Saturday, July 7, 2012

July 4th and Jarrod

This is Jarrod (left) and Justin preparing for our 4th of July front yard picnic this year. The backyard is so dry that we didn't want to risk starting a fire, so me moved to the front driveway. Lexie (youngest daughter) wanted to also camp out in the front yard, but we thought our great neighbors might complain with a tent pitched next to the driveway. Every family member got shirts with United States flags on them thanks to $21 and Wal-Mart.

Justin and Jarrod were also playing with their water cannons. After a while, I convinced them to try and shoot birds with water when the birds dived down towards the grill. After missing bird after bird, Jarrod gave up, and Justin decided to try and throw the whole bucket of water on the bird. Soooo, the bird flew down, Justin threw the water straight up, and was soaked from head to toe when the water came back down on his head. And he looked surprised. Sir Isaac Newton he ain't.

After feasting on breasts, grilled chicken breast that is, I changed the music to some funk, which made the girls start dancing. That's Deborah, Miranda, and Lexie in the middle of the picture. Justin is over at the side dancing like I dance, which is never pretty. The girls, on the other hand, have a different gear in their hips or something.

Changing the subject, but Jarrod has always had a very difficult time in school. When he started kindergarten, his teacher pulled me to the side and said, "he's not going to be ready for 1st grade next year. He's just not ready." So, we tried 1st grade for about a week before moving him back to kindergarten again. After repeating kindergarten, he did a little better, but still struggled. His 1st grade teacher completed an ADD diagnostic survey for our pediatrician, and Jarrod began ADD meds.

Still, school didn't get any easier, and during 3rd grade this year, we realized that Jarrod was going to need professional help to stay at grade level. After multiple testings, we settled on a program through Huntington Learning Centers, which he started this summer. You would think a kid wouldn't want to go to summer school, but Jarrod really likes it. This week, Jarrod got his name on the wall at Huntington for doing good work, and he was so proud he asked me to come inside and look at it. I took a picture because I know how hard it's been for Jarrod to learn, so it's very exciting to see him happy about learning.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Musical Taste

To each his own.


The following are on my iPod...and you might be offended by listening to the first one.

KoRn "Y'all Want A Single" (NSF Kids, or adults for that matter)

tool "Forty Six & 2"
Michael Crawford  "The Phantom of the Opera -- The Music of the Night"

Deborah is not in any way shape or form a fan of KoRn or tool. On the other hand, I think she loves the music from the Phantom of the Opera as much as I do. I'm a huge fan of progressive rock, which includes the groups Rush and tool, and when I'm working or working out, I love very heavy music. However, Andrew Lloyd Webber and cast touched me with the Phantom of the Opera. I could listen to the music from Phantom of the Opera every day, and it never gets old. Weird, huh?

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Ketchup & Catch Up

I took Deborah to Las Vegas to see Garth Brooks and to celebrate her birthday in April. Deborah's a big Garth fan. I, on the other hand, am anything but a country and western music fan, but I gotta tell ya, it was the best concert I've ever seen. And that's saying a lot since I spent about 2-1/2 years on the road doing concert lighting and sound, which means that I've been part of and seen hundreds of concerts.

If you ever get the chance, please go see Garth Brooks at The Wynn Las Vegas. It's worth every penny of the ticket price.

While killing some time one afternoon, I took a walk past The Riviera Hotel & Casino where I observed the Crazy Girls bronze statue.

My immediate response was... 
Just kidding. I ended up rubbing their asses like every other juvenile middle-aged male tourist since about 1980.

