Favre and Away

I like Brett Favre. As a Broncos employee for more than 10 years and prior to that a lifelong Dallas Cowboys fan that may come as a surprise. But I honestly do. I even still have a Favre jersey I won in a bet at least 12 years ago. But for crying out loud, can we PLEASE just end the seemingly never-ending saga of is-Brett-going-to-play-or-not, with the added wrinkle this time of if-so-where?

Like the swallows returning to San Juan Capistrano and Britney Spears making us think she's finally hit rock bottom, Brett announcing whether or not he was going to retire had become quite the annual ritual. A ritual that had apparently finally come to an end when he said in March that retire was exactly what he intended to do. Four short months later, and the rumors are moving at breakneck speed that he wants to un-retire, but the Packers don't want him back, so he wants them to release him only they have no intention of doing that, either.

Brett, the Packers organization and goodness knows the fans all deserve a clean resolution to this increasingly messy situation. Fortunately, I have the answer.

Danelle and I had a system we used to use when we were trying to decide where to go to dinner. We retired the system once issues like whether or not the menus could be colored on became critical factors, but up until that time it served us well.

Basically, we'd each throw out a few options and then we'd take turns ranking them all on a scale of one to 10 with one being "would rather eat dog food" and 10 being "would pick this for my last meal." Whatever place ended up with the highest combined score is where we'd go.

I know what you're thinking -- it's way too easy for one party to manipulate the numbers so that their favorite option ends up winning. Sure, Danelle and I both may have fudged a teeny bit to tip the scales the way we wanted them to fall. But for the most part we played it straight. Besides, the fudging on each side usually just ends up cancelling itself out.

So in the Favre-Packers scenario, I can see Brett presenting options like guarantee me the starting job, give me my unconditional release or trade me. The Packers would counter with choices like stay retired, come back as the backup or accept a trade.

You can already see where this would end up. If both parties played it straight -- or at least fudged to appreciably the same degree -- some sort of trade would likely end up the winner. And that's pretty much how I expect this to end up, though unfortunately I doubt the path it takes to get there will have as little acrimony as this method.

As for how to decide where he should be traded? Well, we employed rock-paper-scissors pretty regularly when dealing with dirty diapers...

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

I feel back on top of the world today -- no pain, no nausea. What a difference a day makes. Especially a day where your wife and kids wait on you hand and foot capped off by nine straight hours of blissful (if somewhat Vicodin-aided) sleep.

We've already established my bona fides when it comes to sleep in an earlier post, but I'll admit that even with the prescribed assistance it took me until 2 a.m. to get comfortable enough to finally nod off. Once I was out, though, I stayed out.

Vicodin has nothing on the Lariam I took to prevent malaria back on our trip to Africa when it comes to sparking odd and vivid dreams. Even so, I had a weird one last night that involved living back up in Conifer again, but with our current neighbors also living up there. And I rode something like a bicycle to get there, only it wasn't really a bicycle. Like I said, it was weird.

I've got one semi-recurring dream, or at least dream topic. It pops up two or three times a year. I'm in a school that's not actually any school I've ever been to, but in the dream it's clearly "my" school. And there are a combination of friends and teachers from my past, but not ones that necessarily go together. So an elementary school friend, a college professor and so on. And I'm always on the way from one class to another, talking to people. And it becomes increasingly clear that later that day I've either got a test that I haven't studied for or an assignment due that I haven't done. And I get increasingly agitated trying to figure out what to do but I won't actually admit to anyone that I'm not prepared. But before the big moment of truth, I wake up. We'll just lump this together with how I picked what sports teams to root for as a kid as issues for my first psychotherapist reader to deal with and move on.

Sometimes when I'm just dozing off I'll wake up suddenly with a start, as in actually physically jump. And I'll always have a fading vision in my head of just stepping into a hole with a flower in it, only the view is from the side and completely zeroed in on the hole, the flower and my foot. And the image looks hand-drawn rather than real. I never remember any other details -- just that final visual.

Without a doubt my favorite dream experiences involve being able to fly. When I dream that I can fly I don't usually take off and soar like Superman; it's typically more like a broad jump that just keeps going. The sensation is always so intense that when I wake up I can remember clearly what it felt like and what everything looked like from up in the sky.

