Out with the Old!

While in Dublin, 

I toured a brewery.

Feeling gregarious, we decided to tour the Guinness Factory on the same day that every other visitor in Ireland was doing so.  Did I mention that this trip has made me detest crowds?  

When asking others what to do when in Dublin, a common response was that despite its tourist reputation, the Guinness Factory was a must.  I utterly disagree.  It’s not a tour of the actual machinery, it’s more of a Guinness museum.  Perhaps I was laboring under a misapprehension, but I was expecting to see lots of cogs and buttons and shit.  I did learn some fun facts, but fighting through the crowd sucked.  I was looking forward to the authentic complimentary Guinness that is promised once you arrive atop the factory- named the Gravity Bar- but it was so crowded that we couldn’t even enjoy a beer.

The Bomber and I standing near the water display. Through this and several other pictures taken on the trip, it was verified by a team of scientists and notary republics that my head is in fact twice the size of Emily’s.  

Fun factor: 4

If you remember a few months ago, I made quite an honorable list of life goals. I was able to cross off #16 on vacation, as:

I rode a rickshaw.

Did you notice me calling the other pedestrians suckers?  This childish display would later come to mock me in the ensuing pedicab venture.

Okay, it was a bicycle rickshaw, or pedicab, not a cart pulled by a human. But it’s what I had in mind when I wrote the goal anyhow.

For some reason, I really wanted to do this one, and it lived up to my expectations. I had so much fun that we took another one home from the bars later that night. We made the mistake of not asking how much it would cost to get back to our apartment and ended up getting hustled for $80. Just another one of those life lessons you learn as a dumb American.

Fun factor: 10

We visited Buckingham Palace during our first leg of the tour, and:

I watched the changing of the guard.

I’m not sure what I was expecting here, but I didn’t get it.  Firstly, apparently the guards have seasonal uniforms, and I was mentally gearing up to see what must be the winter version- you know, the large helmets and that whole garb.  

Like this (photo courtesy of wikipedia):

Secondly, I was thought they were supposed to be all stoic and what not.  We saw what must have been a newbie, because he was literally smirking as if he just caught the Queen dancing in her undies.  

In any event, the palace, below, looking sharp:

The new guard, post change.  Woop-dee-do.

Fun factor: 7

Many thanks to all the guest bloggers who submitted posts while I was out!!  I hope you found them entertaining, but not so entertaining that the ensuing posts will seem mundane.  

And, yes, my lovely sister was being facetious when she said I had to call home to have money wired to me while on my vacation- I’ve got a little more dignity than that.  Besides, there were plenty of pawn shops near my lodging.

New posts to come throughout this week.

Last night, I watched as my 22-month-old ran some basketball lay-up drills in our driveway.  She worked her way up to slam dunks, followed by some sweet showboat moves that included her hanging from the front of the rim.  Although her slam dunks weren’t as glamorous as LeBron’s, they were still impressive for a girl standing 2′ 8″ and 25lbs soaking wet. 

(VIDEO IS NOT MEETING SECURITY REQUIREMENTS???? - WILL TRY TO POST LATER!)

Video of warm-ups while ‘Eye of the Tiger’ played in the background.

In need of something-new-themed material for my sister’s blog I switched out my flip flops for a pair of high-tops and balled up.  So for the sake of covering my sister’s arse while she treks around Europe (and calls home for money to be sent by Western Union):

         I challenged a 1-year-old to a game of P-I-G. 

I’ve always been taught elders first, so I took the liberty to start things off.  My first shot banked off the backboard - total brick. 

“Magic Johnson” was up next.  She took her sweet old time picking the ball out of the grass, rolling it up her belly into her hands and carrying (travelling if we’re getting technical) the ball directly in front of the hoop and rolling it over the rim and in.  I got the rebound, showboated up to the hoop with some wicked behind-the-back dribbling and……………….missed.  Seriously.  It wasn’t pretty.

Magic got the ball back, did her signature move, and rolled it up and over the rim and in again.  I decided it was time to crack down, step up my game a notch.  I wasn’t going to embarrass myself for the sake of a one-year-old’s ego, even if she was my own daughter.  I walked up to the hoop, looked down through the net, and dropped my hand with the ball through it.  2-points!  Take that.

