14 hours later...

I'm on my way home from painting and arranging the new office. Are we done? Nope. But everyone can print, the cams are up, the databases work, and the DNS routing is good to go.

I'll head in on the 5:01 train on Tuesday, try to do an hour's work or so before heading to my morning AA meting.

I've got a lot of mixed feelings about 2006. It was a strange, wonderful, difficult, and interesting year. My goal for 2007, I think, is consistency.

If I'm going to run: run frequently but not too much.
If I'm going to lift: do so in moderation.
I need to focus on the new company without being obsessive.
I need to focus on being a level-headed family guy.

I need to try and keep to the middle ground.

Hey. Happy 2007.

Love to all. Even you, the 20-ish girls in Grand Central station wearing way too much bling and way too little skirts.

Yay, I'm not a hypochondriac!

So, I went to the doctor's. He was like: you need strong antibiotics and albuterol, like, right now. Does anyone else out there fell vindicated when the Doctor tells you it's a good thing you came in, and don't wait next time?

I sure do.

Love to all. Even you, critter.

An Iraqi woman's persective.

I read this just now. I'm still processing it. It's terribly sad.

I've said it before: George Bush has taken this country's greatest recent chance for generating enormous amounts of worldwide goodwill (the tragedy of September 11, 2001), and turned it into a sick, twisted, hate-filled and murderous disaster -- from OUR side.

Every time George Bush talks about anything "Faith-based," I want to throw up. It just seems the height of hypocrisy.

Love to all. Even you, operator.

p.s. This is quite sobering, as well.

Mild collapse.

I've been running on piss-poor combination of 4.5 hours of sleep, Excedrin, and Robitussin CF for the last three days. I'm exhausted.

We completed the move from my place on 11th Street the new offices on 41st and Madison. Bye-bye East Village!

I don't understand one of my employees, sometimes. I like her a lot, and she's incredibly nice and honest and works really hard... but she also can be really needy.


Like, we had discussed her coming by on the Sunday before Christmas, because she was going to be in the nearby towns looking at houses... and she did call that day, but it didn't work out. But then she called me on Christmas Day to see if we were busy... even though she knew we were having a family over.

Like, today, knowing I'm dog-tired and completely fighting with a URI, she asked me if I would drive her home to 96th street so I could come meet her cats. She didn't actually want a ride (she declined). She only wanted one if I was going to go see her cats. And when I said that I didn't want to park my van with my stuff from the move in it, she said: "You don't have to come in."

Was she going to bring her cats OUT?

I know this sounds like nothing, but it's kind of cumulative. I can't explain it better right now, in my sickity-sick state.


Anyway: I feel calm enough to get sick now. My chest hurts, and I'm lying in bed, writing this, about to watch Dead Man's Chest.

Love to all. Even you, the toothless pedestrian crossing 14th street on a major, time-consuming slant.

Era.

My company is closing tomorrow.

It's been four years since we opened... almost to the day. And these last four years are, I think, the years where I finally grew up a little. I got sober again, I got married again, I learned a whole ton about love, lust, faith, pain, and hurt.

Mostly, though, I learned one thing: I have got to get over myself.

Life is easier when I realize that I'm not such a big deal. That my problems are petty and my joys should be shared and if I can make the people around me feel somewhat happier, then things pretty much rock.

I've done this before. Sort of. I sold my last company in 2000 for something in the very-low seven figures, and promptly lost most of what I got in the stock market crash in 2001. Live and learn. The difference, this time, is that I'm going to be the largest (albeit minority) owner in the new company. I'm going to have partners. Instead of working for the people who bought my company, I'm going to be part owner of a whole new deal. And THAT is pretty exciting.

My title doesn't change: "President & Technical Evangelist." But I have partners, more employees, and a much more complicated social and corporate environment to navigate.

I'm worried. And excited. And scared. And I'll let you know how it goes.

Love to all. Even you, the lady who just LOVES Chad Pennington.

Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!

A little Wii baseball action at Clan Championable.

Life is a little crazy right now. My chest hurts, I'm fighting off a sinus infection. I'm trying to get this new company off the ground. Maggie is out for a while. My daughter is seriously disrespecting her mother. My oldest is taking WAY too much candy.

