The Dog Blanket

By the time his ashes and collar came unceremoniously in a box most of the crying was done. All that was felt was the hole that he left behind. The vet came by to drop them off. I thanked the Vet for all of her care and concern. Placing his ashes and collar on the mantle had just ended a 10-year friendship. Though he is gone I still think about him everyday.

My dog didn't shed, he’d molt. His fur came out in small feather like tufts.
My father was always against having pets and much like the father in the original story " Cheaper by the Dozen" my father thought that pets were useless because they did not produce eggs, milk or meat.



I have heard of people vacuuming their dogs. I have one of those stand-up one-piece vacuums with the rotating brush action on the bottom. My dog would see the beast and always keeps a weary eye on it. While lying on the carpet he’d try to maintain his composure as the Hoover whirred its way back and forth in front of him. As soon as he saw it changing course in the slightest degree toward him he would move out quickly at a brisk pace looking indignant.

I had pretty much given up on trying to keep up with the mess. I would pull out the vacuum right at the point where I couldn’t stand it any more and the house looked like a poultry facility with minions of Sterling's tufts of fur looking like chicken feathers coating the carpet.

I wished that the molt would happen all at once. Sterling would shed in phases. First his back, then his rear haunches, then his chest and tail, until finally his sides slowly began to yield.
The dog shedded twice a year. The first "coat blow" was slow and insidious. His straw-like guard hairs were the first to go. Shortly after his undercoat began to become unglued. This would usually happen just after we gave him a bath. I guess that the dog shampoo washes away the dog hair glue that kept him all together
You can tell where he has walked before because you'll find chunks of dog hair stuck in bushes, lawns & shrubs like breadcrumbs that lead to a gingerbread house in the Bavarian forest. One time we took him to a groomer. While he was being blow-dried so much fur was flying off of him that the groomer had to take him out to the back alley to finish drying him. It was a surreal site to see the voluminous amount of fur flying around. He looked like one of those snowmaking machines coating all of the streets of Burbank.
Sterling’s fur would get everywhere. On a windy day about a mile away from the house a bird’s nest was blowing down the street. I decided to pick it up and show it to my daughter. When I did I discovered that the nest was made from grass, twigs and Sterling’s fur. A few years back I had to rebuild our deck out back. We had lived in the house for five years and I was making some repairs in preparation to sell it. Upon taking apart the deck I had found that dog’s fir was entangled in between the deck planks and serews.



Charlene LaBelle, Malamute breeder and author brought it to our attention that Malamute fur can be collected and that it can be spun into yarn. She pulled off the stocking cap that she was wearing. The cap was soft and pliable. Softer than lambs wool not scratchy like the sweaters that your mom made you wear to school. Malamute undercoat is white or more of a cream color. Sometimes it can be sable or gray in color.
Sterling would know when it was time to be harvested. The brush and zip-lock bag were kept in the same drawer as the dog walking paraphernalia. The drawer pull would make a familiar ka-clink whenever the drawer was opened. For Sterling that either meant a walk or a brushing, and he would scurry over to see. When he saw the brush he’d snap his teeth like an alligator. Sometimes he’d try to nibble on the brush. Jill would sit and brush him for as long as he allowed her to.



If she was wearing a black pair of pants when she was done her pants (and everything else for that matter) would be coated in dog fur. When she stood up she would look like she was wearing a pair of those furry chaps from the black & white cowboy movies. She would stiffly make her way to the trashcan looking like something out of a Tom Nix movie.
My mother-in-law who is an avid knitter knew and recommended a friend of hers from the Coast Guard Auxiliary who spun her own yarn from the traditional sort of beasts like sheep and rabbit. She had never spun dog before and took to the challenge with out hesitation.
I think that she was a bit surprised when she was given 9 bags of dog fur that were bursting at the seams. Over the first two years my wife and I collected and turned in at least 20 bags worth of fur. She called us to tell us to stop collecting.
It didn't take long for all of the fur to get spun. Just like lambs wool Sterling's fur had to be washed and dried. She would put the freshly washed hair into a salad spinner and spin the fur until most of the water was removed. I always wondered if she used her salad spinner to make salad afterwards.

I am a napper from way back. As an infantry solider the military taught me to get sleep whenever and where ever I could. Back then I would sleep lightly like a treed caveman constantly being jostled awake by the slightest crackle of leaves fearing for my life reaching out for my rifle. Now that I am a civilian I have take the art of napping to a new height. I sleep just as deeply during the day as I do at night, no fear or guilt involved. Upon returning to school during the day and working full time at night and after the birth of my daughter, napping had become a survival tactic. I have since gravitated from using a camouflaged poncho liner to a any small soft comfortable blanket I can get my hands on.
Over the years my mother in law has knitted a couple of different throws for me. The first was plain and simple. Blue, with a simple repetitive pattern. The second was a rust colored calico design and the third was made with what ever left over yarn that she had. Each time I reminded her that I already have an afghan that she had made for me. Each time she claims that she does not remember ever making anything for me. Since my marriage to my wife for the last fourteen years I have received three Afghans or .21 per year.

With no fanfare or announcement the dog blanket came in the mail in a simple white box with no note. It was a quiet surprise. My wife and I looked at it with a silent awe. Not only at the color and texture of it but at the intricacy that Louise had put into knitting it. I had seen many an afghan knitted by her, but this by far was the best. Sterling took an immediate curiosity to it. He nosed and sniffed and sneezed at it, then retuned to his eight-hour nap.
The dog blanket sits prominently at the end of our bed. We recently purchased a large Mission style bed. Sterling's blanket hangs over the side much like a tapestry or a coat of arms. Every once and awhile my daughter will take a nap on the bed. I like to cover her with the blanket. Inside I feel as if Sterling is watching over her, protecting her.

The blanket is a sort of connection with my dog, a physical momento of my friend of ten years and the skill, craftsmanship and care of my mother in law.

It’s been three years since he has left us . His departure was a long and difficult one. But occasionally I see the blanket and I am caught off guard and I stare deeply into it and remember.

