To Be Perfectly Frank!

Now they've done it!!!

2011-11-22T07:35:00.001-08:00

To steal a quote from Butters in South Park, "Now I'm Mad!!!"

What has my undies all bundled up into square knots this time? Well let's take a trip in my "way back machine" to a simpler time - this morning - when I was making my coffee. I was listening to a radio station, it might have been KFI but which station doesn't really matter, and taking a sip of my coffee when I heard a sound so offensive to my ears that I nearly lost my Pikes Place via a side trip through my sinuses. Imagine a thousands sets of finger nails being dragged across a chalkboard, imagine a hundred cats engaged in a blood lust mating ritual. They pale in comparison to the Kohl's commercial that was simply a mash up of the worst music video of all time.

Out of my radio came the excessively auto-tuned, yet not quite as nasal sound of studio singers singing:

"Black Friday, Black Friday, gotta shop on Black Friday....."

I can't remember the rest of the lyrics, or the tag line for the jingle, I can only recall that the store responsible for this atrocity was Kohl's

Now I know there are a lot of fans of Kohl's out there, and I have no real problem with Kohls. But look at their logo. (over there, to the left)

Doesn't it say right under their name "expect great things"????

Well? Shouldn't we expect great things? Now personally I just see Kohls as Target with an attitude, and I'll grant you that's from a guy who only shops Amazon. But if you're going to say "expect great things," shouldn't we? I mean really.... Rebecca Black? For those of you who haven't seen it..... My apologies...

I know I'm just being overly sensitive here. I know that my vitriol directed at Kohl's has more to do with the assault by retailers on the natural order. The natural order that dictates that each holiday wait its turn.

My favorite holiday has always been Thanksgiving. I remember a time when you better have made sure that you have all of your ingredients for Thanksgiving dinner purchased by Wednesday afternoon because you weren't going to find a store open on Thursday. If you forgot the canned cranberry sauce you better hope one of your neighbors has extra, and you know what, they usually did, and they shared. It made for better neighborhoods. (Heck I don't even know the names of any of my neighbors more than two doors away.)

Now, even before our Thanksgiving dinner is digested, retailers want us to leave our warm homes and camp out in front of their stores so we can go spend money we don't have, on gifts we really don't need, while pushing and shoving with others who have also lost the true meaning of this holiday season.

I for one have had it. Kohl's..... You won't see a dime of my money, if for no other reason than you reminding me of the dangers of over indulgent parents. (Yeah Mr. & Mrs Black, I'm looking at you.)

And retailers....... You won't see a single dollar from me until December. And good reader.... if you've made it this far.... it's time to push back. There's absolutely no reason why they need our money (or our promise to pay the 29.9% apr credit card bill) before 5:00am Friday morning. If we don't hold firm we run the risk of marginalizing my favorite holiday of the year. If we don't push back, Thanksgiving will become a Subway turkey sandwich in a tent in front of Best Buy.

I don't have a "way back machine"....... I wish I did. But if I did, it would look like this:

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!!!!!

Road Trip 2012

2011-06-26T18:33:00.000-07:00

OK folks, it's time to talk about Road Trip 2012…….

On March 14th, 2012, yours truly turns 50, and what better way to observe a milestone of this importance than to embark on a endeavor that to some may seem risky, and may strike others as hair-brained; but at the same time give that 50 year old an opportunity to show what he can still do, and prove to himself that Old Guys do in fact rule!

Road trip 2012 will be a 7000 mile cross country trip over the course of approximately 3 weeks on my Suzuki Burgman Scooter.

I will be wheels up on Sunday, June 17, 2012 (yes, Father's Day 2012) and I'll head east. My main waypoints will be:

Mesa, AZ
Willard, MO
Buford, GA
Cedar Point, NC
Chicago, IL
Sturgis, SD
Yellowstone Nat'l Park
Port Orchard, WA
Crater Lake Nat'l Park, OR

…. and back home!

Over the next 12 months I have quite a bit of prep to do, related to both my ride, and my myself.

First things first, I'll be converting this blog (at least temporarily) to a pseudo "Mission Control" for my trip so please excuse the dust while I do some re-design work. After that I hope to share with any of you interested enough to come back and read, the process and preparations i'm going through to make Road Trip 2012 a success.

Now that you know what I have planned for next year, please feel free to share your thoughts, offer any recommendations for places to visit, or any suggestions of places to avoid.

In the coming months I'll share more details about the route, the bike I'm using, why I chose the above main waypoints, etc etc etc.

The clock is now ticking we're at T-Minus 357 days, there's a lot to arrange before then, and I'm glad that you're along for the ride!

-FA

How To Save A Life

2011-02-15T16:51:00.000-08:00

How To Save A Life

My apologies to The Fray for stealing their song title, but it seemed an appropriate title for this kind of post.

Those of you who have seen me in person in the last few years know that I'm carrying way too much weight. I had it dramatically pointed out to me by a very good friend that whenever I walk around, climb a flight of stairs, get into or out of my car, I am effectively doing it with three 5 gallon water bottles strapped to my back. Hence the new profile picture.

Let me do the math for you: 8 lbs per gallon x 5 gallons x 3 bottles......... Yep 120 lbs more than I should be carting around. It is actually pretty surreal to see those numbers on the screen. With those numbers have come all the side effects, low energy, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, pre-diabetes, never being able to buy clothes at CostCo, frightening children and small animals.

I wasn't always like this. I weighed 185 when I got married, I spent most of my early 20's in the 170-180 range thanks to an addiction to running on the mission beach boardwalk, an actively utilized membership to what was then called Family Fitness (now 24Hour Fitness,) and the typical young dude on the prowl lifestyle.

May 4th 1988 changed that. I was riding my motorcycle back home filled with the euphoria of Kathie saying yes to my proposal of marriage. My mind was a million miles away when the hit-and-run driver rear ended me on the I-5. But for a few strokes of good luck, you wouldn't be subjected to this story today.

I recovered, but my knees were never the same, and the running that I so enjoyed doing was now out of the picture. I'm not naive enough to try and pin the entire blame for my current state on my inability to run, but humor me and let me at least see it as a catalyst or turning point for the second stage of my life.

Twenties turn into Thirties, and Thirties turn into Forties.......... In the two decades-plus since that accident my weight has crept up. Much like the frog that slowly boils to death in the pot.... Less active lifestyle, affinity for culinary delights of all types, and years of being a road warrior and the drive-through junk food that came with it all playing their part. ...... And guess what those Forties are going to turn into in a little more than a year.

If you have read this far dear friend, thank you for hanging in there, and let me get to the bottom line. Everyone fears failure, or at least if you don't fear it you have a healthy aversion to it; yet often we're able to hide from our failures because (as in the case of weight loss) the battle is often one fought solo, with our day to day failures hidden from those around us. Yes, I know the fact that one is still as big as a blimp is a subtle clue, but for the most part only your very closest friends and family are aware of your efforts and if you fail, they're often too polite to point and laugh. So that, my friends, is why I'm taking my effort public and you can all help. (More details on that later)

Let me say at this point that I have done it all: Jenny Craig, Nutri-System, the Zone, South Beach, Atkins, carbs are bad, carbs are good, fat is to be avoided, fat is to be cherished and molded into little sculptures of penguins........ hmmm went a little too far with that one.

One thing is certain, and that is the immutable law of thermodynamics related to one simple bio-mechanical calculation: 3,500 calories equals 1 lb of lipid tissue (FAT.) Put simply, the best weight loss book in the world can be printed on a 3x5 card: "Eat Less, Exercise More." That's it, end of story. To lose 2lbs a week you have to make sure that your body burns 1000 calories per day more than it takes in.

