top 25% of men, running a 7:18/mile pace for 5 miles.

This means that I can add 1:15/mile, and that should be a nice, comfortable pace for the NYC Marathon this Sunday.

I hope.

I REALLY hope.

Love to all. Even you, the supermarket employee with the bad and completely unobstructed cough.

The folks I miss right now.

Shh.

Hey Mom, Dad, Josh, Alex, Craigor, Lisa, Anne, Jac, Al, and Ron... I wish with either hung out more or hung out at all, depending.

...not that anybody on the this list will ever actually read this, but hey... that's life.

Love to all. Especially, um, see above.

Sunday Worries and: Whoops.

I'm heading downtown to run the Poland Spring Marathon Kickoff five mile race, but before I do it seems I've got time for a little self-pity and panic: I forgot we were setting the clocks back last night.

I've been running the numbers:

• What I get paid at work on a W4 basis.
• What the business pays for that I would have to pay for if I merged my firm.
• Loans from/to the business that have to be evened up.

And, silly as it makes me feel to report, it turns out I've been doing a hell of a lot better than I thought I've been doing. Which means there needs to be a huge upside in order for me to go through with this whole process.

Which means I'm panicking. Although for really positive reasons.

I want to do the right thing by my family. And myself. If I can get my kids' college paid for BEFORE they go to college, then rock on. But I'm also afraid of fucking things up.

This is one of those times I wish my Dad and I spoke. As it stands, I don't have anyone in my life who I feel I can talk to about business things... whose opinion I would value nearly as much as I would my father's.

In fact, one of the reasons I'm interested in merging my company is because I want to share the responsibility for generative thought. For the last 10 years, it's been all me, with very little input.

Anyway: my daughter just got up, so I've got to jet.

Love to all. Even you, the post-surgical dude who won't take his pain medication.

Anyway, this post

What *did* Cheney mean?

When Dick Cheney was asked if "a dunk in water is a no-brainer if it can save lives," he said: "Well, it's a no-brainer for me but for a while there I was criticized as being the vice president for torture. We don't torture. That's not what we're involved in."

Okay, readers: What the hell did he mean, then? Answers, please? Seriously.

All Bush said when to comment was: "This country doesn't torture. We're not going to torture."

So what the hell did Cheney MEAN? I don't think asking a suspect to play "bobbing for apples" is going to bring out any relevant info. Right?

Any thoughts would be appreciated.

Love to all. Even you, the crazy guy with the sweaty armpits who it turns out I met three years ago.

The non-apology apology: Rush Limbaugh.

Michael J. Fox, who has pretty severe Parkinsons, campaigns for both Democrats and Republicans who support stem-cell research. Recently, he did a commercial for a Democrat, in which he had highly visible tremors. Rush Limbaugh, caterer-to-the-easily-convinced, accuses Fox of faking his condition (or purposefully going off medication). Lots of people apparently point out to Mr. Limbaugh that he's a misguided pretard.

So he pseudo-apologizes:

So I will bigly, hugely admit that I was wrong, and I will apologize to Michael J. Fox, if I am wrong in characterizing his behavior on this commercial as an act, especially since people are telling me they have seen him this way on other interviews and in other television appearances.

What a fuckhead. "Bigly, hugely?" Talk about ego. That removes any semblance of sincerity right there. And the whole "if I am wrong" thing means, of course, that there's no apology here.

HEY, CONSERVATIVES!! HOW CAN YOU LET THIS GUY REPRESENT YOU?

My God.

Love to all. Even you, the Prius driver who took that turn WAY too fast.

My desk at work.

Miracle Hippie!

Unlike Miss Britt, who's massage experience was, well, less than optimal. I decided to do something novel, and post a Craigslist ad in the Therapeutic section basically saying: "Oh shit, I have a marathon in two weeks, I'm sleeping on the floor because of a bad back, and I need help NOW."

I got two responses back. One from an accupuncture/massage person who seemed very competent, and one from a lady who basically said: "This is precisely what I fix. She went on to explain what she does, which is much more along the lines of re-alignment and release of muscle-memory, vs. tissue-based massage, although she does some of that two." Not rolfing, though, nothing painful. Just figuring out how everything is out of balance, and putting it back.

So I went to see her last night.

Holy SHIT. I left there pain-free for the first time in weeks. And I feel about 85% better this morning, too. I can feel some pain in my back, but I feel like it's muscular, not structural. Really interesting.

