Pandas and Puking Aren't Necessarily a Bad Combination

We decided to go out to dinner and a movie as a family tonight. The plan was to pick up tickets to Kung Fu Panda, go to the Outback Steakhouse next to the theater for dinner then catch the film.

Zak unfortunately changed the plan by getting sick during dinner. Literally sick -- he threw up half a cheesburger, a couple of bites of mashed potatoes and two cups of milk right back onto his plate. So we made profuse apologies, left a hefty tip and hustled him back home.

Danelle stayed with him while Taryn and I hurried back to the theater. We figured that she might as well still get to go, and Danelle could take Zak some other time. And it would give Taryn and I the chance to do something with just the two of us.

Zak and I seem to naturally end up doing things together -- soccer practices, playing Guitar Hero, going to games. With Taryn it's been a little harder so far, and sometimes she seems to feel left out. It's probably partly her age, partly her gender, partly that she's the second child. Whatever the reason, I know it's something that I need to be aware of and not let become a problem.

I took her out of preschool one day just so she and I could have a special day at the zoo. I'm going to go with her on another trip to the zoo in a couple of weeks with her preschool class, at her request. And tonight was another unexpected opportunity so I couldn't pass it up.

Let me pause here to give special props to the good people at AMC Theatres. We went to the customer service counter when we got there and I explained the situation, and they gave me two passes good for any film at any time without any hassle. I guess it shouldn't be surprising or noteworthy when a company treats customers fairly, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

We were able to get in just before the previews started and still get my favorite seats -- right smack in the exact middle. And Taryn was a little doll throughout. Sitting on my lap for most of it, hiding her face during the "scary parts," scolding me for laughing too loud.

When we got back Zak was already in bed but not yet asleep, so Taryn was kind enough to give him this review.

***WARNING: SPOILERS***

"There was a little bit of fighting. (To which Zak responded, "I kind of figured that, since it's called Kung Fu Panda." Sharp as a tack, that one.)

"The panda didn't know how to do kung fu. Then the squirrel teached him how to do kung fu. Then he knowed how to do kung fu.

The panda was super, duper duper hungry."

I keep reminding myself that one day, sooner than I think, neither of my kids will want to do stuff with me. It just won't be cool. So I should not only enjoy these moments but do everything I can to create as many of them as possible.

Hopefully I can find more ways to find time for Taryn that don't involve Zak getting violently ill. But for one night, I was kind of glad he did.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

That AMAZINGLY stylish young lad in the picture is me, circa 1986. I thought I had it all going on back then -- the spikey hair, the flipped-up collar, the docksiders with no socks. I really felt like I belonged on the set of a John Hughes movie.

I also happened to work at a clothing store at the time called Directions. One day it was just me and my district manager in the store, and I wore those exact coral (not pink) suspender pants with a short-sleeved black button shirt that had a haphazard pattern of white squares on it. If you can picture this in your head, you undoubtedly realize that I was clearly at the height of my fashiontastic powers.

A mother came in with her young son, a kid about three or four years old. I went over to ask if she needed help with anything, and she replied that she was just looking. So I went back to folding jeans or lacing sneakers or some other busy work while they walked around.

They eventually started to head out of the store and I could hear that the little boy was crying, so I went to see what was wrong. As I got within earshot I heard him howl, "But mommy -- I wanna go see the clown again!"

Needless to say, I don't think I ever wore that particular outfit again. I think my district manager might still be laughing.

Exploring Strange New Worlds

I saw a trailer recently for a new Star Trek film that's scheduled to come out in 2009. I was always more into Star Wars as a kid, but I do have a special memory of the second Star Trek movie, The Wrath of Khan.

I was 12 when the movie came out in the summer of 1982, and my buddies and I REALLY wanted to see it. So on a rainy Saturday somebody's mom dropped four of us off at the Cine 1-2-3-4-5-6 (yes, that's really what it said on the sign outside) behind Northway Mall to do just that.

We weren't the only ones who thought going to the movies was a good idea that day. There was a long line that stretched all the way outside the theater. But we didn't mind waiting in the rain for a while; getting to see a movie by ourselves was kind of a big deal at that age.

Eventually we got to the ticket window, visions of starships and phasers dancing in our heads. Velcro wallets were ripped open and allowance money was pulled out when suddenly tragedy struck.

That's right -- the movie was sold out.

We had to make a decision and make it fast. Finding a pay phone and calling someone to come pick us up wasn't an option. We came to see a movie, and that's what we were going to do. Quickly we scanned the other shows that were playing and made our choice.

Victor/Victoria.

