Cowboys Don't Work the Phones

There is a good reason why you never see cowboys featured in telemarketing commercial or as receptionists or administrative assistants:
Cowboys don't work the phones.

And there's a good reason cowboys don't work the phones:
Cowboys don't use head sets.

And there's a good reason cowboys don't wear headsets:
Their hats get in the way.


You may wonder why a turtle from Minnesota would be ruminating on such matters. I have a good answer:
Today is Halloween.

You see, D-Monk decided to celebrate Halloween at the office today by dressing as a cowboy. He wore his Stetson hat which he procured last spring on a trip to Austin, Texas. Instant Halloween costume!

All went well for the turtle cowboy until, while frantically trying to finish a project, his phone rang. D-Monk stopped what he was doing and reached for his head set so he could practice hands-free calling.

One problem:
D-Monk's headset didn't fit over his hat.

Panic!

D-Monk set down the head set, removed his hat, tried to set the hat down on his desk, knocked over his Mountain Dew, and missed the phone call!

COWBOYS DON'T WORK THE PHONES!

Travel Travails

Yay

Wait

Scream

Squish

Crunch

Hurry

Shuffle

Moo

Boil

Whew

Wednesday was a travel day for D-Monk. I was headed down to Phoenix for a boondoggle. The goal was to get from Minneapolis to Phoenix to work a life insurance trade show.

YAY!

Things started well. D-Monk's dad volunteered to drive him to the airport. We left at 6:45am and hit very little traffic. A smooth commute to the airport.

Yay ...

WAIT

D-Monk was flying United airlines. United has a new seating system where they try to charge you extra for seats in "economy plus." Because of this, D-Monk was unable to reserve seats prior to getting to the airport. So he got to the gate early to get a seat assignment. At that point he was given a choice: pay $30 for an upgrade to "economy plus," or come back in half an hour to get the same seat for free. So D-Monk waited.

Yay - Wait ...

SCREAM!

D-Monk boarded the plane and took a seat near the rear where there were three screaming toddlers.

Yay - Wait - Scream ...

SQUISH!

To make matters worse, a very large person came and sat in the seat next to D-Monk (who at 6' 1" already lacks for space on a plane).

Yay - Wait - Scream - Squish ...

CRUNCH!

Thirty minutes into the flight to Phoenix, the passenger in front of D-Monk decided to recline her seat ... right into D-Monk's knees! Ouch!

Yay - Wait - Scream - Squish - Crunch ...

HURRY!

The flight to Phoenix required a connection in Denver with not much time to make the connecting flight. The connecting flight was 33 gates away causing D-Monk to rush.

Yay - Wait - Scream - Squish - Crunch - Hurry ...

SHUFFLE

And, of course, D-Monk didn't have a seat assignment yet. So he rushed through the airport to make his connection and get a seat. D-Monk arrived at the gate just in time to learn that the gate had been changed. Six gates farther to walk.

Yay - Wait - Scream - Squish - Hurry - Shuffle ...

MOO!

After spending twenty minutes at the new gate they announced that there was a plane bound for Tampa that was blocking the new gate. The plane was having mechanical difficulties and so the gate was unavailable. Our plane was ready to go, but there was no gate for the plane to come to. After another twenty minutes they announced that they had found a gate - 21 gates back the other direction. All of the passengers started towards the other end of the airport like a herd of cattle.

Yay - Wait - Scream - Squish - Hurry - Shuffle - Moo ...

BOIL

When our herd of passengers arrived at the new gate we encountered a second herd of passengers. Another announcement came over the intercom: "We have two cannibal planes heading towards this gate - one bound for Phoenix and another bound for San Francisco. We don't know which plane will get to the gate first, but we will load one and the other will have to wait." The two herds of passengers were now competitors ready for blood ...

Yay - Wait - Scream - Squish - Hurry - Shuffle - Moo - Boil ...

WHEW!

Five minutes later it was announced that the San Francisco flight would not be coming to the gate because "the plane was broken." Our flight to Phoenix was ready to go!

Yay - Wait - Scream - Squish - Hurry - Shuffle - Moo - Boil - Whew!

And so, in the end, D-Monk made it to Phoenix after an eventful trip that was only one hour late.

Yay - Wait - Scream - Squish - Hurry - Shuffle - Moo - Boil - Whew!

D-Monk's Got New Shoes!

Ahh, the excitement of the simple things in life. Yesterday I bought a new pair of shoes. A pair of wine-colored penny loafers. They are exactly like my old shoes, except newer!

One thing that has always flummoxed me about a new pair of dress shoes is how slippery they seem. When you're walking on carpeting it's like wearing a pair of ice skates. And it can take forever for them to lose that slipperiness.

But then I learned from my Beloved that there is a remedy for this: Go out to the sidewalk and scuff the bottoms of your new shoes. It seems all women know this and they have all practiced scuffing since they were little girls with new black patent leather shoes. While boys were out doing everything in their power to mess up every article of dress clothing in every possible way, the girls used their constitutional right of assembly to form organized groups on street corners and practice scuffing only the bottoms of their shoes.

And, of course, none of the girls, not even my Mom, ever bothered telling me about this useful practice. Instead, once every two years, they sit at their desks and watch out of the corner of their eyes as I regale them with the latest version of Disney on Ice as I try to reach my office in a new pair of shoes.



So here you go, girls!
This triple-axel with a double-twist head contusion is for you!

D-Monk's got a new pair of shoes!

Grateful Recovering Marathoner

Weeks and weeks of training culminated with running the 2007 Twin Cities Marathon this past Sunday. Although it now seems nothing but a great success, this year's marathon (D-Monk's second) was anything but pretty.