The crazy thing was: I almost walked out. Her office was professional, and she was normal enough... but she spent the first twenty minutes talking... and impatient me was thining... "Um... can we put some of this chatter into action, please?" But then she kept me there for another hour and a half, and did an amazing, unbelievable, and for me, unprecedented job.

Going to see her next Thursday, too.

Love to all. Even you, the guy with the wet cough who keeps spitting into his handkerchief.

Floored.

I slept on the floor last night.

No, Maggie wasn't mad at me. I was trying to stop my back from hurting. And it worked, sort of. When I woke up at 4:20am, my back didn't hurt at all. I was freezing, but my back felt okay. In fact, I didn't feel the first twinge until 4:40. And now, at 6:07, it's hurting all the time again... a dull, annoying ache.

But it's a start.

I had the BEST time chatting with my oldest last night. He was hilarious and gorgeous and smart and interesting, and watching him radiate was pure, pure joy.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who was chainsmoking on the train platform.

Fear.

I had a call with one of the partners who wants me to merge my firm with theirs. The partner basically asked me how much of my pre-merger receivables I would be giving them, to help pay for the startup of the company.

The answer, of course, is: "none."

The thing is, it was "none" before, too. And they knew this.

See, I'm one of those peopel who rarely tries to negotiate from anything other than a position of exactly my position. So when people try to change things, it makes me angry. I have to remember that people try to get the best deals for themselves that they can possibly get, even if they want you to do well.

Negotiation is not war. It's a grey area. I must remember this.

Love to all. Even you, you sneaky bastard.

Ready...

...or not, Marathon, here I come.

I just ran 20.3 miles. I decided that I had to. Today. Because if I didn't break the 20-mile barrier, I was going to bail on the NYC Marathon. My back and lungs have ranged from bad to kind-of-bad for the past two months, and I needed to know that I could do it.

Ouch. But I did it.

So for the next two weeks, I'm going to run, stretch, eat better, lift light weights, and get my ass (and other parts) as ready as possible to be one of 37,000 people running on November 5th.

Love to all. Even you, the couple who kept their semi-friendly dog's off leash at Rockefeller State Park.

Reason number 788314 why I love Maggie.

Maggie: "I'm sorry I get depressed every now and then. I know it must be frustrating."

Me: "That's okay. I'm sorry about the 7 years of alcoholic drinking. Oh, and while we're at it, I'm sorry about the 7 years of alcohol-triggered sleepwalking and scary night disturbances."

I continued: "So, um, I guess with your occasional depression... that makes us even?"

Maggie laughed. And that laugh, in its spirit of genuine forgiveness, is reason number 788314. (And no. We're not even.)

Love to all. Even you, the strange and tipsy guy who, um, clearly dribbled a bit while in the train's bathroom.

Stream.

Foley.
I'm reading the news about this jackass Congressman Foley revealing the name of an abusive priest to divert attention from being an alleged pseudo-to-real-pedophile, and I'm just completely icked out. I mean, I completely understand how the past can influence the present, but that does NOT remove responsibility. And the timing on this is just disgusting. Talk about playing the victim.

Is anyone surprised that nutjobs on the extreme Right (a more and more useless descriptor, these days) tried to make this a GAY issue vs. a pedophilia issue? Not me.

North Korea.
When John McCain blames the Clinton administration for present-day problems with North Korea, the terrorists win. Oops.

Internet Explorer 7 for Windows XP
Tabbed browsing and RSS! Holy SMOKES! Oh, wait. Firefox (PC/Mac) and Safari have had these features for years.

Iraq.
2800 KIA. How many wounded? Well, at least we got Bin Laden, intervened in Darfur, and got the Korean Peninsula under control. I swear, if I hear President Bush threaten anyone else with "grave consequences," I'm going to... to... well, I'm just going to continue to feel profoundly disappointed with the people in our country for backing this loser.

At this point, if they simply used troops to create and protect a Wall of Iron around the oil fields, and piped the oil directly onto U.S.-flagged tankers, I'd be like "At least we're being honest."

Love.
Well, there's that. In the midst of all this craziness... where the the macro is just so fucked up... I can coach soccer, vote my conscience, try to be nicer to people, listen when I don't feel like listening, not booze it up, pet my dogs, go to AA, date my wife, and do the dishes.

I'm not always sure how much I can do to fix the world. But I can always try to radiate more happiness than anger, love than dismissal, acceptance than spite.

Love to all. Even you, the grumpy 20-something who doesn't understand seat configurations on the train: I see you're trying to look busy, but you're just playing Texas Hold 'Em on your blackberry.

Guns!

