Adventures of Mitch

Estrogen Lab 3.0

2011-06-22T23:30:00.007-05:00

Since my last post my family has grown by 1. It's another beautiful and healthy little girl. That brings the female to male ration in my casa to 3:1, not that I am counting. Children are amazing and beautiful miracles. However, I know live in a sea of estrogen. While "Mitch and the Ladies" would be a great 80's cover band name, there are some realities to the situation for me:

I know the name of most of the "My Little Ponies."
I attend more than one tea party per week......a number that will likely increase.
I know more about "Pinkalicious" and "Purplelicious" than the Minnesota Vikings starting quarterback.
My days of tearing the limbs and heads off Barbie dolls is likely over.....banning a REALLY bad day at work. However, if needed, I will have access to plenty of plastic doll mass killing opportunities.
I am responsible for the end of the Hoffman family name.
Knowing a little girl is a daddy's girl is pretty awesome.

Levels of Domestication

2011-05-18T23:27:00.005-05:00

I've resisted, and continue to resist, growing up. The effort is relatively futile as I am married, have a child, house, job, etc. Don't get me wrong, none of the aforementioned are bad things, but sometimes I find myself doing or thinking about something I never really thought would be on my radar. As I mowed the lawn today, an absolutely gorgeous day, I found myself reflecting on my level of domestic integration.

I pulled out the John Deere push mower and did my version of a 'spring tune up.' I'm not gifted mechanically with anything that runs on fuel. I do pretty well with general mechanical skill, but for whatever reason the gas engine skill was clearly a skip generation trait in my gene pool. Short story long, tuning up the mower for me generally involves wiping it clean to bring back the shimmery green lustre of the that green paint job on the deck and calling my father-in-law if anything else looks awry or doesn't work.....so, I dont' really do anything to the mower.

As a well trained and domesticated beast, I find myself obsessing and debating about all that goes into proper lawn care. My lawn is far from the fairways at Augusta, or for that matter the grass at the local school, but I still have this gravitational pull for unobtainable perfection. I will battle the weeds (with below average success), fertilize, and obsess over the care of each of those millions of blades of sweet, green, relatively useless turf. This paternal pride for the lawn finds me today debating how to mow the yard. Efficiency says the horizontal pattern is best, and definitely easiest. However, like those who dress their small dogs in clothes, I want more. Feeling in the zone, I went for the diagonal cut. A majestic diagonal bisection of the property that I can stand on the deck with a cold beer and admire those clean lines left by the precision 5 inch tires of the mower.

After the job was done there was little satisfaction as I dream of the yard I can mow cool patterns into like the big league ball parks. However, I did my best, and the Hoffman turf is maintained for now, and I stand proud. Not unlike the individual who enters their '96 Grand Am in a classic car show......it's not that people don't understand, it's just that they don't care.

Losing Stuff

2011-05-10T23:19:00.004-05:00

Everyone has lost something and knows it's in their house, but can't find it anywhere. Well, I have that going on. I have a few misc. photo accessories that I can't find, but I know are in my house and hiding together. When this happens we have this ingenious idea that we can just start in one room and literally scan and ransack every inch, therefore, making it impossible for the missing item to elude us. It never works, we have all done it looking for a set of keys. Maybe it's my obsessive compulsive tendencies, but this stuff consumes me. I lack focus to move on......I want to start tearing stuff apart, it's like a dog obsessing over a tennis ball, but probably worse. I can't sleep, my attitude is terse, I'm on edge. Damn, I need a drink. I will find the missing items, I'm as dedicated a Frodo to deliver the ring, however, I'm not a hobbit and don't have a 3/4 naked creature lurking around behind me.........at least I don't think so.

It's a bird....it's a plane.....no, it's AJ Hawk on a mountain bike!

2011-05-09T13:27:00.004-05:00

It was beautiful weekend. After the sun exploded sometime during the past winter, it was nice to see a new glowing orb decided to appear and finally allow Minnesota's mountain bike trails to dry out. I snuck in a few rides last week, and getting on the bike felt giddy like climbing the rope in gym class. As a result many rides started with pent up energy explosion and ended with slow pedaling back to the car, but that's all good.

Several of our crew spent the past couple months cobbling together parts and pieces to get our buddy, Mike rolling down the trail this year. After finally gathering the pieces and parts it was time to get Mike out for his first mountain bike ride.. His only other experience involved "riding a mountain bike over something and almost losing his sack." Sounded painful enough, so I didn't ask any more details upon hearing the story. I was hoping this outing went a little smoother, and hopefully would be more enjoyable for his sack. The spectacle that unfolded thereafter was a visual feast for the eyes.

First, we have the "rig" or "unit" that Mike was about to saddle up on. Cue up "One piece at at Time" by Johnny Cash and sit back and enjoy. We took a mid nineties Schwinn Homegrown frame (one of the nice Yeti's from back in the day) and paired it with a Tora fork that I think one of the guys traded bodily fluid for at a party. We then decked it out with a smattering of parts we all had laying around and that we would never use. A pair of bolt on FSA wheels and tires Brian got for polishing shoes at the airport and an LX drivetrain from a sweet Novara hardtail that died in my garage sometime ago......still don't know where or how it ended up there. Novara is not my first choice in bikes. We had a hardtail with 8 speed cassette, 9 speed shifters, oldschool Flite ti saddle and yellow cable housing.

Mike met me at the parking lot at 10 a.m. with his shiny new steed loaded in the back of his pimping mini truck with "PACKERS" painted on the tailgate. He mentioned the training for his inaugural ride involved drinking tequila until 3 am the night before with someone we will just call Tyler, for the sake of anonymity. Mike looked pretty sharp, all things considered, from the night before. His custom riding kit for the day, as he promised me, was a pair of Jordan basketball shorts and a well ventilated AJ Hawk, Packers jersey. The ride was great, Mike did well and only mentioned the tequila coming up once during the ride after a decent climb. Maybe it was the leftover confidence from the night before, but he rode a lot of the technical stuff with pretty good success. I look forward to Mike joining us for many more rides in the future and think his humor and candid approach will be a breeding ground for his success in our group.

Reflections on Parenting: Year One

2010-02-19T21:26:00.000-06:00

I've now been a parent "successfully" (meaning I'm still alive) for a year. A significant accomplishment for me considering my wife frequently tells me I'm a twelve year old. After all, who knew a twelve year old could take care of a baby? All that considered, it's been pretty interesting. While I don't think I'm ready to write any books on the subject, I have made some significant observations over the past year I wanted to pass along to the world:

1) You can invent anything for a baby and people will overpay for it. The best part is you feel like it's a must have item in your sleep deprived-internet surfing-new parent daze, yet the kid will only use it for about 6 days then be too big for it. It's similar to that phenomenon your college buddy has where he absolutely HAS to buy 6 shots of tequila a 2am.

B) Why can't one of us figure out a way to make formula? Reality is that that crap costs about 4 cents to make and they are charging the cost of 1/2 of a vital organ for a can. Thank god beer doesn't cost that much, as I'm almost out of vital organs after one year.

IV) Puffs taste like nothing. Some crazy ass scientist found a way to make a solid form of air and then started selling it. It makes the kid stop crying, but seriously. (see point 1)

iii) Having a child totally redefines your idea of noise. I used to get really annoyed by the smallest creeking, whistling or buzzing sound. Now, I have been conditioned to the simultaneous harmony of battery operated toys, crying and the radio all at once while I take a "nap." I sometimes turn on the table saw and test the carbon monoxide detector just to create some noise to relax.

XI) Kids spill a lot when they eat. I have saved all the food little baby E has dropped on the floor and will be able to have lunch at work the entire next year. You actually only feed the child 1/10th of the food you prepare. Our vacuum, however, eats very well. If we only still had the dog, she would love this baby!

iii) As a male with normal sized fingers those damn buttons on baby clothes are ridiculously small. I would have better luck playing Playstation with my feet than getting some of these clothes on the baby. It makes you feel like the people who are so uncoordinated that they fail sobriety tests when they are sober.

7) It used to be that getting peed on meant your roomate in college mistook your bed for the toilet. It usually ended by kicking him (or her) in the balls (or ovaries) and then having a beer together to "talk it out." Now you get pissed on (presumably by your child) and you just hope it dries before you get to your office.

J) I sometimes think small children have magical powers and can move really fast when we are not looking at them. One minute they are playing quietly with blocks in the living room and then 1/2 second later they are bathing in the toilet and there is 200 yards of toilet paper on the floor.....WTF? How did that all happen so quickly? The kid can't even walk yet! I'm telling you, it's magical powers.

It's been a really fun and crazy year little baby girl.....Happy 1st Birthday, Ella!

Tight Pants?

2010-02-15T21:21:00.003-06:00

We all have to have a cause. Something we are passionate about, dedicated to and our little way of making the world better. This worry of Nate Holland's.....um......well, not exactly. You can read the story here. One would think as snowboarding gains momentum and credibility for it's amazing athletes and crazy tricks that the worries of others clothing (which could actually make you faster) would be resurfacing the snowboarder stereotype of slacker, pot-smoking misfits who have no place on the hill or in the Olympics (a stereotype I do not agree with). If the 'heritage' of the sport is so important, why doesn't Nate ride on the vintage board and see how he fairs against the rest of the world? Or possibly you should revisit the Picaboo Street downhill race that was won by 1/100th of a second? I think I would choose the gold medal over the pants of my choosing, dude. Maybe if you were good, you could get press by winning instead of super lame soundbites like this one.

Daycare Driving

2010-02-14T21:56:00.004-06:00

My wife and I carpool to work and while she takes the baby into the daycare, I chill in the car and listen to sports radio. I've noticed that the people dropping off their children seem to have a complete inability to drive or park a car. There are a couple of prototypical drivers I've seen.

First, is the SUV lady who seems to have no idea how to cram her super giant Tahoe into a parallel parking spot, regardless of how big it is, so she doesn't. She just pulls in forward and gets as close as she can then throws it into park. This usually results in the 80% of the car out in the middle of the narrow road and the driver is amazingly unaware of the 60 degree angle between her mammoth vehicle and the curb (which should be parallel for those slow on the uptake). After all, it is her world, and we are just lucky to be living in it. Out jumps the 5 foot 1 inch parent with her 4 month old. I hope that semi-truck has enough room for that giant baby, and how many phone books is that lady sitting on?

Next is the 7 point Prius Parker. This person has one of the smallest cars made, yet is totally unable to fit it into a spot twice it's size. Here's how it goes down: Prius pulls into the spot forward trying to avoid showing the world that they don't actually know how to parallel park a car. Then as they pull forward the brakes 'malfunction' and she hits the car in front of her. Next, she backs up and the accelerator 'sticks' and she hits the car behind her. After all of this, they do the forward and back about 6 times and still leave 1/3rd of the car out in the road. I don't want to give away the identity of the driver, but the gender rhymes with squirrel. If I knew how to take out the batteries, I would.

Last, is the Minivan Mastodon. This beast has the minivan that has hit 7-9 drivers and has all the wounds to show it, including the dangling and dragging ground effects on the front end (no doubt from pulling it in just a hair to fair on a snowbank last week). This sweet ride also came with some sick wood panelling that was probably an upgrade at the dealer, if it is in fact even stock. She doesn't care about the parking job, because she will eat anyone that says anything to her. She gets out and unloads about 7 kids, crams down a few more bites of donut and herds her team into the daycare. Truly a site for all to see.

In conclusion, if you live in a city learn how to parallel park your car or just tattoo moron on your head to let us all know to drive a block farther down to save on the insurance claim.

Go Away People

2010-02-14T20:59:00.003-06:00

Today the cashier at Target was the type that wants to become overly interested in your life based on your purchases. She comments on the greetings cards I purchased and comments on certain food items. All the while I am thinking I wished I wore a t-shirt that said "I HATE PEOPLE." I certainly appreciate good customer service, but this conversation quickly turned into her offering up information about her carpel tunnel. I wanted to comment on the sweet arm brace she was wearing, and how I thought she looked like an epic hypochondriac, but the sweetheart that I am held my tongue. Really, who am I to judge how difficult it must be to work the cash register at Targhetto? It has to be pretty intense stress having to scan items (some of which are heavy) and read numbers off of a computer screen. Next time someone wants to comment on my purchases I am going to go back into the store and buy 712 condoms, 1 frozen bratwurst, 6 pair of size 42 women's' thong underwear, a 5 gallon pail of Vaseline and a 98 degrees CD. My instincts tell me that the cashier won't say too much.

Inspired by Idiots

2010-01-29T21:34:00.002-06:00

On my way home from work today I was checking out at the local West Saint Paul convenience store as I purchased some Red Bull to properly fuel my body to clean the house to my wife's specifications. In front of me at the check out was a woman buying a 1 liter Mountain Dew, cigarettes and some potato chips. Standard fare in the hood, but then she offers the dialogue to the clerk of "this is what I pay my babysitter with, it's all she wants."

As I manually lifted my jaw, and tried to disguise the fact that I just shit myself in amazement, I was instantly inspired to blog about the numerous run ins I have had in the last week with those individuals who should be manually weeded out of society with some form of human Roundup. For those interested in applying to watch my daughter, here are a few things I'm looking for:

1) Someone who drinks Mountain Dew by the liter. It's always good to be hydrated, jacked up and it goes good with Meth.
2) A smoker. Likely if your request cigarettes for pay, your also not old enough to buy them yourself......worry not, babysitter, I got you covered.
3) Potato chips. Nobody can eat just one, and you've eaten 7 million so I'm sure your out diligently working them all off exercising with my child while exposing them to second hand smoke and washing down your victory with toxic green sugar water.

1, 2, 3, your hired.

I was also blessed to spend 9 scenic hours in the Salt Lake City airport this past Sunday. I was acutely aware of the idiots populating the airport as my flight delay caused me to miss the Vikings game, so I was not that happy. I was ready to cut off heads and shit down windpipes.......if you feel my vibe. Here are a few of the friends I did not make at the airport:

1) Fat guy wearing an Oreo sweatshirt and eating a Cinnabon like it was chapstick. Hmmmmm.....wonder if he is a sponsored athlete? How exactly do you get an Oreo sweatshirt?

2) The weird lady walking bout the terminal wearing the neck pillow and talking on the phone. So the neck pillow is a stupid item anyway. If you don't have anything more important to pack on your trip than a neck pillow then it's looking bleak for you. If you do have it, are you wearing it while walking because your so weak you can't hold up your own head? I'm not sure how heavy your head could be because the brain inside is not weighing in too heavy.

3) Short shorts guy. This guy (wearing a tight Ohio State t-shirt) was parading about the airport in running shorts (even though I'm pretty sure he's never run with the 6' 4" beer gut and giant head he'd surely fall over running). He finished the 'perfect outfit' with black calf-high socks and penny loafers. As he attempted to herd his 6 kids (who have no chance of being normal) he carried around a small duffel bag for his carry on that was probably from the set of that 70s show. Wearing the wacko outfit is one thing, but when your flying from Salt Lake (45 degrees) to Michigan (20 degrees) I dare say your under dressed.

4) Loud talker guy. We all now these people, but when your trying to sleep in an airport chair while this guys shouts into his phone, you seriously are doing the math on which orifice the phone would best fit in and how quickly you could get it in there without getting your fingernails dirty.

