Woke up 10 min late this morning, which means I had to make it up in the pool. I busted out 33 laps in 40 minutes. Quite proud of myself. Except for the fact that the old man in the lane next to me lapped me twice.

I lose time on my turns. I haven’t mastered the flip turn yet. Every time I try it I get loads of water up my nose. So I opt for the sissy turn.

At Starbucks again. The line is out the door. It’s weird how I get here basically at the same time everyday, but the length of the line varies significantly. Must have something to do with the changing of the tides.

I’ve been blogging from my iPhone the last few days. It’s been good but a bit awkward as well. When I write I like the ability to do two things: use a thesaurus and format my text (bold, italics, hyperlinks and even photos).

So if my words are dreary it’s because of that very reason. Hopefully the iPhone WordPress app will improve it’s functionality and I’ll get back to my old ways. For now, it feels like I’m a carpenter having to use the heel of his shoe to hammer in nails.

Switching thoughts…

For some reason I feel compelled every September 11th to write something in regards to the anniversary of 9/11. For crying out loud it was only seven years ago when those bastages hijacked our planes and flew them into our buildings, killing thousands.

What drives me to drink is the fact at how right after the tragic events happen, every good-hearted American slapped a “We will never forget” sticker on the vehicles. Unfortunately, we’ve forgotten.

The footage of the planes bursting through the World Trade Center is rarely seen. Instead of praising Bush for thwarting more domestic attacks and for killings thousands of Al Qaida members, he’s been labeled as a liar, a retard and a failure by the mainstream media.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m on prescription meds to help me with my Bush Fatigue, but let’s give credit where credit is due. Bush should be ashamed of his record on education and spending, but he should absolutely be proud of how he handled the aftermath of 9/11 and the War on Terror. It hasn’t been perfection, but I cringe at the thought of what Gore or Kerry would have done instead.

Which in turn makes McCain an obvious choice for PUSA, if 9/11 even made a dent on your psyche or soul. Violent extremists want to exterminate you. Who do you feel more confident in?

God Bless those families who lost loved ones on that dreadful September morning. And God bless our troops who are continuing to battle evil all over the world, in order to keep our children from setting another terrorist attack anniversary date.

Up at 5:30a again this morning. There are mornings I wake up genuinely ready to tackle anything gregariously, and then there are certain mornings I’d rather be at a Jonas Brothers concert surrounded by screaming tweeners, than get out of bed. This morning was somewhere in between.

I just got through with my one-mile daily swimming, and I’m now warming my belly at Starbucks with a doppio espresso machiatto. That’s Italian for “feels like hooking a car battery up to your nipples.”

So, I installed the WordPress app on my iPhone which is quite nice. I’m tapping away on it right now at Starbucks. The only awkward thing is that I tend to move my lips when I’m writing and I must look a little mental at the moment.

I’m off to the house to get Kate up and serve Steph her morning coffee. It’s the best part of my day.

Later…

I’m in bed now. It’s 9:15p and I’m a tuckered little guy. It was a good day. Super productive. Emails flying out of my inbox, minor distractions, strategic meetings all make for a pleasant day in the office for me.

Tonight we had dinner at my grandparent’s house. I actually call them Bud and Jane more often than I refer to them as my grandparents. So if you ever hear me say Bud and Jane, I’m talking about my mom’s parents.

As if you cared.

We had chicken pot pie for dinner, followed by peach pie. Don’t think there was any reason for the double pie, but I’m contemplating a quick Google to make sure I didn’t miss some important pie holiday. National Eat Two Pies for Dinner Day or something. Probably would’ve been created by Roosevelt. I hear he was a BIG pie guy.

My Kate stole the spotlight tonight as always. Gone are my spotlight stealing days. Even if I got a nose ring, tattoo and a meth habit, I still wouldn’t show up on the family radar over Kate. I reckon that’s how it should be.