Holy crap.

This is what was in the gun closet of the house in Vermont. 38 guns. Approximately. I'd call the guy a collector if they weren't all so moldy. What makes it scarier is the amount of plastic Canadian Club whiskey bottles in the garbage cans.

I just drove a total of 330 miles (after yesterday's 220), so I'm bushed. More details tomorrow, on the house that is not to be ours. Alas.

Yeesh.

Love to all. Even you, Mr. Gun Guy.

220 miles later or: Learning from Maggie.

One of the endearing and annoying things about Maggie is that she will often want to change [insert item here] during an outing. This could be a table in a restaurant, a room in a hotel, or a dress for an event. Sometimes, she'll change tables twice. It drives me nuts.

So. I just drove 220 miles to the Ramada in Rutland, VT. It's about an hour from the house, and the inspection is tomorrow morning. When I checked in, the first thing I heard was the squeaking of the bed in the room above me. It wasn't THAT kind of squeaking, but I was thinking: "This is not a good idea." So I called the front desk and asked them to change my room. They moved me to a mini-suite, which is much quieter and three times bigger.

Thank you, thank you, thank you Maggie.

The only thing is: she asked me if I had messed the room up at all... and I said "no." But I realized that actually, I did use the potty. Number one. Neatly. But I didn't correct myself.

Oh, the guilt.

Anyway, I'm here in a hotel room in Vermont. By myself. The last time I was in a hotel room by myself, I was drunk off my ass in San Francisco, and it was 1997-ish. I'm going to hit an AA meeting in Rutland tonight. 8pm. Should be interesting!

Love to all. Even you, the guy doing 45 in a 65, holding EVERYONE up.

Life speeds up. Again.

Okay. So.

I met with the other two owners of the company that wants to take us over. They interviewed my staff, and I'm happy to report that:

My staff like them.
They loved my staff.
They want to bring all three of us over.
Everyone on my staff will likely make more money.

So that's all good. Hell, it's all great. Right now, it's all hinging on a single salesperson from another firm. And frankly, they've made her an offer she'd have to have major personal problems to refuse. So we'll see.

Tomorrow I manage youngest boy's soccer team photo, then coach his game, then manage my daughter's team team photo, then coach her game, then go to the Fordham/Marist game with my in-laws. Plus I need to do a 13-mile run, at minimum.

Sunday I drive to Vermont, for the inspection on the house at 9am on Monday morning.

I don't know why I tend to put so much into play at one time, but I do. But you know, this is all tremendously exciting stuff, and I'm one lucky dude to have so many balls in the air at once.

Rock it.

Love to all. Even you, the drunken boyfriend who should leave my friend alone.

"gay marriages and adoption is it okay?"

To whoever found this blog searching for the phrase: "gay marriages and adoption is it okay?"

I have your answer: Yes. It's okay.

Love to all.

Stupid, Stupid AA.

The problem with Alcoholics Anonymous is that it has little sayings that always, always, always turn out to be absolutely correct.

Today's example is: "Do the next right thing."

This one can ruin all KINDS of bad intentions. Especially when you reduce it to real-time decision making... like when I wanted to leave the meeting early today, I thought "the next right thing is to sit your ass in the chair for another half an hour."

Shit.

Do the next right thing often means: "Don't do anything."

As in: "Don't make that smarmy comment to your wife."
As in: "Don't talk to that woman. You're married."

Other times, it means "Do it NOW."

As in: "Raise your hand and tell this meeting you're sick of AA."
As in: "Call a dude you don't know and invite him to lunch."

I can say that, for the most part, I did the next right thing today.

Love to all. Even you, the lady who put all her crap on the seats, and gave another lady guff for putting *her* bag on the floor.

Wink.

This morning, the Pastor of my Church was walking from the Rectory to the main building when he collapsed and died. He was a sweet man, someone I've had lots of conversations with... some of which were frustrating, some entertaining, and all sincere.

When he prepared the Eucharist, he was utterly in his element.
When he tried to entertain the children with stories, he was amusing failure.

He was a sweet guy.
He had a unique speech pattern that was easy to imitate.
He was shy.
He was more liberal about certain things than he let on.
He had bad teeth.
He smoked.
He was smarter than he first appeared to be.

He was walking from the Rectory and his life just winked out.

I wonder: does a Priest feel less afraid than I would feel if I knew I was about to die?

Love to all.

Kick start, and more adventures.

Okay. I'm posting this with a 10-year-old waiting for me in the next room. I just nebulized my five-year-old, and with Maggie out, I put the two youngest to bed, did the dishes, and am taking five seconds to write this before I take my oldest on in ping pong.