We don't need to talk about how the Vikings game ended.........I'm still dealing with that.

Mitch vs. The Baby Store

2009-10-08T21:18:00.003-05:00

It's been busy times for me and the blogging has suffered from front office budget cuts and children being born. However, sometimes your just overwhelmed with such epic stupidity that you are inspired to write. I guess that today was one of those days.

As I am running an errands tonight, I was assigned by the wife to stop by Babies R Us out in the suburbs. I don't do a lot of this shopping for the baby as my wife is more into shopping in the sea of pink baby clothes, or shopping at all for that matter. As I walk into the store the overwhelming smell of plastic and baby oil might make you wonder if your in a strip club but you quickly realize it's not as the whimsical tune of crying toddlers and lullabies right the ship. All was going smoothly for me on the routine diaper run until I reached the checkout.

The woman who was helping me started by asking me in baby talk, "awww, how old is the baby?"
I cheerfully responded, 7 months," but wanted to just say the diapers were for me when I drink too much and wet the bed.

Her response: "She's barely a baby anymore, she'll have a birthday soon."

Is it cute that I have a 7 month old or cute that I am buying a 768 pack of diapers, for about a weeks pay, that will end up living on for 7 thousand years in a landfill? She is actually certainly still a baby you weird lady.....my basic analysis of this is based on the following criteria: She can't walk, she can't talk, she eats blended up food and drinks from a bottle and she soils herself multiple times a day. As for the birthday comment......her birthday is 5 months away, not exactly time to send out invitations but I appreciate the enthusiasm, I guess.

As I fumble for the credit card to expedite this cumbersomely awkward and forced social situation she asks me, "Do you have a coat for her, it's going to be cold this weekend?"

I'm not sure what I even said to this as I was just thinking to myself...filter, filter, filter. What was screaming through my head was to say A) stop talking to me like I am a baby.....the baby isn't even with me 2) No, we don't have a coat for her, we don't even dress her, she sits naked in the house and sleeps outside on a leash........I certainly don't claim to be the expert rookie parent but I do have enough common sense to put a coat on a miniature human should it be cold out.

As I waited impatiently for the credit card to process she offered, unprompted, to me that "she was thinking about taking her child to the punkin patch this weekend." What the hell is a punkin? Do I look like I care? Why are you talking to me? I wanted to say, "make sure you wear a coat," but I used self control and took my super mega pack of diapers and got the hell out of there.

A Big Day at the News Desk

2009-07-13T16:59:00.009-05:00

It has been a long time since I have blogged two days in a row, but today there was so much irrelevant breaking news that I just had to dump some of the garbage out of my already small, but full, brain into the vomit receptacle that often is my blog. As is the norm, I have done my best to excessively paraphrase and simplify all of these news stories to better serve the genera needs of the Adventures of Mitch Nation.

Cats Do Control Humans (click for link to story)
If the cat is controlling me, then why does it tell me to throw shoes at it or fling it by the tail into a passing lane of the interstate? I am not a cat person. God didn't want me to be a cat person so he makes my eyes itch when I am around them. This scholarly study further extrapolates that dog people are obviously wiser than cat people as dog people can't be controlled by animals. My less than scientific proof would be that there are a lot people who are pretty normal with 2-3 dogs. However, the people that own 3-700 cats always seem to live in a creepy old house, are single women and go to the grocery store in a prom gown and tiara because they don't get out of the house much and have never been on date. They may also be guys who walk their cats in harnesses to pick up chicks at the local park. There may be a few assumptions here, but my study is working it's way towards being airtight once I run the numbers a few more times.

Holy Shit! Cussing is Good for You!!! (click for link to story)
This is actually news worthy because if reading my blog causes you pain, you can cuss out loud while you read it. I think what's important in this article is that I would like to define pain as anything you dislike physically or emotionally. If we can include this definition of pain in the study we can basically cuss freely about anything (in case you don't already). I can't even imagine the study playing out with college students dipping their hand in ice cold water while repeating a cuss word of their choosing. If they were drinking and passed out they would have pissed their pants as well which would really give them a reason to cuss. This study was done in England so were they really sober when they did this and then accidentally got the study into the NeuroReport Journal? I really like the control in the study where they put their hand in the ice water and repeated a word they use to describe a table. Huh? Pretty much seals the deal on the fact they were drinking when they came up with this study. I guess in the end I would be happy to cuss with my hand in ice water instead of being a part of the totally irrelevant picture attached to the article of a guy getting pepper spray in his eyes. Who's the moron that chose pepper spray over ice water? I'd like to see the second part where you get pepper spray in the eyes and then respond by saying a word you use to describe a table.

I will preface this third bombshell story by saying that I don't frequent OMG.yahoo.com. If I did all of my BFFs would be saying WTF? I was sent here from my yahoo homepage which while I thought was password protected, has clearly been hacked by a 14 year old with a pink cel phone covered in rhinestones, carrying a lame designer purse and who probably owns a dog I could dropkick as far as I can hit a pitching wedge. So, I didn't go to this story because I care about Jessica Simpson, or for that matter Tony Romo, (I do relish his mediocrity and failures on the football field. For those Cowboy fans that are now enraged, please Google: Seattle Seahawks wildcard game 2007) but because someone who is 29 is having a Ken and Barbie birthday party. Really? Didn't we just bury the musician/freak that acted like a small child when he was actually a grown adult? Hopefully Jessica doesn't cut off her nose, or anything else, and try to change here skin color. While the Ken and Barbie party was ruined, and I am sobbing Jessica Simpson made it all better with her worldly quote in the article that makes me want to be in a bubble bath, with a puppy, frolicking in a sunny green field of flowers. Puke.

"Everyone needs to know that hope floats...grab the strings and pull it back to you... Falling asleep with my mom and the dogs. Please, Lord, give all of my beautiful fans, friends, enemies, and family rest. Bring all of us peace."

We now at least know that she isn't paying anyone to write her press releases. You can read the article below.........and don't forget to bookmark OMG.yahoo.com in the process. I have to go now, because Entertainment Tonight is on and there are probably more developments in this massively totally, like, crazy story. I just hope I can sleep tonight.
http://omg.yahoo.com/news/jessica-simpson-dumped-by-tony-romo/25140?nc

If this article hasn't put you to sleep you can always tune into the live TV coverage of the confirmation process of Justice Sotomayor which is about as exciting as the confirmation process of your 13 year old, third cousin.

Tough Economic Times

2009-07-12T08:29:00.002-05:00

We all have been overloaded with talk of the difficult economy, lack of employment and other dark clouds of despair looming over us as if someday soon the entire world is going to burst into flames and end the human race.

As I was driving home from work the other day we were zig zagging our way through some marginal neighborhoods near out house. (I don't want to name any names for the population I discuss but it rhymes with bright flash) This is an interesting part of town comprised of the same people you see at the Wal-Mart slapping their kids and writing a check for a case of mountain dew and some Doritos. As we drove by a corner there was a kid on the corner with a sign that said "Cold Drinks 50 Cents." This used to be commonplace, in a world where we used to not be so worried about kidnapping and Michael Jackson's, that we all were little entrepreneurs sitting on the corner with our friends selling lemonade so we could make a little coin without violating child labor laws. This particular corner stand was a little different because my wife and I noticed that the kid sitting next to the cooler in a straggly lawn chair was about 17 years old. REALLY? This kid isnt' going to get the sympathy stop because he is a cute little kid, but maybe you could score a cigarrette to go with your beverage. What kid this age sells "cold drinks" for fifty cents in the front yard. I thought about stopping because I thought he might have stolen all of his dad's beer out the fridge and was selling it in the yard for the passers by during rush hour. After all, fifty cents a beer is a darn good deal. I can't imagine that dad will be too happy when he finds out his son is selling his beer in the yard, but who knows, if it puts food on the table in these tough economic times I guess it has served it's purpose. I also like how we no longer make lemonade to sell to folks so they get the homemade lemonade effect, this guy settles for tossing a few leftover beverages in the cooler, a little ice and head out the the yard. Cutting corners; the real American way. I will note that there was not a line at the stand to purchase his goods, nor did I become a customer.

For the Love of Meat

2009-05-16T08:14:00.008-05:00

The blog returns! The staff at 'Adventures of Mitch' apologize for our blogging sabbatical. It seems the rearing of a child has interrupted the blog nation. I hope that my fan base (roughly estimated between 2 and 6 people) have not all passed away or found other things to do with their wasted heartbeats.

For those that know me it's well known that I embrace, celebrate and consume all things about meat. The vegetarian lifestyle is certainly not my 'modus operandi.' As a consummation of my love for the flesh of, farm raised and potentially inhumanely slaughtered, animals I was given a meat smoker for my birthday this year.

It's likely that with a new baby the last thing I needed was a way to make meals that takes 5-10 hours to complete. However, I find myself in a carnivorous version of heaven as I gaze over the freshly mowed yard sipping a cold beer as the luscious hickory smoke wafts peacefully among my senses. I restrain myself from taking off my shirt so the smoke can seep into my skin as if I were a giant brisket wearing a hat and shoes. Additionally, it's very likely I would be divorced and shunned from the neighborhood for such actions. It has already been frowned upon that I considered swapping out my deodorant in the mornings for my favorite pork dry rub.

While I am merely a bat boy in the game of barbecue with my little smoker, (size supposedly doesn't matter, right?) I feel a part of a cult-like community of the most masculine of all food preparation methods. My lovely wife, whom could care less about eating meat at all, somehow dropped off the holy meat ship even though she was raised on a farm in Iowa where to be considered a meal there needs to be a dead animal on the table. Amen. So now, not only does it take me the better part of the day to prepare a smoked delicacy, but I am usually cooking for myself and any friends or passers by I can wrangle in from the smell and trade animal flesh for beer. How sweet the simplicity of the barter system is.

Mall Walker Texas Ranger vs. The Baby Time Machine

2009-03-04T22:04:00.003-06:00

How does it work that you wake up at 7am or earlier with the baby and then time vaporizes and it's noon? I'm undressed, unshowered and eating cereal at 11am, then lunch at 3:30, dinner at 5:30 and sleeping at 9pm. With a baby it seems you are in some sort of time machine that scrambles the day. I end up doing everything in the day, but in absolutely no logical order. Some meals are 12 hours apart, others are two hours apart. I'm walking around the house simultaneously cleaning the toilet while eating a bagel and putting on socks. Then, before completing all the tasks you end up getting crapped on or taking a nap. Last weekend I reallized at one point that I was teaching a class at the university in a t-shirt I slept in the night before. It seems to be a cruel joke as our times and schedules are erratic and unaccounted for, and baby forges ahead on here military schedule of eat, crap, eat, sleep, cry, repeat. The baby doesn't care about sunrise, sunset, clocks, solid food or any form of personal hygeine. In hindsight, I probably wouldn't care about any of these things either if someone else was wiping my ass and I was feeding from a boob.

As I tried to get the baby dressed for our big outing to the mall today I was thinking about all the tiny socks strewn about our house. It seems babies have some sort of magical sock ninja escape skill. The socks are big, small, tight or loose and they are out of them like lightning. It's amazing. No adult could get from two socks to zero, without using their hands, as fast as an infant. They are all swaddled up and whamo, socks are off. It's really quite amazing and has nothing to do with anything in the rest of this post, but it's the random thought of the day.

While I am on a tangent, I narrowly missed being projectile crapped on yesterday. After undiapering the beatuful innocent baby I was smiling at her as she seems to enjoy airing out her buttocks when the opportunity presents. Then, unexpectedly, their is a blast of the yellow seedy infant poo that narrowly misses me. Initially, I ran from the changing table and hit the deck as if I was on a ship at war. Upon gathering myself I realized that I was now changing a diaper, cleaning the changing table cover, and changing table cover, cover (again) as well as wiping down the door, the changing table and the wall. My wife was laughing so hard she was crying, or maybe she was just crying, and I was left googling "diaper changing face blast shield." The search did not turn up much, but I have seen dentists wear a similar device. Best advice woud be to not look down the barrel of the gun.

Back to the sotry at hand: We all dream. If you don't, your missing out. Until about 11 days ago I dreamed of climbing and skiing and a variety of other hobbies I have gone over the top in committing my life to. I never dreamed about spending 4 and a half hours pushing a stroller around the Mall of America on a random Wednesday. Today, I lived that dream. Like any good climber gearhead, I left no stone unturned on this venture. I would not be outdone by the other stroller toting wannabes. I would be the best mall baby stroller pusher dude out there. (Please note in the photo above how much I am dominating the lamos behind me at mall walking/stroller pushing.)

I had the new stroller, freshly stripped of its tags, and nubbins still on the inflatable, high performance tires ready to roll. The previous evening I affixed all the necessary add ons to the stroller like a cyclist tuning his machine for the following days race. I picked out a nice outfit for Ella to wear to the mall and dressed myself in the best clothes I had seen in a week or more of being mainly confined to the house. I had the Starbucks cup in hand, the diaper bag buckled to the handlebar, and all other necessities safely stowed in the carrying compartment of the suspension enhanced stroller. And that is how we rolled; and rolled and rolled. The baby was quite pleased and the wife needed to get out of the house badly. It was a great little day out. Tommorrow I will probably lift weights, drink beer and not shave, just to balance everything out. After all, I am a new father and there are a lot of hormones raging in me.

Tales of Poop and Pencil Shavings

2009-02-25T10:30:00.005-06:00

There is a learning curve to raising an infant. The learning curve is not the gentle curve, but much more erratic. It's about as smooth as trying to ride a mechanical bull inside a VW beetle. Sweet baby Ella. The photos are so tranquil but there is a behind the scenes. It's a hidden reality that we as the public pretend is not there. For example: Does a super model rip off some giant farts while taking a dump? Probably, but we don't think about that. It's the same with baby.

I can tell you my hands have been thoroughly irrigated by baby urine several times. I hear urine is quite sterile, so in many ways I am cleaner than I have ever been. My diaper dexterity is rapidly improving and Ella is even a little calmer as she seems to sense I have developed some level of competency. Previously her cries were simply expressing the feeling we would have if our doctor showed up in a Skynyrd t-shirt smoking a cigarette for our physical....not a lot of credibility. Baby can see right through the facade of the "World's Greatest Dad" t-shirt and the smell of hand sanitizer.

On one occasion, during a changing, a cute little spout of urine flowed from the baby while her diaper was off. It was kind of funny and she seemed pleased with her accomplishment. The next time however, it involved urine running down her back onto the changing thingy (kind of looks like mini bouldering pad) and also onto me. Not as cute as this time, as I was now changing diaper, clothes, changing pad cover, changing pad cover cover and basically bathing the child with diaper wipes.

Then comes the crapping. Whoa. If I crapped that much I would have to subscribe to a lot more magazines. I have not been hit by any crap, and usually keep it off my hands now which is both rewarding and convenient.

The rewards of being a father are amazing. The baby really just wants mom, so I hold her when she's sleeping mostly. When she wakes and tries to suck on me, she finds little success. It's far more furry and flat than what she is looking for under my shirt. That rapidly progresses to crying which only ceases for a quick diaper bombing or arrival on mom's lap. This keeps momma really busy and pretty much the sole provider of anything important for baby E. In mom's downtime she rests or scribbles out to do lists for me. This leaves me doing anything I can to help around the house and keep the infrastructure going around baby E. Momma has a lot going on and so I get assigned some very rewarding family duties. Just this morning it was imperative that I get all the pencils in the pencil drawer sharpened (at 7am). Later today I may be polishing the toaster or checking the batteries in the smoke detector with my tongue. Everything baby E, or momma, would want to keep the home comfy and warm will be at my beckon call. I am totally fine with this arrangement as it's the least I can do in exchange for the other half having to act as a feeder for the baby like those bottles our hamsters drank out of.

