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Meanwhile, Back in Manoa…

Eight and half years ago I moved from Chicago to Honolulu and I’m still discovering new things about the island.  I’ve been married the same amount of time and I’m still learning how to be a husband.  The moment I start to think I’m an expert is when I’m reminded that no, indeed I’m not.  These are mostly verbal reminders from my wife that contain the words, “you are not” and “an expert” for clarity purposes.

It’s amazing the conversations you get into as a married couple.  The other night Christi and I got into a passionate discussion about who was better at journaling:  Doogie Howser or Mr. Belvedere.

 

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This Tooth Shall Not Pass

As much as I love to travel I’m not going to sit here in my kitchen/living room/office and pretend it doesn’t have its pangs and perplexities.  It’s moments when you look to the “friendly skies” and wonder what was I thinking?  Don’t need to spend 17 hours of my life in an airport.  Don’t need to get yelled at by a flight attendant;  “I said turn your phone ALL the way off sir.”  Getting frisked by a large man in uniform…not my idea of a holiday in the sun.

Everyone’s tense.  Everyone’s in a hurry.  Some are yelling or coughing or just have a thick Italian accent,  hard to tell.  Traveling can feel like a perpetual trip to Costco during Christmas with a neck pillow. 

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Kiwi Time

I once saw a guy order a drink at Starbucks and jet toward the exit without his latte.  You could see the moment he realized his mistake,  like he stepped on an invisible turntable and spun back on track.  Guy was in a hurry,  and based on his cat like agility,  didn’t really need anymore espresso.

I get the same way before trips.  I’m excited,  my mind is scattered,  and I try to do things like go to the post office to get my car washed.  

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Turbo Pascal: Dusting Off Songs From Yesteryear

 

Turbo Pascal formed in the summer of 1995.  Yes,  1995.  Guitarist Michael Marty,  bassist Danny John,  drummer James Treichler and I all met while attending MacArthur High School in the soy bean capital of the world,  Decatur, IL.

After spending countless hours driving around between Pizza Hut and Holiday Inn bus boy shifts expanding our musical horizons to the likes of Screeching Weasel,  Rancid,  Pennywise and XTC,  Mike and I were inspired to start a band of our own.  We got to work with the goal of writing catchy songs that fell in line with the guitar driven anthems of our heroes.  James joined the band after witnessing my failed attempt to do a kick flip on a skateboard wearing work boots.

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Launch

 

You know,  I don’t know why I remember the things I do.  My wife doesn’t understand why I forget the things I forget.  Memory is a weird thing.  This is why when I go to the grocery store I’m the guy with a post-it note on his wrist like a quarter back calling plays,  but instead of yelling  “Blue 42”  in the big game with screaming fans,  I’m mumbling  “don’t forget cilantro”  to myself while someone’s child whines about wanting Fruit Loops.

Believe me kid,  I feel your pain.  You think it’s bad now?  Just wait until the top of your fridge is lined with nothing but Chex.  Wheat Chex.  Corn Chex.  Rice Chex.  Honey Wheat Glazed Now Even Wheat-ier Chex.  Oh if there’s a farm inspired flavor, Chex has you covered.

And you think that’s where it ends?  Not a chance.