The BodyBugg

This is where you come in. I have this nifty device called a BodyBugg, and while that actually sounds like something you would want to see the doctor about, it really is a cool little gadget that straps to your arm and takes measurements of 14 different biometric inputs and uses some of that computer magic to (with about 95% accuracy) measure how many calories you burned that day. Combined with a web interface that allows you to journal every calorie that goes down your gullet it provides daily feedback regarding your calorie burned to calorie consumed ratio. Throw in a weight tracking component and it's everything that a geeky weight loss candidate would want. And here's the best part (you just knew there would be a best part - right?) the BodyBugg software now has a direct reporting feature which pumps your updates right out to Facebook for you, automatically allowing your friends the opportunity to cheer or laugh, or shake their heads in disappointment as appropriate.

So, I'm going to ask those of you who are interested to help keep me honest. What's in it for you? The excitement of taking part in a social experiment called "Weight Loss by Public Humiliation," and the warm and comfy feeling that comes with knowing that you helped me break free of the shackles of three water bottles. (BTW those water bottles will be my avatar for this project and will slowly be PhotoShopped away as I work towards my goal, and Photoshopped back in as I slip up.) On the other side, you're agreeing that you don't mind the daily updates, and you commit to giving me some good natured grief if I forget to post the daily updates.

Now here's the most important part..... I need to make sure that this little experiment is really only amongst the willing, and I need to know that everyone involved has read this post and knows what's going on, so I need you to do the following: Go back to the Facebook post that had the link to this Blog and in the comment section type the following comment "ok i'm in" (all lower case helps me weed out the copy cats who didn't really read the post) LOL

Friday evening I will remove everyone from my friends list who has not posted that comment. I'm taking this extra, perhaps melodramatic, step to protect myself if only a little bit, by making sure that I'm baring my situation only to those who truly are interested in helping out.

(*** Quick Note: Since this post I have decided not to dump the non-participating Facebook friends, but rather to setup a Facebook Group for those who wish to participate.***)

For those of you who don’t want to be part of this, for whatever reason, I completely understand, no worries. For those of you who sign up for this social experiment, welcome aboard and thanks for the help.

See you on FB!

Frank

A Run-on Night

2010-12-21T04:53:00.000-08:00

Ever have one of those nights where you toss and turn, and you can't fall asleep, then around 2:30am you finally start to drift off, and then your Golden Retriever decides it would be a grand time to go out in the rain to do her business, and you go outside with her to make sure she doesn't dig up your flower beds in the process of saying "Hi" to the neighbor dog, and in spite of the umbrella you get some big raindrops hitting your body leaving you wide awake, and also chilling your body enough that you decide to stay out of bed for a little bit to make sure you reach something approaching room temperature so that you don't give your loved one thermal shock under the covers, which gives you the opportunity to check out Amazon for last minute gift ideas, and you find an incredible deal on a Roku box with free one day shipping so you go ahead and get one because you know they are really cool and your family will be happy to have one, and since you're here anyway you go ahead and replenish your stock of Tassimo disks for the office because you're hopelessly addicted to coffee, and as you're checking your Amazon confirmation email you realize that a general clean-up of your email inbox is way overdue, and in your email is some spam offering to sell you an authentic "Rolleks" watch, which makes you look at the clock on the wall, and suddenly you realize that even though you are finally getting a little sleepy it's now 4:30am and you can't possibly go to sleep now and expect the alarm to wake you up in time for the very busy day you are expecting at work today, so you hop on to Blogger and tap out a post to elicit not sympathy, but rather some empathy with your situation, only to realize that, most likely, no one will read your post?

Yeah, I just had one of those nights too!

I better go make some coffee!

Why Al Qaeda Hates Us #37

2010-12-12T08:31:00.001-08:00

A continuing informational series by the publishers of "To Be Perfectly Frank."

This entry in the "Why Al Qaeda Hates Us" series is particularly troublesome. Unlike #1, Paris Hilton, with whom you can simply turn off the TV; or #23, Oakland Raider Fans, to whom you can simply hand a non-screw top beer bottle and they're effectively out of commission for 20-30 minutes while they figure things out, with #37 an encounter usually presents itself suddenly and without mechanism for mitigation.

#37 is really a head scratcher, because along with being an assault on your sensibilities it leaves a person wondering "what were they thinking?" #37 attacks without warning, and can leave a parent very uncomfortable questions to answer.

An encounter with #37 usually unfolds like this:

The setting is a family sedan or mini-van on a under-engineered overcrowded 2-lane highway (imagine the 76 between I-15 and Olive Hill Road.)

For our narrative, the fictional family will be played by Angelina Jolie as "Mom," Brad Pitt as "Dad," Matt Azevedo as 17 year old boy, and Paula Azevedo as 5 year old girl.

Mom: "Oh No!'

Son: "What's up mom?"

Daughter: "Mommy?"

Dad: "Hush guys! I'm listening to Leo Laporte!"

Mom: "Close your eyes, kids!"

Son: "What's up ?!?!"

Mom: "Brad open your eyes!"

(Dad opens his eyes and gets back on his side of the road.)

Daughter: "Can we get Chicken Nuggets™?"

(Son now notices what's bothering mom.)

Son: "Bwahahaha that truck has Balls!"

Daughter: "DADDY, I'M SCARED!"

The rest is far to gruesome to share here. But yes, what we're talking about is entry #37 in why Al Qaeda hates us.

Truck Nutz

(I'll let that sink in a little bit)

Yes, Truck Nutz

Available in both natural flesh tones, and in brass (get it?) these fake (an appropriate euphemism escapes me at the moment - fill in your own) attach to the unused trailer hitch of your vehicle and endows the vehicle with (again insert your own euphemism.)

What thought process goes into the decision to place these things on your vehicle? The following picture underscores the notion that most likely none at all because of the driver's inability to drum up a sober thought.

In my research for this post I was amazed at the amount of crossover between people showing up in Truck Nutz pictures and showing up on the http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/ website.

When I was a kid this was the picture of America's Mom & Dad's

Unfortunately for far too many this is mom and dad now:

And that is another reason Al Qaeda hates us.

She's seventeen today.......

2010-08-08T12:24:00.000-07:00

My little girl Paula turns 17 today. Seems like only yesterday she was a little baby. I'm dusting this oldie off, and presenting it again. As she takes one step closer to adulthood, I long for the days where a potty break was the most pressing issue of the day.... Or night. I hope you enjoy this.

“Daddy! Potty!”

A quick look at the clock, then a second, longer look. Ugh. One in the morning. For just a moment I was transported back two years back into a time lost in my memories. Back to that special place where fathers and mothers only receive their sleep in precious little two hour chunks. Back to that special land, the land of the late night feeding.“Must have been dreaming”, I grunt only half convinced yet convinced enough to allow my head to plop back into my pillow. My head lands on a little hand, the owner of which lets out a little cry of protest, but that’s another story. Slowly I fade away.

“Daddy!....Potty!”

“Huh?” Eyes open again this time not quite so sluggishly.

“DADDY!!! POTTY!!”

Nope. No false alarm, the princess was calling.

“DADDY POTTY! DADDY POTTY!”

The cries became more desperate just as the final cobwebs were clearing my head. I came to the realization that my little one needed to go, and as with any child in the midst of toilet training these little opportunities for victory over the bladder were not be missed. I double timed my stagger down the hall, and made a sharp left at the kid’s room door - in the process kicking our dog Max. With apologies to our pooch, I walked up to the side of Paula’s crib.

“What’s the matter? Can’t sleep?” I asked with all the feigned sarcasm I could muster at that early hour.

“No.... Potty!” Paula replied, with the impatience of a two year old who is convinced her father is somehow mildly retarded.

The sarcasm obviously was lost on her. As if to emphasize the urgency of her situation, she began to rip at the adhesive stays of her Pampers. That was all the hint I needed.

“OK Potty”, I answered as I scooped her out of the bed with just enough flourish to elicit a giggle of delight.

“Max there”, Paula added helpfully as though to warn her addled father that the dog should not be stepped on, kicked, or otherwise disturbed.

Max, now fully awake, was considering his next move as he regarded the feet that were again walking towards him. Much to Max’s relief I was by now sufficiently alert to successfully navigate around him on the way to the bathroom.

