All I Got Is Quotes

Man, I had plans today to do a big blog post about my adventures last weekend camping. But, I'm not going to get to it. The wife and I spent last night preparing for our garage sale opening today, after work I need to go do my first landlord duty of fixing a shower head and I've been putting a huge amount of time into what will be known throughout history as The Cutest Gift Ever Given for a Nephew's 1st Birthday.

But, next week: The Adventure of the Bird Safari!

Quotes of the Week:
"He hasn't exactly clothed himself in glory this year." --Pat Hughes on a Cubs broadcast. I was flipping through channels and this strange, creative way of saying "He kinda sucks" made me giggle.

"I told them to leave him in the chimney and let him die." --A Very Angry Ex, who found her ex-boyfriend drunk and stuck in her chimney.

"Adorable pets of Inpop Records and CTI are not eligible." An Edit of One of My Magazine Files. This is actually a very mysterious case. I wrote up a blurb for a contest. The other editors read it to make suggestions and edits. When I got it back, this sentence had been added. And no editor will take responsibility--or credit--for it! Was "adorable pets" cut and pasted in instead of "employees?" I don't know. I am just glad that homely pets are eligible to enter the contest.

"I love this fuzzy sweatshirt. It makes me feel like my own cuddly stuffed animal." --Pure Heart

"Lucky! It really is the year of the todd." -A Text from Jill after Thome's 500th homerun.


Random Pictures

A while back, I had my camera in the truck for a week or two and kept forgetting to take it out. The other day, I found several pictures from that period of time. It's all just random stuff that made me giggle. And so, for some reason I took pictures.

I thought I'd do something with them:

Nothing like a day at the swim pool. It's better than the bathing tub. (Man, English is complicated.)

Don't park in these parkings. They are reserveds.

Okay, so any LIQUID is forbidden to those under 16? How about milk? Ginger ale? It must be, since the sign is very adamant that it's talking about LIQUID.


That's Not Toothpaste

Since I've gotten married, I've noticed more and more the differences in how men and women think. I've always known that women multi-task better than men. But the compounding evidence fascinates me.

It's so true: Women can think about and/or do 489 things at once. Guys? One. If we (OK, maybe it's just me) try to do more than that one thing--or you bring up something for us to think about while we're still focused on our one item, errors occur.

Like the other night: I was telling the wife a story as I prepared for bed. And I was really into the story. As I talked, I grabbed my toothbrush, squirted paste on it and began brushing--all the while concentrating on whatever wonderful story I was telling. About two strokes in, I stopped. Something is wrong here, I thought. That doesn't taste like toothpaste.

It wasn't. I was so focused on my story, I squirted hair gel onto my toothbrush.

Mmm-mmm good.

Related note: I went to the dentist yesterday. Despite my troubled dental past, I am now a model of oral health!


Behold the Power of the Bobble

It may be predictable, but getting my dad a Father's Day gift every year is pretty simple: White Sox tickets. I almost always get him a ticket and arrange for the whole family to go to the game together.

With the busy summer my wife and I had this year, we knew when planning the Father's Day Sox Game that it had to be 1) On a Sunday and 2) After August. Looking at the schedule, I found a good day (for the family, for dad and for me)--September 16: Jim Thome Bobblehead Day. It was a Sunday, we'd be less busy, it should be cool weather, and best of all, I would get a new Bobblehead out of it. Score.

We scheduled the big game with family early this summer: My wife's dad and sister, my parents, brother, sister-in-law and Little Sis. Yay. I was excited (have I mentioned the bobblehead?). However, by early June, we realized the game would mean nothing. My dad even mentioned how we'd be watching the Sox Triple-A team. Bummer. But at least we'd get to tailgate, play bags and, of course, get our Bobbleheads.

And then, a new hope arose. Two or three weeks ago I was home and told my Dad, "You know, we could get very close to seeing Jim Thome hit his 500th Career Homerun." It was a long shot but when he hit 4 homers in six days, he made it more probable. And then, he got to 499.

All week, I've been nervous he'd hit it. I really had no doubt that if he didn't hit it before Sunday, we would see it. The trick was getting to Sunday with no homer. Jim's been smoking hot. Friday night, Jill called me while I was camping to notify me it didn't happen while she and the Gate 5 Gang were there. On Saturday, Pure Heart the Wife texted me at the campsite to say Jim struck out in his last at bat. It was on.

We all got to the ballpark early yesterday and got a great tailgating spot. We ate a lot and enjoyed the cool, sunny weather. It was really the perfect day to be at a ballgame. About 30 minutes before game time, I went in to make sure I got my Bobblehead (sadly my collection is packed in boxes somewhere so Jim is on his own here in my office right now.)

All 9 of us were pretty stoked. Thome was still on 499 and we really just had a feeling. My Sister-in-Laws both said they thought Thome would win the game with a homer. I felt like he'd hit a foul ball (that I would catch) and the the bomb.