After sharpening the pencils mom teared up a bit with joy. This may be because I did such an immaculate job of sharpening or simply because she is a little emotional, I will let that be her little secret (but I think I am a very good pencil sharpener).

I'm Responsible for a Small Human Being

2009-02-21T23:33:00.004-06:00

Childbirth. It's a secret society that you are not let into until you have been there. There is a reason for this. It's like a tornado filled with dynamite in a sex education class taught by Sam Kinison. Sounds pretty crazy, but I can't divulge anymore details because there may be people reading this who have not been admitted into this secret society. I was surely standing in that delivery room like a deer in the headlights of an F-14 going the speed of sound. All of a sudden, there's a baby and I am sobbing with joy and I can't feel my hands because they are tingling like I just jumped out of an airplane.

Then my eyes see the most amazing baby ever. By the time I go to bed that night my head is spinning with emotions (it's been a crazy couple of days). We took all the classes to prepare, but putting diapers on and bathing the plastic doll is a bunch of crap compared to the real thing, no pun intended. I changed my first diaper today and it was a lot like trying to type with your feet. By the time I finished, I used half a pack of wipes and the used diaper was in the trash like a roadkilled carcus. I have no idea how to bundle up a used diaper and the baby ended up with crap on her feet, ankles and who knows what else that I missed. She wasn't pleased with me putting on the new diaper, but it didn't fall off when I picked her up which was a huge moral boost (equivalent to a participation ribbon in a track meet). I have no doubt that I will figure this out, but I openly admit I have no idea what I'm doing. Scary? Yes. But give me a break, everyone that does this is in the same boat. Sweet baby, take it is easy on your dad, he's usually a pretty quick learner.

Farewell Old Friend

2009-02-19T17:16:00.004-06:00

Daisy the dog, lived a life as full as any dog could ever hope for. Most that knew her questioned whether she understood that she was actually a dog. After all, she spent her life sleeping in a bed, under the covers, until I was married. After that she slept on the best chair in the house and was covered by a blanket each night. Failure to fulfill her expectations would undoubtedly leave her walking in circles near your bedside clicking her nails in disapproval until you rectified the situation.

There are a lot of stories out there about this dog. My career path and education left her in the hands of many wonderful friends to watch over her through the years. She spent one Spring Break on the beach in South Carolina while I guided a group down the Rio Grande River. She spent a semester at the University of Iowa with my friend Matt while he was in Medical School and while I was an intern in Tennessee. She spent countless time with my parents and inlaws whenever we traveled. It would not have been possible to board this dog. After all, who would cover her up at night? She ate whole loaves of bread and other sundries from unsuspecting caregivers who were not savvy to her ninja like tactics.

Most of all, she loved people. She wanted nothing more than to be on your lap, in your bed or standing on your foot at all times. She would happily jump up on the couch and lay her head on your lap hoping you would pet her velvet ears. I, and I only, could pick her up and hold or carry her like a baby her entire life. Cradled in my arms on her back, or upright on one hip. It looked totally ridiculous, but it was just what we did. 50 pounds or not, she loved it. She lived up to the stereotype of the Vizsla breed being called 'velcro dogs' as she always wanted to be touching you.

There are not too many people that know me and didn't know, Daisy. When I purchased this fine beast at the naive and careless age of 19 I had no idea what I was doing. I didn't tell my parents and they certainly questioned the purchase to say the least. I bribed my sister to ride with me to get her in the fall of 1995. She was a slippery little beast in her young age. Lots of energy was a giant understatement.

In her last couple of years she had lost most of her hearing and the majority of her sight, but she always came home with a spotless bill of health ready to go for a walk, then sleep for 20+ hours. After she turned 100 (in dog years) I changed her name to Miracle. She was deaf, so it didn't matter to her and I thought it had a nice ring to it. Over the years she was also lovingly referred to as, the Sneezla (Trent, who now has 2 of his own sneezlas), Sneezie (Brandi), Daisers (my dad), Maisers (Matt and Carli Herold), That Dog (Boone), The Beast (Pertzborn) and many others that probably contained expletives based on her immediate behavior at the time.

Her final moments were on my lap, in my arms; exactly the way she was when she was 8 weeks old over 14 years ago. Daisy: Often imitated, never duplicated. I know that I will never have another dog quite like her. She was above and beyond anything I could have ever asked of a dog and more. While she will be missed by me a lot, her stories and legend will be around a long time among my friends and family.

Goodbye Daisy from Justin Evidon on Vimeo.

Impatiently Waiting

2009-02-08T21:42:00.002-06:00

Long story short: Baby is due this Thursday, it feels like it should already be here. I don't do that well with waiting. I hate waiting in lines, stoplights, traffic, just about anything that doesn't allow me to move at my desired speed, which is usually timely and efficient. Waiting for your first child to come out is really a strange type of waiting. I really want to meet her, but realize each day that life will never be quite the same once she arrives. This isn't bad, it's just different. She is certainly kicking, pounding, rolling and moving like she may want out of there soon, and sometimes I wonder if she is ok in there. I asked her (the baby) today, and her response was a foot to my wife's ribs. Hmmmm, I bet that's how my wife wishes she could answer some of my questions as well. What to do while you hang around home waiting for a baby?

Today we decided we needed to make space in the freezer. This really means that my wife thinks I should eat all of the old food in there. So for lunch I ate pre-Obama onion rings, and a flaming meatball sandwich (made up recipe). That pretty much left me a few beers short of Homer Simpson. Having all motivation rapidly taken away I settled in to feed my PGA Tour addiction. Next thing you know a little Facebook, the Wild were playing hockey, and WHALA, I wasted the entire day. I took enough naps throughout the day that I am not tired tonight and am wondering why my DVR is recording the show 'Hole in the Wall?' Moreover, why is this show on television to start with? My big day of napping, watching golf, and eating made me too tired to make supper so I ate some crackers and deer sausage which means I now feel like crap and will probably feel worse when I wake up. I suppose that it's good for me to document this as the next posting on this blog will probably involve the birth of my child and my interpretation of that whole process. It's likely this description will be morbidly sarcastic, so be prepared. If this baby really wanted to be a daddy's girl, she would be on time, or even early. That's probably not going to happen and this is natures way of preparing me for the estrogen invasion that my home will soon undergo. It will be like throwing away your Twisted Sister posters after you got married and started painting accent walls in your house to match the towels you bought at Bed, Bath and Beyond. Instead I will be having tea with a little girl and three random dolls while I paint my own toenails and pretend the really small chair I'm sitting in is comfortable. In the end, it's really what's best. I am going to dig into the freezer for some more freezer burned 'treats.'

Superboulder III Video

2009-02-04T19:50:00.002-06:00

This year's Superboulder has a video to document the event compliments of Jevidon. It's pretty sweet....check it out.

Super Boulder III from Justin Evidon on Vimeo.

Superboulder III

2009-02-03T22:56:00.002-06:00

It's in the books. Another Superboulder event at the West Saint Paul International Climbing Facility (a.k.a. my garage). Superboulder this year was headlined by the 5 gallon keg of homebrew compliments of Haun Brewing Company. There was also International competition thanks to George the Canadian. The Canuck was a veritable jack of all trades climbing, baking, making salads and sharpening knives all during his appearance. His brownies laced with Cognac were top shelf!

In an effort to live just a few days, or weeks, longer we shyed from the standard "fried food only" rule of the past two years. I guess the reprocutions of the days that follow far outweighed the joy of feeding on grease soaked delights. The fryer was in action, but it was complimented nicely by a grill full off brats cooked by a certified Wiscononian. Superboulder had record attendance with the unofficial numbers coming in somewhere between 16 and 20 people.

The food creation of the night was definitely the "winged brat." This fantastic creation topped one of Wisconsin's finest links with a hearty helping of Buffalo chicken wing dip. It was truly cramming everything amazing into one fabulous bite. The celebrity appearance was by Kyle Klingmann from Wrestling411.tv. We are hoping that he will report on the event as there was a small skirmish which could have been constrewed as wrestling by a passerby. When the game had been finished and the keg became much lighter, we all settled in for a fitful night of indigestion as we dreamt of the eclecitc mix of food, spirits, climbing and football that make up the kaleidoscope of culture know as Superboulder.

To 'stache or not to 'stache

2009-01-18T17:52:00.007-06:00

As I wrap up a long holiday weekend I find myself admiring the fledgling mustache that I have grown over the past four days, much to the wife's dislike. As I gaze into the bathroom mirror before I shave I can only contemplate the various merits of the 'stache. You have a number of options when growing out the hair on your upper lip, but I am not sure which ones are worthy or appropriate for me.

There is the trooper 'stache that is sleek and creepy and often screams of junior college insecurity in a mighty effort to make one look a little tougher than they are. It screams to the world that I drive a cop car by day and then get into a rusted dodge neon at night to drive home in time to watch "Deal, or no Deal."

The Wilford Brimley 'stache is a full bodied affair and works well to accentuate any walrus characteristics in the face that one might have. These 'stache owners comb them out and are always aware of any food that may have become entangled in their lip nest. They tell the world, "I have diabetes, sell oatmeal and am older than Papa Smurf." Interesting.

My personal favorite is the handlebar 'stache. It is probably most appealing because it would take me, by rough calculations, 13-17 years to grow out. It's cool because it's so awesome that you need product for your 'stache. This mustache is intimidating. It's owner usually has the serious look and you can mess with them, but they may have a six shooter in their pocket.

Finally, there is the premier custom staches, as pictured above. These nifty affairs are mere body hair gamesmanship. They say nothing about the owner except that they have nothing better to do with their time than grow some epic mustache that they can post on the web.

Unfortunately, all of my mustache dreams crashed back to earth when I realized that the only 'stache I can harvest is the lame, thin juinor high 'stache. It says to the world that I am displaying my awesomeness by growing out facial hair because I hit puberty before everyone else. In my case, it really just says; I'm 32 and it looks like I have dirt on my lip after not shaving for 4 days.

Cold as #$%@ !!!!!

2009-01-15T09:23:00.002-06:00

It has now been multiple days since we have seen a temperature above zero, Fahrenheit that is. This morning was the coldest in five years at -21 and a windchill somewhere around -40, give or take a few degrees. The dog, whose name is now Miracle since turning 100 last month, had to be rescued from the deck this morning after about 45 seconds. She realized that you can't keep two of your paws out of the snow simultaneously and still walk. In her old age she clearly chose to keep the paws out of the snow versus make her way to the door.

It is cold, but worry not, the high will reach -9 today so it should be nice for a lunch outside or some grilling this evening. Here is a fun video from the local weather station of the meteorologist using various fruits and vegetables to pound in nails......now that's just good clean fun!

The Holiday Season!

2008-12-29T09:15:00.002-06:00

You never know what is going to happen when family gets together over the holidays. Wine, cards, 2am, inlaws......I think the photo says the rest.
I still don't know how Ryan got the deer to go up into my bedroom, but somewhere in the night I believe I was duped into a sour bet at the card table that ended with me sleeping with a nice buck. He was really friendly and the denim quilt on the bed was highly abrasion resistant to the deer's antlers. Unfortunately after what I felt was a lovely evening, the deer was gone when I woke up. I was really hoping for him to stay for waffles in the morning. Those Iowa deer are really friendly when your not hitting them with your car or hunting them with predatory rage. Maybe next year I can get a doe in the sack! Happy Holidays.

The Agony of Defeat and the Joy of Breastfeeding

2008-12-16T13:29:00.004-06:00

Breastfeeding class. More boobs than sniffers row at happy hour. The 2.5 hour class was approximately 10,500 heartbeats that I donated to father time (assuming 70 bpm over that time). While filled with lots of great information, I was disappointed at the end to be shown a video about how the baby naturally goes to the breast and feeds on it's own as an instinctual reaction they have in them. So......2.5 hour class could have been reduced to: A) have child B) wipe goo off child C) place child on your bare chest D) go home. After all, do we take classes on how to breathe? No, because we do it instinctually, I even googled it and found no classes.

Some highlights of the class for me, with my thoughts out loud for your enjoyment:

7 minute video with 26 hooter shots....I don't know if pay per view would have that kind of action, but yes, I did tally them during the film when I should have been paying close attention to other information.
An advertisement for a breastpump with a lady with a pump on each boob, blouse open working on here computer at work.......does this really happen, because it seems a little over the top for me.
Props that included a stuffed baby with its tongue out and a stuffed boob so we could see what's happening...........I laughed out loud at this thinking if you could ever get a stuffed boob out of one of those claw machines at the arcade?
Fact of the day: A babys stomach is the size of a marble when born and the size of a ping pong ball on day 10. Our stomach is the size of a softball.......there is no way my lunch would fit into a softball.
If you need to relieve some of the pressure for your breast milk you can place a disposable diaper, moistened and warmed in the microwave on each breast and sit back and relax.......talk about a hot visual.....be sure the diapers are new and moistened only with water......I am thinking about soothing myself by placing my underwear in the oven and soothing the areas that ail me like ankles, knees, head
Women can tell by feel which breast is most full. The concept here did not freak me out, but the Sunday school teacher (who is about 60) giving us the visual was too much for me.

Breast milk has many other uses, it's a freaking miracle! Please consider these handy uses for the milk you produce or possibly even bottle some up and give it as a holiday cure-all gift it makes a great stocking stuffer in these tough economic times. I promise I am not making this up!

Cure for ear and eye infections: Simply squirt or pour into orifice.
Cure for bug bites and sunburn: Apply to skin and rub in for relief. Won't this be handy at the lake this summer? "Wife, I just got stung by a bee, can you come over here?"
Immunity boost: Give your child or spouse a shot if they are sick. Bottoms up!
Rub on sore or cracked nipples: Great for marathon runners in your life, at mile 20, just find a prego lady.
Acne and warts: I am sure the teenagers love that when mom offers.
Sore throats: Just gargle a little breastmilk.

I will be heading home to clear out the medicine cabiniet as I need no other medications. If any of you need any miracle cures, just stop over come February and I will see if I can hook you up.

In other news of the week. The Panthers were defeated in the semi-finals of the FCS playoffs. An absolutely devastating loss for me. The photo below was the last happy moment. Pain, bitterness, anger, devastation would be great adjectives to describe the menal state I was/am in. Entering the fourth quarter with a 13 point lead (bad number for football) and losing with 14 seconds left hurts bad. I would much rather have lost by 40. Instead the energy and excitement was so high you could taste the win. I compare the feeling with seeing your wife for the first time in 5 years and when you go to hug her she kicks you in the balls with a pair of steel toe boots. Ouch. As a result I have put together a tentative plan for the first week topics for practice in the spring of 2009:

Day 1: "You can't win a football game with your thumb up your ass, or your hands around your neck." A look at the anatomy of choking.
Day 2: "Open tryouts for kicker." All students invited.
Day 3: "Math 101: 4 quarters to a football game, not 3." Abacuses will be provided by the University Book Store
Day 4: "Why selling pot will not work out for the greater good of the team." A micro-economic look at the risk/benefit model.
Day 5: "How pissing down your leg feels good, but does not win championships." A refresher course from last years seminar.

