Low Rumblings Heard in the Distance
1. I've been experiencing a new brand of sorrow over the past couple of days. It's differentiated by the utter lack of accompanying despair. Neither is shame a prominent feature in how I'm feeling. What I've come to is the naked realization that I need to re-orient myself back to the Lord in a new way. This is because, after allowing the disappointments of 2005 to discourage me and drop virtually all of my spiritual activities from my daily routine, my life has suddenly shown up.

And I'm just not prepared to fully enjoy all that it has to offer. I've been stupidly bitter and defiant, lashing out at God, D, and the church, letting the development of my friendships lapse, and compromising my health and effectiveness because I've been so pissed off that what I did in 2004 didn't prompt God to prevent my ongoing problems with D and addiction, or the death of my father without a reconciliation having taken place. I'm still not happy about any of it, and I continue to wonder why is it that I have to take such a hard road?

Then my son comes to live with me, and now I'm beginning to understand. After living fifteen years under the roof of someone who emphasized empathy over discipline, the kid is largely lacking in life skills. At the same time, I can't swing the pendulum to the opposite end of the spectrum and run a concentration camp for the boy. Neither can be emphasized over the other, but neither can either be left out of the mix. But I am finding myself unprepared to make the incessantly demanded decisions the boy is looking for me to make, so that he can have the base of stability and love to do well with this second chance.

Yet even as I reflect on the significance of him getting the best start on his second chance, I am comforted by the innumerable number of chances God has given me to start over and enjoy my life as His servant. If you just look at the number of times D and I have started over in the space of just over three years, we're close to double figures. My own personal tally has to be in the thousands.

So I begin yet again, wrestling with a renewed awareness of just how important the stakes are, and how short the time is, for staying the course day after day.

2. Li'l D (that's the boy) has begun to set his sights on playing football. He and a couple of his new friends are participating in weight training under the supervision of the coaching staff. It appears that Li'l D has impressed both his phys ed teacher and peers with his athletic prowess in gym class. A couple of his friends have personally told me that he's made some nice grabs playing football. In addition, our school district consistently makes the state finals in football, having won at least twice in the past ten years.

This opens up a world of opportunities for LD. Unlike his previous school district, which plays athletics in the largest classification, his new school is in the smallest, giving him and his unique abilities a higher visibility and desirability to the coaching staff. For such a small district to have had such success at the state level speaks to the quality of man running the program. Apparently, there are severe consequences for violating this man's work ethic. The word is out that if you're a discipline problem or aren't keeping up on your schoolwork, he's not going to waste his time trying to put you on the field. I've told LD that he needs to do all that he can to impress this guy, and he'll get his chance to shine. If he does, then he will possibly have the option to go to college on scholarship.

For my part, I am near overwhelmed with both the possibilities for him and the awesome feeling of responsibility for getting really involved in facilitating his development of work habits and team attitude. This gets back to the first item, which is why I'm obsessing so much over it. Again, the stakes -- my son's future -- are just too huge.

3. I've downloaded a U2 mix onto my iPod, which means I've been listening to about 2/3 of their catalog over the past two days. I'm convinced more than ever that this music should be played and sung in a worship/celebration of God context by people who just not content to fake it anymore. I order a couple of books that have been put out about them, including a book of sermons based on their music. I'm still not sure why so many evangelicals turn their noses up at them, but I am here to say that Bono is the Martin Luther of our time. In that declaration, I'm only speaking about his role as a hymn writer, not as a great reformational theologian. Athough I'm starting to believe that his work for Africa may go down as one of the great movements to inspire and motivate Christian compassion in action.

More to come on this subject. I am in the process of culling the U2 catalog for cuts that could be easily demonstrated to be worship tunes.

4. Until the USA demonstrates as much willingness to insert itself into the atrocities occurring in the Sudan, anyone who uses the 'just war' argument to rationalize our policies in Iraq, will only get a snort of disdain from me in reply. Not that I object to the war's objectives. Far from it. I just would prefer that we be honest and open up a debate about extending this policy to places, such as the Sudan, where the ONLY benefit of an American intervention would be the liberation of an oppressed people. The choice to act in Iraq is just as much strategic for us, as it is humanitarian for the Iraqi people. The proximity of Iran makes it vital that we establish a normative, diplomatic presence in Iraq while we have the chance. The slaughter of hundreds of thousands of Sudanese Christians makes it vital that those of us of faith continue to give them a voice in this world -- especially to our own government.
- posted by The Drake @ 8:12 AM 1 comments

 
D,
It was so great to have you here again. To sweat with you as we try to work out what this thing going on between us really means was both invigorating and rewarding. I think that two of the things you said to me in the past 48 hours were the never nicest things I've ever heard. From anyone. The first you know about, but it bears repeating that the true admiration I heard in your voice and saw in your eyes when you complimented the new kitchen project and how much brighter the whole room was.

The other time I've kept to myself until now. It was when we went to sleep last night and you spooned up to me, gave me a nice firm squeeze, and said, "You know I really hate you... but I really love you."

Here's how I heard it:

"you know... I really don't like you sometimes, but I REALLY do love you."

Knowing how much you are struggling to make sense of the conflicts you are having between your feelings and the direction you chose to go in December, and recognizing that I keep doing things that make you doubt your feelings for me (or at least to wisdom in having them), I am suddenly seized with a pain that I don't often get. Regret. Shame? I've always had that, but it is so easily turned to anger when those you've hurt do their best to hurt you back. What you showed me in how you talked to me this weekend, was that you've begun to take a different path.

I have a tremendous amount of respect for the courage it must take you to come back here and have to listen to me talk and yet have the courage to face these conflicts all over again. And to tell me that you really do love me in spite of it all? Priceless. Can't be bought at any price. The sex was great. I mean, really great. But this one simple act of laid out, boldly naked honesty is the best gift you've ever given me.

I know that you probably don't want to talk right now. You're exhausted from the vigorous marathon that was out weekend, and rightly so. Therefore, I'm choosing this blog as the forum to declare these things. First, because it's a suitably safe distance from which you can respond. Or not. Second, I want the world (at least my little blogging world) to know the following.

