A Long Time

I know, I know. It's been a long time. But I've been really busy at work and flyin' all over the place (more on that later) and talking about re-doing our house and banging my car against poles and getting rear-ended by crazy white chicks and programming remotes and writing the book and figuring out how all these new and exciting technological advancements are going to make our lives better and not just extending our otherwise endless periods of electronic clutter.

But I did make a new Ben video. Click HERE to see it, and I promise to write more.

A New Favorite

I have a new least favorite word -- rich media. Being bantered around like a supermodel. Basically, it means video and interactive stuff put together, but why can’t they just call it that?

Walking Man

My son's walking a lot more now. Goes for 20-30 steps before falling on his butt. Kinda looks like a guy on a unicycle. What could possibly be going through his big-little head at this point?

Technology As Psychological Torture

My life is complicated lately. I run at a very high speed, from the moment I wake up 'till the time I lay my tired little head upon my tempurpedic pillow. I think I may have been a very good stockbroker, ER doctor or school teacher -- for me, it's all about emergencies. Every task, every thought has to be captured and put in a place and dealt with so I can move on to the next. Thinking has its place, but like everything else, it's just a place.

It wasn't always this way. There was a time when I just let the thoughts roll through and see what came my way. Dreaming.

As I may have mentioned, I've been writing a book in my spare time; granted, not the book I thought I was going to write, but probably the only one I can write at this time. And like everything else, it has it's time and it's place.

I bought a copy of Filemaker Pro at work to take care of a database project that needed doing. Seemed like the best solution. As an added bonus, they offered to send me, at no additional charge, a copy of their "Application Suite." Sounded like a cool deal -- all I needed to do was register. So I did. And then I waited for the email with my download instructions and serial numbers. Days passed, yet no email. I tried again. No email.

When I had just about given up, I received 4 emails with information for a totally different product. Crap. I should have taken this as a hint. No, I went ahead and called customer service -- pushed my rights button as a consumer and asked for something for free -- not even knowing if I really needed it.

Well, I installed it and it seemed cool. A good way to keep track of to-do items and meeting notes and the like. Perfect for notes on my book.

So I took all the crumpled pieces of paper I had and typed them in and added to them in the only way a typed record can, and I threw the crumpled note scraps into the trash. A perfect filing.

So I thought. Later at the office, I opened the computer and started tapping in some new notes, and suddenly I had that strange feeling like something was missing -- that same feeling you have when you're in a cab to the airport for an international flight and you wonder if you packed your passport, even though you know you have. This time, I was wrong.

Filemaker is a bastard. Stupid thing lost my notes -- all of them -- discarded them like panties at a franternity party -- for no apparent reason -- no crash, no message, no warning. Just gone. Kaput.

I instantly called Marsha and asked her if she had emptied the trash. Luckily, she hadn't. I was saved. But why had this happen to me? What had I done wrong to Filemaker?

Whatever it was, I'm not going to depend on it to get things done. I've got too much to do.

I think einstein said it best:

"Technological progress is like an axe in the hands of a pathological criminal."

I'm in Love With a Writer

Tonight, Marsha said that certain things I do visually abuse her.

BREAKING NEWS

At dinner tonight, Marsha admitted she is "not a domestic goddess." Understatement? Perhaps a tad. It happened after I had made a mediocre dinner (except for a great beet salad listed below) which included Artichokes boiled in Old Bay Seasoning, Ginger BBQ chicken and Broccoli. As we were discussing the trevails of our day, Queen Not-a-Martha-Stewart started pulling the 'choke apart, muttering something about getting to the good part. Now granted, eating an artichoke can sometimes be a pain in the ass, but if you're gonna just rip a $3 artichoke apart to get to the heart, wouldn't you just be better off buying a $1.69 can and enjoying every heart one by one while watching Desperate Housewives? But maybe I'm missing the point here? Looks like it's gonna be Spam for Marsha the rest of the week.

Lou's Ginger Beet Salad

3 beets, baked, peeled & sliced
1 1/2 orange, sliced & quartered
1/2 tsp. fresh ginger, diced
1 tsp. balsamic vinegar
1 tsp. olive oil
salt & pepper

Wash the beets, slice off ends and wrap in tin foil. Bake at 350 for 30-40 minutes on a cookie sheet until a knife or fork pierces easily. Let cool and peel & slice. Combine all the other stuff and mix throughly. Chill, serve and remember you ate them the next day.

I Love L.A.

This is my old friend Greg (and I mean old, his grandmother and my grandfather were business partners way back when, so I guess that means, in some ways, we're blood). We're also incredibly stupid people. When we were kids, I somehow convinced Greg to get in a shopping cart and let me pull it behind my brother's Honda ZR-50 mini-bike that he got for his Bar Mitzvah. Needless to say, the experiment ended poorly.

Well, apparently, we didn't get it all out of our system when we were kids. We still get together (rather infrequently) to peddle up incredibly steep hills frequented only by nomadic mountain goats and democrats on their way to Canada, only to toss ourselves down single-track trails, through rivers and to the bottom of the hill. A lot of sweat, cramped legs and, if we're lucky, only a little blood.