I still bleed purple and always will. I am just in the process of passing a purple an gold kidney stone right now. Go Panthers.

Snow, Tailgates and Panthers

2008-12-08T22:31:00.003-06:00

It was cold windy day on the plains of Northern Iowa on Saturday. Windchill in the single digits and beer freezing as you drank it (unless you were quick). A crew of 5 dedicated fans from Texas, Minnesota and Iowa bundled up in a stubborn act of support for the Northern Iowa football team. After enduring 4 hours of cold relentless tailgating, wind and adult beverages, the ritual paid off as the mighty panthers beat New Hampshire in a wild game to advance to the FCS college football semifinals. This means we will do it all again at the UNI Dome next weekend. You can tune in on ESPN at 3pm central.

Today we had snow in Minnesota. Good for the Nordic skiing prospects, bad for the afternoon commute. After a 10 mile, 70 minute commute (that normally takes 20 minutes) there was no doubt the inside of the car was not fit for a child's ears. At one point in the drive I passed a car going down a huge hill as the anti-lock brakes were trying to slow me down. Hindsight tells me I should not have gone down this hill, but the dude I was sliding past (on a residential road) had to think I was totally nuts. I believe the comment from Brandi halfway down the hill was "I am just going to close my eyes." This "scenic route" home allowed us only minutes to let the dog out and cram some food down before moving on to the childbirth class.....week 5. For those of you counting at home, that means we are done next week (I am counting). After some learning about forceps, nipple stimulation and how they sew shut a uterus after a Cesarean section while it sits on your lap, we were done with the evening.

All the snow and birth talk made me want to ski. I headed out to the local high school grounds for a quick lap at about 9:30pm for some fresh tracks and exercise. It's still snowing as I write this at 11pm which makes me really excited for the drive in to work tomorrow morning. If you smell the sarcasm in that, you have a good nose. Go Panthers.

Thanksclimbing 2008

2008-11-24T19:19:00.011-06:00

This Sunday we'll celebrate, drink, climb and eat,
if you can't be there we'll assume your at home beating your meat.

The WSP climbing will be sick once again,
Luke's homemade grog will make us all grin.

There's a football game on starting at seven,
but the West Saint Paul funmeter will go to eleven.

The air is crisp and the bird has been shot,
missing Thanksclimbing is something you should not.

We all know the holiday season is upon us when it kicks off with the annual Thanksclimbing festival in my garage. This glorious 2nd annual event features food, climbing and fun. There were many sick routes climbed at the West Saint Paul International Climbing Facility and fun was had by all. We fired up the deep fryer and consumed more than one bottle of beer in an effort to properly offset the physical activity the climbing provided. Some highlights of the evening were as follows:

Best dressed: TJB for his throwback climbing tights tribute to the eighties.....their appearance was brief, and we all needed a shower afterward.
Rowdiest guest: The dog, who broke a bottle of beer on the floor in a drunken fit of rage....nice, who invited the deaf and blind dog, anyway? However there is some debate that Al actually dropped his beer and then blamed it on the senile dog.......
Best Food: Smorrissey's mini corn dogs gave the event a state fair like feel
Most Unique Beverage: Noll's 'Simpler Times' beer. Correct, we had not heard of it before either. Top shelf could be overstating it a bit.
Biggest camera: Once again, defending champion, Jevidon, edges out everyone else, combined, with his Canon Hubble XJ57R unit which provided superior images of the event.
Topless Climbing Contest is taken by Al who just edged out TJBs more "primitive" look. However, if there were a contest to clog the shower drain, TJB would top the podium.
Best Dead Animal Brought to the Party: Luke takes it with the beheaded and skinned unidentified fowl in a grocery sack. Nobody knows what happened to the fowl, but there are theories that Noll, in a maddened vegetarian relapse snuck out the back door and consumed it raw under the deck of the house. Reports have not been confirmed, but the fine taste of meat has.

By the end of the night all hands and arms were pumped, lungs were white from inhaling chalk dust and the recycling bin was markedly more full than when the night started. Thanksclimbing to all, and to all a good night. Click on the images for the Thanksclimbing gallery.

Continuing Education........cont'd

2008-11-19T23:51:00.005-06:00

This week I was privileged to view a video of numerous individuals carrying out, in our instructor's words, "rituals of birth." Up to this point, I was pretty chill about my whole attitude of "take it as it comes down the pipe," because I really think that a lot of people have given birth, so we can probably handle this. This doesn't mean it will be easy, but doable. Well, after I see this video, it's like the shit hitting the fan that propels the engines of the space shuttle.

Quick summary of the contraction/birth rituals I saw:
1. Lady dancing and talking in tongues with her husband in the hallway of the hospital. The good news, my wife hates dancing, so this is not very likely, but if it does I will have some sweet tunes loaded up on my ipod.

2. Fat lady(not because she was prego, I do have a conscious) naked, except for a sports bra (funny term for her clothing) getting hosed off in the bathtub as she moans and rocks on her knees in the tub. This shifted me into second gear freakout thinking pregnancy could be more like some sort of weird cult. Do I bring a watering can or a wetsuit in my luggage?

3. A naked couple giving birth in a giant tub of water. Quick summary: naked, paranoid husband, who probably feels weird getting videotaped in the bath, is comforting his wife as she moans and gets coached by some old lady. My thoughts: I have a bathing suit I look pretty good in, do I bring it to the hospital? Wife doesn't let me bathe with her now, so it's doubtful on day baby is being born. I will bring swimcap and Boundary Waters Barbie to play with, just in case.

4. Lady moaning and rhythmically flogging her husband senseless during contractions. Now, this is what I expect from the experience. I can take this sort of physio emotional abuse for a day. I won't hold it against you, but I probably will never fully understand. This reaction is not much different than my personal views on putting down the toilet seat or invaders from space: it's not that I don't care, but I just don't understand.

Continuing Education

2008-11-12T13:46:00.004-06:00

I attended the first day of birth classes in preparation for having a baby girl in February. My theory was that we could surely learn all of this on Youtube or Google but that is without doubt simply my blind faith in trying to not cut into my Monday Night Football schedule. My first impression: Sunday school with vaginas. Our sweet teacher is seriously the church lady with a bunch of weird, contrived and sometimes disturbing props, pictures and stories. Her thin frizzy hair, flower dress and lunch lady shoes will certainly not make anyone start humming the Van Halen tune 'hot for the teacher.' Upon entering the room there was a lovely sign on a tripod that we learned is our mantra for the course. The sign reads: Women are made to give birth, trust in yourself. Seems like a weird mantra for me, but I rolled with it, and will continue to do so for the next 5 weeks! This sign, seriously made me wonder if Michael Scott would come strolling in for some kind of intervention, but I was not so lucky.

Well, the two hours flew by like a root canal in a burning airplane; and after watching a riveting demonstration of a plastic doll shooting out of a knitted sweater sleeve I was really starting to learn. I believe the sweater was the uterus, the cuff was the cervix and doll was the baby. (If you need more detail on any of those terms, your probably not old enough to read this blog.) Of course, this came after she told us about how you don't need any drugs when you give birth and chased that act with a picture of here 9 pound grandson at birth!!! Seriously, I'm not the one giving birth here, but if you asked me to blow a bowling ball out my butthole it's likely going to be a tough sell with out a lot drugs, 128 beers or a louisville slugger to the melon to persuade me on the idea. I just kept reading the mantra......

We then laid on the ground to practice relaxation with the lights off and soft music in the background. We couldn't look at each other because we were going to die laughing which kind of reminded me of my first yoga experience. I was well behaved and didn't cut loose a giant fart, which would have been pretty sweet (see Ryan Broshar), and I could have easily said I was just relaxing my entire body. I restrained myself from raising my hand about 237 times over the course of the class as there were so many opportunities for lighthearted remarks and off color comments. As my wife says, I am just a 5 year old in a 32 year olds body. Good times.

Lake Superior Launch

2008-08-27T22:15:00.005-05:00

This weekend we traveled to the shores of Lake Superior in Duluth, Minnesota to celebrate the marriage of our friends Sean and Michelle. They had an awesome ceremony on the shoreline of lake as the sun set on and unbelievable gorgeous summer day. Weddings always have the potential for unpredictable fun and this celebration was certainly no different. After more than one refreshing adult beverage at the reception (aided by the speedy and timely service of our friends Eric and Eric behind the bar) we were ever so graciously carted to our hotel by my pregnant wife.

As the wife and baby headed to bed, the bar staff, Jesse and I hit the town. As we strolled into the nearest bar, after being vigorously carded and banded like an endangered raptor, we were rapidly reminded of our age at the raging Duluth club scene. While this was a nice establishment playing bumping tunes and filled with single underage drinkers, we graciously danced across the floor and out the door we came in. The rest of the night unfolded in a blur of beef sticks, wrestling in the street, the big Eric partially disrobing in a haste to acquire tickets to the New Kids on the Block concert and housing the bartenders on the very small porch of our hotel room.

The next morning we were all a little 'rusty' from the previous evening and Sean ever so graciously vowed to show us the true Duluth experience. So, we swam out into the depths of Lake Superior in Duluth Harbor to jump from the ruins of the ice house in settled in the harbor. The water is deep, and cold. The good news was that the water was warmer than the air temperature at 9 in the morning this particular day, but the bad news was that the water was st still only about 65 degrees at most. So as we got in the water it was strongly recommended by Sean's brother, to 'just go for it.' As myself and the Eric's tiptoed on gigantic, partially submerged slippery rocks we scampered to deep water and flopped graciously into the cold, cold water. As we swam frantically for the ice house it was difficult to catch my breath from the initial shock to the system. As I am shivering and hyperventilating I hand over hand the sketchy nylon strap that was likely tied to the ice house by Leif Erickson. Once on top, we sat shivering for about 5 minutes. Keep in mind, that one of the things I dislike most is jumping into unknown waters (regardless of how deep it is). I guess this is one of those personal phobias of the unknown that we all have about certain things. After a brief period of enjoying the sights and shivering enough to lose my balance on the 8 inch wide ledge, I rose to my feet. As my beautiful, bright white, middle aged, partially hair covered body towered above the harbor, I took my leap in to the icy waters as a good crowd of the wedding guest groggilly spectated our feat. After all, there was definitely no other way down off the ledge. I plunged in sync with the Eric's and we swam quickly to the shore.

It was an amazingly refreshing and exciting activity that I highly recommend. It certainly woke me up, and the company with which it was enjoyed made it all the better. Thanks for the memory Sean! Here is a video of some others jumping from the ice house that I found on youtube:

Of Table Tennis and Huffing

2008-08-21T08:38:00.002-05:00

I was highly amused by the following article I came across today as I was attempting to find the end of the internet:
"Table Tennis Tempting Fate"
I will be the first to tell you that I get sucked up in the drama of the Olympics and find myself fascinated by all of the micro-stories that go along with the athletes and events, but this could be a bit much. From the title, table tennis is clearly the next extreme sport. You could easily die instantly from a number of dangerous twists of fate, one apparently being huffing too much glue. It was good that they got a quote from US player, Crystal Xi Huang, who I believe is a native Minnesotan or possibly Iowa, I can't quite tell from the name.

If you want to huff glue, maybe they should think about trying out for the US frisbee golf team or hacky sack squad. This rule could ruin professional table tennis as we know it, so please, be active and write your congressman today.......and be careful if your 'glueing' 10 times a day!

Controversey and Drama in Quest for Tallest Man

2008-08-20T20:14:00.005-05:00

It appears that with all of the Olympic drama and the debate over how old Chinese gymnasts are we have forgotten about the all important records of The Guiness Book of World Records. I found this news today: Tallest Man Controversy.

In a rift of high drama, the self-proclaimed world's tallest man refuses to be measured by the officials at Guiness. The giant Ukrainian has chosen to go back to hearding animals and raising vegetables to let Bao (pictured left) reclaim his title. Here are the top 5 things I thoroughly enjoyed about this newsflash:

1. The worlds tallest man saved a dophin with his 3.47 foot arm (my arm is about 2 feet long). Holy dolphin throat!

2. The Ukrainian doesn't want to be measured officially by Guiness. Probably because he is trying to tell people he's 8'.5.5"(likely blaming on the faulty and unreliable conversions from the metric system)!! We all know that there is no quality control on those Ukranian measuring sticks......this smells like a doping controversy to me. It's sad, there just aren't any clean sports anymore.

3. They officiallly measure you "6 times in one day, both standing and lying down." Who writes these rules? I thought you just had your mom measure you against the kitchen wall and send in a photo. So much for getting away with standing on your toes so you look 8 feet tall.

4. The Ukranian doesn't want the "glory" that comes with being the world's tallest man. I guess that pretty much puts the brakes on my planned vacation to the "remote village in central Ukraine" that I was planning next year. Disneyland will just have to do instead. One would think that the remote village in the Ukraine would not become a tourism hotspot just on his accord......give me a break.

5. I also heard from some undisclosed sources close to the incident that at $100 a month plus the mint he's making from selling cucumbers and tomatoes, he probably doesn't need the money. What we all can learn from this is that if you lie about your height, you'll be found no matter where you live.

........rhymes with Cletus?

2008-08-18T21:22:00.002-05:00

There is big news in the world of Adventures of Mitch. The biggest adventure of them all, in fact. The Hoffman family has a fetus!

We are expecting our first child in February and are very excited about it all. I find it interesting that the term is used as "expecting" a child. I guess occasionally folks are "expecting" a child and then give birth to a goat, seahorse or antelope? So, we are taking our chances and hoping for a human being on this go around. It's pretty crazy to think about what all will change in February, but I guess that's just life, and the unknowns that make it so exciting. We are both looking forward to the future and are really excited about all things that will be baby around here soon.

It's always interesting to me how everything is good when you are pregnant. Brandi has been sicker than a freshman at a frat party, but everyone says how good and healthy it is to be sick. Of course, in the next sentence they let you know how they were not sick when they were pregok but continue to give you spirited, hang in there champ, advice. I have to be honest, being sick that much would suck and my response to those people would contain more than one expletive. For what it's worth, that's the big news from here.....this blog may soon become the "Adventures of Mitch's Baby." More updates, excitement and news from the nursery to come.

The Need for Speed.........

2008-06-12T09:21:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was a big day. I went for my first run since what is now known as "the incident." It was certainly weird getting on the treadmill and jogging the first few minutes, but it ended up feeling pretty good. I did manage to rocket along at a rapid 12:15 mile pace, at top speed. Don't be fooled though, I worked up to this speed slowly shifting through all the gears to get there. As the treadmill started to smoke at this high speed I was glanced over and chatted briefly with the sloth running on the treadmill next to me, he was going faster. From the quick math in my head I would be able to finish a marathon at that pace in about 4 days. I can't remember ever running so slow and feeling like I was going so fast. My friend, the Achilles, is a little sore today, but all in all I will call it a success. I have to do something to get this shrunken calf to grow. I am starting to feel like the kid that starts crying in gym class because he can't do a pull up. If nothing else, it sure feels good to start sweating out some of the invalidity that I have bestowed upon myself since surgery in February. If anyone is looking for a footrace to help boost your self esteem and confidence, you know where to find me. Or, if you great grandmother needs a pacer for her her next round of ultra marathon training, I can do that as well.

