Kenny ://

The kids are alright

Thought I'd get around to this eventually. I've got proof that my niece and nephew are the cutest little termites in the world.  You don't believe me? 

Olivia and Hudson (dangit, something won't let me put one of these in rightside up):

Made it out the other side

Yesterday was Christmas, duh. I got to spend a lot of time with the niece and nephew, which was nice. I think it's the first year that the littler of the two really gets this gift getting (and giving) thing. I don't know if I was like this or not but they're the funniest little termites this time of year.

Throughout the past few days, there was very little time spent enjoying what was already opened, only the "what can I open now" thing going on. I know all kids are like that but I don't remember doing it. Of course, forest for the trees, right?

I'm still trying to decide if it was nice if there were 3 generations of my immediate family under one roof, too, so I could ask, "Dad, I was never like that, was I?" Pops would smile wryly and say, "Nope, never." Of course, I can't articulate the sarcasm here so, as of December 26, 2k7, I'm apologizing to any adult I put through any tantrums at having opened the very last gift of whatever year they were around. Honestly, I really loved what you gave me and spent months playing with/wearing/drawing on/breaking it.  I really did.

Hang on a second, I was the youngest of 3. I was just happy to either a) be given any attention or b) be allowed to sit quietly in my little tent reading my latest book (mostly pictures).  I was never like that. I've decided I was a low-flying angel after all. See? I made it out the other side of this self-questioning just like I made it out the other side of Christmas.  Again.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I just know there's more wrapping paper around here somewhere to tear into before my 2nd nap of the day.

pics of the kids later

Surviving the holidays just got easier

During a 3 hour suffer fest yesterday on the bike, I tried to tell Zack about how odd it is to be around my dad's family. I love being around my dad, would do it every day for as many hours of the day as I could if his family weren't around. Pops married this wife on the sly and I didn't even know about it until a few months afterwards when, in casual conversation, he says, "Mary Alice and I jess went to the beer joint." "Who's Mary Alice? A new girlfriend?" "Er, no. She's my wife."

SO, that's just kind of how things go with that side of the family. I guess the independent streak I have comes from way back when - I grew up in an emotionally distant but supportive family.  I talk to the 'rents once or twice a month and I think we're all ok with that, though as they get older they seem more disappointed when I am saying goodbye, either on the phone or in person. Hey, I didn't set the precedent back then, I'm just following what I know to do with them, thass awl I'm sayin'. 

Anyway, I spent part of the day at my dad's house today doing that side of the family's Christmas shindig. I say "that side" because I think my dad's wife invites us to spend time with her hoard begrudgingly or out of respect for my dad.  We're all relatively successful whereas her kids are not as accomplished as they probably had the potential to be. One is presumably a pedophile. I mean, there's never been anything to prove that, but he's absolutely rat-sh*t crazy over the Wizard of Oz and makes his 20-year-old-daughter sit in his lap still. When he's sitting indian-style on the floor. That is not appropriate.

Another seems normal, but I think that's only because he's deaf and can't speak. If he could hear, all I can think his first words would be are "This is my family?? Are you fecking kidding me?????"

The third has probably spent more time in jail than out of it. So much so that I don't want him to know where I live. But here's a short recap of my day with pops, whom I adore and am happy to have heard him remark last year when looking at that motley crew "I can't believe this is my family now. What happened to me?" Not out of remorse, but out of honest surprise, like someone who's awoken from a coma after 20 years.

It was less scarring than I expected. I'm not sure what was going on, but it was much more sedate this year than most. One of my dad's wife's kids wasn't wearing a Green Bay Packers teeshirt under a leather vest. Though, he was wearing a leather vest and his trademark holster of hot sauce. Yes, you read that right. He doesn't leave home without it, unless it's with the poe-leece to go to the pokey. Again.