You, D, are the most remarkable woman it has ever been my pleasure to know. That probably sounds strange coming from me, and probably not only to you. But I really mean it. You needed to get your confidence back, and you took some aggressive steps to put yourself in the place to do just that. I admire you for that. Keep doing the things that you are doing there to remind yourself just how much of a kickass woman you are. Me likey!

Thanks for helping me with the drywall and the decorating ideas. I think that when we are done, we will have something for which can both be proud. Even if we never get back together, it will have been worth the effort, and nothing can take that away from us.

Take your time and space, my darling. I am busy with my own healing, and that of my son. I won't push, but I will -- as always -- leave my door open to you. I'm not going anywhere.

There's really nothing more that can be said, except to sum up all that's gone before and say,

I really love you, too.

My darling.
- posted by The Drake @ 11:11 PM 5 comments

 
At Least I Get to Have Sex This Weekend
So D and her boys are coming for a visit this weekend. I know I said it was over, but D called me late one night about two weeks ago, and it was obvious that she has been wrestling with the whole issue. I have to give her credit. She is at least open enough to continue wrestling with the long-term implications of the whole situation, even though she has already taken what most of us would consider pretty decisive measures to completely end it.

The house is a total wreck, however, and I'm starting to stress about not having more done by the time she gets there. Work on the kitchen project is taking way longer than I expected. I played hooky from work yesterday to take care of what I thought were little impediments to getting my tabletop tile laid. Turns out I spent all day working on just one of those impediments -- re-wiring two outlets that were exposed by my demolition of existing walls. What I discovered is that whoever wired that part of the house cared very little about keeping to code. If I had to have that work inspected, it would have to be re-done. Open junction boxes in the crawlspace under the main kitchen floor, 3 or 4 branches off a single circuit, each of which could have 3 or 4 branches of their own. Electrical tape connecting the wires, instead of the required screw-cap connectors. I spent the entire day tracing down only one of two circuits I need to re-work before I can proceed with the finish work. And cursing, in the most venomous terms, the woman who owned the house before and who seemed incapable of doing anything without cutting corners and causing me serious inconvenience when those chickens come home to roost.

On Monday, Jerry Bowyer brought up an interesting question for discussion on his program, and I'd like to provide my take.

He asked the listening audience to call in a relate if they had prayed for the Steelers to win the AFC Championship game. Bowyer being Bowyer, this had little to do with the Steelers or sports at all, but much to do with what we, as Christians, value by examining what we pray for.

For me, the concept of asking the Almighty God to lend a hand to my hometown professional football team is downright ludicrous. Even as an athlete, I would have been horrified to have asked God to help me win any sporting contest. Is anyone really as clueless as to think that God would regard any such prayer? That's not to say that God doesn't care about sporting events, or have His own purposes in allowing a particular team or athlete to achieve for a time.

But the conversation proved even more interesting when a pastor from Greensburg called in, claiming to have prayed for victory based on Jeremiah 29:7:

Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the LORD for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.

This allowed Jerry to open up a can of economic whoop-ass on this poor, out-of-context, pathetic, schmuck. It also highlights a very big problem with the thinking in our area regarding the regional economy. Many people want to tie the success of our professional sports franchises to economic vitality. This is total crap and reflects the corrupt politics and unholy alliances between politicians, unions, the construction industry and other nefarious ne'er-do-wells who want to short circuit economic reality with quick-fix, fill-their-pockets, pipe dreams. Several years ago, the voters in this region told the professional teams of Pittsburgh to go fuck themselves on the issue of building new stadiums with tax dollars. So what did they do? The took the issue to the state government, who passed legislation authorizing construction of new baseball and football stadiums in both Philly and the 'Burgh. More recently, people like Mario Lemieux want to convince people that opening up riverfront casinos will be an economic boon, not to mention get the Penguins a new arena, having been left out of the rape of taxpayers by the state on the stadium bond issue.

And people are so stupid, that they honestly believe this whole line of garbage. Or at least they convince themselves that things will be OK, because they either want to gamble or sit in nicer seats at the hockey games. Jerry Bowyer was very eloquent in breaking down the fallacy of economic stimulation caused by gambling.

Here's how it goes. First, there is only a finite amount of disposal income available in the regional economy, and while more of it may get spent during the initial honeymoon phase surrounding the opening of any new casinos, eventually it will most likely be diverted from supporting other local businesses, some of which will go under. The nature of the gambling industry is such that in order to keep 'customers' (i.e. -- suckers) in their establishments, they offer reduced costs for food and drinks, preventing other businesses from competing and creating additional business closures and job losses.

Although Bowyer avoided making a moral pronouncement on the whole issue of gambling, there is more than enough evidence that gambling brings with it a whole set of problems, primarlily caused by the addiction issues brought on by the lure of easy moeny. People lose jobs, homes and families once gambling becomes the primary focus. Crime is drawn to the neighborhoods surrounding casinos, since those who are drawn to gambling are also going to be likely customers for prostitutes and drug dealers. Of course, they are also likely targets for robbers and thieves.

Getting back to the fallacy of justifying praying for the Steelers to win as a means to spur economic growth, let's step into the way back machine and take a trip to 1979. The Steelers had just won their fourth Super Bowl in six years, and the Pirates were the reigning World Series champions. If there was ever a time in which this theory should be tested, surely 1979 would have been the springboard for one of the biggest regional economic booms in the history of this country.

Not.

Instead, 1979 was the beginning of the worst recession in this area since the Great Depression. What happened during that time still has impacts in chronically lethargic areas, such as where I live. The steel industry was shutting down plants and laying off workers by the thousands, because both it and the automotive industry (steel's #1 customer) were losing ground on Japanese competitors. Did our status as the 'City of Champions' make a damn bit of difference? Hell, no! All it did, for some strange reason, was to entrench our entire region into a crybaby, why-can't-it-be-like-it-was-in-the-good-old-days mentality.

People still think they should make twenty-plus dollars an hour for doing simpleton work, that manufacturing, basic industry, and construction are the needed building blocks for a thriving regional economy, that the Steelers should win the Super Bowl every year. OK, that last one's probably just me.

