I don't want to call this a rant, nor do I want to call it general observations, so to steal a little phrase from a radio personality I will call this the riff (and yes this is how I am spelling it):
It is obvious that the NFC is the weaker of the two divisions after watching this past weekend playoff games.
If I had a $100 extra dollars I would bet it all on the Carolina Panthers to cover the +4 they are getting against Seattle this weekend.
I have seen some games that have been poorly officiated, but the Steelers vs. Colts might have been the worst officiated game I have ever seen, and it wasn't the amount of bad calls, because there really weren't a lot of them, just the ones that were made were so horrible that they have no equal.
When WVU's basketball team is hitting shots like they did against Marquette, NO ONE, and that means #1 Duke, #2 Florida, and #9 Pitt, can beat them.
I noticed that Maryland's basketball team cracked the top 25, now I could care less about basketball rankings, as they count for nothing, but for a team that has lost to every ranked team they have played (except for BC), they are getting a lot of respect from both the AP writers and coaches.
The last five minutes of the Steelers game was the craziest five minutes I have ever witnessed. I hurt my hand when the ref came back with his instant replay decision, I about had a nervous break down when the Bus fumbled and then a heart attack when the Colts missed their field goal attempt.
The Washington Redskins are not a playoff caliber team.
For some reason I don't remember the same talk about how the Steelers blew it last year when they lost after going 15-1 in the regular season like they are talking all about the Colts now.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Thursday, January 12, 2006
The Sleep Negotiator
My two-year old Owen is getting good at the manipulation game, especially as it pertains to going to sleep. He knows how to play his mother and for a certain amount of time he knew how to play me, then I realized the key to getting him to do what you want him to do, and it's the same advice for buying a new car . . . be willing to walk away.
Owen thinks he needs to stall with a series of ploys, first he won't lay down, then he won't let you cover him, then he wants to have a puppet show, all in order to keep you from turning off the light and leaving him to sleep. This kid has more stall tactics then Dean Smith's Carolina teams of the 80's.
But I learned, and have attempted to impart this wisdom on Renea, you have to be willing to walk away. I tell him to lay down, I will cover him, if he says "No Daddy." Then I tell him, "Good night, love you, see ya in the morning." I get half way down the stairs, and suddenly he turns into that car sales man that doesn't want to see his comission walk out the door, "Daddy! Cover Feet! Cover Feet!" which in two-year old speak means, "I'm laying down, I did what you want, now please cover me so I can sleep." I walk up the stairs, cover his feet, he isn't happy that he had to cave, so he calls for Mommy to lay with him, "Mommy too. Mommy too." I tell him Mommy is on the phone (which in our house is never a lie) and that he needs to go to sleep and be quiet. I say, "Love you Owen." As I walk down the stairs. I hear a, "Boo-Boo Daddy." (which is Owen for "I love you").
He isn't happy, some tears are shed, but he knows that he has lost, and that is hard at any age to handle.
Owen thinks he needs to stall with a series of ploys, first he won't lay down, then he won't let you cover him, then he wants to have a puppet show, all in order to keep you from turning off the light and leaving him to sleep. This kid has more stall tactics then Dean Smith's Carolina teams of the 80's.
But I learned, and have attempted to impart this wisdom on Renea, you have to be willing to walk away. I tell him to lay down, I will cover him, if he says "No Daddy." Then I tell him, "Good night, love you, see ya in the morning." I get half way down the stairs, and suddenly he turns into that car sales man that doesn't want to see his comission walk out the door, "Daddy! Cover Feet! Cover Feet!" which in two-year old speak means, "I'm laying down, I did what you want, now please cover me so I can sleep." I walk up the stairs, cover his feet, he isn't happy that he had to cave, so he calls for Mommy to lay with him, "Mommy too. Mommy too." I tell him Mommy is on the phone (which in our house is never a lie) and that he needs to go to sleep and be quiet. I say, "Love you Owen." As I walk down the stairs. I hear a, "Boo-Boo Daddy." (which is Owen for "I love you").
He isn't happy, some tears are shed, but he knows that he has lost, and that is hard at any age to handle.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Motivation
I have this file sitting on my desk. It has been sitting there since December 20th just mocking me. I have no idea what to do with this job. Where to start. My creative motivation to start this job is severly lacking. I have looked for possible photos to start the job, but none have the right feel or the right fit. So the job sits there, needing to be completed. Needing to be finished. I have done every meaningless, mindless job that has come in before this one so I don't have to sit there and stare at this job wondering what my next move will be, but alas I have finished all other jobs. It is the only one left, I must take it on. I must start somewhere. Surely there is something else I can do, something else to bide my time, but no the yellow folder sits there, looking like a job that should only take an hour, but has weighed on my mind for much much longer. I hate you little yellow folder.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