Apologies for the poor quality of this post, writing-wise.

Maggie just walked in. So did my oldest. Oh. My. God. Not much peace.

So, real quick: this is the house in Vermont we might buy. They've accepted our offer, but there's some issues that might break the deal. We'll see. The grownup in the picture is neither myself or anyone in my family. Those are, however, too of my kids. Rock ON.

It's 70% likely I'm closing my company and joining another as minority owner. I'll write more about that tomorrow.

Maggie made the most over romantic overture of our marriage. Just want to put that out there.

Love to all. Even you, the loudtalking couple of conventioneers on the uptown 6 train.

This is just stupid.

Apple replaced their DOA MacBook Pro with another DOA MacBook Pro.

This is five bad MacBooks / MacBook Pros in just a few months.

I'm taking Maggie, kids and dogs to Vermont until Monday. Don't know if I'll be able to post from there. I sort of hope I can, since there's a lot going on that I'd like to write about.

If not, though...

Love to all. Even you, the fucking QC department at Apple Refurb.

More business excitement, plus FartyPants!

There's this old-school company that does what my company does, only in a completely unrelated field. They're looking to open a division that does precisely what we do, in the way that we do it. They want that division to be us. And they want me to own approximately 40% of the new entity.

I've met with them three times, now... and this is the first time it's become blogworthy, because if we can work it out, I'm going to go for it.

Also, I sometimes wish my name was FartyPants.

More Later.

Love to all. Even you, the sweaty-palmed dude who walked west instead of east.

Free at last! Free at last! OUCH.

No adderall.
No wellbutrin.
Just a moderately strained back and a serious hope that I can start running again soon.

It's good to be solo... chemically speaking.

Love to all. Even you, the in-your-face saleswoman with the flashy rings.

I have the BEST diseases.

A while back, a friend of mine told me that I have the best diseases. And I believe it today, more than ever.

Let's review:

Psoriasis:
Pros: I get to go to tanning booths. Immune system in "hyperactive defense mode" all the time.
Cons: Icky-looking if untreated. I bleed everywhere.
My treatment: Steroids, sunlight, salt baths, UV, exercise, diet, pixie dust, etc.

Alcoholism:
Pros: Alcoholics Anonymous. Get to work on a spiritual lifestyle, meet amazing people that I never would have met otherwise, try to help others.
Cons: Prior years of blackouts, family distress, and liver damage.
Treatment: Alcoholics Anonymous, prayer, meditation.

ADHD:
Pros: Baffling energy levels. Can multitask like nobody's business. Zaniness.
Cons: My thoughts interrupt themselves. I forget what I'm doing all the time.
Treatment: None at this point.

It's pretty obvious: my diseases rock.

I've gotten a lot of feedback from folks on medication, about how going off medication can be really bad... and how lots of people go off medication to disastrous results because they "think they've been cured."

And the folks who say this... well, they're absolutely correct.

Fortunately for me, I'm not bi-polar or depressed. I've got Adult ADHD... which can be a HUGE pain in the ass from a functional perspective (and none too annoying to the folks around me), but has a shitload of side-benefits, as well. It also defines who I am, how I am, and what I do.

For me, treating ADHD sucked donkey ass. Seriously. Donkey ass.

In some ways, Adderall was initially amazing. I totally chilled, focused, neatened up, etc. But my silliness completely left. At dinner last night, Maggie told me that Adderall made me not myself. And as I rapidly grew a tolerance to it, it became less about "leveling off" and more about "when's it going to kick in? IS it going to kick in?" For an alcoholic, these are thought patterns best left alone. And the withdrawal: oy.

In retrospect, Adderall drugged me. It didn't "treat" anything. It wasn't restorative or balancing, like anti-depressants are for folks with depression.

Switching to Wellbutrin (an anti-depressant which has stimulant-like effects, and can often be used when a patient responses poorly to or, in my case, ceases responding to, stimulants) was a nightmare. Admittedly, this could be because I accidentally took 750 mg of the stuff instead of 450, but the fact that it had no efffect at all for a month, then made me pretty nuts... well, I've had enough.

I'm not saying my experience is the rule. If it works for you, go for it.

So. I'm heading into Manhattan to go to a 7:30am Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. A.A., exercise, prayer, meditation - this'll be how I try to better myself for the foreseeable future.

Love to all. Even you, the lady with the broadcaster's voice talking about how crazy James Taylor fans are.