Kate is walking all over the place now. She loves to be challenged to walk great distances too. Bud and Jane have an enormous backyard with a pool, pool house, and three lifesize fake cows (not kidding). Kate, of course, loves the cows. When I took her out to see them I would set her down and purposefully run a few paces away from her. The farther I got, the more excited she got to walk to me.

One other note on my day. My wife let me know when I got home that my breath smelled like I ate a poop sandwhich. I had Mexican food for lunch (Mi Cocina). If I somehow blew my stank tex-mex breath on you this afternoon, you have my sincere apology. I am going to file a class action lawsuit against the Mexican food restaurant industry for all the emotional pain and suffering I’ve endured because of their halatocis causing cuisine.

On a more positive note, it rained a little bit today. I’m no manic depressive, but I friggin’ love rainy, cloudy days. So nice.

More tomorrow. Good night internets. You stay classy.

The iPhone has taken the place of my alarm clock. So every morning I awaken to Marimba. And every time I hear it I wonder if Steve Jobs wants to invade every area of my life. When the iPhone can be used as an ovulation kit I guess it’ll answer that particular question.

Anyway, Marimba got me up this morning at 5:30a. It’s the first morning in a long time I had to consciously tell myself to get my lazy arse out of bed. Cussing at yourself is never a good way to start the morning.

I’ve had some sort of stomach bug for the past several days. Not to get into the gory details, but let’s just say it feels like I swallowed needles and I have perpetual “sting ring.”

Bear had something similar a couple weeks ago, except hers came with a nasty diaper rash. I’m so happy no one is responsible for wiping my hiney besides me. I guess proverbially speaking, the federal government does some hiney wiping, but I’m not delving into that abyss. I could go for more Butt Paste though.

This morning I did the usual Four Seasons swim thang. Except this time it felt like I had lead arms in a pool of petroleum jelly. And it’s a shame because my swims over the past several days have been super. I guess not every day can be filled with butterflies and rainbows though.

Hit the Starbucks after the swim.

Blah, blah, blah…

Maybe tomorrow my blog post will be better.

365 days and 1,846 dirty diapers later, Kate Sophia is still going strong. She crossed the 1-year mark yesterday (July 2nd), but the official b-day celebration isn’t until this weekend.

Talk about party preparations. All I’ve seen and heard about for the past two-months is cupcake this and “when are you going to pull some blankety-blank weeds so our guests don’t think we’re the Clampitts” that. I’m kidding, my wife doesn’t use language like that. She’d never call someone the Clampitts.

Kate enjoyed her day with the parentals. Big Papa (muah) bought her a Playskool Walk N’ Ride (why they purposefully went with a misspelled name like Playskool for a children’s toy company, I’ll never know). Kate loved it. Well, I’d say her feelings were a touch above tepid at first, but after I took it for a spin, she was all-up-ons the Walk N’ Rizz-ide.

For lunch we took Kate to the most obvious place that comes to mind when you think of a “1 year old birthday lunch.” Grand Lux Cafe! < heavy sarcasm >It’s soooo kid friendly there and Kate thought it was the bomb dot com.< /heavy sarcasm >

After lunch we took her to Toys R Us, where after shopping around for an hour we eventually bought her the only thing she really wanted. A $2 bouncy ball.

Next came a nap and then dinner with the grand-parentals. We went back to my b-day dining place (another kid favorite), Shin Sei. Kate was the center of attention. She’s learned how to hold up one finger whenever you ask her “Kate, how old are you?” So, she mesmerized the entire Shin Sei staff.

She was so happy with dinner she called one of her friends to tell them about the experience:

But when she couldn’t hear due to the noise at our table she got a little testy:

That’s how my little 1-year old Katesy Bear rolls.

I’ve found the perfect Father’s Day gift for political junkies and those who simply want to satisfy their ‘global warming’ thirst. Jones Soda has revealed their Campaign Cola line and boy-howdy I can’t wait to wrap my hands around Obama’s bottle (that’s what Chris Matthew’s Leg said).

