I can sink 45 drinks!

Got back from a quick trip to Chicago yesterday. The drive back was much easier than the ride down. Thank god for sleeping kids in the car.

Can't write much now. Hope you all had a wonderful holiday. Best in '07!

During an unprecedented opportunity, with the sun poised behind Saturn, Cassini scientists discovered two new rings and confirmed the presence of two others. The new rings are associated with one or more small moons and share their orbits with the moons, while scientists suspect a moon is lurking near a third ring.

Found this page and thought of my friend Dom: The Nietzsche Family Circus. The concept is simple, by pairing a Nietzsche quote with a Family Circus comic, the inventor delivers a wonderful product. Refresh your browser for a new image.

To cheer me up tonight, I think I'll spend some time at one of my feel-good holiday sites: Christmas in the Stars, delivered by Nick DiFonzo.

I got to get on some holiday cheer!

The kids are watching "A Charlie Brown Christmas", the wife is about to leave for soccer, and I have a night to myself. Sort of. At 8:00 p.m. I put the kids to bed, the read with them a little bit, then go downstairs at 8:30 and I'll probably work on the treadmill for 30-45 minutes, then I'll take my sweaty body to the family room so I and watch the end of some some show until 10:00. Then check my email and maybe start another Neil Gaiman novel, Anansi Boys. Maybe not.

There's always ice cream. I might just have a bowl of ice cream or three and sit and watch mindless tv for a few hours until she gets home from soccer. I have this hankering for too much ice cream sometimes. So I'm a little down. Working out will help me feel good for a short while.

Can't write right now. Can't wait till 9:00!

"Driving from Deschambault Lake to do some Christmas shopping on a bright afternoon, the 20-year-old noticed the creature walking along the forest's edge near Torch Lake. It stopped by the side of the road and turned to look at Beatty as she drove by."

The author says there are photos. I want photos!!

I hate beginning every one of my stories with "When I was twelve..." or "ten" or "sixteen" or "fill-in-your-favorite-story-year". This story occurred when I was about 7. Playing in the backyard with my brother in the afternoon, he decided it was his turn with the bat. I resisted but within a moment he wrest the bat from my hands and proceeded to bonk me on the forehead with it.

I cried. I felt blood on my forehead and I must have seen some on my hands but I can't remember that too clear. Within moments, my caring parents came to my rescue and ended the incident. I don't think anyone got punished, not punished in the punitive parental fashion. Within the next few minutes it was decided I would not need to go to the emergency room for stitches. My parents gave me some attention and dressed the wound. I was comforted to some degree, I'm sure, although I can not remember what was said or done. Besides getting hit with a bat, my only clear memory of the incident was the decision to treat the wound at home.

My son was 3 when he fell off his sister's bed, at bedtime, and cut both sides of his lower lip. We packed the wound and drove him to the nearest ER. Brave dude waited about 45 minutes until they could see us, then the doctor applied what this Tumbarello family has come to call "people glue". He remembers the incident and remembers the location of his injury, now unseen and properly healed.

Tonight at bedtime he pointed at my forehead scar and said "What is that?" It took me a second or two to understand about what he was asking. I told him it was a scar and when I was a boy, my brother hit me with a bat. "It was an accident," he pronounced. I didn't hesistate to answer, "Yes, it was an accident."

When I was eighteen or nineteen I went on a date with Micheline, a friend from High School who ran on the women's cross country and track teams at my alma mater, Glenbrook South High School. We drove to downtown Chicago to meet up with a friend of mine, Mike Marshall, and his new wife, and made our way to Chinatown and then to the Chicago river and I forget if we took a boat ride or not. Micheline was great company and she told me later she regretted turning me down for Jeremy for the Homecoming dance the year before. She accepted my offer, then about 30 hours later broke it off. I think his name was Jeremy. He was also on the cross country team and track team. I didn't dislike him for what happened. I didn't dislike her either, although I must have been depressed about her changing her mind. Nevertheless, over a year later as we approached her driveway on the way back from downtown, she apologized and said she made the wrong decision about Homecoming and would like to do this again. I didn't kiss her.

What did I learn from this experience? Loss is inevitable. Rebounds are possible. And it takes a lot of courage--a lot of courage--to focus on success after recent failure.