In the meantime, our city has gone into bankruptcy, there are few new businesses willing to come here and deal with the taxes and the unionist mentality, and the people are easy marks for any politician who has quick-fix scheme to sell.

Honestly, I can see why people from other parts of the country laugh at us. We have to be some of the dumbest people this side of Appalachia.
- posted by The Drake @ 9:52 AM 3 comments

 
Come back to me
I've decided to remove the comments moderation and re-admit anonymous commenters back into my little world because it just seems that I'm getting a whole lot less feedback since I did those things a few weeks back. I did, however, turn on word verification because if I have to endure spamming one more time, I'll take to the rooftops with a scoped weapon to exact my revenge.

To all those who've left because of my recent restrictions, I love you and want you back.

Desparately.
- posted by The Drake @ 2:57 PM 1 comments

 
Just Say No?
It turns out the boy is now going to a school where a lot of pot smoking is going on. This isn't really a surprise, but it got onto his mother's radar by virtue of his poor judgement in taking his younger brother into his confidences and said brother's reaction and propensity to tell his mother everything. So, of course, now I'm being given a clear message that I need to make sure that the boy doesn't get sucked into a life of drug addiction and ruin -- with the subtext being that I should know how that feels, seeing as how I've fucked up my life so much with the evil ganja. Meanwhile, I'm thinking in the back of my mind, "Hmmmm, I wonder if one of his friends could hook me up?"

She doesn't want me to tell him that the brother has gone to her, or that she knows, but that's out. The boy knows all about my current state -- which is three weeks' since last toke, but ready to grab another pinch for stress management purposes -- so I'm not going to play the hypocrite.

Instead, we talk about things. I tell him that I don't want him coming back on his brother for going to his mother. He assures me that he's not using, and I believe him. He tells me about a drunk he had with two of his buddies while he was still living with his mother, and how the results were not worth the risk. I believe him, because he's not showing me any real signs that he's either using or trying to sneak around on me. I decide that's the best I can hope for in this situation and tell him that I have only one rule: if he decides to try it, he has to do it with me. At least we can talk through it, and maybe seeing me stupid will turn him off.

But I have serious reservations about this approach. I don't want to condone him using, because the risks of long-term issues are definitely there. My whole family tree is filled with addicts and alcoholics, so I make sure to tell him that he is at greater risk than the average person. That he has no idea what his first experience will trigger in him in terms of an uncontrollable desire to reproduce that feeling, and that he could be doomed to a lifetime of consequences and struggles wrestling with that demon. Just like me. But he's a teen-aged boy, and fears little, knowing nothing of loss and grief. Not entirely true, as I know he feels deeply the effects of my divorce to his mom.

On the other hand, knowing that he's going to face this temptation constantly over the next three years, I would rather be in the loop than fighting a losing battle trying to control his behavior, who he hangs out with, or what he can do socially. The key word here is control. I'm not trying to imply that I intend to wash my hands of the issue, but that I would rather figure out a way to influence his behavior in a way that is both positive and has a decent likelihood of succeeding with a teenager. To that end, I choose to trust him to operate within that single requirement on this issue, while continuing to try and keep the communication going. But I need to stand strong in my own battles with the lure to medicate, if I am to have credibility for making the case for him to abstain.
- posted by The Drake @ 1:25 PM 3 comments

 
The Drake Learns About Tile - The Hard Way
Much progress has been made on the kitchen project, but I'm getting impatient. Saturday saw the tabletop and supporting underframe go into place, but the efforts to install the tile top have been both tedious and, at times, comical. Saturday evening was devoted to mastering the wet saw, as it quickly became apparent that the tile I was using was too big to cut diagonally. Or, should I say, the wet saw cutting surface was too small. As a result, I spent the entire evening sitting on the floor, surrounded by now-ruined towels, turning seventy, 7-7/8" ceramic tiles into seventy, 6-5/8" tiles. Messy, tedious, neck strain-inducing work, I can assure you. Once completed, I found that I now had many more design options, as I had also created seventy, 1-1/4"x7-7/8" and seventy, 1-1/4"x6-5/8" border pieces.

It was my goal to be able to show the blogging world my masterpiece in place, but it was not to be. Turns out, it's real easy to fuck up setting tile, especially when you're in a hurry. And also, when you've got a fifteen-year-old son helping who's even more impatient than you are.

After it became clear that the Seattle Seahawks would be the Steelers' next victim on their inexorable rise to football greatness, me and the boy rushed to the kitchen to get the tile set, based on my dry run of the previous night. Working on opposite sides of the table, we wrestled with the white goo that would hold the tile secure on the tabletop and that goofy, notched trowel that you're supposed to use to get maximum stick. The crucial error came with the placement of the very first tile, which I guess is how it always goes. A single, tan-colored tile must be centered and squared relative to the tabletop in order for my design to be implemented. Drawing an intersecting cross from the parallel edges and marking the tile at the centerpoint of each of the four edges turns out to not be the best way to ensure correct placement. Nor is it a good idea to try and position the surrounding pieces until the (correctly) centered piece has been allowed to set.

After two hours of traipsing down this ill-fated path, I came to the sudden realization that my centered diamond pattern was not at all centered, and that my tile line was not going to line up with my tabletop edge. This led to a panicked call to the boy to get his ass back into the kitchen and help me pull up all the tile and scrape off the adhesive before it dried and turned my Saturday evening's tile cutting endeavor into the ultimate exercise in futility.

It was eleven o'clock at this point, and the boy was complaining loud and long about needing to go to bed, because he needed to get up for school today. It's amazing how important sleep and getting up on time for school become to a teenage, when the only other available activity is work. Equally amazing is how well it works. So after making sure that all of the tile was securely underwater, I sent him off to bed and spent yet another hour cleaning and drying off my rescued tile.

Underscoring my urgency on this point is the fact that I'm locked into this tile thing, by virtue of having enough tile laying around for free, having spent hours cutting it to fit the tool that cost me over a hundred bucks to buy for just this purpose, AND having witnessed one of the most horrific tragedies involving ceramic tile that could ever happen to a do-it-yourself-er with big ambitions and limited funds.