The only cruddy thing about the Campaign Cola theme is Jones Soda wants to tally the votes just like an election, all based upon sales. But I want to buy a selection of all three versions. And for most people, choosing between an Obama and McCain cola is the difference between choosing a Derek Jeter or George Steinbrener baseball card. We’re not talking about who’s going to be the best person to lead the country, we’re talking about which one is going to be a better conversation starter at your next cookout.

I don’t drink cokes so you’ll more than likely see one of these bottles displayed in my office or tied around my neck.

Well, whatever. Here’s to cola we can believe in.

Once upon a time I guzzled the richest, darkest coffees by the venti load. My day was unstartable without the equivalent of a smooth Guatemalan blend traveling past my lips. It was a romantic effort. Each sip warmed my belly and stimulated my bones.

But in the Fall of 2007 everything changed. Experts say it takes 21 days to successfully quit a habit and/or create a new one. So, immersed in a 23 day Asian vacation, I found myself stripped from my daily coffee routine and presented with a Far East substitute at every meal. When I returned to the States I was shunned and shamed for my new found love. But lo and behold, I can now say I’m proud of my green tea habit. I’ve learned to embrace it, to appreciate it, and to spread the word of all its goodness.

The truth is there are a plethora of tea varieties. And I’m definitely not a fan of all of them. I’ve labeled some of them soggy bottom water, because they taste like they were strained through someone’s soggy…well you get the point.

But traditional green tea is different. It has an natural grassy vibe that connects your mind to your soul, and your soul to your body.

Through trial and error I’ve found the holy grail of green teas. Harney & Sons Japanese Sencha is the best I’ve had by far. I can only find it through Amazon.com, but I’m constantly on the lookout for it in stores.

If you’re new to green tea your going to find it a little vegetal and grassy. But open your mind, your mouth and the little Asian man inside you and stick with it. The health benefits are numerous and socially you’ll be fashionably unique.

I’m not dissing coffee and if you stick with your latte routine, there’s no shame in it. But take a nugget of advice from me and work some Japanese Sencha green tea into your life. You’ll find it unlocks a new dimension into your world perspective.

One other bonus. If you order a tall hot water at Starbucks and bring your own tea bag, it’s FREE! Gotta love free tea.

What a difference a year makes. As I write this post the clock is ticking past the time I officially entered the world thirty-one years ago. But this past year has been one I will never forget.

Here’s a countdown of highlights:

5. With gas prices at $4 a gallon, no longer am I called a “wiener” for owning a Prius. Throngs of SUV owners now hail me as a genius.

4. I’m proud to say I know the guy who started the “Michelle Malkin jocking” phenomenon known as Chris Matthews’ Leg. I also met this guy, this guy, and this guy.

3. Hello, Mr. Moto. My grandfather took me on the trip of a lifetime in the fall of 2007. We went on a 23-day China and Japan excursion, beginning in Hong Kong and [happy] ending in Tokyo.

2. Stephanie and I celebrated our ten-year anniversary March 20, 2008. Stephanie is the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met and has become even more so as a mother. I’m the equivalent of a mega-millions lottery winner to have ended up with her. Thank you God for the hook-up of a lifetime.

1. It doesn’t get much better than being a dad for the first time. My awe-inspiring daughter Kate Sophia was born on July 2, 2007.

So here’s me wishing my hunk-of-a-stud self a happy birthday.

Don’t be fooled little children, if your dream is to one day become a famous movie star and make millions of benjamins, and after you make your millions your intention is to stiff Uncle Sam, Wesley Snipes is here to give you some advice:

“When I was on the set of ‘To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar‘ John Leguizamo gave me some tax-evasion tips. I knew I shouldn’t have believed him. What does he know about tax-loop holes? But it was a crazy time for me. There I was, wearing lipstick and a dress with Patrick Swayze and Leguizamo, and the sensation I received from it gave me false hope. The hope that I could hide millions from the government and not be penalized. But then I figured out not filing your tax returns isn’t a legitimate tax-evasion strategy. It’s merely stupidity.”