Even better? Milo got a present this year - a pig's ear which on the surface sounds disgusting but he's happy as a lark with it so I think it was successful. Plus, I got to call my brother "Four and three-eighths" because he lost part of his thumb two weeks ago. I think it's funny, anyway. Oh, and the holster-of-hot-sauce-guy upon overhearing my brother tell me he's got a prescription for percocet because he's in quite a bit of pain still, took a non-descript pill from the pocket of his vest and gave it to my brother. "Here, main, jest take it, thass whut ah doo." It's a loritab. He just happens to have them in his pocket. Floating freely.  Oh my, I could tell so many stories about him, like him admitting to me that he was happy to be able to give me a not-for-resale copy of a jerry seinfeld comedy cd. "Hell, I found a whole box of 'em in a dumpster a couple weeks ago! You want another un?" I wish I were making that up. Kind of.

Merry Christmas, maux fauxes.

This time of year. You know?

I don't know what it is about this time of year but it just stresses me out. I know I'm not the only person in the world who loathes the holiday season starting in, oh, September, but for some reason, I not only am mildly annoyed by the Christmas weeks, but I really get kind of road-ragey.

I think it comes down to this: I read an article by someone this morning who said it best, "A holiday season like Christmas should primarily leave us rested and revived, and should fill us with positive energy and happiness." The problem is that it doesn't do that at all. In fact, it's quite the opposite. There are so many expectations that I put on myself, so many obligations, and if anything happens to throw any of those well-crafted plans off kilter, I get even more and more stressed out.

This year is no different but at least I don't have to go to twice as many places and hang out with twice as many people as I have in the past few years. That driving, that being "on," that idle chit chat and talking about what I have planned for the next few years . . . it's a pain in my can, frankly. 

I love my family, don't get me wrong, but I don't love forced get togethers. I prefer to see them frequently. And with less food involved. As I've written, I'm trying to get back down to fighting weight before the cycling and triathlon season starts proper and Christmas dinner has me dead in its sights. That isn't a problem for someone with moderately strong will power, of course. 

Wish I had that.

In other news - go here to support me in the triathlon and in the fight against childhood cancer. I'm raising money for St. Jude Children's Research Hospital by getting people to sponsor me for the triathlon I'm doing in April in Miami. Tell your friends, too. 

Nature vs. Nurture and inventions

I've had this conversation with a small, very distinguished set of friends over the past few days. Nurture vs. Nature. I was, read was again. a staunch believer in nurture. In other words, I am who I am because of the fact that the people who raised me and the place in which I was raised played a significant part in who I am today.

To give you an idea, I was raised catholic in a southern city by pseudo-liberals turned conservative in the 70's and 80's. Don't try to tell me I love the A-Team and the Dukes of Hazzard because I'm an aquarius, hippies.

I believe we're a result of our environment. Case in point, if I grew up in Seattle, would I really know what a moonpie was and have an almost tribal appreciation of them? No way. Ask a native Washingtonian "What's a moonpie?" and they'll probably answer, "cowshit on the moon?"

Nurture. I had a great, laid back dad, and I'm laid back. (dad's still around, I just don't talk to him). I don't think that's genetic because Mom is rat-shat crazy. Not laid back at all. Neither are my bro or sis. Not genetic.

Now the nature - how is it astrologers can pigeon-hole me into a box as an aquarius? There must be something in my nature about that but I don't believe there are only 12 kinds of people in the world.

In other news, I'm working on an invention that counter-acts that "It's on the tip of my tongue" feeling you get. Won't it be nice when you're thinking of something you can't quite remember or articulate ala "I know I know it, I just can't think of it . . ." or ". . . Its' on the tip of my tongue. . . " to just be there, not on the tip of your tongue but actually being spoken? Well, Tricia, my business partner, and I are working on that. Don't bogart it, haters.

In other news, don't you just fecking hate it when you buy a new bike and it rains for 2 weeks so you don't get to ride it? I didn't buy a new bike, but I hate that feeling.