The boy and I were at Lowe's last Thursday in the garden center, buying seeds and starter pots for flowers and herbs, and chatting up the plant lady for tips on how to deal with some of our more troublesome house plants. On the way to the car, I observed a man tip over a shopping cart top-loaded with over a half-dozen boxes of ceramic tile -- a modest investment of at least two or three hundred bucks. It's one of those nightmarish, slow-motion, moments that people experience when they fully realize the impact of an impending, catastrophic loss and the simultaneous realization that's there's not a damn thing they can do to prevent it. For me, looking in from the outside, my attention was jerked towards this poor soul by the sudden going down of him and his cart, and the nearly instanteous sound of breaking ceramic and a fully-grown man screaming like a wounded animal.

Needless to say, I'm glad it wasn't me, but I sure am being damn careful with my mother lode of tile. It might take me the rest of the week to finish this part of the job, I'm so conscious of looming ceramic disaster.
- posted by The Drake @ 1:23 PM 2 comments

 
Pittsburgh's Going to the Super Bowl!
I was originally going to title today's post, "Quick Hits from the Weekend", but after typing well over 1,500 words, I realized that, brevity not being my strong suit, I'd have to turn each 'quick hit' into a post of its own.

My first offering:

Apparently, Bill Cowher reads the blogs. The whole of Da 'Burgh is basking in the glow of the Steelers' masterful domination of the Denver Broncos in the AFC Championship game yesterday afternoon. I'm not yet ready to recant my previous statements about Cowher's status among the NFL coaching elite, but aside from a brief foray into "protect-the-lead" mode early in the second half, the Steelers were clearly in control of the game. I am fully prepared, however, to give Mr. Bill credit for preparing and building up his players to get some amazing play from a group nobody gave a chance to be where they are this morning -- on the brink of greatness. And, yes, that includes Coach Cowher. Troy Polamalu is a freak of nature, Joey Porter is finally inspiring fear in the minds and feet of quarterbacks everywhere (Matt Hasselback, you're next!), Ben Roethlisberger seems poised to be the kind of quarterback us Yinzers having been longing for ever since Terry Bradshaw traded in his pads for a microphone, and The Bus... what can you say, but who in this world not living in the Pacific Northwest doesn't want to see him go out on top in the Big Game in his hometown?

Way to go, fellas! You've done all that we could ask for, and more. Now go close the deal, send The Bus to Canton in style, and bring us home One For The Thumb!

By the way, I'd like my crow well done and marinated in jerk spices.
- posted by The Drake @ 1:20 PM 3 comments

 
Kitchen pics
As promised, here are some pics of how the kitchen project is going. I've got the pedestal for the tabletop installed. I need to add the tabletop, tile, redo a little wiring, and drywall.

Looking in from the main part of the house. The sun room is closed off, but provides a lot of light, even on cloudy days like today.


View from the sun room looking into the main kitchen.


View from the main part of the kitchen. Breakfast nook (soon to be renamed pantry area) is on the left, and sun room on the right.

I'll be hitting it hard today and tomorrow, so stay tuned!
- posted by The Drake @ 12:11 PM 4 comments

 
Obligatory Steeler Rant
As one who was born, bred, and deep-fried in the 'Burgh, it's incumbent on me to add my contribution about this Sunday's victory by the Steelers over the Indy Colts into the blog stew. This post was inspired by Kelly's post over at Paradoxes and Problems. Thanks for the inspiration, Kelly!

Kelly described it the most exciting game she'd ever seen, but I can't legitimately describe my experience in those same terms. For me, a game such as this can only be described as exciting when I don't have a vested interest in the outcome. This year's NCAA BCS bowl games fall into that category for me, but only because I could genuinely appreciate fine play from either team, despite my individual preference. I was rooting for Penn State and West Virginia, who won, and Notre Dame and USC, who lost. The games where 'my team' lost where nonetheless compelling to watch. Not so with this week's Steelers' game. Words fail to describe the gut-wrenching experience of having endured the final five or six minutes of clock time, where defeat seemed to be snatched from the jaws of victory at least three times before one of the most accurate place kickers in the game pushed his game-tying attempt sideways to seal our advance to the conference championship game in Denver. It was neither fun nor exciting for me to contemplate another culmination of the NFL season with my beloved team sent home early with their tails between their legs.

Kelly also made the observation that the game put on display the worst sort of officiating ineptitude ever seen in the NFL playoffs. Right on target there. Considering that the lead official had to first pull his head out of his ass before he put it under the replay hood to review the Troy Polamalu interception, I'm guessing his vision might have been a bit blurred from the remains of his previous day's meals, to the point where his ability to see and think clearly were undeniably impaired.

Finally, I must continue to beat the drum in protest against the tendency of Pittsburghers to overestimate the coaching prowess of Crafton's own William Laird Cowher. There are some who insist on enshrining Coach Cowher into the pantheon of the football gods. While I believe firmly, and have stated so on this blog, that he will most likely end up in the Hall of Fame, history has given me no reason to utter his name in the same breath with legendary names like Lombardi, Brown, Halas, Shula, Landry, Noll, Walsh, Gibbs, Parcells, Johnson, and Bellichick. All of these men have a sustained history of winning in the NFL, like Cowher, but they also have won multiple league championships. Until Cowher puts at least two Super Rings on his fingers, he is -- and will remain -- a second-tier coach.

While those who must love the man or feel dirty and ashamed in order to be true fans of the Black and Gold, this label is far from a bad thing. There are plenty of current and future Hall of Fame head coaches with whom Bill Cowher can comfortably be named. Ditka, Holmgren, Dungy, Gruden, Switzer, and George Allen, to name but a few. Of course, with the exception of the honorable Messrs Dungy and Allen, all of these guys have also won a Super Bowl.

To put this past weekend's game into perspective, the better team on the field won. The coaching contribution was made well before kickoff. Great game plan, on both sides of the ball. No doubt. But what makes a coach a football 'god' is not their ability to game plan. Every coach in the NFL does that, or their careers have the same lifespan as a fruit fly. Sorry to have to continue to say this, but the reason why coaching greatness continues to elude Cowher is his historic inability to adapt to adversity in MID-GAME and successfully match wits with the greatest minds in the game.