Obviously the lesson for all Americans is never listen to John Leguizamo in drag.

Lull, gap, suspension, intermission, time out, time off; call it what you will. I’m sure you have a blog and post astonishing fodder every single-flipping-day. But that’s not me. I post once a fiscal quarter. If I’m lucky.

And just to let you know, I have nothing interesting to post today. But I have a friend who recommended a book which encourages wannabe writers (like muah) to write something every single day. Even if the final product is a big rowdy pile of poo slinging monkeys. It doesn’t matter. YOU MUST WRITE IT ANYWAY.

So here I am. And there you are, staring at your screen in wonderment at what mental wires get crossed at birth to create such madness. And I’m here to tell you it’s the blue wires. It’s ALWAYS the blue wires.

Oh by the way, in case it wasn’t obvious by the shrine of pictures slewed across my site and archived writings devoted to her, I have a daughter named Kate who just crossed the nine-month mark. Here is a recent picture to support my claim.

So there you have it. The DNA of angels, she has.

Speaking of heaven, this political season has turned out to be scrumptious. I find pleasure in Democratic family feuds. Between Clinton’s Bosnia story and Obama’s recent “bitter” remarks, there is absolutely no lack of ammunition for one side to use against the other. It’s like UFC without the cage (or tooth loss).

I’ve been reading! Magazines, newspapers, books, blogs, billboards, bathroom vulgarity; nothing is off limits. The world is my library, I’m checking it out, late fees be darned.

Things I’ve read worth mentioning here, Same Kind of Different as Me, The Shack, Bird by Bird, Lileks, Chris Matthew’s Leg, Fool.com, WSJ.com, PGATour.com (Masters Baby), et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, www.etcetera.com (don’t go there, it’s a women’s clothing site for goodness sake!).

Ahem. In closing, and in the words of James Lileks, “Happy tax day, all you God-clinging gun-nut anti-NAFTA fools.”

I’m in Grand Rapids, Michigan for business and weather.com confirms my plight. Twelve degrees outside but it feels like zero. My Chicago Bulls are turning into Denver Nuggets.

Yesterday when I left Dallas it was sixty-three degrees. Sixty-three! I’m no Stephen Hawking, but sixty-three minus zero is sixty-three. Which means I’ve retreated that far to polar infinity. Someone please call that witch from Narnia and tell her to come warm things up.

The last 36 hours have been a bull ride. Yesterday we flew from Dallas to Chicago. We meaning me and my boss. We left at 1:30p and were to arrive in Chicago at 3:30p and catch a 5:40p flight to Grand Rapids, MI. Our 5:40p flight was canceled because the plane broke. They put us on standby for the 9:30p flight. My boss was number 1 on standby because he’s an American Airlines gold member. I’m not, so I was numero 8 on the standby list. This was the inception of our woes.

You know what, I don’t have the gumption to rehash the last day-and-a-half. Long story short is this. American Airlines needs a good swift kick in the fanny. So do Chicago airline unions. God bless the sweet people at Westin O’Hare. And God bless whoever it was who ended up putting my luggage on the plane that arrived twelve hours after I did in Grand Rapids. I’m forever grateful.

My wife wants me to blog about the Bear. We call our daughter, Kate, Bear because it has evolved from Kate, to Katesy, to Katesy Bear, to simply Bear. The picture up top is her chillin’ in her new ducky bathtub play-thingy. It’s a great shot for several reasons, but foremost because she looks so sophisticatedly cool.

My Bear is seven-and-a-half months. And she’s developed this thing where she waves at people now. She waves hello and goodbye. It’s marvelous. Impresses the common folk, it does.

I miss my girls. The terse Michigan wind has chilled my skin, but not my heart. It is yearning and burning for my wife and daughter. The following pics are a Michigan ode to joy dedicated to them. Enjoy.