Remember, I went with my beautiful wife Deborah to celebrate her birthday,
so the picture of me with my tongue hanging out was taken by Deborah as I chased her on my hands and knees around our suite. But, chasing her with my tongue hanging out didn't work out the way I wanted, and it isn't really very romantic as I've learned. Soooooo, instead of looking a Deborah's beautiful body, I was told to look out our suite window at the adult pool at The Wynn. Now, if you look carefully at the picture, you will see one topless lady sunning by herself in the center of the picture. When you zoom in, like I did, you'll realize that either she needs bigger tits, or I need a better camera.
I can't write too much good stuff about The Wynn like I did The Venetian last September. Although we had a comparable 2-room suite and dined at the finest restaurants, the experience wasn't close to The Venetian. Sorry Steve Wynn, but the suites aren't better, and the food ain't all that. We did, however, bring 5 miniature bottles of Heinz tomato ketchup home with us from different room service meals. Judging by the price of room service, they must be collectibles, which I'm thinking one of the kids can sell on ebay for big bucks.
The only picture we got of the both of us during the trip was our flight back to Denver. When we arrived back home, the official birthday celebration began with the family. I had a cake created with Deborah jerking a barbell and her three kids--Dillon, Lexie, and Miranda--over her head. Except for Deborah's boobs, the likeness of the caricatures to the pictures I submitted to the bakery sucked. Cake Boss they ain't. 
But, Deborah did have a pretty good haul of fun gifts...

however, she still hasn't forgiven me for getting her age incorrect. The way I understand it now, her age asymptotically approached "50," but never actually reached 50 until it started decreasing and we began counting down. I think it has something to do with Einstein's relativity and traveling at or near the speed of light. Or something. Anyway, Deborah is NOT now, nor has she ever been, 50.

And if you could see her ass, you'd agree with her too.

Happy belated-blog birthday to my beautiful wife, Deborah. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I love you.

Monday, May 7, 2012

Day 5 -- Congrats

I love Deborah because...

Of the way she dances with Miranda in the kitchen, in the toy section, and next to the fresh cucumbers at King Soopers.

Congratulations to the Colorado Marathon finishers. I wish I could have been there doing my part.

Short today because I have to finish some projects for work.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Day 4 -- 2 + 2

I love Deborah because...

She has an amazing sense of humor.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't put two and two together."

"Oh God honey. You're a mathematician. How can you not put two and two together?!"

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Day 3 -- The Nanny

I love Deborah because...

She listens and asks questions.

We made a huge leap a few months ago by hiring a nanny. Gwen has worked for us on a part-time basis since last summer, and we finally brought her on full-time.

My best friend and his wife have a nanny, Yolita. Yolita couldn't drive, clean, or cook, but she was there to watch TV with the kids and go on vacations with the family. As Tom said, "I should have just adopted her."

Gwen is NOT like Yolita. She drives the kids everywhere, and cooks them meals. She also can crack a homework whip, and she's a therapist to boot, which means she's there to listen and counsel when we're all f_cked up. At least one of us is f_cked up on any given day, so Gwen definitely earns her pay.

Tom was right about one thing though. The nanny, Gwen in our case, works their way into a family, and it's kinka like we added an oldest daughter to the crew. Of course, that's meant in a very loving way, as in, anybody that messes with Gwen, messes with us. One might be able to get away with messing with me, but Deborah can, and will, kick some serious ass.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Day Two -- Bone Failure

I love Deborah because...

She is a prolific reader, sometimes reading 3 or 4 books at a time. By seeing the pleasure she derives from reading, not to mention the smarts she acquires, it got me reading for relaxation again.


I was supposed to be running the Colorado Marathon this weekend. As my long runs during training exceeded 14 miles, my left leg started to fail again. After several weeks of pushing through the pain, I gave in to the pain again and took a month off from running. Now I have to find a new race and start over.

Like last time, failure doesn't occur until my long runs start to exceed two hours, but it's not the time or distance that creates the problem.

It's my weight.

The only way that I'll be able to finish another marathon is if I can get my weight down to 230 lbs, which means that I have to drop about 40 lbs. I've done it before, so I'll get it done. I really enjoyed working with my coach during the training, and it's certainly not his fault that I couldn't get below 250 lbs. He encouraged me to run faster, and had me racing at a 9 minute pace, which I never thought that I would see again. As my weight starts to fall off, I'll be working with David Clark again.

While I'm referring to David Clark, I should note that his non-profit Superman Project is about to start its 300 mile Recovery Run. David will run across the state of Colorado to raise awareness for recovering alcoholics and addicts. If you can, visit the website and chip in a few bucks to support the run.