The game didn't start off so well. We were down 7-1. Jim was like 0-4. I told my brother, "If he does get up again and get the 500th, that will at least make up for it." About that's when the magic happened. The Angels put in some poor reliever named Bootcheck (really) and we hammered him. Before long, a Danny Richar homerun put the icing on the cake. It was 7-7. And even better--the Sox rallies moved through the lineup enough that Big Jim would get one more at bat--in the 9th.

As the 8th inning ended, I felt like I needed to get my Bobblehead out of the box to have it out for Jim. I'm very baseball-superstitious. (In fact, I am pretty sure the Sox came back because our party all rearranged in our seat for better feng shui, a tactic I learned from The Gate 5 Gang. Thanks, peeps.) Anyway, I had this feeling that bobbling Jim during his at bat was maybe what it would take. But, I also thought maybe it was too dorky. I resisted the urge.

During the break between innings, Pure Heart began to unpackage her Bobblehead. Hmmm, I thought. Maybe there's something to this. She feels it, too! So, we got out our Bobbleheads. As Jim came to bat with no outs and a man on, we held our Jims high and bobbled their little heads.

The count went to 3 balls. My dad and I thought they'd walk him. My brother said, "Nope. He's got to give him a cookie." And then, Jim hit a foul ball. I didn't catch it but my bro said, "There's the foul ball you predicted."

Sure enough, the next pitch came in and Jim CRUSHED it. There was really no doubt. Everything after that is a blur of yelling, hugging and crying. Jim's 500th won the game. (It's the first time that a member of the 500 club hit his 500th as a walk-off.) I remember yelling, "It actually happened! Is this real? I can't believe this is real." I was shocked and in utter jubilation.

Thome's 500th homerun in the bottom of the ninth to win the game on Jim Thome Bobblehead Day? Please. That can't happen.

As Jim pumped his fists, got carried around by Jermaine and Jenks, and the Jumbotron played a montage tribute, my dad and I both teared up. After the game ended, none of us really wanted to leave. We hung around for a long time (In fact, we eventually got yelled at by a cranky security guy). The energy, the excitement and the fact that this happened with the family all together was just too perfect.

It was the best Father's Day in September Ever.


"I'm Todd. I'll Be The Class Numbskull."

Pure Heart and I started a new Bible Study on Sunday afternoon. It's a Crown Financial class offered at our church; it teaches what the Bible says about money and gets into practical stuff like budgets, investments and debt-reduction.

The class is on Sundays from 4 to 6. Yah, that's football time, but that doesn't really bother me. I'm actually not used to watching football on Sundays because I've had Sunday youth group commitments for the last 9 years. In fact, usually I would be busy from about 2 to 9 on Sundays. I'm used to just checking scores and getting recaps. But still, this first class was smack in the middle of the Bears game. D'oh.

At about 4:45 we were at a good pausing point, and the leader asked if people needed "a bathroom break, water break, or..." and I injected, "Check the Bears Score Break..." However, I seemed to be the only one interested in that. In fact, we all decided we weren't ready for a break yet. We carried on.

At 5:20, the group was now ready for a break. We were given 5 minutes. Class would resume at 5:25. I turned to Pure Heart: "I'm running outside to check the score."

I dashed out the church to the car. I turned on the radio just as LT threw a TD pass. Chargers up 7-3. Ugh. I ran back to the church and...

The doors were locked. I checked the next set down. Locked. Apparently, after the classes get started at 4, they figure everyone is in for the afternoon and lock up the joint. I knocked a bit on the windows hoping a classmate returning from the bathroom might hear. Nope. I called Pure Heart. Of course, her phone was off because she is a considerate classmate. I texted her saying, "LOCKED OUT!" I called two more times just to be sure.

At this point, the break had been over for 5 minutes. I saw no one in the church and so I ran down to two more sets of doors. All locked. I got in the car and drove around the church checking doors. Locked. Locked. Locked. Well, at least we are safe in there, I thought.

At this point it's 5:35. I've checked every door of the church (which is a lot because the church is the size of Disneyland.) I went back to the main doors. Still locked.

I peered through windows hoping a custodian or security would be strolling by. No luck. And so I waited.

At about 5:45 (the class ends at 6), Pure Heart came looking for me. She had been concerned because it wasn't like me to just not return. I was so happy to see her approaching those doors. I thought maybe I was lost forever. (And was actually expecting a St. Bernard with a little barrel of rum.)

Although my wife had no rum, I followed her back to class sheepishly. Once there, I apologized to the class and assured them that no one was going to sneak in and get us during class.

Actually, those long minutes locked outside were kinda interesting. I think God was teaching me a little bit about humility, my attitude--and my priorities. Apparently, maybe I shouldn't be quite so concerned about the Bears during a Bible study.

Or I should bring headphones and a radio with me...


Back In the Cubicle

When I first started working at my current magazine, I worked in a cubicle that we use for student interns. The guy formerly in my job didn't leave the company--he just switched jobs--so, until they could find a new place for him, he squatted in what is now my creaky, leaky office.

