Let the Music Frenzy Begin

So, you're a music connoisseur and you've been looking for a way to download 1 billion songs. Everybody needs to expand their collection from time to time, right? The problem is, you want to do it legally, but you don't have a billion dollars laying around. What do you do?

Well it turns out Pepsi and Amazon just might be teaming up to bring you the solution. It's rumored that the two mega-corporations are planning a 1 billion song giveaway.

Check out the whole story from Digital Music News.

Lyrics to Learn From / Cats In The Cradle by Harry Chapin

My Dad, Thanksgiving, and The Big Green Egg

My Dad is 61. He lives in the Mohave Desert, is a member of a Harley gang called The Goatheads, and eats (almost exclusively) large amounts of meat that he smokes to perfection on his Big Green Egg. I spent Thanksgiving with him this year and I learned a few things:

1. It’s possible for a dude to gain 7 pounds in one day. On Thanksgiving day my weight started at 161 and ended at 168. My wife can vouch for this.

2. Oatman, Arizona (population 200) has wild donkeys that roam the streets, and a restaurant that has real dollar bills for wall paper.

3. It’s a bad idea to watch Ghost Rider with your 86 year old grandma. She will hate almost everything about that movie.

4. It’s a good idea to eat just about anything my Dad cooks on the Big Green Egg except, perhaps, his “Pig Tails” which are so ragingly spicy that I felt like a small portion of Hell had been relocated to the inside of my mouth.

5. I possess the ability to jump across the entire width of my Dad’s pool. (See above photo)

There’s a lot I don’t understand about the desert, and there’s a lot I don’t understand about people who move to the desert. My Dad moved to the desert, and there’s a lot I don’t understand about him. But I do know this, he loves his kids. And he showed us this through selfless hospitality and phenomenal cooking.

Thanks for a great Thanksgiving Dad.

Don't Call Me Tree Hugger

I had a disagreement with a tree yesterday.

During a mountain bike ride in the hills just outside of Nashville I lost control for a split second, or two. In my state of frenzy, I must have unwittingly elected to veer off the trail and attempt to mow down one of the resident trees. The tree however, recognizing the error in my logic, was starkly opposed to this choice and promptly made his disagreement known. Rather than offering a diplomatic request like "Why don't you go around me, instead of trying to to go through me" the tree simply responded with brute force and resilience. As I rapidly moved forward into said tree, I received a sharp thump on the head, many small slaps to the face, a whack to the nose, a gaping tree bark rash on my left arm, Rambo-style cuts across my right bicep and a boatload of minor bruises.

Once the initial shock wore off I stood up, dusted my sell off, and seeing that none of my new wounds appeared particularly life threatening, finished my ride.

My wife was sitting on the couch when I got home. Seeing the dirt on my clothes and my newly acquired cuts and bruises (my right bicep was still bleeding) she offered this semi-scold "You're proud of yourself aren't you?" My wife knows me well. I was proud of myself. She knew it, and I knew it. At least for that moment, I was proud to display my battle scars because I was Mike, bicycle mounted warrior of the trails!

I'm not sure why, it must be a guy thing, but there's just something about getting beat up and living to tell about it, isn't there?

If I Were In A Petting Zoo, I'd Bite You

Don't ask me how or why this analogical anecdote popped in my head – it just did. Blame it on my childhood summers spent at numerous county fairs or my 18 month old daughter's weekly trips to the local zoo.

If you've been neglected the exhilarating experience of a petting zoo and I'm betting there are many of you out there who have, then let me paint the picture. Most kids who grow up in urban or suburban surroundings rarely if ever get to experience the Little House on The Prairie type of lifestyle, so it's up to zoo's and other tourist attractions to create a farm like environment for kids. Usually a small fenced in area half the size of a football field, these kid friendly places house goats, sheep and other domestic, docile animals. If you're lucky you may even see a reindeer (yahoo!). The real magic happens when the animals are released and met by dozens of small children and parents who are eager to share their pre-purchase food pellets with their new furry friends.