“No! I do it,” Paula protested as I attempted to help her take off her diaper.

Knowing the wisdom in not arguing with a child at 1:30 in the morning, I returned to my post as sentinel at the bathroom door.As the sleepy fog began to creep into my mind again, I leaned back against the door frame and wondered about the next twenty or so years. I grinned to myself as I thought of the as yet unnamed young man who would have the misfortune of being the first to ask my daughter out on a date. No matter how much of a gentleman he may be, he would - according to my plan - be offered up as a sacrificial lamb, to serve as an example for all those to follow.

Then I imagined Prom Night and my little girl in crinoline and lace, the beautiful gown making her look like a princess from one of the many fairy tales read to her in the past. Would her mother and I shed a tear as the latest in the succession of young bucks pinned the corsage to her dress. How many late night infomercials would I have to endure before the time came for me to feign a deep sleep, and groggily arise to sheepishly admit to my returning daughter that I must have fallen asleep watching Letterman.

With the Prom behind us, the excitement of graduation day arrives, but our psyche loves to offer two-for-one fares so along for the ride is the dread that college tuitions are just around the corner. I must remember to buy a lotto ticket tomorrow. I can already hear the contrasting tones of Pomp and Circumstance being played for my daughter, as the funeral march is being played for my savings account.

Much the same way that time seems to speed up as we age, which by the way is the cruelest of all jokes for it is only as we age that we appreciate the time we have, my thoughts were beginning to blur together in my early morning reverie. In a rush I saw Paula graduating from college; leaving home to go out on her own; and walking up the center aisle with what I hope to be the last of the young bucks.

“Daddy!..Daddy!”, I hear her yell on the phone as she calls to let me know that I soon would be a grandpa.

“Daddy! All done!” she must be telling me that my grandchild has been born. But...

“DADDY! ALL DONE!”I snap out of my upright slumber and look down at my little girl pointing triumphantly at the potty.

“So you are”, I reply gently to my little girl, as I quickly put on a fresh diaper.“Please stop growing up so fast”, I ask her as I lower her into her crib.

“OK”, she replies, as though I had just asked her to pick up her toys.

“Daddy’s going to get some sleep now, OK?”, I ask her as I back away from her crib.

“OK”

The lights are now off again as I stagger down the hall. Max breathes a sigh, more of relief than of anything, as he realizes he can now sleep again with both eyes closed. I tumble into bed, turn out my light and roll over to face my wife. I close my eyes and let out a sigh that indicates sleep will be quick to come. I say a quick prayer to God for blessing me with my family and He once again shows his capacity for humor by sending a message through one of his little angels:

“Daddy!!...Water!”

Happy Birthday, Paula! Daddy loves you!

Day 3

2010-07-11T07:34:00.001-07:00

Dawn has broken on Day 3 for our weary travellers. (It may have been a dish that was broken at the complimentary "Continental Breakfast" but regardless the effect was the same.

On the subject of "Continental Breakfast"...... To which "Continent" are they referring? I've spent time in Europe, and have seen plenty of Rick Steves and Samantha Brown travel documentaries to know that there are NO continents that consider reconstituted orange juice, individually wrapped Echards (TM) pastries, and DIY waffles breakfast.

Thank you Steve Jobs for giving the world the iPad, which (in just a moment) will be giving me a listing of all of the Starbucks in the area.

~ Frank
- Posted on the road using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:E Mallard Lake Rd,Claremore,United States

Forty fingers and counting.....

2009-06-30T13:42:00.000-07:00

Willard, MO, day three..... One thing my kids have never had the chance to experience is the exhilaration of celebrating the 4th of July, with a good-old backyard fireworks display.

Thanks to the fact that we live in an area where tinder is the state flower, drought is the state motto, and civil litigation is state's #1 indoor sport, southern californians are not allowed to purchases backyard fireworks..... Safe and sane, or otherwise.

Well in Missouri, where Americans are still allowed to decide for themselves how many fingers they possess, fire works are freely available. Kathie and I stumbled upon this "superdome" of fireworks.

Twenty minutes later we had $75 worth of pyrotechnic mayhem with which to impress the kids! More on this later!

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

Ready... Aim.... Fire!

2009-06-30T07:54:00.000-07:00

Having grown up in a metropolitan area (read, anywhere in San Diego County) my kids have missed out on a lot of the down to earth activities. As a child of eight, my grandmother taught the proper technique for slaughtering two chickens simultaneous with a pocket knife, my mother taught me how to slaughter a pig, and as a member of the rifle team, my junior high taught me the correct way to handle and shoot a firearm.

In the sanitized, politically correct world in which we live my kids have missed out on these and many other life experiences. Experiences that I am sure have molded me into the twisted freak that I am today.

During day two of our stay in Willard, MO Matt & Paula finally got to experience the handling and shooting of a firearm, specifically a Ruger .22 caliber rifle. Matt first had to be assured that the weapon was empty before he would approach it, but once given a very thorough explanation of the weapon, its parts, and use my boy stood there like champ and took his first shot at a target. We may go out again today, and this time try to hit the target, but for now, another rite of passage has been checked off the list.

Now I just need to find a couple of chickens, and a pig!

Grammar notwithstanding..... Good Eats!

2009-06-29T20:58:00.000-07:00

Day two in Willard, MO started with my now familiar lower back spasms. Having had enough of this funny business, I highjacked one of Kathie's Lidoderm patches. About one hour after applying the patch, my back started to behave itself, and prospects for the day brightened.

One of the ugly side effects of the patch was that I applied it in the bathroom, and in that bathroom was a mirror...... and in that mirror was my face. Suffice it to say that I was briefly startled by Quasimodo who was looking back at me. It was clear that I needed caffeine... stat!

With my body freshly caffeinated the morning proceeded without too much activity, but eventually talk turned to the topic of lunch, and with today being our host's son's birthday the choice of restaurant was his. He chose Lamberts. Tagged as the "Home of the 'Throwed' Roll" what Lamberts lacks in grammatical Q&A, it more than makes up for in quality "comfort" food served in an atmosphere that is both homey and entertaining.

Paula was jazzed by the fried okra that was served automatically as an appetizer. Shortly after our appetizer was delivered, while our group was chit-chatting, a roll was launched overhead like a ballistic missile. I had just witnessed a "Throwed" Roll. Yep, as promised by the sign outside, all you have to do is raise your hand, and from across the room a Lamberts employee turns fresh baked goods into a hot projectile of baked yeasty goodness!

Lamberts doesn't just rest on the novelty of their airborne baked goods, the food is G O O D!!! I wasn't quite brave enough to order the hog jowls which upon further research turns out to be akin to very thickly sliced bacon, instead I ordered the polish sausage with sauerkraut, baked beans and turnip greens. Lamberts also serves what are called "pass arounds" unlike the flying rolls, these sides (fried potatoes, black eyed peas, macaroni and tomato, et al) are carted around the dining room by serving staff. Just say the word as the pot walks by and scoop of that side dish is plopped onto your plate. It truly was a fun way to enjoy a meal.

Read more about Lamberts at their website....

Mother nature's Light Show

2009-06-28T11:50:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Willard, MO at about 1:30 Saturday morning, at about 1:35am we were welcomed with the most awesome electrical storm I've witnessed in a at least 19 years. As tired as we both were, neither Matt nor I could go to sleep, rather we went outside to enjoy the show.

All around us lightning filled the sky, and occasionally we were treated to a close strike where it truly seemed as though the thunder was clapping before the lightning would flash. (Yes Jon, if you're reading this, I know that it is the other way around!)

Today we awoke to a beautiful sky, and air so clean and so fresh that, for a moment at least, it took my mind off the excruciating pain I was feeling in my shoulder and lower back.

Sticking a fork in phase one....