The John Bingham Arizona Distance Classic

I performed almost exactly the same as the P.F. Chang’s marathon and in this case that is not bad. This was a VERY hilly ½ marathon. I didn’t prepare for the hills but I did continue to train right up until the time I caught the flu.

I really wanted to run this marathon, more than the Phoenix ½ marathon. I am a big fan of John Bingham. Reading his books helped me get back into running. The great thing about this race is that it is so small, less than 1000 runners over all (and of course I was almost dead to last). When I picked up my race number on Friday I was fortunate enough to meet John Bingham. We talked for a bit and he gave me some advice on what to do with my particular situation. He’s a very down to earth and genuine person who really cares about others.

It was a cold and beautiful day. The night before it poured rain and had begun to snow. Despite the cold it was a clear and crisp day with the snow-capped Catalina mountains behind us.

On the race I did the best I could, ran on the downhill and sped-walked on the uphill. From mile 10 to almost the finish I ran all the way. Then I hit the wall. My left hamstring seized, totally. I was stuck in absolute pain. It was really bad. One of the runners shouted that he was getting the medic. I shouted back that I was going to make it even if I had to crawl. I stretched for a minute or so and was able to limp and run the last ½ mile in.

Because this is such a small race it is very personalized. All of the race numbers are personalized. All of the volunteers address you by name. As I ran toward the finish line they must have looked up my number because they announced my full name and that this was my second ½ marathon.

At the finish line John was there and gave me a high-five just as I crossed the finish line. Just after running past him and hunched over in pain and exhaustion John came over to me and said. “Good job, you did it, you set out to do something and you made your goal.” To have an author and Runner’s World columnist congratulate me after coming in 66th out of 67 in a race was a big deal to me. I was awestruck.

Here are the particulars:

NO 505
FN Ed
LN Flores
DIVISION M4044
OVERALL 825
DIVPL 66/67
SEXPL 391/407
TIME 3:05:22
PACE 14:09
5K 41:05

Special Thanks To:
All of the supervisors, managers and employees at 2Wire
Alice Pike
Tim Williams
Chris Dorn
Roger McDorman
Kyle Scofield
And of course my daughter and my wife who were there to support me the entire way.


The ritual post-race ice bath

Dog Poop

If you told a person who was looking to get a dog that for the next 12 to 16 years they would be picking up feces one to four times daily, most people would not get one. Most children are potty trained by three. That means that by the time your child is in high school you will still be bending over with a plastic shopping bag to pick up your dog’s poop. Even with a conservative estimate of two doggie bowel movements per day you are looking at bending at the waist to pick up dog waste around 8700 times over the course of the next decade or so. Too bad the dog was not a goose and those 8700 canine bowel movements weren’t golden eggs. As it stands the stuff is not even recyclable by weight, even by this measurement a dog owner might break even over the costs incurred during the animal’s lifetime.

No matter how you look at the task it is not a very welcome idea. The thought of a massive pile of dog excreta warming your hands through a thin plastic shopping bag on a cold winter day as you watch the steam rise from the hot overflowing mass in the early morning sunlight is not as welcoming per-se as, say a good steaming cup of coffee.

It is a disgusting thought knowing that a part of dog ownership is about feces. Dog owners are not preoccupied with the fact, but is does actually occupy a position of notable importance in their relationships.

Most dog owners are keen to changes in their dog’s excreta. Changes in consistency, color and smell are important seeing as it can be a direct indication of the dog’s immediate well being. Many a dog owner has spent their evenings over a stove, cooking rice and turkey meat so their dog can recover from diarrhea. Others can find items that were once thought as missing such as crayons, chalk, plastic and a host of other interesting things that make their way around the second time.

If the stomach pumping imagery of a pile of soupy dog feces creates in your mind is not vile enough, smell adds an incredibly wondrous dimension to it. Depending on the diet of the dog, the waste can be repugnant and rank, full bodied with a hint of meaty effervescence.

Tales form the Dung Zone - The Four Horrors
You see a person coming towards you as you travel with bag in hand down the street. Despite a slick effort to hide the treasure in your bag from view, you still manage to offend as its contents waft invisibly and penetrate the nostrils of passersby who wince at the rankness as if exposed to a smelling salt.

You wrap your hands around a wet gigantor of a dog log only to discover that there are multiple holes in the bag. You must now walk home or to the car with your hand coated in poop juice. Despite the distance whether short or long this quite possibly is the longest walk of your life.

You are mortified to discover that you left your house without any dog bags as your dog is squatting on the sidewalk in front of a high-class eatery with many onlookers.

You come home after work to discover that your dog has giardiasis after you slip and fall in one of the 27 puddles of dog diarrhea that are on the walls, furniture and floors.

Let he who has not sinned throw the first pile
On high average, dog owners are responsible, caring people. They care about their neighborhoods, the areas that they travel with their pets, and just as importantly, how they are perceived buy the non-dog owning public.

Dog scat is a major point of contention amongst non-dog owners and the dog-phobics in general. It seems as if, in their minds, dogs should not relieve themselves in public.

It is this general consensus that has manifested into some of the strongest anti-dog legislature on the books in California. In the city of Santa Monica for example you can be cited for walking your dog if your dog bags are not openly visible. Even if you had several thousand bags stuffed on various places on your body and you looked like Bibendum, the Michelin Man, you would still be imposed a fine of no less than $50 for not having 1 plastic baggie visibly flapping in the wind.

The deed itself carries a deep social stigma in the public eye, even if a dog owner follows the rules of good courtesy and the city laws. The dog is not allowed to go on a lawn if the owner is watching. God forbid that a dog were to crap on a lawn even if the dog owner picks it up. A dog owner can have a bag in hand and appear to be as vigilant as a Yankee catcher on a pop foul ball in the ninth inning of the seventh game of the World Series. Even then, it is a losing situation. As the dog is relieving himself, the owner will bolt come out of his doorway screaming as if someone were about to set fire to his house.
Another obstacle is where to discard the indiscretion. Despite litter laws and high fines, public trash cans are hard to come by. In most parks trashcans are placed close to the picnic tables. If the picnic table is being used a look of horror can be seen on the picnicers faces as a dog owner approaches the can with a plastic baggie of odiferous brown mushy waste.