And life is just fine.

I need to go upstairs, give my two youngest a bit of Dimetapp, give my youngest Pulmocort, take some advil, put the two youngest down, take some Robitussin, and go to bed. That's a lot of drugs. Ah, seasonal sickness.

Love to all. Even you, the 42 year old guy who hasn't unpacked his stuff six months after moving into his own apartment.

What is love?

"To love someone is to have them in your heart.
And I have you in my heart, Daddy.
...
...
And Mimi."
- My youngest boy. Age 5.

Mimi, of course, if one of the dogs.

Love to all. Even you, the old lady sleeping upstairs.

Merry Christmas from Clan Championable.*

From my heart to yours.

Love to all. Even you.

* pics by maggie.

*Really* stuck in my head.

For years and years, I hear the same thing when I perform certain actions. For instance:

Whenever I brush my teeth with my Sonicare toothbrush, I hear the Beastie Boys:

Intergalactic planetary, planetary intergalactic.

Whenever I have to type a lot of consecutive spaces on my computer, I always hear (one space per syllable):

I like to be in America!
O.K. by me in America!
Ev'rything free in America
For a small fee in America!

In the first case, it's the note that the toothbrush hits. In the second, I guess it's a pattern thing.

Which brings me to a point of great comfort: I think there's very little chance that I'm going to go crazy. I've been there for a good long time, now.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who realized about 20 years too late that, maybe, taking action to financially support his family is a good idea.

Thought process.

I ran 5.65 miles tonight, then jumped in the shower. I finished up, dried off, and was getting dressed for bed. As I was putting on a t-shirt, it slipped from my hands...

...and my hands were directly above the toilet bowl.

As the t-shirt fell, I immediately felt a twinge of panic, followed immediately by "Oh, crap. This sucks." Hot on the heels of that thought was "Shit. Did I just pee in that bowl?" Then: "No, it's relatively clean." And then: "But you know, if I drop my shirt into a bowl full of pee, thats pretty hilarious."

Then I caught the shirt. Event averted.

Love to all. Even you, my shifty friend with the contagious grin.

State of the Richie (and company)

• I'm officially closing my company and forming a new one with partners. Next week is the last operating week of my firm. Oh. My. God.
  
• Mimi has fully recovered from her emergency room visit. While they initially detected nothing wrong, it turned out she had eaten a sock. Yeah, you read that right. A SOCK. Did you know that dogs-eating-socks are the #1 reason for emergency room visits by dogs? Neither did I. And frankly, I'm not sure if I believe it.
• Maggie is officially 40. Last night, it was a Catch-22 of husbandhood wherein she was a little irritable and tired and reading... and therefore didn't want to talk to me... but she kept saying "'I'm SO old." And when I tried to soothe her, she said "SHHH!" Alas.

How are you?

Love to all. Even you, the lady who kept speaking to her blackberry about how it functioned.

Snippets.

Snippet I:

Youngest: Dad, you gassed!
Me: No, I didn't.
Youngest: Fine. You farted.


Snippet II:
Youngest: Dad, I want to get dressed like you.
Me: Fine, but don't put your underwear on your head.

Love to all. Even you, whoever got into a fight with the parking attendant at the wedding yesterday.

Real quick, part II.

Just got back from a wedding. One of the partners in my new business just got married, for the first time, at age 45.

With the exception of my own, it was the best wedding I've ever attended. It was emotional, funny, heartwarming, the band rocked, and I made Maggie really happy by dancing with her. I don't like dancing all that much, but when I saw how happy it made her when I made an attempt, I stayed on the dance floor for a lot longer than I think she expected.

The groom. Well, the groom should pretty much be dead.

The groom had done a lot of drugs in the past. A lot of DIFFERENT drugs. And even when he was brought down by a heart attack, stroke, and anyeurism... he kept doing them. Hell, for over 20 years, the guy had tried and failed to clear up his act.

But, like will happen in AA, he got involved, got his shit together, and has been sober for a few years, now. It's incredible to see.

There were about 10 of us from my home group in Manhattan, and seeing all these people I love SO MUCH, and then meeting all of their SPOUSES... holy crap. It was fun.

Happiness.