2009-06-27T16:46:00.001-07:00

The first phase of our cross country adventure is coming to an end with the close of the TKD championship tournament. Although I'm very proud of Paula, I know that she is a bit disappointed at not placing in either of her title matches. Oh well, there's always next year.... It's Saturday afternoon and we're just waiting for the first matches of the new season to finish. Unlike last year, Paula didn't place in either Weapons or Forms. Her sparring match is currently underway and I have my fingers crossed.

Our car is packed, and we're ready to head out of Little Rock as soon as Paula's ring bows out. Then we begin phase two of our summer adventure, a trip to Willard, MO to visit with friends.

As usual, my Twitter feed will be the most up to date source of info while on the road.

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

And now the big event!

2009-06-26T11:50:00.000-07:00

Paula has her game face on as she waits for her ring to start. Nine girls will be gunning for Paula. I think I'm more nervous than she is!

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

Let the competition begin!

2009-06-25T12:31:00.001-07:00

Day 5 of our trip...... And first day of competition. This is Paula, concentrating before her first round of weapon competition. Paula was the #5 point earner in the world this year.

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

Poor man's sauna

2009-06-23T20:34:00.001-07:00

It's amazing how much dirty clothes four people can accumulate over three days on the road. Fortunately the Best Western provides access to a washer and dryer on site. With a side benefit...... In a non-airconditioned area of the hotel, the temperature in the laundry area is hovering around 110. I was thoroughly soaked after doing a load of clothes and got to experience the joys of a sauna without the expense of a high priced spa membership! Yes!

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

The best laid plans of mice and men...

2009-06-23T08:18:00.001-07:00

Well here I find myself on day 3 of our trip, with
most things having gone according to plan. Our first real glitch was when the Travelodge in Amarillo failed to come through with it's promised "in-room wi-fi," consequently my blog posts have not been on schedule.

The second kink in the plan has been our failure to hit the road this morning at 7:00 am as planned. Today will be our longest leg at 500 miles. Oh yeah, as far as not starting on time..... Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. I was the one that had trouble getting up. The last couple of days have been a drain on me.

Well, Kathie and the kids are grousing at me to get going, so one last note, as I sit here in Starbucks enjoying my "Pikes Place" blend..... I obviously have not been able to post to the blog as frequently as I would like, but I do get more opportunities to send a quick stream of thought to my Twitter feed. Because of that I've moved my feed to a position higher up on the blog site. Hope you enjoy my 140 character rants.

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

Standing on a corner in Holbrook Arizona.....

2009-06-22T06:36:00.001-07:00

Yep. If the Eagles had gone a few extra miles and stayed in Holbrook, I'm pretty sure "Take It Easy" would not have been nearly as popular a song.

Monday morning finds our weary travellers, waking up in "The Charming Town of Holbrook." * today's leg of the voyage will be about 50 miles shorter than yesterday's send off leg. And quite a bit shorter than tomorrow's 600 mile endurance leg. But everytime I start feeling as though I'm really hard core, I think of Ros Savage, who is currently rowing across the Pacific ocean. Of course, she doesn't have Matt and Paula with her. Read more about Roz at www.rozsavage.com very cool lady.

Well without giving too much detail I'm being asked to hurry, so more later.

* From the Holbrook visitors guide. Really a tri-fold pamphlet, but budgets are tight.

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

On Pins and Needles...

2009-06-21T11:59:00.001-07:00

Needles, CA. Not sure why it's called needles, but I was able to needle Paula into smiling at one of few signs of civilization...... Beer.

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

My personal Oasis

2009-06-21T08:51:00.001-07:00

No doubt the first of many stops. I am ever thankful for the fact that you're never more than a 9-iron away from a Starbucks!

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

False Starts and Delayed Departures

2009-06-21T07:33:00.001-07:00

Right on cue. 5 minutes into our trip..... "Oh!!! I forgot my travel journal!". 15 minutes later, we try again.

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

90 minutes to takeoff....

2009-06-21T05:43:00.001-07:00

It's 5:30 am and the gears are starting to turn on this machine we call a family. The squeaky wheel, the boy, is doing everything he can to remain as invisible as he can.

Girl, who is not accustomed to seeing the early side of 11 am on a non school day is uncharacteristically alert and eager to help.

The queen bee who was up pretty late last night has just finished unsuccessfully attempting to negotiate a Sunday afternoon departure. She is now up and moving about.

Yours truly? Yep, the captain of this disaster movie has been up for an hour now, and is resolutely dragging his crew with only a little kicking and no screaming toward a 7 am departure.

The weather looks favorable, the car is ready. Next stop, and next report, Needles, CA. ETA. 12pm pst.

Time to shove off!

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

Almost time to rest....

2009-06-20T18:35:00.001-07:00

As you can see from my handy iPhone To-Do list, I am just about ready for tomorrow's grand adventure. I am tired, and I still need to pack my clothes. My problem is that the ladies are out having a "Mani-Pedi," so I don't know which suitcases we're taking, and if Ill have room for three days worth of clothing, or if I'll just have to settle for taking a loin cloth and some sandals.

Those if you that know me, know that the loin cloth option is a decidedly unattractive one!

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

Where the rubber meets the road.

2009-06-20T09:49:00.000-07:00

As mentioned in my last post, our voyage first required a trip to the tire shop. I wouldn't normally bother my readers with the details of so mundane a task, but I thought I would take the opportunity to throw out a plug for a great outfit.

Those of you unfortunate enough to know me personally know that I, generally speaking, don't like people and will do anything possible to limit my contact with others. (I do, of course, make exceptions as is evidenced by my two lovely children.) America's Tire Company also known as Discount Tires in some locations caters to my need for minimal human contact. They have a great system where you can go to their website, check availability and reserve your tires and an installation appointment. Very slick setup.

Today I arrived at ATC told the fellow at the counter my name, swiped my debit card, handed him my keys, and was done. All I had left to do was find a corner of the waiting area, and start writing this post.

All in all.... A very pleasant experience. Oh and by the way...... Total cost about $100 cheaper than CostCo, and no CostCo crowds!

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

6000 miles in a Honda Pilot

2009-06-20T08:08:00.000-07:00

..... or, "What was I thinking?"

Well the countdown is now set at T-Minus 24 hours and counting for the great Azevedo cross-country adventure. Fallbrook, CA to Clayton, NC...... Oh yeah with stops in Little Rock, AR for some sporting event ;-) and a stop in Willard, MO for some wild drunken debauchery......

I hope to do a slightly better than adequate job of memorializing this trip with frequent (time permitting) posts to this blog.

Our group, which I will lovingly refer to as "Donner, Part of Four," should still be on speaking terms by the time this is all over.

Well a famous Chinese proverb says: "Even a journey of 5000 miles begins with a stop at the tire store..." or something like that. So off I go to the tire shop for my first step in prepping for this epic voyage. (Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, have nothing on what I expect to endure the next three weeks!)

My muse is stirring

2009-03-30T19:44:00.001-07:00

I've witnessed some behaviors over the past couple of days that have inspired me to introduce two new article series for my esteemed readers.

Stay tuned as I introduce:" People who make me laugh;" and, "Why Al Quaeda hates us."

Stay tuned.....

-- Posted by Frank, while out and about with his iPhone.

Here I am.....

2008-10-16T05:48:00.000-07:00

Every writer has, at one time or another, suffered from a common malady..... Writer's Block. In the interest of brevity, I'm going to assume that you, dear reader, know all about the condition. If not, Google it.

Writer's block, however, is not the reason for the recent dearth of posts from yours truly. Quite the contrary, lately I've been afflicted with a condition that is quite the opposite of writer's block, but no less debilitating. Honestly, I may be coining a phrase here, but my difficulty lies in the condition I now know as "Writer's Flood."

Writer's Flood n The state or condition of paralysis, brought on by having so much to write about, the writer is rendered unable to focus sufficiently on any one topic, to present coherent thoughts related to said topics either manually or electronically.

In other words:

Trip to Portugal
Extended Family issues.
The meltdown of our financial markets.
The election
The death of capitalism
Issues at ATA
The state budget, and its effect on my work place environment.