Even in residential areas, owners find it difficult to find a place to discard the refuse. You would think that on trash day, when the street is filled with cans that have been emptied earlier that morning, it would be easy to toss out your treasure. But this is not so. If you attempt to throw away rovers gift in one of them you’ll have to make sure that the owner is not around. If they are out picking up the morning paper or getting into their car for their morning commute, you’ll often hear a very adamant, “Not in my trash can, take that someplace else.”

One dog’s pile is another man’s poison
It is an amazing thought to see that dogs and their owners in this society are ostracized despite their earnest efforts to clean up after their dogs and keep their neighborhoods clean. Your dog defecating outside is equal to smoking in public, even though the scientific community has never proven that cancer can be caused through breathing second hand dog poop.

Because we consider ourselves a modern society we have managed to separate ourselves from the natural world. Our transportation has evolved from animal to soulless machine whose insidious invisible waste ruins our lives and quite possibly our future. As we “evolve” we try to distance ourselves from nature. The dog is perhaps one of the last connections that we have with nature and our primitive past. Now that we can start fire without flint, have food without hunting, and try to distance ourselves from the cave are we trying to separate from one of the best symbiotic relationships in our existence? Dog owners realize that the fleas come with the dog, and so does his dung.

Sick

Someone once told me, "Take care of yourself and the universe will take care of you." Although greatly oversimplified as logic, there is a universal truth about it.

Over the last 2 years and 7 months I have not been sick. Let me rephrase that. I have not called out in that long of a time.
I have come in looking like death warmed over on high 5 minutes in the microwave, but I refrained from calling out sick. I don't know why I am so stubborn about it. What am I trying to prove. When I come in sick I just piss off all of the people I work with. I quickly lash out, "where do you think I got this from?' Not that this is the right train of thought either.

Along time ago when I was younger I use to call out, a lot. If I wasn't feeling good or just didn't feel like it I would report to the medic station. Something was always hurting. Why run 6 miles if you just didn't feel good? Then one day I got sick, real sick. I was in quarantine for a week. Later for another reason I was sent away for some further medical tests and looking at the possibility of knee surgery. I had an ephiphany, I felt that being sick was a lousy way to get a day off. I just wanted to be better again.

When I entered back into civilian life I developed a new work ethic, work as long as you can for as hard as you can. You'll never know when it will all be taken away from you. Your work is your identity and you are judged on how you apply yourself. Since that time I have gone the opposite way. I have come back to work just days after a surgery. I have come into work with a fever of 102. For awhile the madness would not stop. In some ways it continues.

Last Friday I got the aches and chills, I started coughing and got a runny nose and a fever, yet I stayed at work. This weekend I was just knocked on my ass by the flu, even then I continued to do chores and do some work from home. When I came into work today I could barely breath without sneezing or coughing. "You look like and sound like shit, " and with that my boss sent me home. I guess I haven't learned yet. I just want to work hard, no matter what.

I'll stay home when H5N1 hits, we all will.

The Manbag

My last briefcase was getting old. It was time to retire it. So the hunt for the perfect bag began.

I remember once seeing the President land in Marine One and thinking wouldn’t it be cool to own the same bag that the nuclear launch codes are contained in? Not the exact same bag (which would be impossible) but the bag from the same company. Despite an exhaustive search which entailed contacting numerous governmental department and several intelligence contacts I was thwarted in my attempt to gain “the football” I was told that a bag that was fire and bullet proof would be out of my price range and was told to look for something more civilian.

Last Christmas I received a briefcase from my wife, rather nice briefcase I may add. It was the newest version of my old Tumi bag that was old and tired.

She agreed to replace my last bag that she got me that lasted about 15 years and went and got me a Tumi fold-over computer brief for work.

As soon as I stepped into the office that week after the holidays the comments from colleagues, subordinates and supervisor started.

“Nice purse” a coworker commented

“Metrosexual tool bag” stated my officemate

“What does exactly one put into a man-bag?” said my boss.

The last comment led me to think, what should I start putting in this thing?

As soon as I got it I transferred everything from the last case into the new one.

Tumi of course makes a fabulous product and has some features that are both convenient and handy for the use.

As a bonus my wife got some small stocking stuffers that would go along with the theme of the gift. A small mini Mag flashlight with biteplate, a small LED keychain light and a mini micro tool that includes pliers, a file, tweezers and a knife. I added a Surefire G2 Nitrolon flashlight, the beam cuts through smoke, it’s waterproof and the body is virtually indestructible (one can never have too many flashlights).

Some of the features on the bag that I observed:

A water bottle pocket – the pocket is lined to protect against leakage to other compartments and has a drain hole in the bottom in the case of a water bottle or thermos blowout. This feature merited a quest to find the perfect water bottle for the pocket. After searching high and low I selected the Nalgene 16 oz bottle. Normally the 32 oz bottle is the standard fare for most outdoor types but the pocket would hold nothing larger that the 16 oz size bottles. Captain Tippy Cup was the latest comment received at the office as a result.

An expandable umbrella pocket – despite living in Phoenix, Arizona last year had proved to be quite a wet year comparatively speaking thanks to El Nino and the Pineapple Express from the Pacific. Having an umbrella handy has kept me looking civil unlike my wet-rat counterparts at work and school. However this year it has not rained here in Phoenix for over 120 days, so for now, it’s just extra weight.

Business Card Pocket – seeing this prompted me to immediately order some business cards. My wife some years ago had given me a sterling silver business card case with a Frank Lloyd Wright design on it. The case now sits proudly and snugly in the briefcase. Occasionally I remember to hand them out.

Headphone port – There is a small opening that allows you to thread your headphones through so you can leave your MP3 player in the bag. Despite owning an iPod I really don’t use this feature on the bag. When I use the iPod I just take it out of the bag.

