30 Day Challenge…?

As a founding member of Las Vegas’ most exciting Runner’s Club, I take great pride in bringing a number of topics to the table every morning. These topics range for the insane to the asinine.

It’s critical that every member of the runner’s club bring something to talk about or you are all forced to sit around and listen to each other pant and breathe.

And, even more important, you need your topic to be a conversation starter. You want a topic that sparks a great debate and gives everyone a chance to respond and get involved. The best topics are those that people can one-up. For instance, you may reminisce about the time you threw up a pound of Swedish Fish, just outside the movie theater, when you and your dad were watching The Naked Gun in ninth grade.

As a side bar, I was happy to throw up after the movie, because it hid the pee spot on my pants. Am I right? That was a hilarious movie. In fact, I had to give my dad the Heimlich maneuver during it, because he was laughing so hard a fish became lodged in his wind pipe. This was back when Swedish Fish were a lot bigger than they are now, and they came in big barrels of candy at the grocery store.

Which reminds me of the time Justin Brown, Jeff Hatch and I were at a grocery store in Utah and Justin begin eating as many gummy bears as he could, right from the barrel. We kept telling ourselves we were just sampling the batch, but after 50 or so, they asked us to leave.

But not to get too far off topic, these morning topics are best when they make people think and even better when they help you to forget that you have 4.2 miles left to go.

This morning, my brain started thinking about an article I had read in the NY Times, which is an excellent thing to start off a conversation with, because it proves you can read and gives you instant credibility.

In fact, I learned this conversation tool from Jeremy Jones’ uncle on a family vacation one year. He was excellent "confirmer," and everyone greatly appreciated him. During group conversation, he would validate anyone’s claim with a quick confirmation that was simple and precise. For example I would say, “Global warming is up 25 percent this year.” And he would jump in immediately after and say, “You’re right, I read that in Time Magazine.”

I always appreciated that guy. Being young and naive, I would sometimes make up facts and stories, however, he never missed a beat in protecting me. Together, we could have traveled the world selling snake oil to retired folks.

Never the less, the article I am referring to in the NY Times, discussed the antics of two separate married couples, who had recently written books about their commitment to have sex with each other every day for an entire year.

The article chronicled the fact that many married couples have little time to spend together in today’s busy environment and went so far as to say that if a couple made more time to spend together, in the bedroom, the divorce rate that continues to increase would begin to dissipate.

And while I can only assume that couples who spend more time together, are happier, I was not really focused on this element of the article.

Instead, my mind instantly started to consider if the high percentages that are associated with birth control are due to the effectiveness of the birth control in itself or if they really are effective based on the lack of time that couples spend together.

I started thinking that we could really be looking at 50 percent effectiveness rate from birth control and 50 percent from lack of time together. Really, in all actuality, this could be a huge crap shoot. Something that may be as sure as crossing a busy street at rush hour. Everyone knows that there is a 50 percent chance you are going to get hit by a car at rush hour if you dart across the street. However, on the bright side, there is that same 50 percent chance that you will make it through and live another day.

And if you are paying attention, you will quickly realize that this "Running across the street" study was, in fact, performed by Time magazine, and is still one of my favorites. I think it was done in '89, could have been '90. I don't really recall.

And while the other members of the Runner's Club did not share my same enthusiasm over this new discovery, I was enthralled. However, I did notice that many of the members started running a little faster after this assertion, which made the run that much better, and resulted in a successful morning for us all.

So, today, in the glow of my discovery. I challenge all married people everywhere to take the 30 day challenge and spend “time” every night with your spouse. Not only will it make you closer, it will allow me to test this new birth control theory.

And, because I know you all like guarantees in life, I am 100 percent sure that it will make you happier. At least that is what I read in Time magazine.

Dad...

If I had to make a list of what makes me happy, it would be long and detailed. I love my kids. I love to spend time with my wife. I love doing yoga and I love being outside, working out or doing anything that is related to sports.

But something I love to do, but few people know, is that I like to get up very early in the morning on a Sunday or a Saturday and drive around down town or through the city. This is something I am sure came from my dad, as he used to wake me up early on the weekends and take me to Dees Family Restaurant or through downtown Salt Lake, long before anyone in city woke up.

He loved walking around when everything was quiet. Frankly, this almost led to his ultimate demise, when I became a teenager and started to sleep in. This forced him to take my sister with him one morning on a beach in Mexico. They were jumping waves, alone, when one wave picked him up, knocked him down and cut his head and shoulder. He came back to the hotel room looking like he had been in a knife fight. Head bleeding. Shoulder bleeding. Hat, somewhere in the ocean. Missing swim trunks. It was quite an ordeal.