There's also a new documentary called 1Hundred that features David Clark as he ran the 2011 Leadville 100 trail race. I've never embedded a video before, but here's the trailer.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Day One

I love Deborah because...

In spite of all of my imperfections, she truly loves me.


Whoa. What happened?

I was posting somewhat regularly, then whomp, nothing. We's got a lot of catchin up to do over the next few weeks. A birthday, a vacation, some fragile bones, some jugs. I mean there's a lot to write about. And I got pictures too, including the jugs.

Today is Day One, tomorrow is Day Two.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Conservative Pumpkin Chunkin, (Wo)Men In Black, and Sweet Sixteen

I noted on my Facebook page that Justin, Jarrod, and I attended and voted in our first Republican Presidential Caucus. I voted for Rick Santorum, and I even donated to his campaign. It was great to get the boys involved in the democratic process, but what was even cooler was the guy sitting in the background in the denim jacket.

His name is Greg Wolfe, and as I was seated next to him, I noticed he was wearing a cap that said, "1st Place Pumpkin Chunkin," so I asked him about it. Come to find out he was the 2011 national champion and he lives right down the street from me. I thought this way cool. Deborah wasn't as impressed. His winning chunkin is on The Discovery Channel, and his team chuncked a pumpkin 2,033 feet--that's almost 1/2 a mile!!!

I took Miranda to get her haircut, and after walking the mall for an hour, I turned on my iPod and started people watching. Occasionally, some girl would walk by and I would get a knock-me-over whiff of perfume. It kept happening over and over, and I kept thinking damn beotches, back away from the pump. Then I looked across from me at a table of 5 people all wearing black. At first I thought it was a morticians business meeting because of all the black clothing, but finally, I saw them passing a bottle of something from person to person and letting each person spray until they absorbed the scent.

So, if you were one of the women that walked by while I was thinking you were wearing too much perfume, I apologize. It was really the (wo)men in black crew testing alien exterminating sprays. Luckily, I survived...barely.

Miranda is sweet 16 now. Here she is with Deborah and Lexie. Mom told her to stick her boobs out for the picture. All you Mountain Range dudes that read my blog better know that the boobs are not for closer examination or consumption until Deborah says so. So admire Miranda from down the hall, and talk to her or hug her when you meet, but keep your hands on your own junk until further notice.

I'm still preparing for the Colorado Marathon. Today, I managed a 12 mile long run on the treadmill, and I was actually really proud of myself. 2 hours on a treadmill takes quite a bit of discipline. My record is 18 miles on a treadmill, and I promise that won't happen again any time soon. My coach ran 24 hours on a treadmill one day last year -- almost 100 miles. Of course, he is a little nuts.

Monday, February 6, 2012

Frame of Reference

You know, little kids sometimes have accidents during the night as they sleep, which means the sheets have to be changed and washed until the next time. So, when Lexie walked out of her room on Saturday and saw Deborah changing the sheets on her bed, Lexie just naturally asked, "Mommy, did you pee in the bed?"

After the laughing stopped, Deborah explained to Lexie that sleeping on clean sheets is another reason to change sheets on a bed that doesn't involve pee.


Deborah was on a roll on Saturday after changing the sheets, and she decided to tidy up some books on the bookshelf and get rid of some old paperwork. We(!) like our house and lifestyles, and although some nosey relatives might think the house has a "lived in" disheveled look, we think it's just fine. In other words, it doesn't really bother us that toys are scattered everywhere most days, or that my office is organized in stacks of papers and file folders.

So when Miranda walked into the master bedroom on Saturday and saw neatness, she naturally inquired as if it's never happened before, "Mom, did you clean something?"

After the laughing stopped, Deborah explained to Miranda that walking through a room without breaking a toe on a stack of books is another reason to tidy things up occasionally.


So I'm lying in bed with Deborah this morning talking about stuff. I started to kiss her and she said, "I've been getting these strange headaches." So, I stopped, got off her, and replied, "It's probably me."

Deborah said, "No. If it was you, on our wedding day I would have had a headache."