The Office Group
I don’t use a laptop at the moment but do keep a large 9 x 11 organizer with me at all times. It’s large enough to occupy the space where a laptop computer would go. I use the large organizer and the Franklin Covey system to organize my work and personal life. Even though I really advocate the use of computers and technology, nothing out there can beat go old analog type organization for day-to-day tasks.

The List:
In the Main Compartment:

Full size day planner/organizer
Prescription glasses & case
Sunglasses & case
Compact folding umbrella
(Three band ham transceiver)
4 X 5 Moliskine journal & Fisher Space Pen
Manual for Ham Radio

Tumi Pencil Case consisting of:

Glue Stick
Collapsible scissors
Tiny stapler
Small inkpad
Date stamp
UFO eraser
Black Sharpie
Red pencil
Micron pens .01, .02, .05 & .08
Black warrior pencils
#3B Staedtler Mars pencil

For some strange reason I went on a bent to fill the bag with things that I may need in the case of an emergency. This really prompted even more comments from coworkers.

The Survival Group
Being the ex-paratrooper and eternal Boy Scout I carry a few survival supplies with me at all times. In my travels they have come in handy on occasion.

I carry two different kits in the bag, one for survival and one for first aid.

The first aid kit is made by Adventure Medical and contains the following:

1.Aloksak® waterproof bag, US Navy certified to 200ft
1 Splinter Picker Tweezers
3.Safety Pins
4.Motrin®
2.Antihistamine
2.After Bite® Sting Relief
4.3X3 Sterile Dressings
4.2x2 Sterile Dressings
1Non-Adherent Sterile Dressing (3x4)
1.Conforming Gauze Bandage
2.Butterfly Closure Bandage
3.After Cuts & Scrapes® Towelettes
4.1x3 Adhesive Bandage
2.Knuckle Adhesive Bandage
1.Tape ½" x 10 Yards
1 Moleskin (7x4)
1.Tincture of Benzoin
2.Antibiotic Ointment

The survival kit was inspired by The SAS Survival Handbook by John Lofty” Wiseman. It’s a comprehensive survival kit that has come in handy over the years on travel, in the city or in the wilderness.

The survival kit contains:
Duct tape
Button compass
Knife
Matches
Pencil
Purification tablets
Snare wire
Candle
Flint & striker
Hacksaw blade
Fishing kit
Whistle
Sewing kit
Safety pins
Wire saw (with finger loops)
Condoms (non-lubricated, for water storage)
Survival instructions
Signal Mirror
Tinder
Water bags
Single edged razors
Butterfly sutures

What’s even more amazing is that all of this fits into an Altoids tin

I also have an emergency space blanket in one of the pockets just incase someone around me should go hypothermic.

Kenwood TH-F6A
I get quite a few strange looks for carrying around a ham radio. It hangs on the outside of the bag and is conspicuously placed with 2-meter antenna sticking up. But when I saw this one it really did an impressive amount of things. Kenwood really did a great job on this radio. Aside from being a three-band transceiver over 144, 220 and 440 the radio has wide receive capabilities. Police, aircraft, television, regular radio and emergency weather can all be monitored from this little 2 x 3 x 1 package. I’ve used it at work to get severe weather and tornado reports and while traveling. One day as two supercells merged and approached overhead one of my peer managers said. “Maybe that isn’t such a bad idea” as the NOAA report about the impending thunderstorm and possible tornado spewed out of the tiny speaker.

The other day I came under close scrutiny from a gas station attendant. He fired off questions quickly and expected answers quickly as a test and gauntlet of truth.

Gas Station Attendant: “What’s in the bag?”
Ed: “Stuff”
Gas Station Attendant: What kind of stuff?”
Ed: “Guy stuff”
Gas Station Attendant: “You mean that’s a guy purse”
Ed: “No”
Gas Station Attendant: “Then what kind of stuff?”
Ed: “Business supplies, survival equipment and a few electronic toys, still a purse?”
Gas Station Attendant: “You keep your cash in there?”
Ed: “No”
Gas Station Attendant: “Credit cards, coupons or any kind of hair product?”
Ed: “No”
Gas Station Attendant: “Okay then.”
Ed: “Fill up on number 3 please.”


Son of Manbag
But if the manbag were not enough, there’s more. Now there’s schoolbag. I’m back in school during the day and because we don’t get lockers I haul all of my textbooks and resources in a rolling pilot’s chart bag.
There is a pass through pocket on the manbag that the handle from the schoolbag fits right through. As I roll along on campus people think that I am either a teacher or a well-dressed homeless person.



Man Sporran
Now on the weekends because I spend most of my time in running togs I often get sent on a random chore to the supermarket or the hardware store. But because my running clothes do not have pockets I had to buy the equivalent of a modern day sporran…a fanny pack. It’s just large enough to fit my wallet, keys, flashlight, Fisher Space Pen™ and a small knife. Nobody at work has seen me so other than the strange looks that I get from people in the market and Home Depot I have not received any comments, yet.

Hmmm…maybe I should get a real sporran. But as my Scottish actor, kilt-wearing friend Scott Cleverdon has told me there is no such plaid as Hunting MacFlores.

The One that Got Away

As most of you know I use to work in Hollywood as a Post Production Supervisor for a music video production company for about 4 years. I had done quite a bit of work in that time but there were very few projects that I was really ecstatic about saying that I worked on. I think that the “Don’t Treat Me Bad” video for Firehouse and “Forever” for KISS were two highpoints because they were both popular songs and at the time they were my favorite on the radio.

Our sales Director one day ran around streaming that Geffen wanted to redo the music video that was shot while Aerosmith was recording “Tell Me What it Takes.” I was in absolute amazement, finally a song that I liked by a group that I liked.

Mark Rezyka (he also directed Girl School by Brittney Fox and C’mon Feel the Noise by Quiet Riot) went into the standard procedure and wrote a concept to be passed on to the group, manager and record company. It was reviewed and rejected in short order.

I went into a depression afterwards. I liked Aerosmith and had been a fan since the 7th Grade (1976).