My dad taught me so many things about life and I love him for it. He taught me how to interact with people and how to make them laugh. He ensured that I always treated others with respect and inspired me to do my best.

Growing up in my house, you automatically were employed as a member of the Red Flame catering business. It did not matter how old you were or how inept you were, you were hired. My first such soirée included an awkward scene where my dad asked me to put dry ice into the punch bowl at a wedding we were doing. Needless to say, dry ice is hot and I was worried about getting burned, so I just kind of dropped it into the punch bowl and hurried back to the kitchen.

Moments later, I was summoned back out to explain why red punch was sparkled over all the walls and over some of the bride’s maid. My dad quickly decided to change to a peach colored, less staining, punch in the future.

The summer was when we did our most damage. We would go on three or four catering parties every day, ranging from the women’s prison to water parks around town. It was in the summer when my dad and I really had a chance to hang out. One such day we were late for setting up a party, which always stressed my dad out, and made me want to work that much harder. At this particular party, we had to bring the chairs, which were heavy restaurant chairs, for the guests to sit on. We were unloading chairs for hours and I could tell we were going to be late.

At this point, I decided to start unloading rows at a time. After 400 chairs or so and 100 degree temperature, I turned to my dad and realized that I had a full-blown bloody nose from heat exhaustion. This was not a trickle, but more like someone had opened the flood gates to my nose blood. He looked at me and was like, whoa, you better come have a seat in the shade. Then he told me how much he loved me for working so hard and that he was very proud of me. I was so happy that he felt my love for him. I always wanted to show him that I would do anything for him and that a bloody nose was nothing in regards to how much I cared.

During the family reunion, I watched my dad take care of my son and was so grateful that Boston has the same type of relationship I do with my dad. They walked all over the resort together and I loved seeing them hang out. Once when we were in Salt Lake, the three of us were sitting outside, eating ice cream and my dad was telling us a story or two and I felt so happy to be so connected, dad, son and grandson.

I can only hope that I will have the same impact on my son as my dad has on me.

The whole truth...

So, my son is getting pretty good at lying. But I guess it is not his fault. Really, he is just a chip off the Ol’ block, as they would say.

Earlier today, Boston went into great detail to tell me how much fun they had, what they had done and what they were wearing when they went to the park to play. I had asked him to take London and Brooklyn to play at the park for at least two hours, to get them out of the house and to see if they could beat the 118 degree weather.

His story was very convincing. So convincing, that I believed him hook, lie and sinker. I was so proud of myself, because I was even trying to trip him up by asking extra specific details about the visit, down to what color of sandals were worn, to see if they had really gone. Without hesitation, every answer was communicated perfectly. I was convinced. Case closed. I got the TRUTH and the TRUTH had been set free. Lord have Mercy!

Only three hours later, I found out that the truth, although it is out there, was not in the story I was told.

To say I was shocked, was putting it mildly. The shock brought me back to an occasion in my youth when I may have fabricated a story or two. In fact, one certain mom (not mine) was convinced that we were heading off to do a service project late one night (who does a service project at 10 p.m.? Really, it's not my fault when people are this gullible), when, in all actuality, we were planning on decorating Cyprus High School, home of scholars and champions, for senior graduation. Decorating may be in fact, the wrong word, unless you consider dumping 500 pounds of Styrofoam peanuts an enhancement to the school grounds.

(Note: It really was 500 pounds of peanuts, somebody Devin Despain, I think, worked at a packing plant and had access to loads and loads of Styrofoam peanuts…I would not have believed it either, but I saw it and it happened. I remember the truck pulling up with the biggest, most grand bag of Styrofoam peanuts I have ever seen. Devin was in the back, sitting on the peanuts like a emperor, on his throne. Once he pulled up, it would have been a complete waste not to grab the bag and dump it on the school grounds. And, after dumping them on the grounds, it would have been tragic not to start a peanut fight. I may be a liar, but I am not wasteful.)

In fact, our first stretch of the truth only led us to a second stretch when a kind-hearted police officer pulled us over and asked if we had anything to do with the peanut drop. We assured him that we did not, even as I sat in the back with pounds of peanuts in my pockets, shirt and all over in my hair. It was the 90's my hair was totally gelled. For some reason, even today, when I see 500 pounds of Styrofoam peanuts, I have a great desire to run as fast as I can and slide through them; just like I did that night.