Solitude and Paddling

2008-06-09T22:07:00.005-05:00

I spent last week in the immense solitude and quiet that can only be found in the over 1 million acres of wilderness known as Minnesota's Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness (BWCA). My friend Justin and I paddled long, hard, fun days through the middle of the BWCA where few people ever paddle. For Justin, it was his first visit to this place I love, and after the trip we had, I highly doubt it will be long before he visits the BWCA again. Some of the amazing experiences that we had could never really be explained in words or photos, but maybe the combination of the two can leave a small impression of how awesome this wilderness area is. (since Justin is a photographer, the images will speak louder than my words) In just four days, we paddled our canoe and gear across 21 lakes, 2 rivers, 2 creeks, and 29 portages totaling 2,033 rods (a rod equals 16.5 feet, roughly the length of a canoe and 320 rods equal a mile) That is over 6.25 miles of carrying our 60 pound canoe and 60+ pound portage bag between lakes. (Editors note: I travel fairly light in the backcountry, unless my paddling partner is Ansel Adams. Two camera bodies, a carbon fiber tripod, 247 AA batteries, and one porn star of a lens made my palms sweat fearing tipping the canoe at any time.)

The BWCA is always a reminder of just how calm and amazing wilderness can still be. Many things change constantly and rapidly in our everyday lives, but places like this are always the same. Life slows to a primitive pace you enjoy everything on a whole different and heightened sensory level. The BWCA is a place that I am always disappointed to leave at the end of my trip. Tired shoulders from paddling, dirty clothes, rain and cold can all be bumps in the road, but the solitude and quiet is extremely hard to leave behind for the business of daily life in the city.

You don't get to wake up, on a normal day, early in the morning and paddle across an absolutely glass lake listeneing to the birds and hearing only the sound of the bow of your boat breaking the calm water. We called this "silent mode." Silent mode was not just for viewing wildlife, it was also for entering a trance like state of wilderness enjoyment. We saw almost no other people on this trip with the exception of the entry lakes on both ends of the trip. What we did get to see was virgin pine, a Bald Eagle snatching a lake trout from the water, moose grazing in the early morning silence and Loons diving, floating and calling in the evening hours. It's absolutely too much to process unless you have been there. Places like this are why I have the love for the wilderness that I do. It is also why you learn to cherish the moments that you have in these wild places each and every time you visit one. I highly recommend that you click on the photo below to view Justin's gallery from our trip.

Dedicated.

2008-05-20T11:51:00.003-05:00

Making it in photography is tough. You have to be willing to do anything to get the perfect shot. This guy, knows that high school javelin throwing is a high profile assignment and no doubt the ticket to the next level of journalism glory. In an effort to get the perfect shot of the spear rocketing through the air he failed to realize it was coming directly at him. The results are pretty clear from the picture. I will give him credit that at least he took the photo of his own gore. I think it would be really funny if the medic said "well, it's stuck in this far, we should just pull it all the way through, kind of like a fish hook.......this might sting." Next time dude, give a little space. I know why this guys boss doesn't send him to photograph hunting or skeet shooting..... Click on the photo for the story.

Hunt.....or be hunted.

2008-05-17T19:56:00.004-05:00

The past few days, our dog has been very keen on one particular spot in the garden behind our garage. Since she is mostly blind and totally deaf, her sense of smell is keen as the old pointing dog in her refuses to give into old age. (she is a hunting breed, but never actually hunted; she has lived her life on table scraps and sleeping on furniture) Upon closer inspection, the wife discovered a nest. Instantly, widespread panic and paranoia sets in. "What is this nest?," she shouts. Naturally, whatever lives in this nest has infested the entire house! This beast is likely eating our food, living in our walls and slowly chewing apart the rafters of the house. Soon the house will cave in, killing us all........

"Mice! It's a mouse," the wife exclaims! "We have mice in the garden! I know it's a mouse nest under one of my plants! I can see them in the nest right now!" She then states, "If you see one mouse, then there are 30,000 more you don't see." At least that's what mouseinthehouse.com says. We have to get rid of the mouse. Also, if there is a mouse in the garden, then they automatically get a key to the house, and shorly thereafter, move into the house and begin their path of total infestation and destruction. After several minutes of calming and counseling we devised a plan to "remove" the beasts. Now this story is funny, if you know Brandi, because she doesn't like to harm anything. Have you ever seen the person that almost runs the car into oncoming traffic to miss the squirrel crossing the road? Or the person that sighs and gets distressed when a rabbit or dear is dead on the side off the road? I live with this person. Pretty funny, because her father and brother kill enough deer to feed us all each year.

I quickly explained that killing the animals would not be a problem. Brandi needed a more humane way. After she called her dad under significant distress we devised our plan. Although we vowed never to speak of this deed, I felt it needed to be blogged. In an effort to be kind, humane and worldly I scooped up the entire nest into a 5 gallon bucket and then drove it to a local nature preserve where I could set the animals free. What a nice, happy ending to a potentially tragic and deadly story. I feel so good about myself right now for making the world a better place.

As Paul Harvey says: "Now, the rest of the story." So I actually headed out with a shovel to knock the mice off. Brandi walked away into the house and started on a bottle of wine to calm her conscience and nerves. So' I gave a few quick and stealthy WHACKS to the nest and shoveled the not so untraumatically killed animals into bucket to put in the trash. However, as I dug them from their nest, I discovered that they were quite large for baby mice. Upon closer inspection, they weren't baby mice. In fact, they were baby rabbits. After telling brandi that the animals she so feared invading our house were cute, cuddly, fuzzy bunnies that I had flogged to death with a shovel, the wine bottle basically became a funnel. It was actually pretty funny, but Brandi chooses not to speak of what we now just call "the deed that was done." I guess there probably will not be a very good easter egg hunt in this yard next year.

WWW.

2008-04-24T23:10:00.003-05:00

Tonight was an exciting night. WWW night is for wine, waffles and watching TV. After a long winter of no television we ushered in some of our favorite shows with this historic event. Our friend Jessie came over for the infamous "breakfast for supper" followed by some quality television of Grey's Anatomy, Lost and The Office. I chose the breakfast, Brandi chose to take the picture, and Jessie wanted wine........so we threw that in with the waffles. Since it was raining all day and is supposed to snow tomorrow, the wine was probably necessary.

In an effort to make this event a healthy one, we had turkey bacon at Brandi's request. A few comments on turkey bacon:

The pros: It's better for you. It's fully cooked, so you can rip open the package of 'bacon' and eat it raw for a dramatic visual effect.

The cons: It's not really bacon. I'm not sure it really comes from a turkey. I'm not sure it comes from an animal. It is creatively colored to resemble the tasty visual marriage of pork meat and pork fat intertwined into a pan fried delicious taste treat. This visual mirage, however, is about as believable as a hamburger made our of Legos. Cooking turkey bacon, if desired, does not provide much visual feedback. It takes between 4 seconds and 40 minutes to cook. I would like to know who the turkey bacon designer is that decides how much light colored turkey puree to mix with the darker, reddish colored, meat looking, turkey puree to best resemble regular bacon. This visual illusion can be very deceiving........from 100 yards, or farther, away. Gobble, Gobble health nuts and go get your turkey bacon. If you can't find any, just throw strips of an old baseball glove in the microwave for about thirty seconds and enjoy! Maybe tomorrow night I can rustle up some soy based, shrimp cocktail imitations! In other news, did you know that chicken McNuggets are not actually real chicken pieces? Wow, they are molded so realistically so. Who doesn't like chicken Mc Nuggets? Vote in the new poll.

Birthday #1......

2008-04-22T21:22:00.002-05:00

This weekend was my nephew Conner's first birthday. We traveled back to Iowa to celebrate with him. Conner has lots of cousins, and a three year old brother. There were so many kids, eating so much sugar, that I never was actually able to confirm a count. There was a lot of yelling, some fighting and a lot of sugar consumed.

Opening packages was not really up to Conner. It was more like a pack of ravenous wolves attacking the wrapping paper after eating about two pounds of skittles each. Pretty intense stuff. I kind of lock up with all the action and cautiously step away like one would do when someone near your starts a chainsaw and is about to lay into and fell a tree. I think my sister enjoys watching me stand in amazement of the chaos as much as anybody.

The 1st birthday was not the only event that took place. After Conner opened his present, he had one more gift......a t-shirt from mom and dad. As you can see from the photo, he is going to be a big brother. Heather and Jeff are awesome parents with very fun, beautiful children. I am sure Grandma and Grandpa Hoffman are wondering how they will chase all three around when they babysit. They better start training! Lots of fun this weekend.

Birthday, Sushi, Surprise

2008-04-16T22:07:00.002-05:00

A few weeks ago a good friend took my wife and I out for a "Sushi Orientation." I had wanted to try sushi for a while but really know nothing about it.

It seemed that me wandering into some sushi joint alone would be about as wise as negotiating for a car in a foreign language. Basically, I would be confused, broke and have a sore ass in the morning. Thankfully, my experience with Brian was far better. Sushi was interesting and very foreign. However, I really enjoyed it. So, last week for my birthday, I decided to meet some friends at a great sushi place in St. Paul. Saji Ya has a great happy hour on drinks and several good sushi rolls. Upon my arrival and looking for the group I was meeting I surprised to find my in-laws drove up from Iowa for the event. Sushi was a bold step in their food horizon, I think they enjoyed the experience, but likely we won't find them with a stool named after them at the local sushi bar in Kanawha, IA. It was pleasantly surprising to find the the small get together blossomed into about 8-10 of my friends and family. We had a great time even though we were gazing out the window in mid April at at blizzard of slush. The sushi was even better than the first time and seems to evolving into a meal that could easily become one of my favorites.

Next time you are up for some tasy food, I strongly recommend the raw fish taste of sushi and the ever so tasty wasabi! mmmmm.

The Break Up

2008-04-04T11:00:00.001-05:00

This is never easy, but the Boot and I are going to have to part ways. It's so hard, because the Boot didn't do anything.....you know the story: "it's not you, it's me, Boot." We have been together a while now, and it's been good mostly. It seems that my (physical) therapist , just thinks that the Boot is unhealthy for me at this point in my life. I just don't need the kind of support that the Boot gives me anymore. We've been going to (physical) therapy for a few weeks together, and now I am going to start going alone. I feel like maybe the Boot is a little too controlling, and holding me back. Maybe we are just at different places in our lives. After all, I'm getting along o.k. without the Boot now. The Boot, quite frankly, makes me uncomfortable around others, self conscious, and it kind of smells. Relationships that limit what you can do are never healthy or natural.

Maybe it's time for us to see other people? After all, we haven't even been sleeping together for about two weeks now. We are different people than we were a few months ago. The Boot was suffocating in a plastic bag somewhere in an emergency room supply closet. Now, it's come out of it shell and it's seeing the world, exercising more, helping others. I used to be happy, somewhat fit and generally active. Now, I'm a 1.5 legged, partially disabled inactive ball of over 30 fury, but I'm changing. I don't know if that good or not, but it just feels right.

It was different back when we got together. I was stoned on painkillers, and the Boot was there for me at a difficult physical and emotional crossroads in my life. We slept together every night for nearly 5 weeks! Some nights I didn't get much sleep (if you know what I mean), other nights we went to bed and just lay wrapped around one and other on a cold winter's night.

When I look back on our relationship now, there were some weird times. The Boot really didn't want me to go anywhere without it. It seemed no matter where I would go or what I would do it was there, strapped to my foot like a ball and chain. Then, it started to get jealous of my wife. I tried to explain that this could get complicated, but we stayed together. Eventually, I got off the pain killers, we stopped hanging out with our friends, the Cruthes, and we wouldn't even watch TV together anymore. Getting away from the Cruthes were a big step. They slowed us down, and always wanted to be with us. When we finally stopped hanging out with them, they were just literally rubbing me the wrong way.

I hope the Boot and I can still be friends. I hope it's not weird when we see each other in the house or at the club. I hope we can still hang out and text each other when we need someone to talk to. We had some good times, but times change. Boot, thanks for the memories and stay in touch.

MOTM

2008-04-02T20:33:00.002-05:00

MOTM? What in tarnation is this acronym.......Mitch on the move! Today was the 6 week post op check up. The doc said to start moving out of the boot. This means more mobility, eventually. The facts right now are that when I took the boot off for my re-introduction to walking I wasn't moving too fast. But after a few 'hot laps' around the PT office and 5 minutes on the treadmill going exactly 1mph, I was pretty much tapped for the day. I believe my pulse surged to 86bpm and I burned 13 calories. I'll probably be sore tomorrow. At this pace I might as well start going to coffee at 4am with the old men at the gas station every day.

It was nice to dig out and dust off all of my right shoes that have been stacked away for some time. I will spend the next week or so weaning myself off of the boot as if it were the teet of the mother cow, as I slowly gain my balance and strength like young Bambi taking her first steps.

I needed a temporary cane for the next day or two as the stability of my foot builds so that I don't look like I have a peg leg and ten beers in me when I walk. Hopefully this only takes a day or two. Should I show up with bruises or a cast, I probably fell down the steps of the house (since I haven't gotten the handrail replaced yet). In the mean time I found that my 3 iron serves me well as a cane. I use the club head as a handle, and the grip makes for a lovely no-slip tip on the ground. It also is fun because while holding a golf club I can pretend that a) it's golf season, and b) that I am ready to play golf. I decided to put on TWO shoes and dance a celebratory jig with my cane.

Fore!

2008-03-31T20:25:00.004-05:00

The beauty of spring. Green grass, blue skies, sunshine and......golf. All of these are wonderful and refreshing after a loooong winter. Then, just as you are about to button up a Hawaiian shirt and sip that first Corona on the deck, you remember that you live in Minnesota. On this glorious last day of March we all received a swift kick in the stomach from Mother Nature in the form of a snow storm. As I write this it's still dumping snow and there is already 7 inches on the ground!!

When times are rough, you have to keep the PMA: Positive Mental Attitude. So I went out in the yard for some early season golf. It didn't go all that well. I lost a lot of balls in the snow, my glove left one hand terribly cold, and the greens were insanely slow. Not to mention that the giant boot that is still attached to my right foot has no cleats in it and my bare toes were chilly after the first couple of holes. To continue the defiance I put on a speedo and decided to blog while listening to Jimmy Buffet tunes. Lucky for all of you there were no photos taken of that. It's called cabin fever, but when there is a half a foot of snow on the ground in April, it changes to cabin plague.

While the snow is crappy, the beach is not always perfect. Thanks to my friend Pat, I got this article about A)why wearing a speedo can be good, B)why the beach can be bad and C)why naked Europeans scare the bejeezus out of me.Hmmmmmmm....................a few observations in reflection of the adventures of our now favorite Croatian: 1) Exactly how f@$#ing cold is that water that your balls get so cold that they fit through the slats in a beach chair? Maybe the term "cool sea" was a bit of an understatement. C) How many times did the staff play paper/rock/scissors to have to go cut the old naked dude out of the chair? 4) Which is worse: Trying to walk to get your phone with your jewels dragging a beach chair.....OR Having the beach maintenance boy show up with the DeWalt sawzall to tell you to "relax" as he demos the chair.