I'm kind of overdue for one of those, so I may just go ahead and turn in on the outside chance that I'll have one tonight. Whether I have an interesting dream may be out of my control, but getting a good night's sleep sure helped keep my day from being a nightmare.

Minor Surgery is Surgery That Someone Else Has

Things that are bad: Pain, nausea, daytime TV (no matter how many channels you have)

Things that are good: Vicodin, Danelle, Domino's Bacon Cheeseburger Feast

That's about all I can muster. Hopefully I'll feel up to more tomorrow.

I Hope The Big Green Turn Out Better Hand Surgeons Than Hockey Players

Short and early post today. I'm a bit preoccupied with my upcoming wrist surgery later this afternoon. This morning at 7:00 was the last time I could eat or drink anything, so I'm just going to get surlier as the day goes on. Nice combo with my increasing anxiety. Is it wrong that I really wanted to lick the leftover cottage cheese off of Taryn's lunch plate?

If my anesthesiologist allows it I'm thinking about just getting the arm block and staying awake during the procedure. She assured me if I go that route that I won't be able to smell my own burning flesh as they drill into my bones. I remain skeptical. Staying conscious through your own surgery seems like it would be a pretty interesting experience, though after two c-sections Danelle might have a dissenting opinion.

I did a little online research on the doctor doing the surgery and found out he went to Dartmouth. So I feel good about his education, but I also want to yell at him that his hockey team sucks. I'll try to resist that urge until after he's done cutting my arm open.

Thoughts and prayers for a successful procedure and speedy recovery are certainly welcome. Assuming I'm coherent enough I should resume normal posting tomorrow. If I'm not I may post anyway. That could be REALLY entertaining.

Buffalo Bill Grave, Museum and Trail

The weekly hike moved up a day, and we again kept things fairly light with a trip to Buffalo Bill's Grave & Museum. There's also a half-mile trail that connects to another trail that leads to the Lookout Mountain Nature Center we visited last week.

Compelling evidence that my children hate me. That lovely black spot between my front teeth is a piece of blueberry from my breakfast. I didn't find out it was there until Danelle told me at 4:30. Thanks, kids.

The whole dispute over where Bill should be buried was pretty interesting. I like to believe the allegation that The Denver Post bribed his widow to say that he wanted to be buried here. Zak thought the picture he took of this plaque in full sun was too bright from the glare, so he waited and took this one when the sky clouded over a bit. I thought that was pretty sharp.

"Daddy, this just looks backwards."

"What? Let me see that...

"That's your reflection, pal."

Hey, nobody's sharp ALL the time.

Zak thought some of the big pieces of quartz looked cool enough to photograph, so he did. I can't really argue with him.

I followed this guy through some tall grass for a while until he let me get close enough to take this. Insects are just so neat.

Zak looks like he should be flashing a gang sign. Taryn looks like she just wants to take a nap.

He huffed and he puffed, but he couldn't blow the seeds off.

"Can I just hit them off with my hand?"

"No, buddy."

This bumblebee on a thistle reminded me of a clown fish in a sea anemone.

The end of the Buffalo Bill Trail where we turned around.

The kids were oddly amused by playing with some horse manure with what they called their "poop rakes." I wish they showed a similar interest in cleaning up after Kimi.

Wild geraniums, I think.

Some Beebalm hosting a couple of guests.

Overlooking Golden from the...uh...overlook.

Nice view to the northwest, with Centennial Cone in the middle distance.

Taryn had much better trail-mix etiquette than Zak. She took a fistful and ate whatever she got. He fished through for nuts and chocolate.

We ended at the museum, which was pretty good. The best part of the kid's section was definitely all the great Western clothes they could try on. They even had a ledger of every place Buffalo Bill's show had performed, and I was shocked to see my little hometown of St. Johnsbury, Vermont on the list!

Another fun three hours, and probably overall the equal of last week. More historical significance and better vistas, but the kids were more engaged in the Nature Center than the museum and last week's hike being longer was a plus. I do recommend it for families looking for something different and inexpensive to do over summer vacation. The scenic drive up the winding Lariat Loop is great in and of itself.

