kalbzayn

I'm going to be moving this blog later today. I have detailed my reasons on the new site.

I am going to try and update the feed to automatically point to the new site. My next post over there will be talking about who I favor in the elections this year. If you don't see that post sometime today, then I probably did it wrong.

You can go to the new home page at http://www.kalbzayn.com. If you have any sidebar links that you can point to the new site, I would greatly appreciate it.

I don't have any plans of taking down this site, but I will be turning off comments and trackbacks in a couple days as I move forward with the new software.

Let me know if you have any questions/concerns.

Let me start by saying that I like winter. I don't mind the cold and snow and near constant darkness.

My car made me angry today. I warmed it up because I did not feel like scraping windows this morning. About 15 minutes later I returned to my car to head to work. The car was still a little chilly inside but at least the windows were clear.

I pulled out of the driveway and started my trek to the office. At the first stop sign, my car started taunting me and would not drop the issue no matter how much I cursed at it.

It just kept saying to me, "It is only 22 degrees," over and over again. Sure, by the time I got to work, it had eased up a little bit. "It is only 24 degrees."

At 6 in the morning, at the beginning of November, I do not need to be constantly reminded that it is only 24 degrees. Global warming my cold butt.

I think I might have to reprogram the little temperature display to 70 degrees no matter what the outside world thinks.

The big county fair that we go to in Wisconsin every Labor Day has long since passed but I still haven't put away my big find. Every year, one of the local historical societies sells a bunch books that people donate. This year you could get whatever books you could fit in a plastic grocery bag for $2.

This was the first year that nothing amazed me, but there were a few that I thought I wouldn't mind having. My mother-in-law is starting her post-retirement career selling books online. There was an interesting collection of Wisconsin state historical society journals that we figured she might have some luck selling, so we committed to buying a bag. I threw in a few books that sounded interesting and ended up with a pretty decent haul.

John Grisham - The Firm and The Pelican Brief
Scott Turow - Presumed Innocent
Margaret Atwood - The Robber Bride
Richard Ford - Rock Springs
Robert Ludlum - The Bourne Identity (Hardcover)

I just heard from my wife that her mom made something like $25 plus shipping for the magazines. Not a bad haul for $2. Now I just need to get around to reading them and the other books sitting on my bookcase unread.

I had a thought when I walked into work today.

I am tired of walking on concrete all the time. Everywhere we go, it is concrete. There is a little island of grass in the middle of the road between the parking lot and the building. I always make a point to walk across it and get my 4 steps on the grass everyday. Where did all the grass go? Are we afraid of getting our shoes dirty?

Why is it that kids run wherever they want and hardly ever seem to find a sidewalk, but adults let ourselves get trapped within the little strips of allowed walking space?

Walking on the grass is better for us. It has less impact on our joints and the uneveness of the ground is good for strengthening our feet and ankles.

I go watch Iowa football games. One of the things I love about the stadium is that the players are playing on grass. But, I normally do not take one step on any grass the entire day that I spend at the stadium.

If you see me walking through your yard someday, please try to understand.

There is just no escaping it sometime. Every once in a while you have to go grocery shopping on a Sunday afternoon. Despite the dozens of check out lines, only three of them will be open. You will have two gallons of milk and two kids that do not want to be in line any more.

And somebody in your line will be using coupons that they forgot to dig out of their purse before the last second, writing a check they did not prefill out, and need 10 price checks.

People like to make fun of the military and how poorly they manage everything, but line problems do not exist at the commissary (grocery store on the military base for all of you career civilians).

What did the commissary figure out that the rest of the world still can't get?

You only need one line.

They forced everybody into a single file, waiting for the roller coaster type of line. You wove back and forth as the line steadily advanced. When you popped up to the front, you were directed to the next empty register. Any register that was taking a long time, did not impact any individuals waiting for that register. Amazing. Simple. Efficient.

And apparently something that only the military can coordinate. It's almost enough to make me want to sign back up.

Verizon has a couple dead zones on my route home. My new cell phone which is actually an old piece of crap that my sister lent me because I lost my phone makes the dead zone even bigger. There is now about a 10 mile stretch of road where there is a huge amount of traffic that I cannot use my cell phone. It was only about 2 miles with my old cell phone.

I thought cell phones in the heavy population areas had finally gotten to the point where phones worked everywhere. At least, that's what I learned from the commercials.

Verizon, can you hear me now? No? Wait until I drive out of this giant dead zone and try again.

I was watching Celebrity Fit Club last night while trying not to fall asleep on the couch. That show is pretty damn inspiriing.

Watching a bunch of former models, musicians, actors balloon up in the public eye is always good for the old morale. But, watching them sweating, cursing, dieting, crying and screaming to get in shape makes me want to do the same.

Now, I just need to hire a professional dietician. Well, I don't really need that. I think I could pretty easily identify the dieatary changes I should make that would make some pretty significant changes.

Then, I need to get a professional trainer. Well, not really. I grew up very active. I like to workout and I have a decent idea how to plan workouts and the motivation to actually carry them out once I get started.

They also use a crazy psychotherapist that analyzes why people have the bad habits that they have and makes everybody cry. I know a lot of my bad eating/drinking triggers and I'm pretty good at dealing with them when I'm not just being lazy.

The show is so inspiring that I always feel like getting started immediately...the next day...when I'm not resting on the couch.

I had a random memory the other day. When I was a little kid, around 1st-2nd grade, my family was a twice a week church type family. I was in Royal Rangers and hated rock and roll.

I converted one of my friends from a life of sin to the straight and narrow right before he moved never to be heard from again.

Later, about 5th grade, I converted another friend whose dad had been in a coma for several years. He had a cool ferret and an even cooler soul by the time I was done with him. I lost track of him somewhere along the way, too.

I am not a church type person now and probably couldn't convert Pat Robertson if I needed to. For some reason, those two kids popped up in my memory. I wondered if they were still converted.

It is kind of neat to think that in grade school I might have accidentally made a difference in a couple kids lives.

It is bizarre to think of making peole believe in something that you don't really believe in anymore. It is like convincing somebody that the tooth fairy is real.

Only in this case, if I put them on the right path, they might be going to heaven and I might heading to eternal damnation. How's that for a referal system.

I normally post a lot of personal stuff over here, but I also have a parenting blog that I am working on. We just learned that J has autism. Rather than rewriting everything over here, I'll just give you a link to what I wrote.

By old I don't mean ancient. I mean old like middle aged. Old meaning no longer any hope of ever being "cool" again. Old meaning my favorite music is on retro channels.

I already have a few signs. The kids are starting school. My beard and temples are graying. I can't eat and drink whatever I want without putting on some weight.

The other day, I was driving on a busy 4 lane road. There was an additional middle turn lane.

There was a big gap between me and the car in front of me (because of the traffic light timing...I'm not getting that old). A car in a parking lot on my right started to turn left into the turn lane. At the same time, a car in the parking lot on the left turned left into the turn lane. They almost ran right into each other and we all had to wait for them to move around each other.

Feeling I deserved a bit of road rage, I tried to yell. I noticed the driver of the car from the right was about 70. Perfect. Old men are easy road rage targets. But wait, the driver of the car from the left was 18-20. Oh those punk kids chap my hide.

Wait a second. Did I just say "punk kids"? Did I just say "chap my hide"?

Great. Now I can't figure out if I dislike old men or young kids. Must be time for middle age. I might have to go shopping for a Corvette tonight.