Wayne Isham of The Company went on to direct the video for “Tell me What it Takes” shortly after the bidding process was settled. While the video got some rotation it seems like the original footage that was compiled for the original unofficial video got more airplay on MTV so in a way there was never really a music video that was made.

A couple of days later Mark Rezyka stopped by my desk and dropped off his backstage pass. He had it signed by Steven Tyler and Tom Hamilton. I sat and stared at it in a quiet amazement. It was an unwritten rule in that when working in Hollywood that asking for autographs and pictures was strictly forbidden. Despite working with a plethora of musicians, directors, actors and such It’s one of the few signatures that I have and I treasure it to this day.

Letters from Moe

Imagine being 12. You write to your favorite TV personality. He writes back. You write a second letter. He writes again and for the next 6 years you correspond with 28 letters and multiple phone calls ultimately leading to a visit to the stars house.

Well for Bob Burnet that dream came true. Over the years he corresponded with and got to know the #1 stooge, Moe Howard.

You can see all of the letters and photographs collected at his website

http://web2.airmail.net/willdogs/index.html

It’s an amazing story.

Don Morris, I Kicked you in the Head and for that I am Sorry

I’m usually pretty honest about things. I don’t lie because I think that it is wrong and I’m pretty bad at it. However omission is something entirely different.

About 17 years ago when I was in the Army we were returning from a field exercise from Germany. We were set to jump back in a small-scale tactical airborne operation. As most of you know some years back I was a paratrooper.

I was normally nervous or scared on all of the jumps, but on this jump in particular I was more nervous than normal. It was my last jump and I was scheduled to end my tour of service with the military. Nobody wants to die on their last jump.

Troops are placed 64 at a time onto the C-130s, half on one side and half on the other. I was the last man on my side of the plane, which meant I was going to be the first to jump. Looking across the ramp I saw my good friend Don Morris was also the last man on his side of the plane.

Standard procedure is for the person on the right side of the plane to exit upon seeing the light and the person on the left is to be slapped on the back of the leg by the jumpmaster.

The light went green and out of my excitement and nervousness I just jumped out into the void. I was on the left side of the aircraft, I was supposed to have waited.

Mid air it felt like I slammed into a car. Something hit me on my lower back and I felt the back of my boot ricochet off of something. The main chute then deployed and the noise and frenzy of the fall transitioned into silence as I floated to earth with an easy landing.

When I looked over my good friend Don was sitting up, hunched over and bleeding from his nose and mouth. His rucksack was still attached to his reserve parachute. He failed to deploy it prior to the landing, resulting in an even rougher landing than usual.

“Dude, are you okay, what happened?” I knowingly asked having just put everything together in my mind.

“I don’t know, something hit me up there.”

“Sorry about that, ” I said as I slinked away.

Unfortunately Don was the first man out of the right side of the plane. He did the right thing and jumped as soon as the red light turned green. Because I was overly hyped out in the moment I did not do what I was suppose to do. We exited the aircraft simultaneously and slammed mid air underneath the C-130.

I feel bad. I do feel sorry. I never told him.

Maybe someday he’ll just read the blog.

The Supreme Bean

For Christmas Jill got me a great coffeemaker. With the new maker all you have to do is put in beans, water and filter, push the button and voila! Out comes the best coffee in the world. Any fresher than that and you’d have to chew the beans and gargle with hot water.

Prior to that we had one of those Black and Decker coffeemakers that you can buy in the grocery store. We’d buy coffee by the can for the in-laws when they’d visit and occasionally I’d have a cup. Something was just not right. I knew that there was something better out there. Since Folger’s is to coffee what Schlitz is to beer, I had always wanted to try something better and get into higher quality coffee.

About a year ago someone at my work was generous enough to share with me some coffee that she had acquired on her last trip to Belize. She buys the beans by the pound from the distributor and grinds them up just before brewing. This coffee is good…a little too good. If I’m ever put on death row please ensure that I get a cup right around the time I receive my last rights.

Recently I let Patty know about the new coffeemaker and asked to buy a pound of beans from her (okay so I begged a little).

Now I have an inside source for the world’s best beans and something else to add to the list of things to take with me in case I am ever stranded on a desert island.

Life is good and on weekend mornings I get to enjoy a fantastic steaming mug of joe.

Jill's New Cellphone

This may seem silly, but cellphones are amazing.

The come with everything loaded on them.

In fact it's difficult to buy one without a camera, video or mp3 capability.

It's getting to the point that people are forgetting that they were originally designed to make and take phone calls.

I remember my first cell phone. It cost around $800 bucks and was permanantly mounted to the car. Gone are the days of the Motorola brick and the briefcase phone. Now they are so small and cheap they are making them for kids (like your 7-year old).

Anyways, we were goofing around with it and Aimee snapped this photo. I like the distortion, flare and lack of quality to it. It's kinda cool looking, except that my nose looks a mile wide.

More Marathon Photos

All of the photos from the 1/2 marathon are in.

Just go to www.asiorders.com. Select Phoenix Rock n Roll Marathon, then enter my bib number 39456.

Enjoy

I'm Insane

Its official.
I just signed up for the John Bingham Arizona Distance Classic 1/2 Marathon

Although I have dedicated myself to continue with this slack-jawed insanity, I'm doing it for the medal. I've been a follower of John Bingham for years. On the medal is a large penguin and at the bottom is inscribed, "Because I had the courage to start."

Happy New Year

It is no longer the year of the chicken.
It's year of the dog now.

Please make sure not to forget to put that on your checks.

Post-it Note Elvis

The Universal Truth

Vikea - Because Vikings are really just Swedish Pirates

http://www.threadless.com/product/328/Vikings_are_just_Swedish_Pirates

The 1/2 Marathon

I survived. I didn’t do as well as I thought that I would do, but after all this is my first half-marathon.



I was able to get through the first 5 miles, then I started to jog and walk pretty much the rest of the way. By the seventh mile my legs cramped up pretty badly but I was able to go on.