I'll Bet He's Had More Memorable Athletic Moments

So, I hear that the Gentlemen's Singles Final at Wimbledon yesterday was pretty good. Once upon a time I would absolutely have made sure to watch it. I was captain of my high school tennis team back in the day and a big fan of second-tier players like Yannick Noah and Pat Cash. I even had a picture of Cash on the dashboard of my car for some awkward man-crush reason. I used to have fairly long hair and wore a ridiculous checkered headband like him when I played, so maybe I thought we had some sort of bond.

My family used to spend a week in Lake Placid every summer. I remember all of us going to the public courts there together when I was younger and my parents would play each other while my sister and I just goofed around. When I got older I'd often just take my racket and a can of balls and go by myself to hit against the boards.

On one such day in the summer of 1987, there was another guy there doing the same thing. Sort of an awkward dude with a moustache and big glasses. Playing against someone else is always more fun, so we introduced ourselves. In a British accent he told me that his name was Eddie and that he was training for the Olympics.

I was less impressed by this than you might think. Lake Placid is home to a U.S. Olympic Training Center, and running into Olympic hopefuls there was sort of like running into actors in Los Angeles. So I just nodded. I didn't even ask what event he was training for. He looked more like a member of the A-V club than a jock, anyway.

We hit for a while and then decided to play an actual match, which I won pretty handily. Something like 6-2, 6-3. I thanked him for the match and he mentioned that there was a doubles tournament coming up in a few days at the local Holiday Inn, and asked if I would be interested in being his partner. I had nothing going on, so I said sure and gave him the number where I was staying.

He called that evening to say that the tournament was unfortunately full, and we couldn't work out another time to play again before I was headed back home. So that was the last I ever saw of Eddie. Or so I thought...

Jump ahead seven months to February and I did see Eddie again after all. On TV, competing in the ski-jumping event at the Winter Olympics in Calgary where he captured the hearts of the world. Yup, I had played tennis with Eddie "The Eagle" Edwards.

So in addition to winning a race against an NFL quarterback, I can add beating an Olympian in tennis to my lengthy list of proud athletic accomplishments. I'll take some comfort in those feats as I'm rehabbing from my upcoming wrist surgery.

Like a lot of people, tennis fell off my must-see sporting event list a while ago. From what I hear about yesterday's five-set epic between Nadal and Federer, I missed out on a doozy yesterday.

I'll say this much, though -- if Eddie ever jumps again, I'll be glued to the set.

To Blog or Not to Blog?

Danelle and I have a little difference of opinion about my blog.

I love it. I think it helps keep my writing skills sharp, demonstrates the power and effectiveness of word-of-mouth to build an audience and provides hard evidence of my proficiency in the types of Web 2.0 tools I'm telling potential employers I have expertise with.

Danelle hates it. Actually, her exact words recently were "violently opposed." She thinks it reveals too much personal information about me and our family, sometimes presents me as crass and unintelligent and raises red flags for potential employers about my discretion (or lack thereof) and commitment to my job search.

Here's the thing -- we're both right.

With the exception of the effect on my writing abilities (and even that's somewhat subjective), all of the items above are based primarily on people's perceptions. I think that e-mailing info about one of my posts to The Big Lead, one of the most widely read sports blogs around, that resulted in them linking to my post and bringing in hundreds of new readers was a fantastic viral marketing move. Someone else may find it self-serving and disingenuous. Danelle thinks putting a picture of Zak in a post is a breach of our family's privacy. I can't discount or dismiss her feelings, since she is by definition a part of the family. But I thought it was harmless and the most relevant image I could find to go with the post.

On a side note, when I observed that her heightened concern about our safety meant she probably watched too much 20/20, she retorted that maybe I don't watch enough. Touché.

What's at the heart of these different perspectives? There's been suggestions that much of it is generational. Younger people are accustomed to more transparency in their lives thanks to everything from "reality TV" to YouTube. Older folks -- and at our age Danelle and I both fall into that category for any discussion of the internet -- have more clearly defined boundaries for what they share with other people, especially total strangers.