I really have no idea what inspired us to pick that. Maybe it was the only thing that was starting soon. What I DO remember is four fairly traumatized 12-year-old boys walking out a couple of hours later, really not entirely sure what they'd just seen.

We eventually did get to see Khan, and it was everything we'd hoped it would be. But I don't think any of us were ever able to look at Julie Andrews the same way again.

North Ten Mile Trail Hike

Went on a nice hike today along the North Ten Mile Trail by Frisco. Here's your photo recap:

The hike almost ended before it began. The skies looked pretty ominous over the foothills this morning. This is the view from Chief Hosa by Evergreen.

But by the time I got to Idaho Springs things were already clearing up. Here's the view from the trailhead right off of the I-70 Frisco exit.

Weeds in your yard, wildflowers when you're hiking.

A guideline to hiking in Summit County -- when in doubt, go up!

Runoff from heavy winter snows had North Ten Mile Creek running pretty high and fast.

The trail opens up into some scenic meadows after about a mile.

There were several spots with a noticeable amount of beetle kill, but it got less and less the farther in and farther up I went. I wonder if this was just because of the cooler temperatures at the higher elevations, or if proximity to development plays a role?

Two miles in you cross into national forest land.

There was still so much snow in some areas it got hard to pick up the trail. I lost it once and ended up slogging through a seasonal stream before I found it again.

But getting lost let me stumble on this plant growing happily in the runoff. I'm not sure what it is exactly -- marsh marigold? mountain dryad?

The only moderately adventurous part was crossing this swollen stream. And the log bridge was wide enough and stable enough that even that wasn't exactly Indiana Jones-esque.

I'm pretty sure these are what the Ewoks used to smash one of those Scout Walkers.

Nice view of Uneva Peak.

The end of the trail is a little anti-climactic if you like to be greeted by a big, sweeping mountain vista. I went ahead a little ways to see if one was hiding, but gave up pretty quickly and just started back.

It is June, right? Lots of spots like this made me think that it's still probably too early in the season to try a 14er.

The best view was probably coming back down looking out towards Breckenridge.
All in all, a pretty nice hike. Only took me a little more than three hours to do the 6.8-mile round trip. There's less than a thousand feet of elevation gain, so it's not too strenuous.
It's a complete day when you can do something outdoorsy like this AND waste time at your computer. :)

Stones and Turnips Need Not Apply

Time for a brief public service announcement.

I donated blood this afternoon, and I encourage everyone to do the same. It's an easy way to do something good, since it doesn't require you to do anything but lie down and let somebody stick you with a needle.

You can't catch any diseases from donating or bleed to death if the technician is clumsy or anything like that. And if needles make you queasy, just look away when they stick you. The whole process takes less than an hour, they give you free snacks and drinks when you're done and you can do it every eight weeks.

My blood type is O negative which makes me what they call the "universal donor." In a pinch, anybody can take O negative blood. Danelle is AB positive, also known as the "universal taker." Draw your own conclusions (just kidding, honey).

Whenever I go to donate, there's a little orange note on my chart that says "Baby Unit." That means my blood is also safe to give to newborns. Needless to say, I regularly get called as soon as I'm eligible to donate again to schedule my next appointment.

I started donating back in college. One day for whatever reason I skipped breakfast, skipped lunch then went to donate in the early afternoon. I finished up and headed to what they call the "canteen" to get a free cup of juice and slice of pizza.

The next thing I know, I'm flat on my back looking up at some guy slapping me in the face and saying, "Bob? Bob?" I replied groggily, "My name is Steve." He said, "You passed out and we couldn't find your ID, so I just picked a name."

They put me on a cot, I called Danelle to come get me and spent the rest of the day wiped out in her apartment. She obviously eventually married me more for my giving nature than my common sense. Take my advice -- when you go to donate follow their instructions to drink plenty of water and eat a good meal beforehand.

The good folks of Bonfils Blood Center do a great job here in Denver. I was fortunate to be a part of their annual Drive for Life with the Denver Broncos for 10 years. It's become the state's largest single-day blood drive, bringing out nearly 20,000 donors since its inception in 1998.

The Broncos organization really gets behind it -- lots of players come to the stadium the day of the drive to sign autographs and thank everyone who comes to donate. Rod Smith has been a real driving force (no pun intended) in getting the guys' support. He has a daughter with sickle cell anemia, so he understands how important blood donation is.

One year I was donating next to a rookie quarterback named Matt Mauck. He wasn't with the team very long, but he seemed like a pretty nice guy from what I could gather while we chatted. We started about the same time but I finished before him, so I can technically say I've won a race against an NFL quarterback.