Bear with me just a little bit longer. Imagine you're one of these animals...come on, go with me on this. I mean, at first it seems like the good life. You get sweet accommodations, like your own fresh straw bed every night. And your job is to hang out with cute kids that feed you all day. Talk about having it made.

But maybe, just maybe, too much of a good thing can start to take its toll. How many pettings can a guy (I mean a goat) take? Ok, I'm rambling. The point is that if I were one of the animals in one of those petting zoos, I might just snap one day. You know, bite your kids finger off...or at least leave a mark. Enough is enough.

If there's one thing I've learned over the years is that being comfortable in our jobs, our surroundings our community is good...but to a point. It may just be my personality but every once in awhile I want to get away from the normal everyday mundane life, I want to explore, to think, to dream. I'd wager that you can relate with me on this, at some level. As guys, we can't be cooped up all day, every day. We were meant to be free, wild, imaginative and productive.
So if you're feeling like you're in a petting zoo and things seem nice and easy now, heed this warning and get out while you still can.

-brian

Slacker

Ahh...now that's a name that resonates with me - SLACKER. It's actually the name of a company out of San Diego (holla...that's my stomping ground) who just released a handheld radio/mp3 player. So if you're wife thought you were lazy before, well, she best not be hooking you up with one of these for Christmas.

Just in case...the players retail for $199.99 (15 stations, 2GB), $249.99 (25 stations, 4GB) and $299.99 (40 stations, 8GB). The players access surrounding WiFi connections, but they can also play stations when off the network. The team is also planning to expand player connectivity through satellite networks. I read about this in the Digital Music News.

Of Bugs and Babies

Driving through North Carolina on I-40 last weekend I noticed a billboard that read “Why do bugs still fly at car level?” It’s a life or death question for bugs, but it may have some significance for us fathers too.

Unfortunately for most bugs, they really only get one shot at it. By the time they’ve realized it’s not a good idea to fly at car level they’ve become a splat on somebody’s windshield (probably mine – I tend to hit more bugs than most). I suspect the reason most bugs act this way has to do with both instinct and familiarity. It must be instinctual, on some level, for bugs to try and defy death by weaving through raging freeway traffic. It’s just what comes naturally. This tells me that following your instincts may not always be a good thing. It’s also familiar. It’s what all of the other bugs are doing, and this makes it feel safe, even though it’s actually wildly dangerous.

About the same time I developed this new concern for the wellbeing of freeway flying bugs, I met a guy named Ray. Ray’s a few shades older than I am and has three daughters. Ray told me something remarkable. “I try to spend 15 minutes with each daughter, in person, in their world, personally involved, every day” he said. “I make it a point for them to see me love their mother, with affection, by serving her, with words of love, and through meaningful conversation.” I’ve been thinking about my conversation with Ray, and it occurs to me that he is a guy, maybe one of the few, who is “flying above car level”.

I’ve been a father for only 10 months, but it’s already clear to me that the instinctual, familiar thing is to not live the way Ray talked about. You see, car level for us guys, I think, is busyness, work-aholism, and being generally disengaged with our wives and kids. In some ways, it’s just easier… even natural. Living like Ray takes a ton of work, and may even mean that we sacrifice promotions and status at work for the sake of our families.

Ray has been living out those statements for 15 years. Talking with him has given me confidence that the air is clearer and freer up above the traffic where he is, even though it takes a lot more work to get up there.

No, it probably won’t get us plastered to somebody’s windshield if we take the instinctual, familiar route and fly at car level, but there will be casualties. However in our case, we’re not the only ones in danger; it’s our wives and our kids we’re risking.

Going WWE On My Wife

I was told that marriage was a series of ups and downs. Well, 2 days ago would be considered a "down." Now, I wouldn’t necessarily label myself as a hot tempered sort of dude, however, my actions the other night may have spoken otherwise.

Let me provide some context to this crazy episode I'm referring to as "going WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) on my wife." We've had company for about a month straight, I've been traveling a bit with work, spending a ton of time on "curricular activities" (I’ll share later) and at the same time trying to be a dad and husband.