Tony Dungy, as much as I love the guy, is also stuck with Cowher on the second tier of NFL coaches. I challenge anyone to name another coach in the past 15 years who has put their teams into the playoffs as many times as either of these two, yet has not won a Super Bowl. You can't, because there are none. Yet both have the same problem. Get up early on either of these teams, and victory is almost guaranteed. That's what happened here. Before Peyton Manning had completed a single pass, Big Ben had thrown two TD's, primarily because for once, Cowher didn't come and do what he always does -- and what Dungy and his staff undoubtedly expected. For that fact, he gets a tremendous attaboy from me for doing the one thing he needed to do to defuse the Indy offensive juggernaut. Get a big lead early and force Manning to step up to the plate and be a true great. Which, at this point in his career, he is not.

The fact that the Steelers only managed one other score for the rest of the game is a testimony to what I intensely dislike about Coach Cowher. He retreated into a conservative style to try and protect the lead, depending on his defense and time of possession to clinch the deal. Add to that an inexplicable, borderline psychotic tendency to greenlight risky play calls -- such as onside kicks to open the second half when your defense has been containing the opposition or running the Bus anywhere but straight up the gut on first and goal with less than two minutes to go, a 3-point lead, and Indy holding all 3 of it's timeouts -- that it makes you wonder if there's a bottle of unused medication laying around somewhere in the Cowher home.

And it almost cost us the game.

Never mind the horrible calls by the officials. Forget about the fact that the early defensive game plan kept Manning from getting comfortable until near the end of the first half. Don't even think about how 'uncharacteristic' Jerome Bettis' fumble on the goal line was, since that would be ignoring the fact that he did the same thing in the championship game against New England last year. Forget about all of that.

The difference between the Steelers teams of Bill Cowher and those of Chuck Noll's four championship teams of the 1970's is that when Noll and his staff found an opponent's weakness, they exploited it over and over again, pounding the opposition into a demoralized surrender, while Cowher tries to get an early lead and hang on, refusing to let his players gain confidence and strength by continuing to pulverize their opponents. What happened to Heath Miller over the middle? In the Cowher formula, an unnecessary risk with a two-score lead. Under Noll? Three more touchdowns and Peyton Manning crying openly while lying on his back.

While I desperately hope that Cowher gets lucky again with his opening game plan this Sunday at Invesco Field and builds a big lead early, he's facing a whole different animal in Mike Shanahan. Shanahan is at the top of the waiting list to join the pantheon to which the loyal, but misguided 'Burgh fans have already mistakenly enshrined Cowher. A quick comparison of Shanahan's record to Cowher's reveals that he is 26 regular season wins short of Cowher in 3 less seasons, making him pretty much as successful. Of course, then there's the two Super Bowl rings he gets to wear. In his eleven seasons running the Bronco's ship, he's produced one thousand-yard rusher after another. Running backs who were virtual unknowns before taking their stances behind one of the most successful run blocking schemes in the history of the game. Hell, I think I could rush for a thousand yards in that offense. This year, Denver came about 50 yards from producing TWO thousand-yard rushers, something that has only been done three other times, and NEVER by two backs who never appear on the field at the same time, both being tailbacks, whereas the other three combos have had one being the tailback and the other being a fullback.

That is the kind of record, my chipped, chopped, fellow Pittsburghers, of an NFL coaching legend.

Of course, Shanahan is being denied his godhood status by virtue of the fact that John Elway was his quarterback when the Super Bowls were won, and the failure in recent years to get beyond the Colts. Never mind that before Mike Shanahan showed up, John Elway was the losing quarterback in three Super Bowls, the same number as Fran Tarkento and one less than poster child for Super Bowl futility, Jim Kelly. Without Mike Shanahan, Elway may now be holding that dubious honor, assuming he had still appeared in five Super Bowls.

So this weekend is a pivotal one for both coaches. Will Shanahan cement his place in the NFL Olympus, or will Cowher take the first step to finally earning what so many of us here in the Steel City understandably want to give him?

Stay tuned, and pray that Bill finally decides to win and not just survive.

Oh, just to cement my own conception of myself as a football pundit, check out http://blogs.foxsports.com/Carnac/NFL_Bill_Cowher_Steelers_Jimmy_Johnson_Cowboys_William_Shakespeare_Henry_V.
- posted by The Drake @ 12:03 PM 2 comments

 
My Old Home
My taste for blogging has flagged a bit in recent weeks, mostly because I've just been too busy with muddling through post-divorce complications, becoming a single parent to my fifteen-year-old son, and trying to get my kitchen remodeling project completed.

With that said, I'd like to write about my little project. I live in a house that's over 100 years old, is seriously dropped on one corner of the foundation, and has numerous opportunities for improvement. That's where my kitchen project comes in.

At some point within the past 20 years, the previous owner put a single story addition off the back of the house. The addition basically doubled the square footage of the first floor, with full 3/4 of that space being devoted to the kitchen. The problem, however, is that the utilization of the space still made the whole thing seem small and crowded. My guess is that the reason for this was because of the inground pool that was also built. I've written some about that albatross in the past, having spent the greater part of the summer of 2004 demolishing and filling in the thing because the woman who had it built was too short-sighted and arrogant to realize that building an inground pool with concrete decking all around on top of a hill that drops a minimum of 15 feet into the adjoining lot would not work well without a solid retaining wall to keep the whole works from sliding over the hill and into the Ohio River.

This is relevant because the quarter of the space on the addition to my house that was not dedicated to the kitchen was partioned off into a narrow 'sun room', which must have originally been intended as the entry and exit to the pool area. The end result was to create not one, but two, areas that are too small to be of much practical use -- especially if the pool was not in use. Considering that said pool was not heated, and that the number of days in a year where swimming in such a pool can be counted using less than the fingers on both hands, this was a case of poor design.

So when I found myself single again, I saw a great opportunity to claim this sun room for raising a bunch of new houseplants I'd bought in a impulsive mood to try and cheer myself up. After putting up a makeshift window shelf and watching how my sun loving plants thrived in this room, I realized that the wall put up between the sun room and the breakfast nook on its other side was depriving the whole kitchen of the advantages of this wonderful, natural light -- even on the gloomiest of days.