All of these have bombarded me with material over the last few weeks, to the extent that I've not been able to focus on any one topic.

But oh my, look at the time, guess I won't be able to write about any of these topics right now..... I have to go deal with the above topics for another day.

-Frank

* Google rant alert! *

2008-09-11T18:35:00.000-07:00

I have normally been a big fan of Google products. I have been using GMail as my e-mail service since the time that it was available by invitation only. But a blind allegiance to any brand can be a bad thing. Evidence today by the loss of over three hours of writing while synchronizing with Google Docs from offline mode.

Now I have to try and re-create a days worth of journal entries, and rather than making this post about the first day of my island trip, I''m writing a rant about Google.

/Sigh

There, I feel better now. Not really, but I thought I should say that in case Google is monitoring this. =:/

Finally made it......

2008-09-10T10:32:00.000-07:00

When we last left our weary traveler, we wondered if he would ever get off the ground in Boston. Fortunately, after 1 hour and five minutes of unexplained delays we got off the ground, and after a unique "where's my bag adventure" culminating in a mad dash for a final plane. I have made it to the Island of Pico, in the Azores.

For now, I'm going to leave it at that, I'm here, I'm safe, I'm tired. I'm gonna go take a quick nap so that I can try a 1:30am local time skype video conference with Kathie when she and the kids get home.

Very very windy out here today.....

FA

Azores or Bust 4.6

2008-09-09T19:39:00.001-07:00

* * * Rant Alert * * *

Why can't the nation that once led the world in exploration and
navigation, get a plane off the ground on time?

Azores or Bust ver 3.2

2008-09-09T11:27:00.000-07:00

I don't know if it was my bright Hawaiian shirt, or my commanding personality, but the crew of Delta 1254, 757 service from SLC-BOS decided to put me in charge of this beauty..... Emergency Exit door S2 (starboard 2)

My only instructions were to make sure that all first class passengers were safely out before allowing any coach class riff raff through the door. Being a member of said riff raff, I've decided next time to try Amtrak.

FA
PS I'm pretty sure it was the bright Hawaiian Shirt..... /sigh

Azores or Bust 2.0

2008-09-09T06:04:00.000-07:00

Well made through security, with only being asked to partially
disrobe. Seated now, 18d (first class ends at row 17, so every once in
a while I get a whiff of the premium air they serve in first class!
The best of both worlds!

FASt

Azores or Bust ver 1.1

2008-09-09T04:51:00.000-07:00

Well, just learned that you can't use curbside check-in for
international travel. /sigh

Azores or Bust

2008-09-09T04:25:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm now 2 hours from wheels up, and I'm currently engaged in the
most dangerous part of any airline trip: the ride to the airport.

Thank you to my co-worker, Joe for the lift!

As I review my itinerary, I notice something a little disconcerting, I
have 26 minutes to make my Salt Lake City connection, in different
terminals. Wish me luck!

The best Mexican food you can get... without using your passport....

2008-07-31T08:34:00.000-07:00

Working in Fallbrook has it's pluses and minuses. The pluses include a never ending supply of avocados, and for me personally it means a five mile commute.

Among the minuses of working in Fallbrook is a dearth of really good "authentic" mexican food. Don't get me wrong, we have plenty of restaurants serving mexican food, but my co-worker Jon and I find it to be mostly uninspired assembly line fare.

Although most of the local restaurants are able to offer at least one thing that keeps their respective loyal followers coming back, none of them can recreate the atmosphere of a Tijuana street corner vendor cooking out of a hubcap (them's good eats!) This changed when Jon and I discovered Village Tacos.

Now it should be noted that I owe the discovery of Village Tacos to a Soccer Mom who wouldn't move her stupid SUV out of the way when I was trying to pull into another local restaurant. Although the discussion of Soccer Mom's with one child*, blocking a driveway with an SUV the size of a Bradley fighting vehicle would make for a great blog post, I'll save that rant for another day.

Back to Village Tacos. Located behind the Village Liquor store at 1510 S. Mission Road, you're greeted at the window by the very friendly Jaime, who does not allow a heavy accent and incomplete command of the english language from providing the friendliest service I've experienced in Fallbrook. Everyone who walks up is an Amigo! Their patio seating is decidedly casual, picture #2 shows my co-worker Joseph relaxing while we wait for our order.

While the menu does not appear to be as extensive as an Albertos or Robertos or any of the 'ertos, what the menu does offer is prepared with an attention to authentic style in a very south of the border way. While their carne asada is very flavorful, and their pollo asada is delicious according to another co-worker, their adobada tacos are my personal favorite. Adobada tacos are marinated pork piled high on corn tortillas. To my understanding Village Tacos has the only truly authentic adobada tacos in town, and at $4.50 for two they are an excellent value.

Give them a try, Jaime will make you feel welcome, and Village Tacos will spoil you for any other mexican food in the village of Fallbrook.

Bon apetit!

-Frank

Village Tacos

1510 South Mission Rd, Fallbrook, CA 92028 760-728-2844

* I was not able to confirm if the child in fact played soccer, though I'm not sure that necessarily precludes one from applying the Soccer Mom moniker.

Sushi 90210

2008-07-28T22:31:00.001-07:00

Hand it to the Portuguese for establishing their southern California
consulate office in Beverly Hills. My recent elevation to the position
of "Country Squire" (Jr. Grade) necessitated a visit to said
consulate. While waiting for some documents to be certified, I was
able to enjoy some excellent sushi with Kathie and the kids. If you
do find yourself up in 90210, be sure to visit BOSS Sushi on south La
Cienega, just south of Wilshire.

Although the Rainbow Dragon roll I ordered was delicious, Kathie ordered a roll called the Bossipol Roll. Oh my goodness! While I can't quite remember what was in the roll, what did make it stand out was the small slices of Mango and Kiwi fruit that were layered on top of the roll. You have to try it!

But at least they're not Canadian.....

2008-07-27T16:00:00.000-07:00

My son Matt is shown here at Pier 39 in San Francisco. He was about as
impressed as I was by this shameless tourist trap. "there are too many
foreigners here" was his summation.

I reminded him to be respectful, and tolerant of those different from us....... besides there didn't appear to be any Canadians milling aboot. {shudder}

Dance, Dance, Revolution.......

2008-07-20T15:12:00.000-07:00

Most of you already know that my kids, Matt & Paula are accomplished martial artists. But did you know that they are also very skilled dancers? After several years at the Tony Manero school for advanced dance concepts, they seem to be catching on.

Watch this video clip of them in action, and let me know what you think.

Paula & Matt

Click the above link.

Death by Fan Boy........

2008-07-13T08:46:00.000-07:00

There has been oodles of buzz and press over the release of iPhone Redux, or as coined by the Illuminati of Cupertino, the iPhone 3G. This new iPhone admittedly is a nice upgrade to what was already a very nice cell phone. I have to admit it isn't really fair to label this as simply a cell phone. At the risk of making this post about the iPhone (which it isn't - at least not directly) the iPhone is by far the best cell phone/internet device I have ever owned, without qualification. And that was before the latest release of version 2.0 software, which provided what to me was the holy grail of mobile communications: MS Exchange Synchronization.

No, today's post is about something only tangentially related to the iPhone, the Apple Fan Boy. Those of you who know me, know that I cherish examples of irony, and I found it to be deliciously ironic that the Apple Fan Boy may ultimately be Apple's worst nightmare.

First let's describe a "Fan Boy." The term Fan Boy is really gender neutral as there are male and female Fan Boys, but the preponderance is male, and so with all due respect to political correctness, the moniker stands unamended. A Fan Boy (particularly the Apple variety*) is a person who has given over their free will to the notion that if something was designed, manufactured, or purchased by Steve Jobs and the fine folks in Cupertino, CA, that something is inherently perfect in every way and is particularly better than anything that has come out, or will ever come out of Redmond, WA; moreover, as an hommage (French spelling intentional) to the great Lord Steve this item must be purchased within the first five minutes of release.