Two down, one to go, and something else

The official count is two down and one to go. I'm talking about exams for the semester. This has been, without a doubt, the most trying semester I've ever had, undergrad or graduate, for various reasons not entirely related to school.  Tonight's exam was in the only class of the three I'm taking that came easily to me - MIS. It's kind of what I do for a career tho in a limited fashion - I'm more a mix of marketing and MIS but, whatever, you get the point. Between my last class and this exam I opened my notes/book exactly none times.  I am confident of an A in that class (I say that now, of course, but grades have yet to be posted). Tomorrow is the assiest exam - ECON - with a blowhard of a teacher.

I feel like a baby for complaining, though. During my exam tonight, I got a txt msg from my sister. She was sending me a message from the emergency room - seems my big brother got his hand caught in some big machine of some sort or another and had to have his left thumb, from the tip to the first knuckle (first from the tip, I think) amputated. 

He's a quick thinker under duress, I think, because of three options, he chose amputation.  The options?

1. Go to somewhere in Kentucky to a specialist that could reconstruct the thumb using fatty tissue from a toe or something
2. Have a hand specialist come in and reconstruct the thumb as best he could with what's available then come back in a few months to see if it worked
3. Amputate

Tommy? He said amputate. Ballsy. I'm not sure I think it's the best option but he didn't want to travel any more than he had to which put Kentucky out of the options and I guess he didn't want to be on crutches and have a weird looking toe, too. 

This is the guy who taught me to play sports growing up. I'm going to start calling him lefty.

You have to breathe

A dear friend said that to me tonight or, more exactly, "remember to breathe." It's such a simple statement but it carries more weight these days with me than "I love you," or "Hey, would you like to do something with me sometime?" If you know me you understand that I have a lot going on. I overload myself sometimes because the distraction replaces real life and I know most people are no different. But I'm not most people. I'm me and that's what I'm seeing right now, my little fishbowl. Today was kind of crummy and I have a feeling tomorrow will be, too, but there are no coincidences for me right now. I've either chosen where I am or I've done something to put myself where I am.

I read that quote above and took a few deep breaths. What a strange sense of relief it provides. Breathing for breath's sake. Try it - remember to breathe. Close your eyes and breathe three deep breaths and as you do, think about something like a family picnic when you were a kid, or little league if you played that, or finding hermit crabs and being weirded out by their alien nature when you were a tyke, or your first pet/kiss/significant other. It always brings a smile to my face. It's the feeling of a memory when there's no exact memory to go with it that breathing like that gives me.

Fortunately, I took off and spent some time with my favorite people. They're doing great and I'm offering a few pics for you to see how they've grown, if you've known me for a few years you've probably heard me talk about them a lot. Olivia and Hudson fugging rule and decided that, after mom and dad went to bed, they were going to sneak into my room and we now have a pact: whenever I'm there they'll wait till mom and dad go to bed and sneak into my room ("we're good sneakers, uncle Kenny") and I'll read them another chapter in a Junie B. Jones or somethingorother book. Looks like I've got at least another 11 visits to hang out with my favorite little beans. Oh, and Gretel the Weimeraner is pretty badass, too. She was my first neice, after all.

A good Sunday

The day started off pleasantly enough - no different than any other day. Milo panting in my face telling me he has to go out. Like NOW, and about 3 more hours of quality sleep to be had. I had plans this morning, though. I met some of the family at the famous Arcade restaurant downtown for breakfast. Well, maybe it's just famous around Memphis but damn is that good eatin'.

Here are a few pics of the nephew and niece. Aren't they adorable. In photos. Because, let me tell you, an hour with these two kind of makes me happy they live 80 miles away. Not really, but almost. They're cute and know it and use it. Sorry the shots are sideways (if they appear that way to you), I'm not sure if it's the macbook or if it's the typepad because they are oriented correctly on the computer, just not the interweb on this computer.