Besides being morosely dark as a result of this wall, the breakfast nook was too small to seat more than two people comfortably.

So three weeks ago, I set about to cut a big hole in this wall, with the intent of creating a lunch counter in the sun room and letting more light into the breakfast nook. Actually, the project really started with me scraping hideous wallpaper off of the kitchen walls, in the hope that replacing it with a fresh coat of light-colored paint would create more reflected light and openness in the kitchen. This was going to be a small scale project that would cost me virtually nothing and make a vast improvement in the overall effect of the rooms. However, as often happens with me, I saw an opportunity to make what I thought would be just a small improvement for only a little bit more money. More on that later.

To try and give you an idea of how the space is laid out, the sun room measures about 15 feet from the back door to the doorway into the kitchen and is only about 10 in depth from the picture windows to the wall dividing it from the breakfast nook. Too narrow to put a table of that would seat 4 without severely blocking the throughway to the back door. The breakfast nook is smaller yet, measuring about 7 feet square, again making the use of a normal, 4-chair table a tight proposition at best. Those doomed to sit against the inner walls were virtually trapped there anytime others would sit in the chairs on the kitchen side.

As I ripped out drywall, insulboard, and 100-year old wood siding to make my whole, a brillant (at least, imo) dawned on me.

Instead of creating a lunch counter in the sunroom, while continuing to deal with the annoying space limitations of the puny breakfast nook, why not build a bigger 'table' that straddled the wall. That way, instead of creating seating for 7 people who would still be crowded and where interaction would be somewhat inconvenient between those who sat at the counter and those doomed to be crammed into the nook, why not create a table that would easily accomodate six people comfortably and would allow them to interact?

And so that's where I'm at. And the great thing about it is that I'm still not spending a lot of money, except on tools that I didn't have, but needed to do the job. I've been able to reclaim lumber and drywall, plus I had a bunch of lumber in the garage from a project to build beds for D's kids that I never got around to before she left.

Yesterday, I came to the point where I am ready to install the tabletop and drywall. The thing is frickin' awesome, I'm telling you. The tabletop is nearly as long as my 8-person dining room table, and a full 9 inches wider. Plus, once the basic framework is completed, I will be able to build a ton of countertops, cabinets and shelves for my beloved plants to beautify the whole area. And the effect of increased openness and natural light is just amazing.

Only one thing is missing. A woman's touch. I can build the stuff, but I sorely lack the domestic touch and feel for how to choose the right accessories to make the place truly stunning. When I am done with the basics, I will post some pics (if I can figure out how to do it) and elicit suggestions on how to really make the place shine. Who knows? Maybe wife Number Four will emerge from the chatter.

Sorry that this post wasn't more interesting, but I'm having a blast making my home into something unique.
- posted by The Drake @ 2:04 PM 2 comments

 
Leave JoePa Alone!
Right before my email fight with D prompted yesterday's post, I was going to write about a totally different subject. Today I will revisit that particular rant.

The national president of NOW, whose name is not worth remembering or mentioning, wants Joe Paterno's resignation from his position as head football coach at Penn State over a couple of comments he made at a press conference on the eve of his team's appearance at the Orange Bowl in response to a question about the sexual assault charges brought against one of the players on the team he would be facing the next evening. I won't go into what JoePa said, but it has created a totally unnecessary shitstorm that's tainting what has to be one of the greatest coaching comebacks in the history of NCAA football.

What really bruised my neck meat was coming across a sports blog on foxsports.com by a chick with a penis named Michael Rosenberg. I mean, what has this world come to when sportswriters jump on the feminist bandwagon? Basically, the point of Ms. Rosenberg's blog post was to contribute to the outcry against JoePa -- and other old-school, big-time coaches in the NCAA -- by insisting that the football loving public and media stop giving these old-timers a free pass for making comments and handling their teams in ways that piss the feminista off.

However, I've gotta say that using JoePa's comments to make that point and perpetuate what is little more than a tempest in a teapot is completely wrong-headed and displays an overt bias against a man whose record shouldn't be tarnished by what was really an honest answer to a loaded question.

I have several problems with the whole context surrounding this non-controversy:

First, what was the point of asking JoePa about the problems involving a player not on his team? Sure, the player, linebacker AJ Nicholson, was a starter for the opposing Florida State team and had been suspended as a result of the incident, and his absence from the game could certainly have been perceived as an advantage for Penn State. But Nicholson's exclusion from the game was a decision made by the opposing coach, Bobby Bowden, for unspecified rules infractions. Bowden wisely chose not to say any more than that on the subject, but the media needed more than that, so they turned to JoePa.

Second, the media completely ignored the fact that JoePa did all that he could to avoid impugning Nicholson's character or Bowden's program, and did all he could to empathize with the difficult situations that big-time college athletes face. Without any kind of reference to Nicholson's history of trouble with the law, including an incident this summer at an off-campus apartment complex under construction where Nicholson was Tasered by police for refusing to comply with their orders, after already having been ejected from a night-club for disorderly conduct and drinking violations. JoePa tried to take the high road, without fully comprehending the inevitable witch hunt that would result for his failure to fall all over himself decrying the sexual objectification and victimization of women that men's athletics naturally stands for.

Third, why is it that the world cannot accept a realistic assessment that successful college and professional athletes are targets for women whose own lack of self-respect has nothing to do with the nature and popularity of sports in this country? Does anyone in their right mind think that a fair number of these accusers of athletes are nothing more than gold-digging, opportunistic, and vengeful sluts? I'm not saying that the case shouldn't be fully investigated, and neither was JoePa. But the fact is, that the media at large -- and sadly, an increasing segment of the sports media -- is all too willing to ignore the realistic assessment that hooking up with a big-time athlete is all too often seen as the quick road to the good life for many of these female hangers-on, and that any kind of thwarting of this objective by said athlete is more than enough motive to screw him over big time with a false rape accusation. Instead, they are all too willing to jump on the feminist bandwagon and crucify the accused well before the full set of facts ever come fully to light.