Now that I have defined Fan Boy, before I continue I need to take a moment to provide this disclaimer. I really like Apple products. Notice I didn't say "love," I said "really like," this is consistent with my notion that people should love people, not inanimate objects. But I digress. I really like my iPhone, (people who know me well will tell you that this is the longest I have ever gone without switching phones,) my wife and daughter like theirs, my son will probably have one soon. Along with three iPhones the Azevedo household has owned four different iPods over the last few years. We currently run three iMacs in the household, again, my son will probably have one soon. And rounding out the inventory is our AppleTV device, which has single handedly made it possible for us to cancel our cable TV and never look back.

OK...... So the purpose of the last paragraph is to fire a shot across the bow of anyone who would like to comment that I must just be an Apple hater.

Those of you who follow my Facebook page know that I have been mulling over the last few days the notion of dropping the coin to upgrade to the new 3G iPhone, and letting my son Matt have my version 1 phone. What kept me from engaging in this attempt to keep the wheels of American commerce churning along at glacial speed, was word I was receiving via my various news sources that the Fan Boys were at it again. (recall my comment above about the genetic predisposition of Fan Boys to need to acquire Apple products before they have touched display shelves) Stories were told of Fan Boys lining up 500 deep at large metropolitan Apple Stores, even at the small AT&T store in Vista, CA they were lined up about 100 deep. The grumbling at the AT&T store was particularly pronounced when it was announced that they did not have any 16GB iphones in stock.

Death by Fan Boy occurred when the Apple iTunes system gave up and choked while trying to activate all of these new iPhones. The Fan Boys could be heard complaining about AT&T and how the AT&T servers were at fault, but by Apples own admission, it was iTunes, not AT&T that wasn't up to the task. So, when all was said and done, it was the rabid support of the Fan Boy that was the proximate cause of the 3G rollout debacle. With Fans like these....... So to all you Fan Boys, do Apple a favor and give up the notion that you "have to be the first" or among the first 500 in your city to own the next great thing. Wait 24 hours, wait a couple of days. Do any of you know the name of the first US buyer of an iPhone? A guy named Dale in New York. Do you know the name of the second? No, neither do I. Because no one cares. It has only been 48 hours and already no one cares that you were among the first 500 to buy an iPhone.

I'm of Portuguese ancestry, not British, I can explore, and navigate ok, but I don't queue very well, so I think I'll wait until the Fan Boys clear out of the Apple stores before I head in to make my purchase. (imagine standing in a store full of people who had voluntarily gone 48 hours without bathing!) Besides, I need to make sure that my .mac/mobileme account is finally working again (but that's for another post.)

*Quite honestly, I've only heard the term Fan Boy used with respect to Apple. I've never heard of, for example, Windows Fan Boy, Honda Fan Boy, Prada Fan Boy, IRS Fan Boy, Tuna Fish Sandwich Fan Boy. However, for the purpose of this post, I will allow for the possibility that other products have "Fan Boys."

We're leaving, on a jet plane!

2008-06-26T08:46:00.000-07:00

Well we're starting our grand adventure to Little Rock. Paula is
making sure that she is up to date on water evacuation procedures. I
had to let her know that it doesn't mean what to do if you wet yourself.

Congratulations Matt

2008-06-19T20:27:00.000-07:00

My son Matt is shown here standing with his instructor, Andy Kramer, of Kramer's ATA Black Belt Academy, shortly after successfully testing for his 1st degree black belt.

In the background is Matt's sister, Paula. She normally wears a helmet, when out in public. She's a biter.

Great job, buddy!

Mom and I are proud of you!

-Frank

My son made me watch a Marilyn Manson video.... please stop the pain!

2008-06-18T21:19:00.000-07:00

Imagine my relief when my son announced to me that his musical idol was no longer Lady Sovereign. The tarty british rap star, with a vocabulary that would make the Barbary Pirates blush, always left me wondering where my son acquired his taste in music. (Of course it should be noted that at his age - 16 - I was listening to Barry Manilow, Neil Diamond, and ABBA. That right there should fill in some blanks for those of you who know me, but don't understand me.)

Now imagine my pride when Matt announces that his new Artiste´ du Jour is none other than goth fave Marilyn Manson.

Marilyn, (aka Brian Hugh Warner) who was hatched in Canton Ohio, January 5th, 1969, (I'll bet Matt doesn't know his birthday is one day before MM's) is responsible for subjecting humanity to cultural treasures like: Smells Like Children, and The Golden Age of Grotesque these albums provide us with famous rousing campfire fare such as:

"May Cause Discoloration of the Urine or Feces"
"Scabs, Guns and Peanut Butter" and the ever popular,
"Baboon Rape Party"

(Yes folks, real song titles)

So this is how God punishes a youngster who wastes his youth listening to Barry Manilow...... He makes his son a Marilyn Manson fan. I never knew that listening to Mandy, and Two Ships that Pass in the Night could have such a long term negative effect.

Well my guess is, much like Lady Sovereign and bad Gazpacho, that this too shall pass, and that he'll be amazing me with the continuing evolution of his ever eclectic musical tastes. And, quite honestly, after listening to the lyrics to a few Manson songs, I can say at least........

It's not as bad as Hip-Hop, or Rap, or (God forbid) Barry Manilow

Pay attention, Matt & Paula. The following is an example of a paradigm shift...

2008-06-17T20:48:00.000-07:00

When driving through our neighborhood, nothing bothered me more than folks who chose to ignore the available sidewalk, and opted to walk in the street. More times than I would like to count I have found myself cursing these degenerate scofflaws under my breath..... A little louder if I happen to be alone in the car.

Well, today I was taking what I hope to be the first of many power walks through our neighborhood, a convenient enough two mile loop around the small lake our development surrounds. What I found while walking, was that whoever the civil engineer is who designed the driveway cutouts in our sidewalks obviously went to the Marquis de Sade school of engineering. (caution... whiny rant alert) the constant up and down on those sloped areas of sidewalk is murder on the ankles and knees.

So... to my neighbors.... if you happened to notice over the last eight years, a middle aged guy looking like he's about to have a stroke, as he cuts it a little too close while passing you...... I'm sorry. I never knew....but now, I understand!

View of our house, from the one mile mark of my new walking circuit. Well of course I'm not going to provide an arrow or other identifying mark. I don't know who's reading this! You could be a pervert or something! ;-)

-Frank

In a perfect world.....

2008-05-28T05:52:00.000-07:00

For the last 20 odd years my gig has been in the I.T. field in one capacity or another. Hardware, software, networking, and end user support, I've done it all. I found this video that encapsulates the frustration felt by geeks around the world.

Well, to quote Nick Burns.... "Was that so hard?"

-Frank

There should be an owner's manual.....

2008-05-16T18:33:00.000-07:00

I approached the adventure of parenthood with the bravado of the uninformed and the innocence of the untested. I figured, "How hard can this be?" Be firm, be consistent, don't make any of the many mistakes my parents made. As a teenager I was convinced that my parents were truly failing, in the most miserable way, their entire parent gig.

I didn't hold a grudge against my parents, after all, they weren't as educated as I am, it would have been unfair to expect them to be as good a parent as I would be. Ha! Karma reared its ugly head and smacked me off my precarious perch on the lofty pillar of parental perfection. When it came right down to it, I was no better prepared, than my parents were. As it was in their day, children don't come with an owners manual.

I do think there are some significant differences in the environments my parents and I faced. For my parents, their primary concern was to see us survive to adulthood. Of course we were the greatest threat to our own survival. I think back on afternoons spent riding skateboards down flood control pipelines, and climbing trees to a height where I'm sure oxygen would have been required had I been flying a plane. The dirty old man offering us candy to get in the car was the infinitesimally rare exception, and only happened in nasty places like Newark, NJ.

Today the dangers are much different though no less deadly, in both the physical and emotional sense. Let me just throw out some terms, and names and see if you catch on....