I am back in that cube as I write this. I came back here to remember my roots--to never get so big and mighty that I forget where I came from. Actually, I'm here because my computer is not working. Whenever my PC goes out on me, I come work at the intern's terminal if it's free. (NOTE: This also means that I'm working on a toaster and do not have IM. So if you are bugging Emily about where I am at on IM, you can leave her alone. Now you know.)

Before the wedding, my hard drive had this bad habit of freezing or going to a blue screen that said "Beginning Physical Memory Dump." I am no technician, but that doesn't sound good at all. But while I was away from work for 3 weeks, the good people in Computer Services fixed my dumping problem.

Until Tuesday. It dumped on me again. And so I alerted Computer Services. They responded that instead of trying any more fixes, they would be giving me a newer harddrive. Yay!

And it couldn't have been soon enough. This morning, I was 5 minutes into work when it did it's physical memory dump and then...went black. The screen said, "Unable to find hard drive." I am no technician, but that doesn't sound good at all.

So, I am in the cube and the good people in Computer Services are preparing my New Super Computer. Hopefully this one won't hate me. Or be able to smell my fear.

UPDATE: I have my new Super Computer and I'm out of the cubicle. Life is good. If my fantasy team will score ANY points this week!


Those Who Seek

I know I pledged not to talk about Fantasy Football this week for Lil Sis's birthday, but man... Drew Brees actually COST me points last night. You know, with Brees being in the negative, I could have started a guy not playing this week and gotten more points.

Next week, I start Jim McMahon.

So, I am depressed. I guess I will go watch that "Ticking Noise" puppet show. Also what makes me giggle is to look at the Google Analytics page that tracks my blog traffic to see what people search for that brings them here. Here are my top five favorite searches that brought peopel to PTOIT:

5. "blogs about tricoci university" Someone was very specific here and found exactly what they were looking for. I wonder if it was the little girl who weaved fiber into my head or the one who cut my hair for 2 hours.

4. "sweet valley soda" Who wouldn't be searching this. It is Great Tasting!

3. "neal cotts" I bet this is Neal Cotts himself. I mean, who else would be Googling him? Except for my sister, but she knows where to find my blog ...

2. "i love baseball excitement" This one makes me giggle. Not even sure why. But I too love baseball excitement.

1. "nipple looks odd" I feel bad giggling because this person possibly has a serious medical condition and I doubt my blog could help.

"My Name is Todd. I like to do Drawrings"

I found something in the pocket of a pair of shorts the other day. I thought I'd share it. (Don't worry, it's not lint or a used Kleenex.)

It's a page of stellar drawings I did on a placemat at Steak N' Shake:

I drew these doodles while out to eat with Pure Heart and her Grandma a few weekends ago. I had my pen out because I am back on Weight Watchers (I once lost 60 pounds on it a few years ago--and have now gained 25 back). I needed the pen to scribble down how many points I used. (A side note: It turns out that this Devil Sandwich from Hades was 22 points! To put it into perspective: I have a daily allowance of 31. 22 out of 31? Dang you, Steak 'N Shake!)

But at the time, I knew not of the evil of this Cursed Chicken Melt. So I giddily doodled while the wife and her grandma chatted. Turns out this small sheet of drawings has actually become a bit scandelous. Granny has said since that I'm a bit childish because of my doodles.

Well, let me tell you this: there's nothing childish about that evil robot. Thats a very adultish drawing. Let any 6-year-old try to top THAT!

Sox Surprise!

At lunch on Tuesday I went over to our East Estate, the unrented, unsold condo from my bachelor days. I needed to vacuum and grab a few things. While there, I decided to take home my nice wooden end table that used to belong to my grandparents.

The table is hard to describe but it's pretty tall and about 3-feet wide with one drawer. There are markings on it that make us believe that it may be an old Communion table from a church (which makes sense because many of my ancestors were clergymen.)

I took the drawer out to carry the table downstairs. When I got outside, I turned the table and something fell out of the drawer slot. I looked down and saw it was some booklet. All I could notice was an ad on the back so I assumed it was a mailer of some sort. I bent down and picked it up and was very surprised by it: It's a 1970 Official White Sox Program and Scorecard.

Apparently, I've never taken that drawer out before.

It's pretty bent up from being jammed back behind the drawer for who knows how many years and it's discolored, but it's in decent condition. There's a feature on the young up-and-comer Bill Melton in his second year. An ad advertises a White Sox jacket for $8.45 (plus $.25 for shipping.) The team slogan is apparently "Angry Young Men." The program sold for 25 cents and the highest ticket price was $3.50. The bleachers were only $1.

Since yesterday, I've gotten to read about the Sox's "Mainstay on the Mound" Joel Horlen, the "husky little outfielder" Walter Williams, "star lefthander" Tommy John, and "Baseball's Premier Shortstop" Luis Aparicio. It's a neat time-capsule.

I can't wait to give it back to my dad, who I am assuming it belongs to.