Finally, it's a disgrace that the media so used an honorable man like JoePa to generate a controversy. At a time when he should be basking in his fantastic successes of this past football season, he has been made a symbol of all that is wrong with competitive athletics. That is so wrong. Take a long look at the list of men of honor and character produced by the Penn State football program over the decades Joe Paterno has been their head coach. Compare it to the same list produced by Bobby Bowden's FSU reign, and you will see a huge difference. Names like Franco Harris, Jack Ham, John Cappeletti, Todd Blackledge, and others have demonstrated the success of Coach Paterno's commitment to turning out quality, educated men of character who also happened to be great football players, many of them at the professional level. Now, long after hanging up the cleats, these men are civic leaders, successful businessmen and impeccable public figures. Can the same be said about Bobby Bowden? Deion Sanders, Peter Warrick, Lavernius Coles, and now, AJ Nicholson are about the best that can be expected from a program that's more about winning than character.

At least that's my perception.
- posted by The Drake @ 10:58 AM 5 comments

 
In the Interest of Fairness
D, knowing full well that I wear my heart on my sleeve in this blog, read my last post and had a few points to make. Because she did not want to get herself a blogger ID, thinking that I wouldn't allow her comments to pass through, plus the fact that I no longer allow anonymous comment, I thought I'd share a few of her more pertinent responses.

First of all, I cannot agree with NH's characterization of D as a hypocritical child/bitch. While her choices of late have me greatly angered, I actually still love her a lot. She may be young and confused and waffling, but I've never really known her to be malicious or childish.

Second, D claims to have known that I DID have the option of obtaining insurance coverage prior to my enrollment period. I believe her, based on her professional experience in payroll and benefits.

Third, D states that she pushed her job search ahead as a result of perceived threats by me to exercise my option to send the house into foreclosure and leave her with no place to go in the immediate aftermath of me signing the divorce papers. I have no recollection of making such threats, but do recall stating my intention to explore my options in the face of my own uncertainty about what exactly she was going to do. Certainly, I was in no mood to put up with any shit from her or her kids, knowing that they would soon be out of the picture anyway.

Fourth, D claims to not have thought about the diminishing threat on the foreclosure front when making and presenting her decision to stop making contributing payments. That I have a bit more trouble believing, considering how big of a factor it was in her prior decisions. However, realizations like that often come in a less-than-conscious way, and D definitely has locked into a perception that my financial situation is not as bad as it was when she made the commitment of a monthly payment.

Lastly, D made a fairly big deal about not getting any benefit out of the payments, since she was no longer living there, making comments about paying for heat and water she doesn't use and not getting any tax benefits from our mortgage payments. Of course, I was thinking that the likely benefits to her were more long term, such as a place to come back to that will be better than when she left it, considering the time we'd spent together since she left and the purported agreement we seemed to have regarding our true marital status in the eyes of God.

None of these arguments really changes my opinion or position regarding what has been taking place between us these past few weeks. In fact, it has only serve to crystallize my belief that despite her acknowledged realizations, desires, and verbal commitments, D's real commitment is to herself and avoiding the real issues and challenges that prevent her from finding the happiness she claims to want.

But I thought that it was only fair to present her point-of-view as best as I could.
- posted by The Drake @ 9:08 AM 1 comments

 
The Final Act
D decided to drop the final straw on my back this morning, and now it's over for good.

To briefly recap the sordid history of our breakup, when I agreed to sign the divorce papers this fall, D agreed to do the following:

1. Hold off on the divorce until the end of the year, so that I wouldn't lose medical coverage on myself and my children and could get settled onto my own company's plan during the open enrollment period that would take effect at the first of the year.

2. Stay in the house and continue to pay her part of the bills until sometime in the summer of 2006.

What did D do?

1. Took a job in the Baltimore area and moved out of the house on the First of December, losing her medical benefits until they kick in on the First of February and leaving me with none.

2. Filed the divorce papers and obtained the decree on Nov. 17 -- a full month and a half prior to our agreement.

3. Promised to send me money every month to cover her part of the household expenses until roughly the time when she had originally planned to leave.

Today, D informed me by email that she would no longer be sending me a check for those expenses, after only making one payment since leaving. Her reasoning behind this was that since my son has come to live with me, and I have been promised repayment by V of his portion of my child support payment, and that she expected that I would now be able to claim him as a dependent, that I no longer needed her money. More likely, D recognized that now that I have my son in school and have begun to invest myself heavily in home improvements, she was no longer in danger of having a foreclosure coming down on her head.

Regardless of how difficult it might be for me to make ends meet in the present.

In light of these facts, plus her completely insane behavior on New Year's Eve and so many other broken commitments over the past three years, I've just decided to let it go. Whatever God is going to do with her, I'm not going to be around. It's just one too many times that I've taken the high road while she breaks commitment after commitment in her insistence that there's something better out there for her.

All I can say is, "Good luck with that."
- posted by The Drake @ 1:59 PM 2 comments

 
Penny Stocks, My Ass!
It appears that, after several months of apparent immunity, my blog is now receiving spamming comments. If this keeps up, I will have to add the dreaded word verification to my blog to weed out these idiots. I would hate to have to do this, as it's a real PIA, so please don't fuck with me.

Also, anonymous posters are no longer enabled here. Get a blogger identity, or take your cowardly comments elsewhere.

That is all.
- posted by The Drake @ 9:32 AM 0 comments

 
7 Bits
1. I think I am in love with SLC Urban Princess. I have no idea what she looks like, except what I can glean from the Yahoo avatar she put on her blog. What I dig about the Princess is that she is very feminine, putting a lot of thought, time and energy into her shoes and purses. You women may not know it, but we guys really like it when you invest that much of yourselves in looking good. Beyond that, the Princess is a very good writer and displays a mirth that I find essential to any good relationship. Although she's a bit too liberal politically and theologically for my taste, she's young and will most likely get over it in time. If only I could find her Doppleganger here in the 'Burgh!