I didn't kiss her. I didn't know much about kissing. Her father probably asked her the first thing when she walked through the door. Yet I didn't try. I remember Micheline when I think about women who were kind and warm to me. I don't really remember the rejection, even though it must have crushed me. You know what I remember? I remember the sincerity with which she offered her apology. In my crazy moments, I think of her on her porch after our date to Chicago and I think somehow I'm a decent man.

In a different life, the wife and kids made a gingerbread house last weekend. Lovely eye candy!

Orisinal has done it again. Here is a game for the season: Winterbells.

Back in the news, or rather a public safety tip on "How to Outwit a Sasquatch". Of course, the article reminds the reader to avoid the common novice mistake: "Try throwing a rock or a stick into the forest behind the beast. Do NOT throw anything AT the Bigfoot." I am glad to know the writer has my physical health in mind. But the writer avoids the issue of mental health. Interesting.

Went out with the wife and friends to the Chop House, in downtown Ann Arbor. Some excellent macaroni and cheese, really. Settled with the chicken, which was so-so and somewhat dry. The side dishes were outstanding and I would have preferred to have a dinner of sides and salad to the salad and chicken I ordered. Live and learn. Went back to a friend's house and played Moods and then Pit. Fun games.

Absolutely the best album cover in the world, er I mean universe.

If you are interested in album cover art and appreciate The Beatles, you might enjoy spending some time here.

When I was a sophomore in high school I fell in love with a young woman named Pam. It sounds silly to say fell in love with because I was a kid, 16 years old or so, but she was attractive and treated me decently. It doesn't take a lot for me to fall in love, and so her "unconditional positive regard" (rogers) sent me to heaven. At least in my head. She was popular and she had tons of friends. I had no chance of having a meaningful relationship with Pam, but I thought about it anyway. I didn't want sex. I was just addicted to the thought of someone sorta liking me. I wrote in my journal about the little things she'd do or say and my mind had passion and I tried to go on to the next day with warm and painful thoughts in my head. I was in a bicycle accident and she treated me so kindly. When I returned to school, my face was bloody and was taped up with all kinds of stitches underneath. We had one class together but she was warm. Head over heels with her.

I didn't run after the accident. I didn't finish the last race or two of the cross country season. I took a few weeks off, then in January I started training for indoors again. I liked training and I was a stud. When Spring track started up, I was expected to do very well and I had high expectations but I never was able to race up to my potential. I was frustrated by races. I was overwhelmed. My coach took me to 4 therapy sessions in Highland Park and my parents did not want me to continue therapy since they saw me accusing them of not allowing me choice. "You didn't let me choose X, or you didn't let me choose Y" and their response was to stop that kid from therapy, gotta put clamps on that, and oh yea, let's buy a thank you present for his kind coach for driving him to Highland Park four Friday's in a row.

So Pam and the bicycle crash was a turning point for me. I never again raced like I could in 7th, 8th, and 9th grade. I never raced as effectively or had a mile time as low as I did as a freshman. That is unheard of. Raced is the key word. I trained well and I was always in the top group. I finished distances runs with Greg Harper and finished runs ahead of my peers. I was a stud in practice. I could not race as well as I could train. The turning point for this phenomenon was Pam and the crash. And me falling in sophomoric love.

The sun is going down and it is the Fall of my Junior year in high school. I just finished getting cleaned up after practice and I head outside towards the soccer field to meet up with my coach. I see him pick up the orange cones, which will come out in a few days for a cross country race on our back field. It is cool and I anxiously prepare a few words to start out. I tell him I want to ask Pam to a dance but I know if I wait a day I'll miss my window because she'll be asked by someone else in the next 24 hours. I say I know she'll turn me down but I can't stop thinking about her. Coach P tells me to talk to her. I say I can't talk to her. I'm a mess when I talk with her. I tell him how much I care about her and he continues to pick up cones along the football field now. Then he stops, turns to me and says, "You got her up on a pedestal, Dave. You can't keep her on a pedestal. She's just a person." I am shocked. Shut up! I say in my head. I don't say "shut up" but I think about how much I want to keep her on a pedestal. The wind blows and I know I'm late and I walk back to the gym to call home.

That conversation with Coach P wasn't fruitful or therapeutic but I remember it often when the weather turns cool or when I begin to feel for Pam again.