Magic giggled, ran after the ball, and strolled up to the hoop for her third shot.  This time she pulled a one-handed (lefty) lay-up off the backboard.  I was impressed.  I tried to copy, palming the 3″ plastic basketball and lost grip half way down to the hoop and missed the backboard/basket/net/post all together.  She had me at P-I.  I thought about changing the game to H-O-R-S-E at that point.  She wouldn’t have known any different, but my mama taught me better.  Cheating was not going to help my cause anyway…I had to make a basket to win regardless of how many letters I added or subtracted from my side.

The little all-star picked up the ball again, stumbled at the foot of the hoop, let go of the ball just as she was toppling over and missed seeing her own shot go in.  Does it count if she didn’t see it go in?  I let her have it.  If we were playing street ball, I don’t know if I would have let it go down like that.

So I had P-I after Magic made her last shot.  I had to aim for nothing but net in order to stay alive.  I was feeling lucky, so I backed up to the 3-point arc (which was at about 8′ in the Nerf world).  I set my feet, checked my hand placement, perfected my form and released…………..

The ball ricocheted off the backboard, hit Magic Johnson square in the forehead, and landed in my three-year-old’s tricycle cart.   Lots of crying followed from both my daughter and I.  She had a cherry red nose and I had been schooled in the game of P-I-G………….by a one-year-old, no less.

I was one of many “Out-with-the-Old” readers that asked Shea to have guest bloggers while she was on her ’08 Euro-Tour. Not only was she leaving us for two weeks, but she also wasn’t going to post while she was there?! I could not imagine the blog going radio silent for two weeks. But, when Shea asked me to guest blog, I didn’t think I would have anything interesting to add so I said, “Thanks but no thanks.” However, today I think I might just have something fun to add:

I started an underground ping-pong tournament at work.

Needless to say, this is not approved by The Man, but I think it is great for employee engagement not to mention our mental health. To set the scene for you: we play out of the conference room and keep score on the dry erase board on the wall. The net is temporary (suction-cupped on the table), which allows for a quick take-down in case of an emergency. The only thing that is worrisome is going for one that is deep and crashing through the window. That is not even the scary part—landing in the filthy Chicago River is.

For any of you that are wondering the results, I was knocked out in the first round. I’m currently working the concession stand and playing jock jams from my iPod to lend a certain level of sophistication to the tournament.

The Court

The Equipment

Picture of Me Training for the Next Tournament

I’ve always wanted to be a morning person. You know, the ones who get up and work out and complete meaningful tasks all before leaving for work at 7:00. I’m lucky if I dry my hair before I leave. So, for my new thing I:

Pretended to be a morning person.

I woke up an hour before I normally do and did some pilates, showered and got ready at a leisurely pace and enjoyed a breakfast and coffee while watching bad morning news shows. Proof!

While fun, I think I like sleep better.

As a guest blogger I decided to:

         Take a walk with my 87 yr old father-in-law.

My ‘other’ daughter thought it would be hilarious to ‘take’ me down to the high school track and take pictures as I ran a mile.  Funny as that may have been, I chose the calmer route.  It also looked like a good chance of rain, so I thought it would be cut short.

Bill & I before the walk.

When my father-in-law arrived in a wind breaker/raincoat (did I mention he ran his last marathon when he was 78 yrs old?!?), I knew he was in it for the long haul.   It was a nice muggy day.  As we rounded the corner the Walgreen’s scroll said it was 74 degrees, is that all?!?  I thought I had wiped my forehead 5 times in the last 4 blocks.  My father-in-law takes a couple of breaks on his route he told me, not because he’s short of breath, but he gets a nagging pain in his leg that after a 1 minute rest is miraculously better!  Where does he get his energy I wondered and then it hit me.  He has a pacemaker and a defibrillator.  I can’t compete with that!

All in all it was about 3 miles.  After my core temperature returned to normal I realized two things.  (1) I need to exercise (a lot!) and (2) I have missed out on some good times not following in his footsteps.

Thanks Bill.

Bill & I after the walk.

I will be heading to Europe for two weeks this Friday.  By popular demand, I am having guest bloggers take over the site while I’m gone in order to appease the hecklers.  Interested parties will do a new thing of their own choosing and write about it.  Pictures are of course encouraged, though not necessary.  Keep in mind this site is rated NC17.

If you want to take part in this, please leave a note in the comment box and we can work it out from there. 

Cheers! (just practicing)