2. For those of you wondering what's happening with the D situation, especially in light of my confessed infatuation with SLC Urban Princess, I've pretty much decided to move on. With my son at home, all of the care and attention that that requires, and a newfound zeal for transforming my money-pit of a house into a home that expresses my personality and values, I have realized that all of my attempts to convince D to be in this relationship have been a waste of time and effort. Now, I simply have better things to do. I still miss D, and regret not being able to continue making progress with her boys, especially the younger one. However, while they still have a place in my heart, I am finding it harder and harder to see a place for them in my home, as it transforms under my blood, sweat and vision. This past weekend, I had 6 kids in my home, and it was a great time. In fact, they left the house cleaner when they left than it was when they got there. I truly believe that much of this has to do with being able to drive the activities and interactions based solely on my values, their needs, and a clear statement of exactly who was in charge. Not having my energy diverted and depleted by conflicts with D was a key part of being able to set the tone for the weekend and keep everyone playing from the same sheet of music.

3. Mario Lemieux is threatening to take the Penguins to Las Vegas unless he gets a new arena. I say, "Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way to airport, you French Canadian fuck!" While you're at it, book a seat for Kevin McClatchy and his minor league baseball team. Only the Rooneys and the Steelers have treated this city with the respect it deserves when it comes to putting a professional sports team out there with our name on it. They, and their team, reflect the spirit and personality of our city better than anything else out there, except maybe the Heinz companies. Only the Steelers have justified the expense of building a new stadium that was shoved down our throats by the criminals who we stupidly elected to local and state seats of government. I could care less if Pittsburgh ever fields another professional baseball, hockey, soccer, or basketball team. Pittsburgh first has to learn how to be a real city before it can possibly hope to support any other sports franchise besides our beloved Steelers.

4. To continue on the subject of the Steelers, why is it that they succeed, while the Penguins and Pirates continue to flounder on the brink of dissolution? Two reasons, I think. First, the Rooney family are real Pittsburghers. They are frugal, hard-working, competitive, unpretentious, and loyal. At a time when most other franchises in the league are in a constant state of flux, trying to buy championships via free agency and yearly changes in the front office and coaching staff, the Steelers are the model of stability and consistency. Second, they win. Consistently. While I think Bill Cowher is the least bright of all the top tier coaches, especially when facing in-game adversity, he is still in the top tier -- and deservedly so. I believe that he will end his career as the winningest coach of all time and wind up in the Hall of Fame. Why? Because Cowher is also a true Pittsburgher and gets what the Rooneys are all about. He too, is loyal, both to the Rooneys and to his players. The end result is that at the end of his fourteenth season with the team, he's averaged ten wins per season and is the longest tenured active head coach in the league. By the time he retires, he most likely will hold the records for most wins, have a Super Bowl or two under his belt, and will have set an unattainable standard for longevity in the head coaching position.

5. Tools rock. I used my Sears card this past week to buy a new shop vac and reciprocating saw for my kitchen project. This coming weekend, I will buy myself a tabletop wet saw to cut tile for my new countertops. Add in the miter saw I bought last summer, and I am kicking ass on my remodeling project.

6. I appear to have lost weight (about 10 lbs.), simply by not being at work. I guess not sitting on my ass all day and being forced to make my own food have benefits after all. Now, if I can just get myself back to the gym, I will be super hot by the time summer rolls around again.

7. Getting back into the flow of work after having two weeks off is more difficult than I expected, which is one reason why I'm blogging instead of getting work done. However, I am so thankful to have a job where my creativity and problem-solving skills are more important than face time. For the first time in my IT career, I have the freedom and flexibility to use my talents to their fullest, while being largely shielded from the political bullshit that exists in most of corporate America.

Life is good.
- posted by The Drake @ 9:17 AM 1 comments

 
Holiday Debrief
I've just come back to work after a two-week holiday vacation, which proved to be very eventful.

Here are some highlights:

Despite a late start and a nagging case of depression, I managed to pull Christmas together for the kids. They all got iPods, and I made a scrumptuous turkey dinner.

After five years of banging her head against the wall, the mother of my oldest son finally decided that he needed to live with me full time. This led to my second week of vacation, as I had to take time off to get him transferred to his new school -- no small task, considering the fact that no one from either district was available until Jan. 3rd.

D. threw a glass of champagne into my face on New Year's Eve because I bought some weed. This in spite of the fact that we had a wonderful day shopping for stuff for the house and my son's new bedroom. She got up and left first thing New Year's, depriving her sons of the chance to watch the last week of football with me. It just seems that her commitment to control overrides any commitment to the people she claims to love.

I got to watch the best holiday season of college football that I can remember. The National Championship game was awesome!

I began a remodeling project in my kitchen that is going to end up in Better Homes and Gardens.
I, along with the rest of the football-watching world, got to see a blatant demonstration of just how much of a bum Plaxico Burress is, as he just plain quit on his team and caused Eli Manning's third interception.

And, best of all, the Steelers kicked ass!
- posted by The Drake @ 1:19 PM 0 comments

 
Tagged for the Fours
I have been tagged for the Fours by The Unseen Blogger. It seems as good a way as any to get back in the blogging saddle.

Four jobs you've had in your life:
Waiter, Collections Manager (absolutely the worst job in the world), Technical Services Manager, Business Intelligence Architect.

Four movies you could watch over and over:
Galaxy Quest, Raising Arizona, Office Space, Napoleon Dynamite.

Four places you've lived:
3 distinct areas in the 'Burgh region: Wilkinsburg, Homestead, and Beaver County. I also lived in Colorado Springs for several months when I was 19.

Four TV shows you love to watch:
The West Wing, Smallville, Scrubs, CSI.

Four places you've been on vacation:
Myrtle Beach SC, Jamaica, Virginia Beach, the New River Gorge.

Four websites you visit daily:
weather.com, The Drudge Report, Fox Sports, SLC Urban Princess.

Four of your favorite foods:
Steak (Porterhouse or Ribeye), Peas, Bacon, Roast Turkey.

Four places you'd rather be:
Colorado, Hawaii, Jamaica, in a hot tub with at least two naked, hot, babes.

Four albums you can't live without:
U2's four best: How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, All That You Can't Leave Behind, The Joshua Tree, and War.

Four+ to pass this meme along to:
Not gonna do it.
- posted by The Drake @ 12:31 PM 9 comments