Tell-tell signs of my growing fatigue and over exertion were showing up everywhere this past week, from sailor-like cursing spells in the car (by myself, oh course) to the barrage of annoyances that seemed to keep surfacing throughout the week. I should have heeded these warnings and slowed down. Needless to say, I kept the peddle to the medal and I crashed and burned...BIG TIME!

For all those who may want to learn from my mistakes, LISTEN UP. Yelling obscenities at your wife while smashing her cherished antique chair on the living room floor isn't exactly the way to show your pregnant (5 months), tired (no, exhausted) wife how much you love her. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s the WORSE thing you could ever do.

And I’m ashamed to say, I WAS THAT GUY.

I've heard that we should learn from our mistakes, well, I’m learning alright. After a brief moment of unbelief, my wife reacted about how I expected. With a mixture of fear, shock and anger, she lashed out with tears and then an emotive onslaught of colorful words. Knowing immediately how completely out of line I was, I rushed to apologize but understandably, a simple sorry and apology hug weren't enough this time. This time, I’d gone beyond the unthinkable.

Fortunately for me, my wife is a Saint, quick to forgive and willing to move beyond my immaturity. Equally as fortunate, is that she’s committed to me; committed to work through the ups and the downs. After 30 minutes, we were able to engage in a reconciliation process.

We're going on year 7 of our marriage. This was definitely an experience (if I can call it that) that will both disturb and encourage me for years to come. It's disturbing to think that I could let things get so bad that I explode in such a way but it’s encouraging to see how my wife was able to respond in such a dire situation.

In the end, I suppose that a broken chair is better than a broken marriage. But I'd wager that too many broken chairs could lead to the latter. I’d like to encourage you to join me in slowing down. Trust me, the alternative isn't pretty.
-brian

PS. If anyone has tips for fixing broken chairs...I’m all ears.

The (nearly) Naked Truth

I have a 4 year old son. He's awesome. He speaks with a clarity of vision and from such a sincere place in his soul that you'd swear he was 4 and a half or 5.

Bear in mind that this clarity and sincerity is completely unfiltered. He cares not a wit about his surroundings or the company he keeps while making his sincere and honest proclamations. So if, for instance, his dad happens to find himself standing next to Ben Folds at the store-trying to come up with the hippest way of communicating his admiration for the piano rocker-and my son feels the urge to visit the lil' boys room, he'll just shout ,"Daddy! I gotta go poopy!" Roger that. Moment over.

Often, it's possible to read between the lines of what he's saying to find hidden nuggets of truth. For instance, "sissy's crying" could also mean, "sissy's crying because I stole and ate all of her raisins." Or, "I made good decisions" can sometimes be taken as "apart from the 10 minutes + spent in time out for throwing gravel at a bird, things went pretty well today."

It's with this knowledge that my parents report from a recent babysitting stint hit me as particularly noteworthy. They'd walked in to the mall to kill some time and burn off some energy. And my boy excitedly bounds through the sliding double doors exclaiming, "The Mommy Store!!" While pointing directly to...Frederick's of Hollywood.

When my folks relay this story to my wife and me, she turns almost purple with embarrassment. Picturing, no doubt, the concerned looks that must have passed between my parents as they wondered what sordid sexual escapades their precious grandson had been exposed to. Thinking too, that while we aren't head-to-toe flannel jammies, lights off, missionary-position types of people, we aren't exactly Frederick's of Hollywood peeps either. So, while she was mortified at the prospect of the exact nature our love life being announced by a toddler, I allowed my mind to drift to the between-the-lines truth that my son often speaks.

Maybe it's not a bad thing that he equates the lingerie store models with his mother (not something I wanna do mind you, but...). She's attractive, confident, and she's affectionate. It doesn't necessarily mean he's been poking around the wrong side of the closet. And, maybe I'm just the teensiest bit proud that my wife rocks. It might be embarrassing for her, but it's true. And if there's one thing my son knows, it's truth.

Truth. Sincerity. And clarity of vision. That's my boy

- by Tim P