March Maddnes and Flattullence

2008-03-19T13:45:00.004-05:00

What is it about this topic that just never gets old. Farting. You love it, it makes you laugh, and if you could, you would laugh and celebrate the joyous feeling you get turning one loose into the world. There are some classic and timeless terms in this video that we all should re-insert into the vocab: "pinching a loaf" and "dropping the kids off at the pool."

In other news, March Madness is upon us. Fill out your brackets and prepare the office for the ever popular under the table gambling at the workplace! I think it's important to remember just what March Madness is all about, because it's much, much more than college basketball. It's also about hockey. For some excellent info on how great hockey is, please visit the recent posts on the Monteith blog posted in the sidebar to the right.

This weekend is the WCHA college hockey tournament featuring your own Minnesota Gophers taking on St. Cloud State on Thursday at 7pm. We also have a heated race for the Minnesota Wild going on featuring games at San Jose, Vancouver and Calgary.

Back to basketball.....I have included a new poll for March Madness. Place your vote today!!

Tales of Peril and Torture

2008-03-08T08:51:00.004-06:00

It was great to get back to work this week, but sitting trapped at my desk did bring about several problems.

In most cases, having a bouldering wall in my office is a pretty sweet setup. However, when one is rendered lame for several months, watching others climb all day isn't all it's cracked up to be. I find myself daydreaming and debating with myself the potentially positive climbing merit the boot could have. The answer is none. Heavy, rigid and over the calf actually have nothing in common with climbing shoes. I guess the only thing it has in common with climbing shoes is that is smells.

Retrieving coffee in the morning is basically impossible. I did contemplate attempting this magic trick, but decided otherwise. It set up like this in my small little mind: As I perilously crutched across the ice and snow covered campus tundra with a Starbucks cup latched between my legs thoughts of my office chair finish line are perched in my head. Then, unexpectedly, time slows and all hell breaks loose. The tenuous purchase of the crutches give way on the verglas ice beneath them and the battle of man vs. gravity begins. As I slowly fall, the plastic lid disengages from the steadfast cardboard lip of the cup and the liquid magma known as a grande cafe Estima dark roast spews from the confines of the crotch held coffee cup. As I crash to the ground making a sound similar to Will Ferrell on tranquilizers in 'Old School,' I lay helpless on the frozen, coffee saturated tundra around me. Then, as I attempt to rise from the mangled pile of java and ice, I realize my coffee has frozen and I am now trapped, frozen solid, and left for dead on the campus of the University of Minnesota. As I come to terms with my death and delirium sets in, I see in the distance, a polar bear approaching to enjoy a meal by slowly picking my cold, dying and caffeinated flesh from my half dead body as he dines on the herds weakest member. So, as a result, I decided to just stay at my desk and pass on coffee for the day.

Eating lunch: My wife so kindly packed a nice lunch of leftover stir fry for me to have at work. As my stomach began to growl, I decide to eat. I then realize I have no means of getting to the microwave on the other side of the building while carrying my food. So, now that I have had no coffee and it looks like lunch is probably getting cut, I begin to sob at my desk as I fear I will perish here inept, forgotten and starving.....maybe like this guy.

What we can all learn from these woeful tales is that each day in our daily lives we must constantly analyze out limitations and consider the impossible possibilities. Life is much better lived in a predictable, risk free and controlled manner. As a result, I am considering giving up my passion for climbing, wakeboarding, skiing, and of course, racquetball, to join the professional miniature golf tour and the international society of mall walkers. Currently these are hopes and dreams for me once I can walk again. Anything is possible if you put you mind to it. Click on the image below for my inspiration. I couldn't embed this video, so you will have to go to the blog and scroll down to the Mall Walkers post. It's great.

Recovery: 2 Week Check Up

2008-03-05T16:06:00.011-06:00

Today I got to visit the doc again and the news was much more exciting than last week. Last week, I basically got a little iodine rubbed on a giant cut and then the doctor said, "looks good." The withered and mangled foot was then promptly re-mummified with gauze and bandages and shoved back into the foul smelling, heavy and cumbersome boot I have come to love and cherish.

At this weeks appointment there was news, big news like the ongoing saga of Jessica Simpson and Tony Romo. Although I find this to be nothing more than a ploy by Jerry Jones to use sex to try to re-sell America on the fact that The Cowboys are "America's Team." Why? Well, in Texas logic, they have a star on their helmet, and there is a star on the American flag. Good theory, but we all know Texans don't acknowledge the rest of the country, hence they celebrate Texas Independence Day in an effort to get an extra day off of work and also show they lack of unity with the other 49 states. If only Texas were in a position to break off into the ocean you would find the me down there with a pocketknife frantically stabbing the earth to hasten the process of detachment.

Back to the topic at hand. I can now remove my foot from it's entombment of the boot periodically to gently move it about. A small step, but oh so liberating. What is left of my leg, basically a bone with some skin and calf muscle remnants dangling from it, might make me want to leave the boot on. I can also now put 25% of my weight on it as well, however I am having trouble with the math and keep spraining my ankle trying to balance on a postage scale for accuracy.

In addition to this I have been cleared for washing. This is great news as the other day, as my loving spouse chauffeured me about, the vehicle promptly filled with an odor somewhere between butt crack at the state fair and a dead corpse in the trunk. Through some high level deductive reasoning skills I determined that it would be best for our health, and to get Brandi to stop gagging, if we did not have the heater blowing on my feet emanating foulness throughout the car.

I will start some form of physical therapy next week, all of which is forward progress and hopefully the golf course and climbing wall will be here before I know it. I thought of including a picture of me lounging in the bath, as this was a big highlight, but went with the scar photo instead.

Speaking of the Scar: There is a new Poll! Rock the vote!
Peace out, M-Dizzle

Back to Work

2008-03-04T19:24:00.002-06:00

After two weeks at home, and near insanity (the podcasts speak for themselves), I returned to work on Monday. The good news is that I love my work and I would much rather be there than not. The bad news is that podcasting is a time consuming activity that will not be as frequent.

I do hope that the Adventures of Mitch Podcast will not die. With some help from fans and friends I am confident that there is some good material out there to put on the airwaves. I know there is some poetry out there waiting to be broadcast, and some philanthropic partners that have been left out. After all, with only one leg, my weekends are still pretty wide open. I am hoping to also get some musical guests and phone interviews in the near future as this has been a busy week of news.

On a more serious note, thanks so much to all of my friends that stopped by, questioned my insanity, and pried the painkillers from my cold intoxicated hands over the past few weeks. I am off the pain meds, with out getting all Brett Favre, and very motivated to get healthy so I can go outside and play with all of you again soon. It certainly sucks to be injured, but is awesome to have good friends and family that do whatever they can to make it better.

Todays News

2008-02-29T15:54:00.002-06:00

The Friday posting is your news source for the week. Click below for the podcast. We will be taking the weekend off and will catch up next week.

Click for Podcast

Investigative Report

2008-02-28T20:56:00.003-06:00

The week is getting looong, as I am sure is vividly clear from the fact that A) I am making podcasts and C) the content of the podcasts. I tell myself it's better for me than TV, but I am not sure that is true. I am hoping to beat Beck to the end of the internet before I go back to work on Monday.

Today your favorite podcast investigates some of the lingering questions facing the nation today. Check it out.

Link to Podcast

The Poem

2008-02-27T00:12:00.002-06:00

Here is todays podcast. Enjoy. I have added pictures to the podcast as well!

Click for today's podcast.

The End of Week 1

2008-02-26T19:28:00.002-06:00

Well, I managed to get through 7 days at home. Actually got out of the house last night. The pain has subsided when I get up so it makes moving about the house much more enjoyable and leaving the house will be much more feesable now. The podcast worked out well and there are more ideas cooking. I am hoping to get some celebrity guests, sponsors and other gripping topics for discussion. I wanted to post this video that was pretty funny. I found this as I was doing my investigative reporting for the podcast....what an idiot.

Lets All Do The Sprain - Watch more free videos

Not much else today to bore you with.

Day 6: Learning to Podcast

2008-02-25T15:17:00.008-06:00

Today to remedy the boredom as the weather was getting nice I decided to elevate this blog to the next level. Today I have added the first ever Adventures of Mitch Podcast. I was playing with the new macbook that Brandi bought and happened upon the program called Garage Band. It's a pretty amazing program and upon testing the musical waters, I rapidly reaffirmed how terrible of a singer I am. These files have all been destroyed, so don't bother asking......

While surfing tutorials on the program I learned how to podcast. Pretty fun. So I present to you my podcast.....after all I do have a nose far better suited for radio than rock videos.

Link to Podcast

Day 5: The Oscars

2008-02-24T18:52:00.002-06:00

Two things I hate: Being broken and awards shows. After an extremely busy day contemplating life, watching the Wild lose a hockey game and totally dominating my fantasy golf this weekend I have nothing to watch because the Ocsars are one for 7 hours........don't know, don't care, and am not concerned with who made the clothes you are wearing. Tiger Woods? Well, just be glad you weren't Stuart Cink today getting pimp slapped backwards and sideways for 29 holes today. The only good news for him was that he got beat so bad in match play that he could go to the bar 7 holes early.

In other news I am pretty excited about the week of blogging ahead. I think an entire week of house arrest should bring out some interesting thoughts and creative perspective. Saturday night I watched an awesome climbing video called Kinglines. Check out the clip. I know, that most of you don't care about climbing, but this is pretty killer even if your a fan of ball sports, or no sports at all. Thanks to Joe, Jevidon, Luke and Neumann for bringing the vids by for me to contemplate as my climbing abilities spiral into the darkness faster than a Dallas Cowboys playoff run.

Short and sweet today on the blog......I hear the sighs of relief.

Day 4: Well Wishers

2008-02-22T12:30:00.005-06:00

Remember when you work all week, or go to school, how awesome the weekend is? Oddly enough, this phenomenon does not exist when you sit on the couch all day with your foot in the air. Everyday could be Saturday, or Tuesday for that matter. I'm not going to lie, passing the time is making me restless, frustrated, agitated and down. Thinking about the time I will be rehabbing totally freaks me out and also seems like forever away. I made it a long time without a major injury, considering all the things I've done. Unfortunately, I take that as no consolation.

The last couple of days have been made much more exciting by having a few visitors. Friday afternoon I had a group of 4 folks from work stop by to say hello and hang out for a while. I did my best to feed them some of the food I have stockpiled in my nest in the basement, but other than that I am a pretty crappy host right now. Not long after they left a group of climbing buddies stopped by and brought me about 10 climbing videos to watch. It was definitely a nice change of pace and a great gesture that is very much appreciated of all who stopped. Thanks again for the visitation.

Today I got two gifts from people. Brad, Steph and Kaysen sent me a care package filled with lots of sugar and a battery operated poker game that should help pass some time. The robin egg whoppers in the package are one of my favorite Easter candies. It's good I am getting a head start on the candy because my Easter egg hunting skills are probably going to be a step slow this year.

Not long after I got the box pried open from the postman and the doorbell rang. So what to my wondrous eyes should appear, but an edible bouquet of fruit, from Trent and Renee. This fruit bouquet was not a basket but actual fresh cut fruit into a bouquet of flowers etc. The fruit not only tastes great, but it's all absolutely perfect texture, ripeness and flavor. Pretty impressive for the middle of winter. Trent was likely very busy cutting up all that fruit......watch those fingers Super T. I have a feeling this gift won't be around too long. Highlights were certainly the giant strawberries and the chocolate dipped green apple slices, which were amazing. I also got a few cards from folks this week as well. I may be in the basement, but I am not forgotten!

Recovery Day 3: Naming Rights

2008-02-22T08:56:00.003-06:00

After days of excitement and creativity, the name suggestions for the boot have been clogging the fan mail inbox. I had two suggestions, the other 8 round out the top 10 names for the boot. There is a survey to the right, so don't forget to vote!!

World's Most Cumbersome Bottle Opener
Burt - I believe he is still dating Ernie
Gladiator Instruo Pro Suus Tunc Pugna - A fan mail addition. I did some 'loose' translation and I believe it means: Warrior strudel, served with a spicy Bolognese sauce. Those Greeks, drink waaay too much wine, but they always make stuff sound really cool.
George W. Bush - It's small, agitating, doesn't speak well, and from the smell of my foot, is most definitely not good for the environment.
The Bastard Step Child - You try to pretend that it's not there, but it annoys the piss out of you.
Norbert- This name accentuates the European look of the boot while playing upon the slightly clumsy undertones and boyishly disabling charm that it has.
Dolemite - Dolemite is big, black, and if your not nice, he will be all up in you ass.
Cletus - Cletus is stupid, clumsy, smells and is usually covered with automotive oil. Cletus spends his free time drinking cheap, warm beer and trying to get a date with his cousin(the left foot). Appropriately named, you want nothing do with Cletus, or any member of his family tree, which actually looks more like a family wreath.
Batman and Throbbin' - Don't be confused here, The Black Knight (Batman) is my left foot, as it can do amazing things like balance, walk and move. The invalid right foot, is it's worthless adolescent teammate, Throbbin. Throbbin has a cool superhero exterior, but doesn't actually do anything except hinder the heroic efforts of Batman (left foot). "Batman and Throbbin" coming to an infirmary near you!
Cialis - Cialis is always upright and rigid. When you have Cialis you will experience an erect foot lasting 4-6 weeks. In clinical studies, Cialis made nobody happy. In some cases Cialis causes liver and/or kidney disease from the user drinking away their pain. Cialis will get you no action, not even from the hot 50 year old lady in the commercial. Cialis is not recommended for anyone wanting to walk in the near future. Cialis may cause shortness of breath or sharp bursts of pain as you crutch around the house. Cialis is not recommended for those using nitrates for chest pain. See your doctor if you think Cialis is right for you, after all, we could all be miserable together.

Recovery Day 2: Numbing of the Mind

2008-02-21T21:43:00.002-06:00

Eventually all good things come to an end and reality smacks you in the face like a sock full of quarters. After being cared for and waited on hand and foot for two days, the wife headed back to work today. For me this means I am trapped in the basement with an assortment of sundries and toys. I kind of feel like I am in a pack 'n' play for adults. I have my guitar, television, cel phone, pain killers, muscle relaxants and that's about it.

After being trapped in the basement since Tuesday I geared up for a big adventure after Brandi left for work. I tackled the steps, against the wife's wishes, and my reward was brushing my teeth, shaving and watching a few birds at the feeder the morning. It was some sort of tribal act to regain my independence, I guess. Ryan and Molly brought some Chipotle for lunch, visitors and food. A few more lunch visits like that and I will be on my way to 300 pounds in no time.

Today I entered the mind numbing state of sitting on the couch with my mind slowly adrift from one monotonous and meaningless activity to another. There seems to be little that is actually mentally stimulating. Somewhere between daytime television, email and a few naps, the day ended and Brandi came home. That is my day. The good news is that I have this awesome boot on my right foot that is pretty cool. It's got straps and buckles and renders the foot so lucky to be inside of it totally uselss. I am still accepting fan mail with names for the boot.

Recovery Day 1: Name that Boot

2008-02-20T14:47:00.003-06:00

After a decent nights sleep, I awoke this morning with more pain than I had all of yesterday. I can definitely feel the slice in the back of my leg. I have not been able to decrease pain meds or muscle relaxants thus far and today the road back feels looooong. After sitting on my ass for hours on end with my leg in the air I am bored out of my mind. I am only mildly entertained by the throbbing pain mixed with watching Rachel Ray and Martha Stewart on TV.