I'm close to getting my second "gallon pin" which Bonfils gives people for every eight pints of blood they donate. They say a single donation can be used by up to three patients, so when I get that second pin that will mean I may have helped almost 50 people.

Not bad for just letting someone stick me with a needle.

Thanks, Mike Piazza

Former catcher Mike Piazza retired a couple of weeks ago. He's widely regarded as one of the best hitting catchers of all time, but I'll alway remember him for another reason.

My dad was a huge Los Angeles Dodgers fan. He grew up in northern New Jersey when they were still the Brooklyn Dodgers, and after the team moved to California he continued to follow them.

When Danelle and I moved to Dallas in 1992 I started to follow the Texas Rangers. They had a good young catcher named Ivan Rodriguez. Piazza came up late that same season with the Dodgers, then in 1993 he went on to win Rookie of the Year in his first full season.

Neither my dad nor I could resist a good sports debate, so we'd regularly argue which of the two was better. Like most sports debates, there was almost no way to really decide on a winner. Piazza was a great hitter, especially for power, while Rodriguez was tremendous defensively and excelled at throwing out would-be base stealers.

The debate never grew old, even after we left Dallas and moved to Denver in 1997. Then my dad passed away from a heart attack in the spring of 1998.

A few months later I was driving to work when I heard on the radio that the Dodgers had traded Piazza to the Florida Marlins. The first thing that crossed my mind was how I needed to call my dad and ask him how great he thought Piazza was NOW. The mighty Dodgers didn't even want him any more! Finally, an edge in the great debate!

Then I remembered that I couldn't do that.

I knew my dad was dead, of course. I wasn't in any sort of denial or anything. But right then was when it really hit me.

So good luck with whatever else life holds for you, Mike Piazza. And thanks for always making me think of my dad. :)

Sadly, Halle Berry Is Not Involved In This Version

One of my kids' favorite outdoor games is something I played as a kid that we called monster ball. Basically it's sort of a cross between baseball and kickball. You play it with a wiffle bat and one of those really lightweight inflated balls that you see tons of in huge containers in the front of toy stores this time of year. The kind that you can't throw very far or very hard because they're just not heavy enough. I searched all over the web trying to find an actual name for those types of balls without any success, so I hope I've been clear enough as to what I'm talking about.

Anyway, it's a great game because the balls are big enough that they're pretty easy to hit even for the really little kids. One of the ways to get people out is throwing the ball at them as they run between bases like in kickball, and it doesn't really hurt when you get hit by one. And since the balls don't travel very far you don't need a lot of space to play.

We usually play on our driveway and in the street in front of our house. Home plate is up by our garage and second base is in the middle of the road. I don't think a kid has hit a ball all the way across the street in the air yet.

I still remember when we realized as kids that we were too old to play monster ball any more. I'm not sure exactly what age we were, but since we were pretty big we felt the need to raise the stakes. A wiffle bat wouldn't do -- we needed an aluminum bat. And for a ball we decided to upgrade to one of those red rubber dodgeballs.

With tools like this we needed a little more room, so it was on our bikes and off to the baseball field behind Our Savior's Lutheran Church. We picked our teams and got started.

Eric Ruff was the first one up. He stepped up to the plate, the pitch came in and he swung for the fences, just crushing the ball.

I doubt there are too many physics majors reading this, but let's pause here just the same and think for a moment about something none of us young geniuses thought of back then. Namely, what happens when an aluminum bat makes contact with a large rubber ball. I'll give you one guess, and it rhymes with "recoil."

The bat snapped back and caught poor Eric right in the face. Split his eyelid open pretty good. And thus ended what was very likely the shortest game in monster ball history, and all of our monster ball careers at the same time.

Or so I thought. Didn't really cross my mind back then that I might play the game again 25 years later. I think I'm enjoying it even more now than I did then -- listening to Zak protest that he touched the base before he was hit by the ball, trying to talk Taryn out of wanting to pitch, explaining that you can't carry the bat with you when you run the bases.

And we haven't had to call any games on account of split eyelids, either.

CORRECTION: Childhood friend and participant in this very game Tom Sand e-mailed to remind me that he was actually the first victim of self-mutilation by aluminum bat in this game. Ended up going to the emergency room for stitches. Then, apparently unconvinced that this sort of thing could possibly happen AGAIN, we brilliantly kept playing and Eric sustained his injury.

Sorry for the omission, Tom! I hope after 25 years I can be forgiven for being a little fuzzy on the details, and that you're fully healed. :)