Walter Cronkite - Jon Stewart
The Beatles - Tupac Shakur
Annette Funicello - Paris Hilton
Missile Command - Grand Theft Auto
The Brady Bunch - Married with Children
Your friend's dad's Playboy - Girls Gone Wild

Trust me, the list goes on and on ad nauseum.

It's no wonder that our kids are confused. By extension, I'm extremely confused.

It would seem that at this juncture, per Blog protocol, I should be coming to a point, thus illuminating my reader's life with a pearl of great philosophical price. Unfortunately it's occurring to me, that I can't go into detail about the angst laden events of today which gave me pause to pen this missive. At least not without going into detail that would embarrass my son Matt.

In hopes that he takes the time to read this post I hope he understands that his dad loves him. Hang in there Matt.

Not to be outdone

2008-04-30T06:34:00.000-07:00

In another departure from my habit commenting on the human condition, I'd like to devote this tiny packet of bits and bytes to let everyone know that my daughter Paula (never one to be left out of something trendy) has also launched her own blog.

She does have a regular readership of about two people, which is an increase of 100% from this time last month. So beware, members of the fourth estate, she is zany, she is angry, and she has access to a computer. Ok, maybe she's not angry, but she is easily distracted so check out her blog.... frequently. And for heavens sake... don't be afraid to click on the google ads both on her blog and mine! (I need the retirement supplement)

Enjoy:
http://princess-poola.blogspot.com

Bet you didn't know my daughter is royalty?!?

-Frank

They grow up way too fast!

2008-04-28T21:57:00.001-07:00

Now I want to quickly dispel any notion that what is about to follow is a hack piece on the inestimable music legend that is Billy Ray Cyrus. The fact that his great contribution to society is the "Achey Breaky Heart" holds no sway in the following indictment.

Being the father of a something-teen daughter, I took great interest in the latest brouhaha out of tinsel town regarding the semi-dressed poses struck by Mr. Billy Ray's daughter Miley. Miley, the star of Disney's teen drama "Hannah Montana," is a pretty young lady who I'm sure was able to achieve her position as Disney's femme du jour (alumna of this club include Hillary Duff, Christy Carlson-Romano, Annette Funnicello, and lets us not forget Britney Spears) without even mentioning her pedigree.

The controversy revolves around Ms. Miley working on a Vanity Fair photo shoot with award winning photographer to the stars Annie Leibovitz, culminating in the final shot of the day of Miss Cyrus posing without a top. Granted, she was fully covered with a sheet or some sort of wrap, but am I the only one that finds this a bit.... what's the word?...... Icky?

Now some would pardon the parents because they had left the set of the photo shoot just before this photo was taken, and blame the grandparents and a teacher who were on set when the the suggestion was made for the topless shot. While its true that the grandparents had the final opportunity to "Just Say No," it was really the parents responsibility to remain on set and look out for their daughters welfare.

I suppose I would be more willing to cut the Cyrus' some slack if the Entertainment Tonight piece I watched (please... no comments about a grown man watching ET.... it happened to be on the TV in my office) didn't have additional photos of father and daughter posing in what were pretty - what's the word...... suggestive - poses. Truly, some of the photos were pretty high on the icky meter!

Young ladies face all sorts of pressure to grow up faster than they really need too. For better or worse, Miley Cyrus is a role model for lots of young girls in the tween to early-teen age group. Momma and Poppa Cyrus should have used a little better judgement that day.

Oh yeah... I know.... Miley has already been caught in an online photo she posted of her pulling down her shirt to expose her green bra, and in another where she is provocatively draped across her then boyfriends lap. But I'm not going to talk about that because well, quite frankly, I'm already bored of this topic, and I'm realizing now that I should have gone with my original topic for todays post.

-Frank

Horror in the Check-out Line

2008-04-23T05:18:00.000-07:00

Watching your children grow up is a process subject to extremes; one moment it feels like you're watching Swan Lake from the front row, other times it's like watching a 40 car pileup on the freeway.... in slow motion.

We've had our share of pile ups watching our son Matthew grow up into the young man that he is today. For those of you that are casual readers, our son Matt is autistic. I won't bore you with the clinical details of Matt's condition, suffice it to say that autism causes Matt to live in his own little world, but as he likes to say "It's OK, they know me here."

One of the more agonizing traits of Matthew's flavor of autism is his lack of a proper inner monologue; in other words.... what he thinks, he says. Occasionally the humor of the moment is lost in the abject horror of having to explain to someone that "he couldn't help himself." One such instance, for example, was a trip to the grocery store with Matt. He and I are standing in line waiting for our turn at the register, when a very (very) large man gets in line behind us. Did I mention he was huge? We're talking a guy so large, that it didn't matter who you were, you would look at him and say to yourself "Oh my God! That man is huge!"

I should take a moment to clarify here. There is Hulk Hogan huge, there is "The Rock" huge, and there is Lyle Alzedo huge. This guy was none of those. This guy was Jaba the Hutt huge. There, I just wanted to make sure that we were all on the same page as to what type of huge we were talking about. You know, Jared before all of the Subway sandwiches. But I digress.

So we're in line getting ready to check out, and it suddenly occurs to me that Matt is watching this gentleman intently. Simultaneously I get a sinking feeling, and a prickling of the hair on the back of my neck. Something is about to go down. I quickly say a prayer to Saint Albertson that the checker finishes and we can skidaddle out of there post haste. The last item is scanned, debit card scanned.... almost home free........

"Dad!!!"

(oh no!)

"Dad, that man needs to poop really bad!"

Hmm can I run faster than he can? Most likely, but how to salvage this social train wreck? Being resourceful I said the first thing that came to mind.

"Little boy, where's your dad? Didn't I just see him walk out? You better go catch him. I'll go with you to make sure you find him.

Why do I share this story with you? Well, my boy has grown up quite a bit since that unfortunate incident, but the inner monologue is only slightly improved. In other words, for the most part, he still speaks his mind, often with no regard to the consequences. And if that weren't enough, he's started his own blog. I told him it would be a good way to express himself without necessarily getting beaten up.

You can catch his posts at: Walking In My Shoes

Please feel free to post a comment or two, he loves the feedback and it gives him validation that he has an audience.

Where's my margarita?

-Frank

I'm being outblogged!!!

2008-04-20T22:45:00.000-07:00

In an effort to direct my son Matt's need for self expression in a positive direction, I helped him setup his own personal Blog. I have to admit that at first blush I expected this to be another effort for naught, but darn if the kid isn't actually taking the ball and running with it.

I figured that after the initial post, with content being king in the blogging world, the site would languish in obscurity brought on by neglect. How amazed I was to see Matt put some thought into some well penned posts. Not that I ever doubted he could produce that type of content, just that I felt he lacked the drive or focus to do so. I'm so proud to see that (once again) I was wrong.

Go take a look for yourself.

http://matts-shoes.blogspot.com

-Frank

Toiling for dollars

2008-04-11T09:59:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in my office working on the "Technology Master Plan" for
the school district with which I am currently employed. As I pour
over this 130 page document making a final pass for errors, a sense of
almost overwhelming frustration falls over the relatively good mood I was in when I arrived this morning.

Well I just finished backspacing over an entire paragraph of reasons
for my frustration, because I've decided that those pearls are best
reserved for my post retirement "Tell All Book" ;-)

Thanking those who serve

2008-04-10T08:05:00.000-07:00

I know if any aspect of my past had taken a different course, my current life would be very different than it is today. For example if I hadn't busted the airspace over Miramar NAS (it was a naval air station back then) back in 1984 and had my pilot's certificate suspended for 90 days, I might be an airline pilot right now (topic for a another post.) Suffice it to say, everything happens in a time continuum, a continuum that takes divergent paths every time you make a life choice, and through those life choices I have ended up with a very satisfying life, one for which I am always grateful.