It is amazing how much of a marathon is psychological. The 26.2 miles presents a huge mental barrier. Even after running last year's marathon, I found myself doubting very much whether I could do it again.

And completing a marathon brings incredible self-confidence. The mental toughness seems to spill over into other areas of life. If I can endure the simple act of continuing to place one fott in front of the other even when I am exhausted and there are still eight miles to go, I can do anything my boss asks of me at work!

This year's pre-race carb load was at Bucca's restaurant. I went with my wife, my parents, my sisters, and an uncle who is visiting from Texas. I ate and ate and ate: mannicotti, chicken canaloni, lasagna, chocolate cake. And I felt absolutely no guilt!

We talked about my preparation. I said that I felt confident (but really I was very very nervous). I said that I was in better shape and had trained more for this year's race (that was true).

We talked about Sven Sundgaard, one of the local weathermen, who was supposed to be running. He is a young guy (26) who looks even younger. All the girls say he is "dreamy." My wife told me to look for him. I was sure I'd have no trouble finding him amongst the other 10,000 entrants, especially given the fact that he is over 10 years younger than me and likely to be running my pace!

I had been worried about the weather all week prior to the race. Last year's run was under idyllic sunny skies with refreshing fall breezes. But this year's run looked like it would be in the rain.

As Sunday approached, the forecast for rain receded and was replaced with heat. Humid, muggy, awful heat. And this is what we got. It was a terrible day (meteorologically speaking) for a marathon. The overnight low was 72 degrees. It was 72 degrees at the start of the race with 80% humidity! I was sweating before I took my first step.

But the race went well for me. I doubled and tripled the amount of liquids I took in during the course of the race. I stopped at drink stations to make sure I could get 3 gatorades. And that turned out to be very wise.

While this race featured 1,100 fewer finishers than last year's marathon, I not only finished, but I cut 15 minutes off my time. I worked very hard on the last 10 miles not to slow down and not to give in. And I finished!

And guess what else? I did see the dreamy weather guy! I passed Sven Sundgaard at mile 24. He had been much much faster than me for the first half of the race, but the humidity got to him. But he was very nice and chatted with me for a bit. I told him my wife was watching for him and that I had to get to the finish line before him or she wouldn't bother waiting for me. He laughed.

All in all it was a great day for me. I worked hard, pushed myself, finished, experienced great deals of pain.

And now I am a grateful recovering marathoner.

Call for Help!

Today I received a call from a brother in recovery. Suddenly the "quiet times" are over and I am back in crisis, albeit someone else's crisis.

The friend who called me is one of the "Blueshirts," the core of men in recovery that I meet with every other week and talk to almost daily. We have pledged to be a part of each other's recovery and today's phone call affirmed that pledge.

My Blueshirt Brother acted out this past weekend. The incident was not a small slip in his mind, but a major stumble. He is caught up in anguish, guilt, and some self-loathing. Such is life for an addict trapped in the cycle of addiction.

His first reason for calling was to disclose the episode in detail. Bring it to light so that its power for enticing repetition could be diminished. Additionally, he wanted advice on several issues.

The incident took place when he was invited out by a friend. He and the friend were alone and acted out together. He was aware that this was a possibility, but went anyway.

So he asked several things.

1. She he call this friend and place a boundary on their relationship (no doing things together alone)?

2. Should he disclose this to his wife?

3. Any other advice?

Advice giving is discouraged in twelve-step recovery groups. But in this case he asked me directly for advice and I felt great humility and a sense of duty to him. So I responded.

I told him that I thought calling his friend was a good idea. Addicts don't need open invitations to break sobriety. We're sick and cannot handle some of the everyday situations that normal people can handle.

I also told him I felt he would benefit from some sort of disclosure to his wife. This would help emphasize the cost of addiction and make more clear that our lives are unmanageable.

Then I shared with him my recent experiences. I have been graced with nearly a full month of sobriety. This is due in great part to two things. First, I made a full and open disclosure to my wife of my failings in recovery. Not a general "yes I've acted out" sort of an admission. But an honest admission of the frequency and seriousness of my acting out. That was a very painful experience, but it took away one of the greatest tools my addict relies on: secrecy and shame.

Second, I have recently been able to better hand my will over to Christ. The hurt in my life has opened my eyes to how much better Christ's will is than my own. My heart has been softened and I have been able to acknowledge that I don't really need some of the pleasures I was trying to hold on to. This second thing has been a true gift. I feel so much more freedom without having to worry about these issues. I have been blessed!

Thank you, Lord, for the ongoing gift of sobriety!

Quiet Times

Blogging seems easier when there's a crisis. When you have screwed up or life is screwing you, the emotions lead naturally to the keyboard. Eventually readers probably get the impression that your life is always screwed-up and that you're the kind of person best encountered on blogs and not in person.

So today's blog entry will be different. It will be the writing of an average, middle-class, white guy who has a family and loves his wife.




The best description of my life the past several days is "taxi service." I have taken on the embodiment of a soccer mom as I shuttle children and step-children to and from their various activities.

The longest shuttle service involved Snibbets, my 8-yr old daughter from my first marriage. This past weekend was a "Circus Weekend" -- a weekend where all six of the children from our combined marriages were staying at our house. Snibbets had dance practice on Saturday in Saint Cloud, about a 1-hour drive from my home in Minneapolis. Plus there was a 3-hour wait while she practiced. This was actually a positive for me since I love to read.

It has also been a quiet week at work. The biggest change here is the newly imposed "Clean Desk" policy. As a typical absent-minded ADD type, this rule irks me to no end. I take offense at a naked desk!




The rest of life right now is about anticipation. The Twin Cities Marathon is this Sunday and yours truly, Lord of the Turtles, will be running. If successful, this will be my second marathon.