Some of the things I would do differently next time:

Stretch – I did not stretch nearly enough before the run.
Bathroom – I can’t stress enough about evacuation. By the time that you get to the race most of the lines for the porta-pottys are 20 deep.
Eat – because I didn’t eat before the race I had a stomach cramp for the entire race. Because I drank water on the race on an empty stomach it felt like I was running with a goldfish bowl in my gut, complete with goldfish.
Drink – At the race they passed out Phoenix tap water. More on this later, but have you ever tasted the water here? At one point I believe that I saw that they had tapped into the fire hydrants to fill the water reservoirs for the runners. I may try to run with my own water next time.
Train at an incline – I did some of my training on a treadmill and some of it on the street. The marathon was on a steady incline for the first 7 miles, I was not ready for this. For the next one I think that I need to do some more hill work.
Train more for speed – I had been jogging at a 13:00 pace (I know that some of you do not consider this running) but at that pace I am able to pretty much go all day. Anything faster than that and my little train would run out of soul coal. I think that more speed work with the goal of 9:00 would be good.
Get a groove – I never really got focused on my pace and my breathing. Usually when I am training I am able to get lost in the music and I am able to pick up the pace. For some reason I was just not able to focus…probably for all of the reasons listed above.
Chaffing – Two words, Body Glide.

Things that I would do again;

Music – The iPod was a real lifesaver. Some of the bands that they had there were mediocre to just plain bad. Having music that motivates you really helps.
Train Often – I was running 4 to 5 days a week for the race. I would like to continue this with my long run of 7+ miles on Sundays.
Wear only what I needed – many of the runners were way over dressed. I wore only a shirt and shorts knowing that I would heat up and that it would only get warmer. Mile 2 and 3 were spent jumping over sweatshirts, jackets, gloves and sweatpants discarded by runners ahead of me.
Ice Bath – This was a great idea. For as miserable as it was to first get into you could feel the effects immediately.
Beer – Having a beer immediately after the race really helped take the edge off of the pain and the subsequent twitch/convulsion attack that occurs from having spent my all. I was able to sleep easily after the ice bath and shower.



Here are the particulars on the event:

Last Name Flores
First Name Ed
Gender M
Age41
City Chandler
State AZ
Bib Number39456
Place15046
Gender Place6291
Division M_40-44
Division Place936
Race Name Half Marathon
Pace14:10
Gun Time3:29:37
Net (Chip) Time3:05:35
5K (HM) 39:10
10K (HM) 1:22:47
10 mi. (HM) 2:18:35
Total in Div. 1015

I am going to start training aging next week, as I will use this week to recover. In March I am going to run the Valley of Gold half marathon in Tucson.

I want to thank everyone that helped/motivated/encouraged me on my foray back into running:

Jill & Aimee – for putting up with me, my aches and pains and for all of the time that I have spent away on the road and treadmill. For being at the finish line, for helping me out after the race; Thanks for all of your love and support

All of the Agents, Supervisors, Managers and employees at 2Wire.

Chris Dorn – For motivating me in the humorous, agitating way that you do.

Tim Williams – Knowing that you were up there ahead of me on the race was a motivating factor.

A special thanks to Alice Pike for motivating me to get back into running, sharing all of her tips learned from her recent experience on the half marathon.

Kyle Scofield – I’ll see you on the mountain…punk ☺

Girl Scout Cookies

It has begun.

Last night Aimee attended the Phoenix Girl Scout Cookie Kick Off.

Billions and billions of scouts were in attendance. Even Carl Sagan would be impressed.

Thin Mints
Do-Si-Dos
Peanut Butter Tagalongs
All Abouts
Samoas

All coming to a neighborhood near you. Little Girls en masse will be going door to door selling what is now part of our American culture.

“Would you like to buy some Girl Scout Cookies,” will echo in towns and cities throughout the country.

There are some pretty strict rules that go with selling the cookies; all put in place for the safety of the girls.

• Girls cannot sell cookies before 9 am and after sunset
• Girls must be accompanied by an adult
• Girls should never enter a customer’s house
• Girls should never give out their name

Gone are the days of Pleasantville when you could trust anyone and when little girls were not targets.

On one of our stops an old man (2quarts short on embalming fluid) shouts, “What are you selling!? What do you want!?” We are okay that he does not get any cookies, but how can you be rude to a little girl selling cookies? Joseph McCarthy would have surely put him on trial for being Un-American.

Last year we got rolled…hard. We were stopped dead in our tracks by an angry parent and Girl Scout leader, “What are you doing? You can’t sell cookies here! This is our street.” “We made a deal here with all of the girl scouts in the area and have already divided up the territory ahead of time.” Cause when you're a Jet you're always a Jet...
The Thin Mint Mafia had already decided on who owned what turf, who could sell where and who could not. Eventually the turf war between the elements in the Purple Sage group was smoothed over. All within the Cactus Pine district was well again.

Last year I had to go at 6:00 in the morning to help pick up the cookies for the troop. The distribution center looked like the end scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark with stacks of boxes as far as the eye could see. The pallets of boxes covered both the parking lots and the PE field of a high school. About a dozen semis continued to unload even more cookies. It was an amazing site that inspired awe.

When going door to door it is nice to see the reactions of some of the people as they say, “is it that time of year again?” On one of our last stops a woman came to the door and was happy to see Aimee as she said, “nobody has ever come to my door to sell me cookies, I have always wanted to buy Girl Scout Cookies.”
It is not the amount of cookies that she sells that makes the experience but to see the joyful reaction from the people as a little girl brings just a little bit of happiness in a box.

I’m Ready

The clothes have been pulled and folded, race number and timing chip are ready.

It’s supposed to be a cool 62 degrees tomorrow. I’ll let you know how I do.

Chasing a Hot Air Balloon in the Mini

Yesterday Aimee saw a hot air balloon rapidly descending over our house. At around 200 feet it looked as if it was going to land in the nearby golf course.

“Let’s chase it and see where it lands.” Jill said excitedly.

