Wingtips of a Dead Man

Guest Blogger…NATHAN EKLUUUUUND! The following is a story that Nathan told me last week, he was kind enough to write about it. Enjoy!

“What size shoe do you wear?”

“10.5”

“Do you want to try on my dead dad’s shoes?”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

Mary asked if I would be interested in trying on her dad’s shoes that they had purchased a month or two before he died. Frugal like Tom himself, I espoused the “if the shoe fits, wear ‘em” mantra and I went ahead and accepted. I mean who doesn’t want some free Rockport red/brown arminian chili colored wingtips?

To be frank, the shoes aren’t actually really my style, assuming I have a style. But I love Mary, I loved her dad, I love free stuff, and I figured I’d find some occasion to wear them. And I was right.

Last week I went with a co-worker to make a pitch to a potential large client. Please note: I don’t really “make pitches” to “clients” with “co-workers.” Not really my normal gig. But the morning came and when it was time to get dressed, I figured I should dress the part. I knew my co-worker would be the black suit sort of guy. So I decided to play a little good cop/bad cop and I went the more dressed down route. A pair of khakis. A blue dress shirt. A brown sport coat. Pretty plain. A little cute.

But then it was time to pick shoes. It was a clear loafer outfit. But looking in the closet, there were the shoes. Calling to me. And I realized why. Tom made a career of selling stuff. And I bet he was really good at it. So, despite that fact that they were the wrong shoes for the outfit, I slid them on. Did they look good? No. Not really. But were they the right choice? Absolutely.

As we pulled into the client’s office, a black cat passed in front of our car. No kidding. My colleague was sort of jokingly shaken by it. Regardless of your personal view of superstition, I suppose a black cat passing in front of you isn’t necessarily a good omen.

As we were sitting in the lobby waiting for the meeting to start, Phil reiterated that the black cat was sort of unnerving. I crossed my legs and pointed at my shoes.

“See these shoes Phil? These are the wingtips of a dead man. We’re okay.”

An hour later we left the meeting. We had crushed it. It could not have gone better. The shoes were clearly more powerful than the cat. From here on, I’m dedicated to wearing these shoes each time I’m in a sales situation. They might not look good on me. They might not be right for the event. But damned if they don’t work.

6…6…pick up sticks, and anything else you can get your hands on

Dear KP,

Today you are six!

You are my baby, who has not been a baby for such a long time.  You have grown so much this past year, not only your physical appearance but in your emotion state as well.

You are an amazingly funny kid that bring so much joy and laughter to this house.

You don’t match your socks, you prefer your hair sticking up, you love squirling things away under your bed, you hate sleeping alone in your room without your brother, you love having things in your pockets and hanging things from your belt, you now kind of like Chinese, you are very loud, you love movies and TV and your DS, you love Lucy and worms and turtles and caterpillars, you just learned to ride a two wheeler and had your first big wipe out, you have an amazing imagination that takes you far far away from here and you certainly know how to love, love with all your might.

When you give me a hug, it is like I am the only person there in that moment when you hang on and squeeze.

Here is a little gift to you.  Your 5 year photo project we have been working on all year. In all good third kid style, I am a bit behind and not all 365 photos are up yet, but I am darn close.

It has been so much fun watching you grow this past year.  I love you my boy.  I can’t wait to see what is in store next.

Happy 6th Birthday.

Love,

Mom

Last day of being 5

How can this be?  Tomorrow my baby turns 6!

So very gratifying

Are you a picker?  You know, one of those people who like to pick zits or pick other peoples zits?

I’m not, just in case you were wondering.

But, that aside, I just bought a snake.  Not a snake that slithers around but a snake you put down your drain, deep into the bowels of your plumbing.

And let me tell you, I am sure I just got as equal of a high, when I pulled out the three inch long hair/soap/skank clog in my bathroom shower last night, as a picker does hitting the mirror with their popped zit.

Our Future

At the dinner table tonight, we talked about what the kids would choose to be if they had to choose their occupations RIGHT NOW.

CT said an architect or an astronaut.

PJ said an artist.

KP said…A ROBBER!

Yeah, we’ll see who picked right!

Happy Mother’s Day….

to all you muthas!

Live’n the dream baby

One day last week, I asked one of the woman at the bus stop how she was doing.  You know when you start up a conversation with someone you don’t relaly know, you care but only a little.

Her response made me laugh, for so many reasons.  And then I said to her, I’m going to start using that.  For the past three days, whenever anyone asks me how I am, I respond, “Live’n the dream!”

Try it.  It makes those asking the question stop to think for a second about what you really just said and then it typically elicits a laugh.  Which is the best part of the whole deal.

Race #1 Down

The first race of the season was kicked off yesterday in between the slow roasting of a pork shoulder and PJ’s birthday party.

Katie, Laura and I headed out to Wayzata to run the Lake Minnetonka half marathon.  This photo was taken just before we shut the doors to the car and walked to the start line.

The race went well for all of us yesterday.  If I remember correctly, Katie is already talking about a spring marathon next year…let’s get planning!

I went into the race just wanting to run well, whatever that meant for the day.  I felt really good all they way around and ended up with a PR, coming in at 1:47.  That’s 4 minutes off my best race!  Needless to say, I’m thrilled

Sweet baby eight

Dear PJ,

How lucky we are to have you in our lives.

You spread joy,

and laughter,

and love,

and drama,

and craziness,

and sincerity,

and so very much more.

You are a gift to us.

Happy Birthday baby girl!  May this next year be filled with everything wonderful.

I love you.

Mom

Puppy dogs, soft kittens, baby bunnies and a sharp stick

One shouldn’t really hate inanimate objects but I am here to tell you right now, I DO!

I HATE MY BIKE!

I have raced on this bike for the past 4 years.  It has never been right.  It hasn’t been so wrong, but it certainly isn’t right.  I have gone back to the bike shop that sold it to me (GEAR WEST!  I say this in all caps because as of right now I feel the same about them as I do about my bike) year after year to try to get it to fit right.  You see, it causes some discomfort to my left knee when I ride hills or hard workouts or very long distances.  Which seems to be the majority of my time right now.

I thought it was ok the first year of racing, I only did two races and the distance was not that long.  And, I didn’t know any better.

The second year I upped that ante on mileage and intensity of workouts.  That’s when I started to feel the issue.

The third and fourth years, I thought if I loved my bike more and didn’t think about how much I hated it, it would love me back.  It did, at least that’s what I like to think, but my knee still didn’t feel great.  I can only feel it when I bike, no other time.

Now, over the past few weeks, I have taken my bike into a cycling shop to have some work done and get another fitting by someone who DOES NOT WORK AT GEAR WEST.  I had at least three people shake their heads in disgust that I was ever sold that particular bike in the first place.  You see, it’s too small.  It’s more like a circus bike than a tri bike.  That about fits doesn’t it?

(Do you see the look in his face?  I can hardly help you lady but…I will try!)

So now, after several hours and two fittings later, I am left with riding low milage and light gears so my body can get use to it.  I don’t have the patients for this.  It doesn’t feel any better off the bat, in fact, it might be worse.

Jon told me to find my zen when I emailed him to complain.

There is no zen here, no thinking of soft fuzzy cute animals to make me feel better….only hatred, venom and loathing.

I am in the house of ANTI ZEN!