I responded, "You were just too busy throwing up to have a headache I guess."

Deborah said, "Well...yeah...but you weren't causing headaches."

"Uh huh. Probably not your best anecdotal response."

"No, it probably wasn't, but I haven't had my coffee yet."

"Nice boobs."

"Now, I've got a headache." "A bad headache."


Congratulations to my coach, David Clark, who endured constant rain and muddy trails in Texas to finish the Rocky Raccoon 100 miler in a little over 20 hours. He's an animal, and definitely walks-the-walk.

He was kind enough to send me my interval workout for today via text message. Thanks coach, but shouldn't we take a day off or so to recover? I didn't think so.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Superman's Rocky Raccoon 100 Miler

That's my coach, David Clark, and as I've noted before, Dave is an ultramarathoner. This weekend Dave will be running the Rocky Raccoon 100 mile race in Huntsville, Texas. As he ran me through my speed intervals today, Dave told me that his goal is to break 20 hours.

Dave's 41st birthday is also on Sunday, so if he finishes in exactly 20 hours, which will be at midnight, he will also get to celebrate his birthday at the finish line.

He also told me to keep this secret, and given my readership it'll probably remain a secret, but he's really targeting 100 miles in less than 18 hours. So, all you running readers out there, please go to Dave's page, and send runner's love for the big race.


I saw that the record is like 12 hours. TWELVE HOURS(!) to run 100 miles. Forgive my math skills, but I think 100 miles is like 4 marathons. So, this dude, Ian Sharman, ran 12:44:33 last year. That's like running 3:11 marathons back to back to back to back.

I'm speechless...

and, fat, old, and slow.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Frosty's Sweating

Frosty's Frozen Sweaty and Melting 10 mile race was completed on Saturday, and my goal was 1:45:00 (10:30/mile pace). I finished in 1:45:36 over a measured distance of 10.06 miles, which resulted in a 10:29/mile pace. I considered it a win and goal accomplished. Below is a breakdown of my pace during the race.

Mile 1: 9:51
Mile 2: 9:57
Mile 3: 10:06
Mile 4: 10:15
Mile 5: 10:20
Mile 6: 10:31
Mile 7: 10:45
Mile 8: 10:54
Mile 9: 11:00
Mile 10: 11:15
Last 338.42 ft: 10:54

Obviously, I haven't conquered the negative split concept.

Believe it or not, I was happy with Saturday's race. I basically achieved my goal, and Deborah was there to greet me at the finish line with a big hug, even though I was soaked sweaty and my face was covered in salt. That's love.

Deborah was wearing her new Texas A&M University hooded sweatshirt, which made me proud and happy, but because we haven't worked out quick boob access, she didn't flash me her victory boobs. Too bad.

My coach tells me it's time to begin increasing mileage, and I'm ready. Ready in the sense that my mind is ready to begin increasing mileage. My fat ass, on the other hand, may require more convincing. At this point, I'm at a loss as to why weight isn't falling off my frame. I've been watching my intake and I've working out hard. It seems like I should be down by about 20 lbs by now, but I'm still hovering around 260 lbs, which is obvious in the picture. I was going to see if I plateaued in 2007 at about the same weight, but I can't find my log book.

I'm going to use Deborah's advice and incorporate some weight training and spinning on non-running days to keep the calorie burn up. Hopefully, I can drop 20 or 30 lbs by May. If I don't, a sub 4 hour Colorado Marathon simply will not happen.


Running and Conversing

During Rudolph's Revenge 10k and Frosty's Frozen 10 mile, I was behind girls that were chatting like they were on the phone. Not just a few words here or there, but detailed descriptions of Sally's new boyfriend's (blank)...and why Jen's skin can be so soft at 40...and how the the room's decor was calming during the 18 day labor before little Ulysses blessed her life.

It was so frickin annoying. Can't they at least act like this is hard? "Did you get water or Gatorade at the last aid station? Oh, me too. I like fruit-punch flavored unless it's made from a powder, but the lemon-lime is okay. The water tasted funky and had a little aftertaste. The volunteers were very friendly though, and did you see that girl's engagement ring? I could never wear those hair ties in the wind. Just too many tangles..."