And while the police officer believed us and let us go, we were not so fortunate when we got home and someone found out that we were not at a service project. Undaunted, however, we told her that the service project was not in our area and that she was simply mistaken.

Which brings me to the point of the story. Sometimes, you just have to lie. You don’t want to, you don’t think it’s right, but you get caught in trying to please everyone and you feel that your hand is forced.

I hate to let people down. It’s hard for me and obviously, from today’s lesson, it is hard for my son. He did not want to face the fact that he was going to let me down, so he made it up. He thought it would be better to lie, than to have someone he cared about upset with him. I totally get that and, sadly, he probably gets "that" from me.

However, there is hope. Boston and I are patiently learning from Holly. She is quite possibly the most honest person in the world and our only chance at salvation. In fact, when we first got married my dad and I were sitting at the airport with her, watching her fill out an application to work for the airlines. Anyhow, my dad started laughing at how hard it was for Holly to fill out the form. He turned to her and said, "You don’t have to be honest about everything."

But she does, and I love her for that, and she continues to teach me a huge lesson. She teaches me that first, and foremost, my dad is just like me and so Boston has no hope, because, my dad got it from my grandfather. And second, the truth never lets someone down, which I think is the main point. The truth just shows them that you love them no matter what.

I am sure that Boston and I will battle this addiction, but at least we have a beautiful antidote to help us in our affliction. And that, my friends, is totally true.

This all started April 13, 1973...

This year, my family decided to get together for a reunion. I thought it was an excellent idea and I was totally excited about going. I even asked for the time off, roughly five months in advance, so that when everyone at work pretended to have NO idea about me needing time off, I would have proof.

When we go to the resort, it was very nice. The rooms were nice, the people were nice, the pool was heated and the temperature was perfect. 84 degrees in June, when I am used to summer in Vegas, fabulous. What was also fun was that everyone was to plan one day, for the entire group. I think there was 30 or so, but who’s counting. 15 grand kids. I don’t know, but we have a big group.

At one of the events, Holly turned to my dad and said, “Look what you created. All of these people are here because of you.” This was no slight to my Mom, as my Dad’s skills at having babies only go so far. There are biological issues that complicate trying to have a baby without a woman.

It made me think and made me proud to be a member of this family. And it made me excited to see what is to come in the future, when I am older and wiser and sitting at a park with my 5 kids, and their 30 kids…or whatever, like I said, who’s counting.

Fam reunion...Thanks Heather, Angie...

This reminds me of growing up...

Born to text...

I love to watch my wife text. Yes. Text. OK, it is not really the texting that I love; it’s the window into her soul that displays itself when she texts. You see, I can tell you, with 99.9 percent certainty, what my wife is thinking at any moment in time. She is an open book; her facial expressions and body language always give her away.

Because of this, I love to see her react to things. Think through things. Laugh about things. She has such clarity to her. It fills me with joy to watch life happen to her. She rarely surprises me. Almost never. And, above everything, I love to see her put a humorous spin on things.

There is a certain light that sparkles in her eyes when she gets and sends texts. Case in point, we were driving nights ago, she had my phone and her phone, texting as fast as she could on both as I was speeding down the freeway. We were not sure what we were going to do, so she was texting to firm up our plans.

Time and time again, she would say to me, "What if I said this?" And I would laugh. Or "What if I said this?" and I would laugh harder. She has such a great outlook on life, that I love to see it on display. It is a simple pleasure to watch her think through what she is going to write and how she is going to respond. I love to see her interact with individuals and love to see what she is going to do, say or come up with. It’s fun to watch her do what she likes to do, without the pressures of kids, jobs, family, etc.

With this being said, it is a tad bit painful when my text suggestions are rejected. I consider myself somewhat polished and believe that I always offer up very funny responses, only to be given a look of, “I am not going to say that. That is ridiculous.”

For us, texting helps us have conversations that we could never have otherwise. Like when we took out entire family, plus nanny and mom to dinner for London’s birthday. It was a mad house. Waitresses dropping dishes, drinks, bread. Kids screaming. I pulled out my phone and I simply asked, how did we get ourselves into this? Especially when they handed me the bill. As a side note, that is how you know you are a grown up, when you look around the table at dinner and realize that there is no one else who could pay for this bill.

The other time, we were in a group of 50 people, and sat right next to each other and texted for an hour. People were like, who are you guys texting and we were like, ahh..., each other. But it gave us the opportunity to share an intimate moment, in the middle of a huge group. It was so much fun.

So, if you have not done it yet, send Holly a text. She’ll love you for it, forever.

Right before I feel down the mt...