I ran in and grabbed my running shoes, wallet and digital camera. Aimee and Jill looked to the sky as I sped through the streets of Chandler.

About two miles from our house we saw the balloon as it attempted to land in a field next to the Holiday Inn. The balloon could not descend quickly enough and drifted dangerously close to Alma School Boulevard. Two long bursts from the burners and the balloon climbed to about 40 feet. We followed the balloon chase team to an empty lot where they again attempted to land …no luck. We then had to make a u-turn to get to a field that was across the street. The balloon flew directly above us by a mere 15 feet.

After two bounces the balloon stopped as the pilot opened the skirt and let out the hot air. As the giant collapsed in the open field a team of men hurried to fold it up. The well heeled passengers were then packed up into a van and headed off.

It was an exciting, spontaneous and fun moment of our afternoon

Preparing for Battle, Daily

Every night I prepare the armor and place it upon its stand.

Each piece is carefully chosen, each piece is methodically put into its place.

Shoes shined, slacks pressed, shirt starched.

Briefcase as shield, pen as sword, proximity badge as crest of arms.

As each piece is donned I envision what is to come and how it is to be faced.

I arrive and join the fray.

Each moment as melee, each day as battle.

I return only to repeat and to then face once more upon the gates.

Ho, Ho, Go!

Aimee, Jill and I were just in a holiday 5k fun run today. Aimee has accompanied me on long walks before and one time was able to jog about two miles.

This morning she ran about a mile and walked pretty much the rest of it. Jill took off and continued to run just after a mile. She then reappeared at the two-mile marker after backtracking a bit.

She told me to take off and go run the rest of the course. But I told her that I wanted to stay with Aimee and that I wanted to see her cross the finish line. As a family we walked and ran the last mile and ran through the finish line together.

Aimee finished at 53:45 for her first 5k…it was a great moment.

Margaret & Me

Back in 1968 I attended the Head Start education program in Hollywood (and yes, I’m old). My mother was interested in childhood education; my mom brought me along and put me into the program so that she did not have to pay for a babysitter and so that I could learn along with the rest of the kids. One of the kids at the center and whom I was friends with was routinely picked up by his grandmother. My mother would make small talk with her and talk about the kids and education. One of the things that my mom was able to get from her was that she was still in pain from an injury that she sustained on the set some thirty years earlier. That the 3rd degree burns that she received from the scene where she was departing angrily from Oz without the ruby slippers still caused her chronic pain. I remember seeing her quite a few times and a couple of times we exchanged smiles.

I didn’t make the connection that she was the one with the castle, broomstick, full contingent of guards (that went oh-wee-oh, eee-yoah-aaah) and flying monkeys.

Even if I did I was more scared of the actual Wizard himself, for he was loud, angry and could summon fire.

The Dog

It’s been almost three years since our Alaskan Malamute Sterling died.

He was a fantastic animal, strikingly beautiful, noble, dignified. He would stop traffic (literally)

But most important, he was a family member and friend.

His loss left a large hole.

We tried to get another Malamute but that failed miserably. The dog was more monster than animal, more beast than pet, destroyer of all things. Upon biting the kid it was over. He was sent packing.

We knew that without a dog that something was missing, that something was not right. People started saying that it was time for us to get another dog.

Jill and I were just walking out of Paradise Bakery and we saw a dog, a puppy. The puppy was just sitting there staring at the door waiting for the owner to come out. The dog would not make eye contact with us; it was intent at keeping its focus on the door to await its parents. We stooped to pet it and we instantly fell in love with it.



Just then the owner of the puppy came out. We found out that the puppy was an Australian Shepherd and that there was one more female left from the same litter. Immediately we contacted the breeder and took the last of the litter.

Ruby is now a year old. She’s high spirited, sensitive and intelligent. She tries to fit in as a member of the family. She even gets along with the cat.



We’ve had a few minor mishaps. Ruby hacked a hole on the backside of the bedspread. Jill lost three pairs of shoes, my iPod armband was destroyed, but other than that just tissues, paper towels and napkins are found shredded about the house. So far so good.

Ruby likes to run. A dog was chasing her in the park. As soon as the dog got even close Ruby looked back once, then hit the hyperspace button. She was gone. The pursuing dog saw this, lowered it’s head and just slowed to a trot and turned around.

With Ruby in our lives the family is once again complete. We have a dog and for some reason that fills a need in our life.

A Relationship on the Rocks

It started about 2 years ago when Aimee was 5. We were at a local park and she wanted to play on the jungle gym. Instead of having a ladder or net to get to the top of the slide the gym had a mini rock wall with beginner handholds. Aimee was fascinated with this and I noticed that she was compelled to climb it over and over again. The slide was just a means to get back to the rock wall quicker; the fun part for her was the climb.

One weekend I had to watch the kid while my wife worked so I took her to the
Phoenix Rock Gym
in Tempe.



The place is cavernous. All of the walls are 30 to 40 feet high, most are rated climbs, many with over vertical ascents. Aimee looked teeny in comparison. Excitedly she donned climbing shoes, a chalk bag and a climbing harness. After watching a short training video we were ready to go. It was amazing. Aimee was fearless. She was able to scale a 30-foot vertical wall in about two minutes. Some of the more experienced climbers are amazed to see how well she was doing at such a young age. About a year ago there was a group of men climbing right next to us. The man on the wall saw that he was just about to get passed up by a little girl. One of the guys down below shouted, “ Hey you are about to get your but kicked by a little girl.” By that time Aimee was level with the man. Both looked at each other for a second then raced the last 20 feet to the top. The man made a critical mistake with his footing slipped and fell. Aimee never looked back and easily made it to the top. The group of men slinked away in embarrassment. Since then we have been back about two dozen times and she continues to get better.

Today she tried something that she had never attempted to do before, cracking and jamming. It’s a technique where the climber jams their hand or foot into a crevice to gain a hold to climb. In doing so she injured herself and sprained her wrist. Rather than crying and giving up she asked what I could do so that she could continue to climb. I found some athletic tape at the front counter and wrapped her wrist. We got another 4 climbs out of it.