In 2007, I ran with Carrie in the mountains, and she talked every step of the run. The best I could do was a few "yeah," "uh huh," and "uh uhs." I think it was stronger's way of letting me know where I stood on the conditioning ladder.

Before Christmas, I ran with a group from Life Time Fitness to look at Christmas Lights. My coach said, "you should come out. We have runner's of all abilities, and it will be fun." Only 7 runners showed up: two Ironman competitors, two ultramarathoners, two marathoners, and me. It was like a tempo run from hell keeping up, and I swear they weren't just talking during the run, they were singing frickin Christmas Carols.

I told Deborah that I'm buying an ipod.



I've been called Bubba all my life, but Deborah has taken to calling me "Bucko," as in "you think you know the answer, Bucko, but you don't have a clue," or "could you at least have printed out directions, Bucko?"

I kind of like being Bucko, so I'm officially changing my nickname to Bucko.

That's DrBucko to you, though.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Estes Christmas and Prostitution

I ask you, is this a runner's physique? Or, a middle-aged well-fed runner-in-my-dreams bod? 4 hour marathon my ass. I'll be lucky not to crack the asphalt during the Colorado Marathon. I recently meet some industry colleagues, and I was introduced as a "marathoner." Both of the colleagues were runners, and, in fact, both of my colleagues looked like distance runners. The expression on their face was priceless when they looked at me and thought about marathoning, and all I could say was, "I'm a Clydesdale," as if they couldn't tell. Onward...

The family spent Christmas in Estes Park. The girls--Lexie, Deborah, and Miranda--went a week before Christmas to enjoy time without the boys. Lexie is on the left, Deborah in the middle looking gorgeous, and Miranda on the right. They look happy, huh? After we arrived--"we" being the boys and I--there was a noticeable tension and change of expression in the house.

Before leaving for Estes Park, I stopped at Target to get a travel size shampoo. Everyday, I would get cleaned up, including shampooing my flowing locks of hair, and everyday, I would see my reflection in the mirror and wonder why my hair looked like it needed an oil change. After about 5 days, I looked at the bottle and realized that I had bought a travel size conditioner.

This is what I look like when Deborah calls my name.

The deer made several appearances at the house while we were in Estes Park. They would walk up to the back patio and look into the house. Deborah told me that the girls had walked around naked before we got to Estes, so I just assumed the deer wanted to check out the human female body while the girls lounged in their glass enclosed habitat. One morning, I got the nerve to open the back door and walk out on the patio.
One little deer came up and nibbled on my fingers. She must have thought that I looked grain-fed, so I could have some leftovers on my fingers. Either that or they thought I was Santa Claus. You know, bearded, fat, jolly, greasy hair, and all that.

Obviously, deer won't walk up and nibble human fingers unless someone has been feeding them, which is a big no-no. It was very difficult to resist throwing some corn out behind the house especially since at least one of the females looked pregnant. In Deborah's words, "Cold, pregnant, and hungry. My motherly instincts are telling me to feed them." Fortunately, we resisted temptation, which was incredibly difficult, and the deer wandered off. I ended up eating the corn.

After Christmas we returned to Denver, and on a quiet New Year's Eve night, Deborah and I watched a show on Showtime called "Gigolos." Neither of us were that impressed with the show, or the gigolos for that matter, but we keep watching episode after episode until midnight. During this, our conversation turned into a discussion of which of the two of us could make a living as a prostitute.

It put me in a bad spot cause ya don't want to tell your wife that she ain't got it goin on at 49, but on the other hand, you don't want to tell your wife that she would be a great ho. Looking at the pictures posted in this blog, it's pretty easy to conclude that Deborah would be the bread-winning prostitute between the two of us, and I would take care of her at home. I can hear it now, "I cooked a great dinner for you baby, and let me rub your feet after a long day at work. Or, would you rather I get you a nice warm douche?"

We digress into the weirdest conversations sometimes, but at least we're always laughing. Well, almost always.

Happy New Year!