My mom drove that point home one day when I excitedly told her that I'd reconnected with some friends from high school on Facebook. She snorted and replied, "I don't use MyFace or Spacebook or any of that crap." Once I stopped laughing, I told her she probably had no idea how completely awesome that remark was.

Fast-forward a couple of months, and that same mom (I only have one) jots the note "Enjoying blog!" on my Father's Day card. If blogging and social networking are fundamentally similar parts of the whole "Web 2.0" phenomenon, how can she embrace one and dismiss the other? Possibly because one opinion was based on substance, and the other on something else. Maybe misinformation, maybe fear of the unknown. But she didn't even know the names of the two biggest social nets in the world -- she just knew she had no use for them.

This is where I think the rubber really hits the road. Blogs aren't inherently "evil" or "dangerous" in the same way that video games, heavy metal and comic books aren't. It's all about how they're used. If someone blogs on company time, or blogs about how much they hate minorities or shares confidential business information on their blog, it's really not the blog that's the problem. If blogs didn't exist, those behaviors would just manifest themselves in different ways. Blogs don't get people fired; people get people fired.

Is there a risk that a potential employer will stumble across my blog, read the line from a past post where I use the word "pit" in talking about how difficult it is to apply deodorant with a broken wrist and conclude that I'm too vulgar to hire? I suppose so. But do I really want to work for a company that would reach that sort of conclusion based on one data point and discount everything else they learned about me? Probably not.

Ditto for an organization that's uncomfortable with transparency. I believe strongly that the benefits of having an open dialogue with customers, empowering them to be critical and embracing those criticisms, has benefits that far outweigh the potential risks. Where the line gets drawn of how much information is too much is certainly open to debate; but as far as I'm concerned that debate is a healthy one to have.

Back to the fear of the unknown issue -- it's human nature to demonize things we don't understand. So some try to blame society's current ills on things like "the internet," as if it was a conscious and malevolent entity and not just a series of tubes. But all "the internet" basically does is accelerate the pace and extend the reach of communication.

Pen pals and ham radio were once the most techonologically advanced ways we had to try and fulfill another aspect of human nature, the need to connect with other people. Jim Saccomano, VP of PR for the Denver Broncos, noted that Thomas Paine was probably one of the first bloggers. He circumvented the mainstream press and used conversational language to speak directly to his audience in his Common Sense pamphlet. So while the way people use the internet today is more evolution than revolution, the tool still freaks people out. I blame Hal from 2001 for the irrational fear of computers, but for whatever reason the fear exists.

Heather Armstrong strikes me as a case of where both these factors combined to have unfortunate consequences. I heard her speak as part of a panel at the SXSW Interactive Festival in March. She's a "blogebrity" who's fairly well known in those circles for getting fired from her job back in 2002 for reasons that had something to do with her personal web site. I don't know the specifics. I haven't even read her side of the story in detail. But what's pretty obvious is that she and her employer had different perspectives on the transparency/privacy subject. And given that this happened in 2002 when the word "blog" couldn't even be used in Scrabble, I'm willing to bet that some folks in her company got the heebie-jeebies just from hearing the word "internet." Doesn't matter that she worked for a web development company; somebody in power over there just didn't get it and overreacted.

Another side note -- Heather's blog makes enough dough from ad revenues that it's now her family's sole source of income. Not bad for a fairly ordinary person who's extraordinarily comfortable being transparent and a halfway decent writer. So there's hope for the other 15 million of us with blogs, much like the hope I get when Zak throws a football that doesn't rotate end over end that he'll one day be an NFL quarterback.

I don't know exactly where this leaves me. I know that I'm going to keep blogging. But I also let Danelle see this post before I put it up and made a couple of changes at her request. I'm also going to probably cross lines from time to time in what certain people consider appropriate -- it's challenging to know that your mother-in-law and drinking buddy both read your blog. But at the same time it's not my purpose to shock or offend, and I'm going to apply what I consider to be common-sense standards to my language and subject matter.

And while Danelle and I may both be right, when it comes to finding my next professional opportunity I'm going to hope like heck that I'm a little more right.