Jill has gone with us on occasion but for the most part going to the gym to climb has been our thing and has helped build our quality time together.

Beat the Clock

This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.
J.R.R. Tolkien

One of the most important things that my father said to me is to not waste time. He said that between time and money it is better to waste money. You could always earn the money back; once time is gone you can’t get it back. He was always on me about playing video games or working on something that in his mind would never make any money…like writing.

On a daily basis I use a schedule to keep track of my time and task management. Because my job is time and task oriented it is imperative that I have a solid handle on my day.

Between work, school and family every second counts. Some time I have days that are just non-stop from 7am to 2am. Many days I get only a couple of hours of sleep.

I tell myself that something, someday will eventual come of all this nose to the grindstone bull$#!t. Until then I just continue to buzz on like a hummingbird wishing that I was more like a starfish.

There are moments that I feel like the need for total time efficiency is a myth, that I shouldn’t have to plan when I am going to use the bathroom and that there is something to be said for decompression. To have the ability to relax and just do nothing.

Sometimes even our vacations seem manic. That we have every minute of that day planned out driving to see one family member then drive on to the next, then on to an amusement park. Sometimes I think that I just don’t know how to have fun, that maybe my father got the best of me and sent me on this path of self-implosion. Now that I can do what I want I can't. That little voice inside of me tells me to keep moving and to do something with my life. Another irony on top of all this is that I can’t play video games even if I wanted to. I tried and got nauseous on a first person player type game.

There was one vacation where we rented a cabin in the woods. We did absolutely nothing and it was great. We had a fire in the fireplace and we played board games. At night I would go out on the patio and watch the Milky Way drift overhead in the night sky as the wind blew through the pines. One morning Aimee and I sat on the porch in our raingear and watched a storm as it passed overhead. As the rain hit the roof I could hear Aimee’s breathing change as she fell asleep. It was a perfect moment. I was doing nothing and was the better for it. When I got back to work people said that I was a changed man. I need to do that again

For as important as it is to organize and control your time, it is as important to not control it, is equally important to do nothing, to decompress psychologically, to have a quite moment to rest and relax: Because one’s sanity is a terrible thing to waste.

Hi, My Name is Ed and I’m Fat

I’m addicted to sugar.

You name it. Every kind of desert, chocolate, cookies, cake, I just inhale it.

I weighed a whopping two hundred and forty four pounds.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to do something.

I joined Weight Watchers.

Jill wanted to join so I asked if I could go with her.

I was already exercising; it just didn’t matter because I ate like a pig. I was a fat man on the treadmill, like a fat hamster on a Habitrail wheel.

As a man going to a Weight Watchers meeting it is a strange experience. I am the only male in the meeting. The whole experience and communication to the members seems to be geared for women. There are butterflies and rainbows on all of the pamphlets and handout materials. There is a total lack of machismo to the program.

The first couple of weekends were easy. I lost 6 pounds the first week, 3 the second and 1 and change for the third. I got my 10-pound ribbon this week. So despite the lack of manliness about the program it does seem to be working.



I still have a long way to go. I want to lose 50 pounds total and be back at around 195. That seemed to be about right I had been thiner back in my running days and got down to 180 with a 6% body fat content…it just didn’t look right.

There are still days that I do not count points. I am still losing weight…just not as much. I’ll get there soon. The good thing is that I continue to run and that I am getting better at it everyday.

I have signed up for the PF Chang’s half marathon.

I’ll keep you posted.

Christmas Don't be Late

The shopping has started and the season has begun but there are three songs that I have to hear before I feel that the holiday season has really started.

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year – Andy Williams
Holly Jolly Christmas – Burl Ives
Christmas Don’t Be Late – The Chipmunks

Please let me know if you hear any of them.

Happy Holidays

A page turns

edflores@earthlink.net
1996- 2005


I am sad to say that I canceled my Earthlink email account.

At first I didn’t think that it was such a big deal. But then I realized how much that address was a part of my self-image and identity.

I got the address as a result of getting my first job at an Internet company. I was at Earthlink for close to 7 years.

It just seems like the last page has turned on what was a very large chapter in my life.

I can now be contacted at edflores@mac.com

Braces

She finally got them after four extractions and five months of lower and upper jaw expansion to adjust for an over-bite.

She is dealing with the pain well, but knows that after it all she'll have straight teeth.

She has gone through more in the last year that I went through in three years of orthodontia and she's only seven.

A Mile in a Monkey’s Shoes

On Halloween my boss let me take a long lunch so that I could see my kid go trick-or-treating. Just before I walked out the door I noticed that one of the supervisors had taken off his gorilla costume that he wore to work. He said that it was too hot to wear for an extended period of time – so I asked him if it was okay if I could borrow it for a couple of hours to show my kid. Two minutes later I was fully decked out from head to toe in a gorilla suit, cruising down the street in the Mini. While waiting at the light I heard someone say, “Look a Mini, cool…. holy s#%t that’s a monkey driving the mini.”

I was amazed to see how many people noticed.

I was really amazed to see how many people didn’t notice. Even when I waved people were still oblivious to the fact that there was a simian driving a Mini right next to them.

Prior to me coming home Jill asked me to get dinner. I went to Taco Bell. People freaked. People in the restaurant would look away and avoid eye contact, they were clearly uncomfortable, some were just plain fearful. “Ten tacos for 5.99 please…hang on I have to unzip my suit to get to my wallet.” Real monkeys do not have this problem; they merely pester you for food then crap in their hands and throw it at you if you don’t comply. I knew that paying via ATM would have a better result.

Then as I walked away with my bag of Tacos in hand the people in the restaurant stared and the entire kitchen staff stopped what they were doing and watched me walk away. A few followed me out to the parking lot.

I turned and looked at them as I walked away, much like that grainy 8mm film footage of Bigfoot that was taken in 1967 as he walked back into the forest.




The whole thing was a strange and surreal experience.

Thanks Larry for loaning me the costume. Next year I’ll try the Elvis during the “eating years” costume.