I've also learned recently that as Milo gets older, he's more and more ticklish. And I use that to my advantage when I want to get the fetch toy out of his mouth to throw again. It's hard to clutch onto someting when your neck is twisting around to stretch out and shake that hind leg like it's rabbit chasing time.

Bringing it, old school style

Today is the first Saturday I've had in 2.5 months where I didn't wake up and immediately either start stressing out over school or start studying for school. Today, I woke up and did a quick 2 hours on the bike, picked up some soy milk, made a pot of coffee, took the day slow, you know? It's such a valuable thing - free time. I have taken it for granted for far too long. Today, though, no way in h-e-double hockey sticks.

Alicia called me while teaching a class to ask me for a lunch date, which was of course one of the sweetest things anyone could do. Imagine, business people, excusing yourself from an important meeting to call your sweety and ask for a date in 20 mins. What a great start to the afternoon. We picked up some juices and headed to Cheapskates, a skateboard shop here in Memphis that I worked at long ago, back in the day.

I was actually a pretty good skater - won contests, money, got free stuff ("flow" if you're in the know) from companies and got sent to one or two demos by them. It was nice. "Yeah, I'm sponsored. You want some stickers?"

Alicia, my lovely wife, bought me a post-semester present. We walked into Cheapskates, Ron said, "Hello Kenny Allen, haven't seen you in here in 11 years, right after I got stabbed" which was true and the memories flowed. I remember, for example, the time Snuggles, Ron's 11-foot burmese python got a hold of me. Cheapskates was full of reptiles and none of them were caged animals. Periodically, for example, someone would be filtering through one of the clothes racks and a ball python would show up completely unexpectedly and cause a mom to shat herself.

Snuggles was really hungry and, stupid me, I walked right past him. He was huge and not the fastest thing in the shop. That day, though, he was greased lightning slipping through goose crap, that's how fast he moved on me. Large brown splotchy lightning bolt coming out from under a set of shelves. He got a hold of me just above the ankle and started wrapping - 11 feet of muscle and hunger. It scared me. Bad. I pulled my left leg out of the coils and stepped on him right behind the head and when he opened up I leapt like a world class gymnast, cursing the whole time. Thank God he hadn't gotten a real hold on me in his mouth - it would have been a lot harder to get free if he had. I did move quickly enough so that he got some skin and some sock and part of a Vans shoe, but not a full fledged grip on my leg.

If you've never witnessed a snake attack in person, it's actually kind of silly. A lot of flopping around goes on after the initial strike. Plus, it was a Saturday and we were chock full to the gills of customers, most of them pre-teens with their moms.

After that Cheapskates was a ghost town for at least 2 weeks. Sorry for that lost business, Ron - heh heh. Thankfully, no emergency room visit was necessary.

Burmese Pythons aren't known as poisonous, they're constrictors, but they do inject a little venom to stun their prey so they don't get bitten while attacking. My leg swelled up a bit, but not so much as to keep me from staying at work that day. That's the way it was working at Cheapskates. You just expected a reptile to be somewhere underfoot.

Ah, the memories.

Anyhoo, I got a new skateboard. I can't tell you how psyched I am. This one is a plain deck that I plan on getting some balance back with. The next one, though, I've already picked out and it's not because it's good wood or a reputable company (I don't even know who makes it) but it says "I [square] Kenny." Get it? Instead of "I [heart] Kenny?" It's got a red square instead of a red heart. Funny.

Look out emergency rooms of the south, I'm probably headed your way in the next few weeks.

Photo post

Thought I'd put out a few photos while I'm at the computer.

I turned 35 this year and have decided that's the age at which things start falling apart, physically. Why do I think this? I had to get glasses this year to help me read for 8-10 hours a day (school and work) without getting migraines.

Now you don't see 'em:

Now you do:

And here's me and RedBeard (she's such a cutie) in front of the computer a few months ago goofing off while Alicia was probably doing something productive. She's got a pirate name, thank you Johnny Depp.