Love to all. Even you, the huge dude who, it turned out, didn't know the woman with who he, er, "dirty danced."

Real quick.

We just had our family holiday party. It's an annual thing that also doubled as an unannounced birthday party for Maggie. She's turning 40 on Monday.

I'm tired.

I just wanted to say, though, how totally awesome it was to have 50 people to our house... neighbors, old friends, people we've met through our kids... all coming over to drink a little, eat a little, and genuinely share cheer and happiness.

I'm living a blessed life.

Love to all. Even you, the folks I wish were here, but weren't.

Salesperson, meet your boss.

After explaining to me the details of a conversation she had with a client, I asked my new salesperson if she had brought pixie dust to the meeting.

(I am the one on the right.)

Love to all. Even you, the flip-flopping client.

Oh, Mimi.

My dog started hacking and coughing and making gross noises at around 12:30am... she was having some breathing trouble, so Maggie called the Animal Emergency center to bring her in. Maggie's been sick, so I said "You call, I'll go."

Naturally, as she was calling, Mimi got better. Playful, even. So I took her downstairs to wait and see if she started hacking again. At about 1am, she started hacking again, so I got her in the van and took her to the 24-hour vet.

And here it sit. Right now, they're x-raying my Flat-Coated Retriever to see what the hell she ate this time.

Love to all. Even you, you sweet, crazy puppy.

This is getting a little TOO obvious.

Another day, another evangelical minister who hates homosexuals but turns out to be gay.

Look. Real men don't care who you love. Or who you bang. As long as everyone involved is a grownup.

Love to all. Even you, Reverend Barnes.

I've been saying this for years.

I've always held the view that the second amendment applies to "well governed militias." Now, some folks in Washington DC are taking the same view. Interesting to see what happens. The only thing about this that bothers me, though, is that I had always assumed this angle had been thoroughly case-tested. I mean, those words are IN the amendment. Has nobody challenged home ownership of handuns based on the wording of the actual amendment prior to last week?

If so, that's baffling...
If so, shame on me for assuming otherwise.

Love to all. Even you, Mr. Heston.

Joe Kleinerman 10k: 12/10/2006

Time: 45:19
Pace: 7:12
Total: 641/4895
Guys: 566/2599

About 3 miles in, I felt the same sort of tearing in my left calf that I felt during the little race I ran on Thanksgiving. This time, though, I slowed it down a little and didn't try to push through it. By halfway through the fourth mile, I was able to pick it up again. It only hurts a little now. Phew.

Shower time.

Love to all. Even you, the burping dude who said "That was not my intention."

Ha!

We wore out the 22-year-old. She's staying behind to take a nap while I pick up my youngest from a party and Maggie brings my daughter to another.

Ha!

Love to all. Even you, the 4 cops who pulled over that one dude.

Lines? What lines?

My assistant / office manager is having mega-boyfriend issues. There's various issues of trust, potential alcoholism, verbal abusiveness, etc. It's the kind of thing that happens to everyone at some point, and the question always is: stay or go.

My opinion on THAT isn't really the point of this post.

The point is that Maggie and I invited her up to tony Westchester for a weekend getaway, where she can escape the drama, experience the "old people's" lifestyle, and basically just have a weekend of non-pressure. Does this totally obliterate the line between work and home? Ayup. The good thing is, I've pretty heavily examined my motives on this one, and I feel totally awesome about having her up for the weekend.

She's 22 years old... Which means she's WAY closer in age to my son than me, and equidistant to my daughter and me. Once she arrived in the house, she pretty much hooked up with the kids, and has gone off to play. I've checked in once or twice, and I'm definitely not needed in that crowd right now. In fact, there's already been a little bit o' tension between my oldest son and the other two kids over who is taking up too much of her time.

Twenty-two is so very, very in between. It's an unbelievably powerful, funny, tragic and interesting age.

Anyway. I'm sitting in the kitchen, having a nice cup of coffee, and writing this... in the background I hear happy screams and peals of laughter from the basement, where my assistant and my three kids are playing Super Smash Brothers on the GameCube.

I'm feeling all of my 37 years, and that's pretty much exactly where I want to be.

Love to all.

A mild case of the "fuck 'em"s.

I don't think I pluralized that correctly. Alas.