Last night a few friends stopped by and brought me a delicious quesadilla from the local bar, as they call it: The White Elephant. It was nice to see some folks and watch the hockey game, even thought the Wild lost in OT. My wife has me locked in the basement, as she doesn't want me going up and down the stairs, so I have no idea what's going on above grade in this place.

If anyone knows of anything entertaining to do on the couch, let me know. I am currently searching for the end of the internet and will keep you posted on my progress. I would also like to name the godforsaken boot that I am imprisoned with, so if you have any good ideas, throw them my way.

Under the Knife

2008-02-19T15:25:00.006-06:00

Bright and squirrelly this morning I headed in for my date with the scalpel. It seems that everything went really well. The Doc said that some tendons break pretty clean, but mine kind of looked like mop strings." I took it as a compliment, because I'm different and that makes me special. Being special is something to be proud of. A little tidbit I learned in Sunday school or somewhere on of the few times I didn't escape with my friend Kaiser and raise hell stealthily roaming the church under the aliases Fernando and Eugene.......but that's just a digressing story I will attribute to the Percosett.

One of the high points of the day was all the free stuff I scored at the infirmary. After arriving I got to strip my gimp ass naked to dawn the fashion savy robe. I just about bit it trying to get it tied so as not to give a free show to the nurse, but they didn't let me keep that. I did, however get to put on this really sweet stocking for my good leg. I think they probably felt pretty bad for all the attention that my right was getting so it was nice to have them throw a bone to the lefty as it has been the workhorse lately. This high quality textile is a tight white thigh hight that greatly resembles the shooting sleeve worn by your NBA favorites such as Allen Iverson, or Carmello Anthony. I will be calling mine a hobbling sleeve as that fits my mojo better and I'm kind of hoping it helps my already crazy white boy ups that I have.

One of the other fine items included some powder blue socks with space age polymer traction on the bottom. Watch out Five Ten, this stuff could be the next Stealth product. Actually, this is very doubtful. These are the type of item a homeless person gets for their great grandmother for Christmas, but I figure I can roll in the for a few day to test the fashion waters. I'm not sure if I got the mate, so I might not be able to wear them upon regaining my bipedal status.

After surgery I was treated to cuisine of saltine crackers, graham crackers and Sprite. They went with the mini cans of Sprite, of course, just in case I had morphed into a 5 year old during the anesthesia. As for the crackers, well I was about to chew off the other leg in hunger so I hit those pretty hard, I think a Belgian waffle and some bacon would have been a nice gesture after slicing into the back of my leg, but who am I to judge. First the airlines, now the hospitals. We will be lucky if we get food at restaurants soon the way this is going. I was pretty hungry and was starting to wonder if I got a contact hight from the Panama Red the doc was rockin' in the OR, but they assured me this was not the case.

In all fairness, I did have a very good experience. The doctors were good and assured me everything went very well. Thanks to the "candy" they gave me I have been totally pain free the whole time. The only bad news of the day was that they said it would be 6 months until I am 100% from this operation. Even an outdoor rec major can't count those months on one hand, but I will see if I can beat that time line. I'm fairly certain that I will be an extremely motivated PT patient. Peace and love, The Hobbler.

Achilles Tendon

2008-02-18T20:21:00.002-06:00

It seems that this blogger has taken a fall from all that is fun in recent days. My Valentine's gift: Rupturing my achilles tendon while teaching racquetball class. So, in the past 5 days I have visited urgent care, ER, foot and ankle specialist, had an MRI, hosted a climbing competiton and will have surgery tomorrow. Do you know what this means? It means that about everything I find fun and exciting will be off the table for months. The final judgment came down this morning when I got the MRI results. "A high grade tear, but not complete. " There are "a few fibers" holding it together right now.

Tomorrow at 7am I am heading in for surgery. Sounds crappy, and it is. Maybe I can make some blog posts while I am rocking some strong painkillers. It sounds like Vicatin is the pill of choice for the pain so that should be interesting. Hopefully I don't Favre on the painkillers. While I am in a pretty foul mood, my wife surely is the biggest loser in this deal. Anyone who has to spend large amounts of time around me, when I can't be active, I certainly do not envy. If you see her, please buy her a drink, I'll pay ya back later. (make sure she doesn't have to drive me anywhere, because without a right foot I am pretty much screwed on the transportation front)

I feasted on Chipotle for my last supper tonight and nothing goes better with eating than some video footage of surgery. Here is a video of the surgery, compliments of Beck. I figure if I eat Chipotle for two meals a day while I'm and invalid I will probably fit in the whale sling that Andy so graciously has offered to buy for me. My friends are always looking out for me.

Super Boulder II

2008-02-04T21:41:00.000-06:00

Sunday marked the 2nd annual Super Boulder. A super bowl party with bouldering as it's sidecar......pure genius. This year the fun factor was greatly elevated as it was the inaugural use of the propane deep fryer I received as a Christmas gift from my brother in law. So mixed in with the climbing we managed to consume a lot of fried cheese, a lot of jalapeno poppers, a few fried dill pickles, and 15 pounds of chicken wings. There were only 8 of us, but we ate for 16. The bouldering was hard and we left plenty of routes unfinished. Through extensive research we did learn that eating chicken wings and drinking beer does not increase climbing ability. Consider that information 'the tip of the day!' In the end, a great game and for a bunch of ball sport hating climbers, there was quite a bit of cheering as the Giants ruined the perfect season. Cheers to underdog! Click on the photo for more Super Boulder II images. Photos courtesy of Eneu Photography.

Another benchmark of Super Boulder II is that it marks one year of this blog. Before you go posting your comments, I am well aware that there were several gaps in time. Maybe I'll get them next year......maybe.

Getting My Curl On

2008-02-02T22:01:00.000-06:00

Events like I experienced today are exactly what this blog is about. We were given the opportunity to 'learn to curl' by our friends Vinh and Megan. Curling is that unique Winter Olympic sport that we all watch in amazement and wonder, "who in the hell does this stuff, and how did get into the Olympics?" I can't even explain how excited I was to curl. So I will give you what my small brain absorbed and deemed relevant from the day.

First, basically you push off of a rubber block, called the 'hack' and slide down the ice as you release a 40 pound granite 'stone' down the ice aimed at a giant bullseye about 140 feet away. The object is to get as many of your 8 stones close to the center of the bullseye, which is called 'the house' and the center is called 'the button.' You can only score if the stone is within the outermost circle, and only the team closest to the button scores as many points as they have stones inside of their opponents nearest stone. Each round is called an 'end,' similar to an inning in baseball, except far more exciting. It's kind of a shuffleboard meets bocce and putting on ice. As the stone slides down the ice you can 'sweep' it with a broom like device that basically creates friction and heat to help the stone slide more easily down the ice and stop where your team desires. Before I ramble on further, just go to Wikipedia if you really care about the details any more.

Some other interesting curling info to note:

It is considered polite and 'necessary' to have a drink with the opponent after each game.
The sport gets it's name because you put a slight amount of rotation on the stone as you throw it so it will curl left or right to hit other stones or curve around blocking stones to get to the center of the house. Sort of like a draw or fade in golf.
A curling event, or tournament is called a Bonspiel, which I am pretty sure means tournament in Scottish.
The ice is 'pebbled' to give it a slightly bumpy texture which aides in the ability of the stones to curl.
Curling all day is far more tiring than I expected.
Curling is far more about drinking than I expected.
Stretching out in the crazy throwing position will likely render my leg extremely sore or unusable tomorrow.

I have to put this on the list of one of the most entertaining things I have ever done. It's an awesome sport that combines coordination, strategy, teamwork and gamesmanship all into one. I would highly recommend it to anyone. If I could just learn to luge. Click here to view more curling photos from the day.

It's colder than ________________!!!

2008-01-31T13:10:00.000-06:00

When the windchill is -41, it's time for a weather related post. The average 'celebrate winter' activity is pretty much out, since you would freeze your face to a can of beer if you were to drink in your yard or something. As a result I came up with a few funtivities for extreme winter cold:

1. Wear dress pants to work and you will be able to simulate what it feels like to walk down the street with no pants on. As a disclaimer, actually walking around without pants may get you arrested and the staff at Adventures of Mitch can assume no liability for this.

2. Fill a container with very hot water and tell your friend you will go outside and throw it in the air over your head. Fun trick. The water will turn to snow when it hits the cold and what doesn't will freeze into a block of ice and hit you in the head. At least you are not wet. Again, no liability assumed.

3. Work on your fake cry and see how fast the tears freeze to your cheeks and eylashes. Option 2 would have you do something that actually makes you cry, but is usually far less fun.

4. Exercise your vocabulary to fill in the blank for this posting title, so as you see people throughout the day your are not the complete frozen brained idiot stating the obvious when you say, "golly, it's a cold one out there today, eh?" Some suggestions: It's colder than..........a) trading Johan Santana for a bunch of guys nobody has ever heard of, 2) the packer fans after Bret Favre threw and interception in overtime, 4) the tears that fall from Terrell Owens' eyes after he loses.........I could go on, but likely nobody will be entertained.

Happy 2008!

2008-01-27T22:51:00.001-06:00

Happy New Year, 27 days late. Adventures of Mitch has been a neglected tale of late, and many of my avid readers (approx. 1-4 people) have begun to get restless in the absence of the riveting tales of Adventures of Mitch. So I will start with an update, and hopefully by the time I finish typing that I will have come up with something else to ponder.

Here's what's happening: UNI lost in the playoffs, it snowed this winter, my dog is still alive (at 12 years old she's mostly blind and 90% deaf), and I have stopped drinking coffee that was once part of a marsupial's excrement. Quick update, year in review, now onto the new story.

This has been the winter of skiing. Nordic skiing. Skate skiing. I got into it last year and have become obsessed. How obsessed? I usually consider myself obsessed with ice climbing. I haven't even gotten my gear out of the closet this winter. I haven't taken one swing at the ice. Instead, I hover over a bench in my garage waxing my skis for the next days weather and dream of Norwegian men in lycra suits. I'm not racing or anything, but just seem to be addicted to being out there. It's a great workout and a great way to cruise around the parks in the winter. I have been slowly building up the endurance with hopes of doing a race at some point this year, which brings me to the story of the day. Given this story, a race should be entertaining.

I went out on Friday morning with my friend Sean for about a 10k ski. ('skiers' measure their distance in kilometers because it's European, and therefore worldly and cool) It was somewhere new and hilly and fun. So, I decide at some point Friday night that this was going to be the "Weekend of Skiing." I was going to push my limit......go farther than I've gone before and basically totally dominate. So I head out to a state park about 40 minutes from my house for a long ski. I have never skied here before so don't really know what I'm getting into. The trail description is "wooded with some decent hills." Well apparently if these hills are "decent" they must normally ski in the Himalaya. I feel good after leaving the house full from no breakfast and 3 cups of strong coffee. After all, I find there is nothing better than a false confidence to get you through something difficult. I hit the trails cruising and feeling great. The trails are super hilly and the loop is about 12k in length, but I am skiing hard and fast. My goal was to ski 20-25k. After one lap, I feel pretty good and head out again into the woods. After about 3k into the second loop I start hurting. My water is almost gone, I really wish I would have eaten breakfast (or supper the night before), and my legs are screaming. Basically, I skied way too hard the first lap and now I am paying the price (See 'The Tortoise and the Hare' for further clarification). As I look at a map I decide I can trim about 5k off the loop, which puts me about 5k from the car. Not too bad except I felt like I was pulling log behind me and all the muscles had been surgically removed from my legs. I was shot.....wasted......dead. So the rest of the ski pretty much went like this: ski about 1-200 meters, rest for five minutes and drink imaginary water from my empty bottle, and repeat. I did make to the car eventually and can't remember the last time I was that exhausted. Once I got to the car I drove to a small general store about 5 miles away to 'refuel.' Here I purchased 32 ounces of Gatorade, a Kit Kat Bar, bag of potato chips, some peanut M & Ms and a root beer. I proceeded to consume all items in approximately 5 minutes, while driving, and drove home with a well deserved gut ache. Good times. Went out and skied 15k today and my legs reminded me of how they were treated yesterday. The good news is I didn't do the convenience store binge at the end and I lived to tell the story.

I Bleed Purple and Gold

2007-11-27T21:37:00.000-06:00

As a graduate of the University of Northern Iowa, and having grown up in Cedar Falls, I am a die hard Panther football fan. I started attending Panther football games when I was born in 1976 when the UNI Dome opened. I've seen a lot of games and there is nothing better than the FCS, or I-AA playoffs. I won't get into the details of why the games are exciting and how insane it is that Division I can't see how rational the system is. For those of you not keeping track off the #1 rated Panthers, they have had a record breaking season.

After a 12-0 season the playoffs started this weekend. I, of course, made the drive down to the dome to watch the big game.......I don't miss playoff games. We fans have been waiting for this day, as the last playoff game ended in a loss in 2005 when the panthers were defeated in the national championship game in Chattanooga, TN by Appalachian State.

This weekend, it was New Hampshire. A solid team, with a great quarterback to match up with our ace, Eric Sanders. I won't bore you with play by play, as you can find that on the panthers website (see link in right column). The dome is a crazy place to play. It's loud, it's the playoffs and anything can happen. This game was totally nuts. I've seen good games, I've seen crazy games, but this was one of the best. The panthers led, or were tied, the entire game as the offenses traded scores. New Hampshire found a way to score with just 1:16 left in the game to go ahead for the first time 35-31. Sitting at the game with my panther comrades........we'll call them Rooster,Martini, and my cousin Vinny (for the sake of anonymity), we were devastated, crushed like a small child after realizing their pet hamster can't swim in the toilet. Emotionally shattered like a 7th grader peeing his pants at school.........this was not good.

But wait, it's a bird, it's a plane...........it's the UNI Dome. Eric Sanders, our senior quarterback led the team down the field and threw a 25 yard touchdown pass with just 7 seconds remaining to win the game. We cheered, we cried, we forgot to notice that Rooster left at the half with his daughter........and couldn't remember where Martini's wife and small child were. Luckily, they were home safe, away from the pandemonium and chaos. We lived to play another day, namely, this Saturday, 1pm against.......the Delaware Fighting Blue Hens. Go Panthers!

For a video clip of the winning touchdown:

http://www.desmoinesregister.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=VIDEO02

Thanksgiving in St. Paul

2007-11-23T20:35:00.000-06:00

I have spent a lot of my Thanksgiving holidays, as an adult, in the Grand Canyon backpacking with groups. I find myself torn between how much I enjoy the Grand Canyon and how much I enjoy the gluttonous beginning of the holidays season marked by Thanksgiving. Having spent quite a few weekends traveling this Fall, we decided to spend our first major holiday at our home in St. Paul. We have both had some busy days at work lately and it has been incredibly relaxing to have several days of nothing. We enjoyed a quiet Thanksgiving morning with a cup of coffee, snow flurries and a paper filled with ads. I decided to try to cook a meal worthy of holiday status and it actually worked out fairly well.