Having said that, there is one regret I have to this day. I regret not having ever served in the military. I now believe that like many other countries, the US should have some form of compulsory governmental service, but that is the subject for another post. (I better start writing these down) ;-)

The purpose of this post is to share with everyone something that was shared with me by one of my favorite people in the whole world, my wife's aunt (my aunt-in-law) Marguerite "Rity" Matthews. Her son JP has served in the army, and she forwarded to me today an e-mail about the "Gratitude Campaign" Someone (and I'm sorry I can't give proper attribution) came up with a campaign to spread the word on how we can thank service men and women that we run across in the course of our everyday lives.

The men and women of our armed forces are deserving of our gratitude, regardless of your political views or your stance on the current conflict in the middle east. I think the "Gratitude Campaign" is an excellent idea, but the word about it needs to be spread for it to reach critical mass and become a recognized method by which to thank all of our heroes.

So go check out the video that is available at the Gratitude Campaign site, and remember to take the time to thank a service man or woman.

Frank

It Seems Like Only Yesterday!

2008-04-07T22:25:00.000-07:00

Nineteen years ago (April 8, 1989,) at Saint Agnes Catholic church in Point Loma (a suburb of the city of San Diego, CA,) on a Saturday that would be remembered for being one of the hottest on record, I married Katherine T. Anderson. The reasons why I should have bucked tradition, and taken her name for my own is probably a good topic for another post, but for now suffice it that we became Mr & Mrs Azevedo.

Our promises of sticking together through better or worse were tested almost right away. Since such a fuss was raised by my mother over the proposal that we take our wedding pictures before the ceremony, (another long story for another time) we ended up shooting our photos after the ceremony. Because of scheduling issues with the reception venue, this meant that we would be taking pictures while our reception was starting 18 miles away. When photos were finished our wedding party went on to join the reception while we took care of final details with the church and photographer.

With all of the i's dotted and t's crossed, we walked out into the sunshine and a 99 degree afternoon. For you Phoenix readers: Yes I know that 99 degrees is practically sweater weather for you but just work with me for now, in San Diego that's hot! After donning sunglasses, we began looking around for our limousine. After it became clear that the limo was AWOL we headed over to the rectory to ask the priest if we could use their phone to call the limo company. For those of you under the age of 30, yes there was a time without cell phones. (Back then they were called car phones and they were physically attached to the car.) The priest, however, had already left for the reception himself and by all appearances we were stranded.

This is about the time I began experiencing that clenching sensation in my gut, the kind that precedes the realization that you have a crisis that needs to be dealt with, or signals the onset of a bad case of diarrhea. Well there I was, new husband with lovely bride in tow, and the look on Kathie's face said it all: "Well husband, how are you getting us out of this one?" Just about then our photographer and his assistant came out of the church with their gear in tow. I wish I could remember the name of the photographer because I would give him a plug right now.

After explaining our situation he quickly suggested that we take his car to the reception, and that he would hitch a ride with his assistant in the van containing all of the gear. Knowing that at that moment there were about 300 people at the San Diego Hilton staring at their watches, we grabbed the keys and ran for the car. Now imagine a Toyota Celica filled with a limousine's worth of "poofy" wedding gown and train. After an exercise that had an eerie similarity to coaxing toothpaste back into a tube I lovingly shoved my beautiful bride into our micro limo. I came around to my side of the car pausing only long enough to marvel at how it looked like someone had painted the inside of the windshield white!

I opened the driver door only to be greeted by an avalanche of white satin. I'm not sure, but I'm almost positive that I caught a glimpse of our photographer and his assistant laughing their tails off in the van just up the block. After some more shoving I plopped into the driver seat and started the car, and looked up to see that I had about a 30 degree field of view straight ahead. Looking directly back or out either of the side windows was simply not an option. I could make out Kathie's muffled protest that she was having a rough time breathing, so I turned the A/C up to high which caused an edge of the dress fabric to flap wildly slapping me in the face.

Kathie and I made it to the Hilton without incident, save for some odd stares from people on the freeway who wondering about the blizzard in the Celica, and others wondering why I was being attacked by a wedding dress. We ran into my brother on the way in to the hotel who asked where we had been, and did we know we had guests waiting. I answered his question by grabbing the beer he was holding and drinking it myself. I shot him a stare that said "Don't ask" when he inquired why the side of my face was all red like it had been slapped.

After collecting ourselves, and assembling the rest of the wedding party, we made our grand entrance into the ballroom to a standing ovation. (Although they may have been standing because they were getting ready to leave thinking that they were at the wrong Hilton.) The rest of the reception, rubber chicken, cake, champagne, dancing, all went smoothly and was a wonderful, memorable experience.

Now nineteen years and two children later, I look back on that day and think about all of the "missing limos" we have had since then. Sick children, lost jobs, disagreements, financial ups and downs, loss of loved ones, and yes that missing limo that started it all. Kathie and I faced each of those situations together. Now with the kids in their teenage years, I can guarantee that ninteen years from now, I'll have plenty of stories to recount about dealing with crisis. Having Kathie with me to deal with it will make all of the difference.

I love you honey! Happy Anniversary!

Frank

What to expect.....

2008-04-07T11:26:00.001-07:00

You may ask yourself: What does Frank have to offer? Why should I come back to this Blog? What’s for lunch?

Well, for those of you brave enough to return, I’ll be publishing posts about:

· The island hideaway, or “An idiots guide to becoming an expatriate”

· Growing older, but not growing up, or “How did the score get to be Seatbelt 1 – Frank 0?”

· Dealing with a teenage daughter, or “I’ll kill him! Let me at him! Where’s my Katana?”

· Dealing with a body that is getting less MPG than a Hummer H2, or “Why didn’t I start taekwondo at age 8 like a normal person?”

· John, Hlllary, or Barack, or “Geez I wish Christopher Walken was still running for President!”

· I’ll also make whatever commentary I can regarding the little town of Fallbrook, CA. At least to the extent I can without getting fired from my job!

Keep those comments coming! I love the feedback!

Frank

Welcome

2008-04-06T21:09:00.000-07:00

Growing up I always heard that women keep diaries, and men keep journals. Well it is 2008 and everyone keeps a blog. I can't imagine that anyone would have any interest in reading the ramblings of a middle aged man, husband, father of two; however, perhaps by memorializing my thoughts and notions even if for no one else but myself perhaps I'll enjoy some measure of cathartic benefit. So thus begins the adventure, some of it reflection, some prognostication, hopefully all with some measure of humor.

Frank

To Be Perfectly Frank!

Now they've done it!!!

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How To Save A Life

A Run-on Night

Why Al Qaeda Hates Us #37

She's seventeen today.......

Day 3

Forty fingers and counting.....

Ready... Aim.... Fire!

Grammar notwithstanding..... Good Eats!

Mother nature's Light Show

Sticking a fork in phase one....

And now the big event!

Let the competition begin!

Poor man's sauna

The best laid plans of mice and men...

Standing on a corner in Holbrook Arizona.....

On Pins and Needles...

My personal Oasis

False Starts and Delayed Departures

90 minutes to takeoff....

Almost time to rest....

Where the rubber meets the road.

6000 miles in a Honda Pilot

My muse is stirring

Here I am.....

*** Google rant alert! ***

Finally made it......

Azores or Bust 4.6

Azores or Bust ver 3.2

Azores or Bust 2.0

Azores or Bust ver 1.1

Azores or Bust

The best Mexican food you can get... without using your passport....

Sushi 90210

But at least they're not Canadian.....

Dance, Dance, Revolution.......

Death by Fan Boy........

We're leaving, on a jet plane!

Congratulations Matt

My son made me watch a Marilyn Manson video.... please stop the pain!

Pay attention, Matt & Paula. The following is an example of a paradigm shift...

In a perfect world.....

There should be an owner's manual.....

Not to be outdone

They grow up way too fast!

Horror in the Check-out Line

I'm being outblogged!!!

Toiling for dollars

Thanking those who serve

It Seems Like Only Yesterday!

What to expect.....

Welcome

* Google rant alert! *