I tend to put people on pedastals: sponsors, friends, family. I think that they've got it together, and that they're always going to give me clear, untainted advice, and that they'll live their lives in outstanding fashion, setting a clear example for me to follow.

Yeah. That's supersmart thinking, there. But I do this regardless of how many events to the contrary occur.

We all know this. Pedestals lead, unversally, to disappointment... because nobody has their shit together. But that, my friends, is a huge-ass relief.

What I, Rich-At-Fucking-Championable-Dot-Com, need to do is close the gaps between realizing that everyone is somewhat fucked up, realizing that I am somewhat fucked up, and that it doesn't really matter in the end. Shit, it's because we're all a bit fucked up that life is such a wonderful and weird parade of delightful little experiences.

The things I've done wrong, would I trade them in for a less fucked-up past? With one real exception, no.

Anyway. This was something of a stream-of-consciousness post. Forgive me.

Love to all. Even you, the building security guard with the amazing glare who, for some reason, thought I was trying to bypass the ID system.

NYC goes big.

Big government, that is.

New York City just banned trans-fats in its restaurants. I'm completely blown away by this. I mean, my God, NYC is supposed to be a progressive city... a modern city... a SMART city. But for some reason, this liberal metropolis decided to allow the government to dictate what it's allowed to eat. It BANNED an ingredient because it's NOT HEALTHY.

That's fucking madness. The same kind of madness as motorcycle helmet laws. I mean, look: when you want to regulate things, you have to logic-test it to its most intrusive conclusion. And as far as I can tell, once you start banning ingredients based on healthfulness, you're giving the government permission to mandate people's diets in total. It's the logical extension of the law.

Look. If people want to kill themselves without harming other people, that's their business. We don't need the government run our lives for us at this level.

And please. Don't try and give me the logic that lessens the public burden via medical treatment for heart diseases, diabetes, etc. If you logic-test THAT one, think of how many
things you've have to ban because the public would be safer overall if it was disallowed.

Love to all. Even you, the big guy on the Metro North train scraping who was rubbing mud on the seat in front of him.

Whole Foods market, Union Square, NYC.

Or what, exactly?

Love to all. Even you, whoever patrols the floor.

Will. Not. Throw. Through. Wall.

When you're experiencing small-business panic at 3:30 in the morning and decide to do some of the common computer maintenance you sometimes forget to do, this is the LAST thing you want to see when you're troubleshooting software.

The tech support site needs, um, tech support.

Love to all.

Brother.

Hey.

Haven't talked to you in, Jesus, three-and-half years now. I gotta admit, bro', you totally caught me by surprise when you went along with Dad's craziness. Especially after we talked about what he did with our Uncle, and our Grandmother. Shit, dude. He didn't talk to THEM for 15, 18 years apiece. The same thing over two generations.

And now, of course, it's three.

What bothers me most, though, is that you know that I think he's a good person with problems, not a bad person overall. But you still made the decisions you did. Other people have explained to me why, but their reasoning seems so sad and small and petty. What a waste of time and potential joy. Anyway.

If I could saying anything to you today, brother, I'd just say:

Happy 40th birthday.

Love to all. Even you, Josh.

Everything is porn.

I spend a couple of hours this afternoon hanging these really cool and sparkly light globes on one of the trees in the front yard. Maggie peaked out at them after it got dark. Our two youngest kids were in the room with us.

M: Those sparkly balls look really amazing.
R: There are more in the bedroom.
M: Really?
R: Yup. Two. I think you should check them out. Extensively.
M: {that "Rich, you are SO thirteen" look.}

To me, everything has porn potential. It's just the way it is.

Love to all. Even you, the neighbor with the tech issues.

Run run run run run run run run run run

Maggie emailed me our schedule for the weekend. It was a fairly extensive email. I've got 17 minutes until Go Time. Sometimes, I feel like I go to work to relax.

Now, I'm NOT complaining at all. I'm actually more psyched about life than I've been in some time... and I was never particularly down on it.

RIGHT NOW: my ten year old is holding two plastic lightsabers and waiting for me to beat the crap out of him. I'm cutting this post short.

Love to all. Even you, the stupid friends-of-my-employee who ruined her bowling party.