I prepared grilled spinach and feta stuffed turkey tenderloins, mashed potato casserole and some stuffing. We killed a bottle of wine and enjoyed a late afternoon meal on a wintry day. Since I was in the cities this Thanksgiving, I decided to experience 'Black Friday.' After all, I hate shopping, but the people watching has to be entertaining. Brandi wanted to go to the mall, but I was afraid some would trample or eat me........these types of things happen at the Mall of America. We set the alarm for 5am and headed for the stores. After almost getting hit by 473 SUVs in the parking lot we watched several hundred people lining up outside Circuit City in 19 degree temperatures in their individual quests for discounted electronics. In the end, we hit a few stores, bought some stuff on sale, accomplished zero holiday shopping and found ourselves ready for a nap by 10am.

What would a weekend be without some driving? I am off to Cedar Falls tomorrow morning to watch my beloved UNI Panthers start their quest for the 2007 FCS college football championship after completing an 11-0 regular season last week. Go Panthers!

Minnesota's North Shore

2007-09-29T19:25:00.000-05:00

Fall is by far my favorite season of the year, however, it's also the busiest season as well. With Brandi and I both working at the University, Fall is a crazy time of year. We decided we REALLY needed to get away for a few days. We headed to the North Shore of Lake Superior for some R&R and to take in the peak fall colors before the weekend crowds showed up. We were not disappointed. We spent some time in the quaint northwoods town of Grand Marais, hiked to the highest point in Minnesota and spent a night camped on a 'secret' beach on the shore of Lake Superior.

We hit the road on Thursday morning and stopped in the harbor town of Duluth for a burger at Fitgers Brew Pub before making our way along the shor on highway 61 (see 'Bob Dylan song'). While the leaves in the twin cities are changing some, it quickly became evident that they were near peak color in the northwoods. The drought of this year has left the woods glowing with yellow contrasting against the lakes, conifers and dark tones of the North Shore rock. After taking in the view from Palisade Head we left the shore and drove inland hoping to hike up to Mystical Mountain and the views above the Wolf Ridge Environmental Learning Center. We got a shortened hike in as a passing thunderstorm prevented us from accomplishing the tricky scramble required to get up to the top. Wolf Ridge had great color and it never gets old hiking through the woods with fall colors lighting the way carpeting the trail underfoot.

Friday morning we enjoyed a cup of coffee and strolled through the streets of Grand Marais. A raised sugar donut from "Worlds Best Donuts" proved they did well in naming their establishment. The galleries and shops of Grand Marais made quick work of a lazy morning enjoying a sunny fall day and some great art.

After lunch we headed up the Gunflint Trail into the BWCA (boundary waters canoe area). The BWCA is the largest roadless piece of land east of the rockies, and definitely one of my favorite places on earth. The hike up Eagle Mountain to the highest point of Minnesota is a rugged rocky trail that winds through woods of the Sawtooth mountains and enters the BWCA boundary while winding through the northwoods and along remote lakes before reaching the amazing views at the top that overlook BWCA. The overlook on top gave us a birds eye view of the quilt of colors and some of the lakes we had paddled on a trip a few years ago. The colors from up on the cliff were awesome and it never hurts to have near perfect weather as well.

We spent Friday night at an absolutely perfect campsite listening to the waves of Superior crashing onto the pebble covered shore with a bright moon making it easy to walk around without using a headlamp. A bottle of red wine and a fire in the moonlight made it hard to go to bed, knowing tomorrow I had to drive home. In the morning, we enjoyed an amazing sunrise over the lake with a cup of chai before heading back to the city. (we did repeat offend at the donut shop)

Water Closet Upgrade

2007-07-17T10:24:00.000-05:00

First of all, my apologies to the Adventures of Mitch fans for the delay in my blogging. I hope I can provide some writing worthy of entertaining. The "adventures" have been a little slow lately. I have spent some time climbing outside at the local rocks, but those don't really warrant posting. So, I have spent my time pondering what I could do or concoct to post to the blog. This weekend, it finally happened!

I am a fix it up guy. I spend a lot of time and energy working on our home. Some days the results are little more than a lot of sawdust, a few crumpled beer cans and the cars stuck in the driveway because the garage is a workshop. Other days, the results are better and something actually gets accomplished. This weekend, something was definitely accomplished.

There are items in our daily lives we use everyday and a quality product can make their daily use very enjoyable. I am a big fan of this concept of quality everyday items. Good socks are one of my vices. I wear socks most days, and picking out a fine pair of socks for work or running and pulling them on my hooves is very enjoyable and starts the day our right. Other items I put in this category: Underwear (tho going without is heavenly), gloves, a good bed, showerheads and ........the throne.

Many of us enjoy the moments of porcelain solitude and bowel movement bliss. These moments are not about the destination, but the journey. Purchasing a new toilet can be overwhelming, exciting and sometimes eye opening. So when I decided to replace the throne I had a lot of research to do. Some nice features are the new chair height throne. The 16 inch high bowl makes sitting on the standard toilet feel like a pre school chair, and vomiting will be much easier on the neck. I do think the dog is having trouble drinking from the higher bowl, but that may be for the best. A person will need to choose between the round or elongated bowl. I went with elongated bowl for both comfort and contemporary fashion (I feel the total package). Then one must decide on the most important part....the engine. While many women are concerned with the color and style, men would prefer that florescent green toilet that sounds like a 747 when you pull the trigger. They actually have a toilet that claims to flush 1000 feet of toilet paper and another that can flush 24 golf balls! So, I am thinking:
A) If you use 1000 feet of toilet paper, you should probably think about sitting there a little longer
B) I hope those golf balls are not Titleist, as that would come out to between 40-100 dollars per flush. I will personally crawl into the sewer for that many balls.
C) If you are crapping golf balls, especially 24 at a time you should really reconsider your diet.

I did not go with GT 7000 or Powerflush ZX100 model, but rather a Kohler Cimarron, 1.6 gallons per flush, elongated, comfort height, white toilet with quick release and soft closing seat and lid. A fine product from the folks from Wisconsin. I will say the high seat, soft closing lid, and adequately powerful flushing sound and power has made the daily duty very enjoyable. I don't feel like I need a tattoo and wristbands when it's time for business, but I anxiously await any challenges I can send forth to the new rig.

I have chosen not to enclose an "action photo" to this post.

Conner William Martin

2007-04-26T11:58:00.000-05:00

I just returned from a quick tour de Iowa to visit the new nephew, as well as all the rest of the family. He has been named Conner William. A fine looking little man and his brother seems very excited to have him around. As we can see from this photo, he was not entertained reading "Adventures of Mitch."

A New Nephew

2007-04-23T10:50:00.000-05:00

The great news of the weekend was that my sister and her husband had their second baby boy on Sunday. He was a healthy 9 lbs, 4oz and 21 inches and change from tip to tail (if my short sporadic memory is serving me well today.) The photo is of nephew #1, holding nephew #3.......nephew #2 is on the other side of the family. I will keep you posted on the name, as that is still under lock and key. I am heading to Iowa to visit the new family member on Tuesday and can't wait to meet the new little dude. What an exciting way bring in the spring.

A trip to the mountains

2007-03-18T22:13:00.000-05:00

I spent last week in Colorado visiting my college climbing partner and friend, Trent. Trent and I have enjoyed a lot of adventures together over the years since meeting at the University of Northern Iowa and always find a way to have fun. This was not our most ambitious or extreme trip over the years, but a day in the mountains with friends is always memorable.

We spent a day climbing into Loch Vale and Taylor Peak in beautiful Rocky Mountain National Park. Our objective was to summit Taylor Peak, but that didn't quite happen. We had trouble finding our route, the snow was super wet and warm and I just plain got tired. We enjoyed a beautiful winter trip into Sky Pond (picutured below in the photo) and climbed about 1000 feet or so of steep snow. In the photo that trent took, I am the speck sitting in the snow on the slope. The slope was steep and our footing was crappy causing for me to elect to go down after climbing to about 12,000 feet above sea level.

Ironically, when we got back to the car and the map after 8 hours of hiking and climbing, we were not on the route we thought and likely would not have been able to climb out of the gulley we were climbing. I guess you live and learn and in then end come back safe, smiling and tired.

We enjoyed a number of non-celebratory beers and chicken wings while reminiscing and planning "the next big adventure." The great thing about climbing is that it is only as enjoyable and the people you do it with. Good times!

Winter.....better late than never!

2007-02-25T17:58:00.000-06:00

The week started with plans to travel back to Cedar Falls, IA for some obligations and to visit family. Enter, winter storm 2007. Minnesota got blasted by a pretty good storm leaving about 12 inches in my yard over the weekend. That killed the driving plans on friday and left an open weekend at home. It's refreshing to know that it actually does snow still in the great state of Minnesota, as the past few months have been pretty discouraging. I love the snow, and really feel that if you are going to live somewhere with winter that it should be embraced. It's hard to see the skis, snowshoes and ice climbing gear sit in the closet while I stare aimlessly at the dead grass in my yard. I was happy to shovel the snow and even made a huge pile in the yard to dig a snow shelter. I thought it might be fun to dig a snow cave and sleep in it one night.......I will keep you posted on those plans.

On the bad news front: I went into work to set some bouldering routes on the climbing wall in my office saturday. While climbing, I seem to have suffered a significant tendon injury to my left ring finger. I have injured fingers before, but this one was accompanied by a pop, a sign that is not good from what I have read. The problem with tendon injuries is that they take a long time to heal. In my case, I also get tortured by people climbing all around me every day while I hang out with my gimp hand and talk to them. I will probably make a trip to the doctor on this one as the pain seems to be significant. Grrrr.

Back to good news! The wife and I headed out today to enjoy the fresh snow at a nature preserve near our house. The Dodge Nature Center is a great natural area right in the middle of West Saint Paul....(WSP to the local homies). They have a lot of trails through wetlands, woods and prairie that make you feel like you are a lot farther from the city than you actually are. We enjoyed a great snowshoe hike enjoying making fresh tracks on the trail and enjoying the trees dusted with last nights snow. We were even treated to several deer running through the woods.

The Climbing Competiton

2007-02-19T22:38:00.000-06:00

This past Saturday I hosted the annual climbing competition at the U of MN. It's a lot of work but always in the end extremely rewarding. It's great to get to spend time with all of the climbing wall staff and work together to put on a great event that all of the climbers we see everyday get to enjoy. I guess it really is the reason why climbing creeps into you and never leaves. Is it the people that are fun to be around, or the activity that keeps you wanting more? Probably a little of both, but climbing is only as fun as the people you are doing it with. In my case, those are almost always good people. Jevidon, as always, was Johnny on the spot with the camera, so click to link to his gallery from the competition.

Climbing seems to breed some type of pack animal mentality. As long as we are together, we feel pretty normal. Put one of us out in the open and we are just obsessed weirdos covered in chalk with abnormally strong hands, good balance and absolutely no fashion sense (my wife dresses me). In the spirit of climbing, some observations I have made in my years enjoying the sport. You might be a climber if:

You know how to open a beer bottle with a carabiner.
You don't twist the cap off of beer in fear of damaging the skin on your fingertips for tomorrow's bouldering session
You own belts, or other clothing accessories, made of retired climbing gear.
You trim your nails more often than your wife, girlfriend or mother
You don't have any money for new climbing shoes, but always drink micro brew
You can name 5 buildings in your neighborhood that would be great to climb
You've climbed a building before
You've contemplated how you could build a climbing wall in your rental apartment
You regularly feel the need to hang from door frames
You've been asked if Cliffhanger is a good movie more than ten times
You hate the movie Cliffhanger
You could kick an eagle scouts ass in a knot tying contest

In other news, we seem to have broken the twenty some days without the temperature getting above freezing, and now it looks like warm weather that will ruin the skiing and ice climbing. Yeah for global warming (smell the sarcasm, please).

The Great Wisconsin Adventure

2007-02-11T20:11:00.000-06:00

This weekends journey led me to the great state of Wisconsin. In true Wisconsin fashion there was a lot of beer, meat and cheese (hell yeah). We went to a Gaelic Storm concert on friday night for a fun show as always, even though it was in a theatre. If you haven't heard them, get on it because they're awesome. I was given a Bret Favre doll made of cheddar cheese, and made a trip to the Miller Brewing company. For those of you who know me, this was a major pilgrimage, as well as an educational adventure. When the video shown at the beginning of the tour ended and I was moved to start clapping. Nobody else did, but they might not be as dedicated.

Over there at the joint founded by Fred Miller in 1855, they are currently cranking out 2,000 cans of golden delicious beer per minute on two lines (that's 4,000 cans a minute for the not so little Einsteins out there). 500,000 cases of beer each year are sent out into the world from the hard working folks of Miller....amen. It's a free tour, with a little bit of sampling afterwards, beers that I have had probably a million times, but they always taste better coming straight from the source.

On the way back from the brewery we stopped at Whistling Striats golf course(it was home to the 2004 PGA Championship). It's absolutely incredible, even covered with snow. The clubhouse and locker rooms are clearly for people living on a whole different planet than most of us.

Kudos to the Gottsacker clan that hosted us for the weekend. Those Wisconsin folks can host a major throwdown! To sum up the weekend in one visual: Think about soaking some cheese in beer, wrapping it with sausage, frying it, and then eating it with Brett Favre at a dive bar on the corner you arrived at on a snowmobile while trying to hunt something! On Wisconsin! Schweet!

Super Boulder I

2007-02-07T13:18:00.001-06:00

It was a cold weekend with a high of 3 degrees and a low of -14. Most of the weekend was spent in the negative numbers. It wasn't too cold to cancel the Super Boulder! I had about 10 friends over for some friendly competition on the climbing wall in my garage (which is heated.) We ate, drank and climbed while watching the big game. A great combination, except for maybe the eating and climbing, which we found don't go well together. We were lucky enough to have some of Luke's homebrewed IPA which was great. Eric N (climbing left) took home the bragging rights and much fun was had by all. Justin took some sweet photos, as always, and you can see more of Super Boulder by clicking the images on the left to link to Justin's photo gallery.

poop coffee

2007-02-03T20:43:00.000-06:00

We all have those things we feel are "must try." Our friend Jessica told us of a small little coffee roaster in Minneapolis where they have the world's most expensive and exotic coffee: Kopi Luwak. It costs $420 per pound of beans or $10 for an 8 ounce cup. I would never pay $10 for a cup of coffee, but then I heard the story behind it all.

The coffee is grown in Indonesia. The fruit is eaten off the plant by a marcupial creature called a "luwak," then partially digested and the beans are harvested from it's feces and roasted. Whallah! Poop coffee.

The coffee was really smooth. The four of us shared a cup and then tried some of the other coffee. I had some Jamaican Blue Mountain that costs $59 a pound, but only $2 for a custom ground and brewed 12 ounce cup that I would take any day over my favorite starbucks bean. It was a great experience and a great place. If your in the Linden Hills area stop by Coffee & Tea ltd. for your own cup of poop coffee. Warning: Do not try harvesting coffee beans from your own feces.

.....the beginning

2007-02-01T15:37:00.000-06:00

In an extremely unsuccessful effort to start a website (mainly because I am lazy) I have decided to start a blog. I can post photos and random thoughts that likely nobody will read. Mainly I hope to make this a place where folks can see what I've been up to melded with my own candid thoughts and photos. I'm gearing up for an exciting weekend as I will be hosting the "Super Boulder." This unique event will be a climbing competition on my garage climbing wall. Features include homemade beer, great climbing, and of course, watching the super bowl.