Saturday, July 23, 2016

The other day just about the only thing I had to do for the entire day was put a baby crib together. How long could that really take? Well, little did you know I got a C- in Industrial Arts in Junior High, and I suck at this sort of thing. If there is anything that could have been done wrong, I did it wrong. Two different times I figured out way too late that I had put something on backwards and had to take apart just about everything to get it put on right. Believe it or not, I woke up all sore the next day from sitting on the floor in awkward positions screwing screws into stubborn bolts. 


This was my first real dad task, and I'm not going to say it was a complete failure. Sure, there were a lot of bumps in the road and a lot of swearing, but I stuck with it and got it done. I think it was a metaphor for what parenting is going to be like from what I hear from my friends: You have to figure it out as you go, you're going to suck at it at times, but you just stick with it and stay positive. And they'll be lots of extra parts. Okay, that makes no sense. I suck at carpentry and metaphors. 

I ran the Chicago Rock and Roll Half Marathon last weekend. I have figured out that halves are plenty for me. No more full ones because those destroy perfectly good bodies. My good buddy, Night Train, and I run around 10 miles once every weekend, and it's been great for keeping weight off and gives us time to recover. Also, that way you don't get sick of running when it's just once a week. The race went really well for us, and they had live music along the way. They also had rock impersonators, and I tested the Blues Brothers guys and said to them as I ran by "Orange whip . . . Orange whip . . .," I was very pleased and impressed that they both responded with "Three orange whips!" and did the proper hand motion. The Elvis impersonator looked very hot, sweaty, and hungover, so I didn't engage him with any fun pop quizzes. He looked busy concentrating on not throwing up on himself. 


Hot yoga has been a great way for me to recover from running way too far and taking entirely too long to assemble things with seemingly simple instructions. Usually I'm just about the worst yogi (that's what they call yoga participants) in the class, and that's fine. You have to be willing to be the suckiest guy in the room before you can get better at anything. I'll tell you right now that I'm in decent shape but can't touch my toes. Not even close. Slowly I'm getting more flexible, and I always leave feeling refreshed and thinking with a clear head. However, yesterday right when the class ended, some country music kicked in and continued for at least four songs while I was in the locker room. I would prefer they play any innocuous new age wind chime music music that just blends into the background. That's fine and expected. But, I can't relax when I'm listening to a song about some guys drinking a six pack of beer in the back of a pick-up truck. Unless I'm right there in the back of that truck with them. Country makes me angry, and I can't tune that crap out. 

Always good to have a spotter
When I was in high school I left my alarm clock-radio alarm (I'm old) on the other end of the room and had it set on the country station. That way I knew I wouldn't lie in bed and listen to the music because I knew I would have to run across the room to turn it off or slowly lose my mind. So, it's been a long history of hating country music. I was thinking of leaving a complaint with the yoga studio, but I'll just complain to you guys instead because that's what I've always done.

So running, volleyball, and yoga have been about it as far as exercise goes lately, and I have been losing some muscle tone. I have been avoiding doing any kind of weight training due to an elbow problem, but today the elbow felt pretty good so I pumped some (really light-weight) iron. You know that debate kids have on the playground where they say "My dad could beat up your dad?" Well, what I don't want is some kid saying that to Kenny Jr. and poor Kenny is left saying, "You're probably right. My dad has pipe cleaner arms and can't even screw together simple wooden structures with directions that even a chimp can follow. He's hardly a man at all, but he can do a downward facing dog in his hot yoga class that will make your head spin!" That won't score him any points at all out there on that playground. 


No segue at all here, but I was at work not too long ago, and a coworker said, "Kenneth, I saw on Facebook that we have a mutual friend." She said the friend's name, and the name meant nothing to me. I looked it up, and it is a blog buddy. She was saying what a great dude he is, and it made me happy to hear that. I said he is an excellent writer, and she said that he helped everyone write their term papers in college. This pleased me too for some reason. I was proud of this dude I have never met. Then I had to explain to this coworker that I had never met him, and I'm a grown-ass man with pen pals. 

One blog buddy I have met is SO@24, and I was reminded recently of the time we first met in L.A., and for reasons I can't remember, we recreated the suggestive cover art from Hall and Oates' 1982 release, "H20." I thought of this because I went to an outdoor Hall & Oates show last night on a very hot and humid Chicago night with my sister, her boyfriend, and my very pregnant and sweaty wife. Believe it or not, we were actually just as sweaty as Daryl Hall and John Oates were in the picture! 

(Hall & Oates)

(Dr. Ken and SO@24. We should have got sweatier or just spritzed water on our faces. It will always be one of my biggest regrets.)

There has been no real rhyme or reason to where this post has been headed, and I'll just end it here. Go ahead and leave a comment related to any of the scatter shot of topics I have run down in this rambling stream of consciousness, or just say hello to your insane pen pal buddy from Chicago. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to admire the glorious crib that big daddy built with his own. bare. hands! 

8 comments:

Gorilla Bananas said...

Congratulations on getting the crib done, Dr Ken. Your next challenge could be a wardrobe - or touching your toes. Is the hot yoga you do called 'Bikram'? Yoga sounds much better if you know the Indian terminology. But if you tell people you're a yogi, won't they just laugh and say 'Yogi Bear'?

Kenneth Noisewater said...

Taking baby steps. Get it? I think bikram has specific poses every time. Hpt Country Yoga would be miserable.

Kenneth Noisewater said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
E. Rosewater said...

cribs, hot yoga, half marathons. man, you deserve a rest. i put lots of kids toys together and it took me a while to figure out that it was best done when i was alone.

The Grand Wave said...

I have been doing the classpass thing recently and going to all sorts of pilates and barre classes where I'm the only guy and by far the least flexible. The instructors also always just say "Ok ladies, lets....." and completely ignore the fact there is a guy in the room. It's fine because I generally go with my wife and I'm not that creepy guy, but I've gone without her and noticed the "who is this creepy guy looks" increase significantly if she's not there. Oh well. I will say it's a good break from just lifting weights and running.

As a side note, I went and saw Hall and Oates about a month ago in Bethel, NY (it's like a 2 hour drive from NYC) and they still rock out. Not as "hard" as they used to - they definitely don't hit all the high notes anymore, but you can tell they still love performing. We lucked out and got a perfect cool night with a nice breeze.

Good luck with the other baby tasks.

Jimmy Fungus said...

I am going to go out in public and say "Orange whip??" to a random person and see what happens.

Kenneth Noisewater said...

Rosewater: Thanks for coming by. I think when it comes to putting toys together, "Santa" will bring them in the box and daddy will put one at a time together when he gets around to it. I'll save myself the stress of trying to put a bunch of crap together until 4AM on the night of Christmas Eve.

Grand Wave: Just when I was used to being one of the only men in a yoga class, I go in there the other day, and it's like 3 men and 2 women! And I was STILL the worst guy yoga person in the room. By far. Hall & Oates rocked it, bro. They had to have been hot and sweaty up there under the lights.

Fungus Among Us: I expect a full report. If you do that in Chicago, I think you'll get around a 40% success rate. In the rest of the world, I'm thinking 21%.

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