A pretty good time. More PICS HERE

Short VIDEO HERE.

Lou's Killler Tuna Vegatable Salad

Killler Tuna Vegatable Salad
Originally uploaded by loomiswatoosi.

This is a low-fat, healthy salad I came up with today. It's easy, fast, and doesn't leave you feeling heavy afterward. Good with some crostini if you have it.

SALAD
18 oz. Fresh or 3 cans Tuna (pick your favorite)
2 celery stalks, finely chopped
2 carrots, peeled (all of it), then chopped
2 cups chopped lettuce
Bunch of cilantro
1 yellow pepper, roasted, peeled & chopped
2 tbs. capers

DRESSING
1 tb. prepared horseradish
juice of 1/2 lemon
1 tsp. sesame oil
1 tsp. olive oil
1/2 tsp. soy sauce
salt & pepper to taste

Mix it all up and serve cold.

I Want a Windmill

I was watching Teletubbies this afternoon with Ben. I have to admit, there was a time I loved those overgrown carpet samples, but now, I want to strangle Tinky Winky and his little friends. I know experts say that it's a good developmental tool, but I think my kid is going to grow up and take drugs just so he can see that vacuum cleaner with the buggy eyes.

For those of you who are fortunate enough to have not seen Teletubbies, it starts with the Teletubbies jummping around their little land like it's 1999 and then one of them gets switched on and a documentary video starts playing, usually about some kids in remote reaches of the world.

This afternoon's visit was with 2 very cool English kids who took us on a tour of their dad's windmill -- worn-out ladders, sacks of grain crushed by the grist wheel, lots of exposed brick and plaster.

Now I have a lot of material things in my life -- a car, a house, various electronic gadgets -- but none of them compare to that windmill. I don't know if it's my own flashback to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang or just a desire for simpler things, but I know this...those British kids sure are lucky.

Which One are You?

A friend of mine was telling someone she works with about some "man issues" she was having. The co-worker - a hard-working, straight-to-business kinda lady - told her there are two kind of men in this world: Roosters and Chickens.

Rooster-men are the tough, straight, stand up to the task and don't take no caca from anybody kinda bird, while Chicken-men-- well, you get the idea.

So I started to wonder about myself. Which one am I? There are times that I can sure be a woosie, and periodically have an avoid-it-at-all-costs approach to things like Chinese food delivery men; but then there are other times when I'll jump in the ring and whoop the ass of anybody or anything that gets in my way.

So I guess, for the most part, I live in the unenviable position of in-between, an ever-changing battle between action and passivity -- kinda like that weird chick who channels that dead Macedonian guy.

I guess you could say that I was bi-poultry.

A Marketing Messup

You've heard me rant on an on about how screwed up our education system is in the U.S. Most of my musings have focused on our primary education system and how it fails to prepare our children to excel in a modern world. But I would like to digress...no, actually, I would like to take a big U-turn by telling you that most of our country's advanced education system (except maybe doctors and masseuses...make that masseuses) is made up of a bunch of ego-maniacs spouting follow-me catch phrases to the willing.

At this point, you might be wondering to yourself, "What the hell does this have to do with the bottle at the top of this post?" Good question. Allow me to explain.

So I'm walking down the aisle of my local market with my wife after a delicious Japanese meal at Taiko (did I mention how much I hate shopping for food after eating? It's like re-freezing ice cream you've left out on the counter overnight -- what fun is that?). All around me in the stores are signs advertising this and that. Marsha's determined to find food to feed the rugrat and, since I'm not hungry, I'm walking around aimlessly -- kinda the same way I walked through all of those Houseware shops after we got engaged. The only good thing back then was that I had the portable barcode wand and could do screwy things like add a Christ Dip Plate to our registry.


But the market is different and so, stuffed to the gills from too much brown rice, I'm looking around at Protein Bars to help lose a couple of pounds. And then I see it. I don't know how I had missed it walking in. In fact, it was all around me, on banners and signs and little stickers.

Happy Cinco De Mayo

Maybe it was the sake, or just sheer exhaustion, but my mind went a little wild for a second and I could have sworn the sign said MAYO, like MAYONNAISE. And I'm thinking to myself, hhm, I don't think I've ever seen an ad compaign for one of my favorite items centered around the most logical thing in the universe: itself. Duh. These ad agencies have been so busy working on ways to get us to believe that Led Zeppelin wrote the jingle for Cadillac and that cows really do get together and talk about cheese that they've missed one of THE most simple and important campaigns in our lifetime.

Mayo has gotten a bad rap in the new world. It makes you fat, it's white/yellow and clumpy and, like a senior at an old age home, it doesn't smell very good if you leave it out uncovered all day. But here's a chance to turn it all around. Cinco De Mayo -- it's not just a party, it's a condiment. Think about it. No more B.S. i-this, i-that. Mayo can finally have it's own day. It sure would kick ketchup's ass.

So my message to any of you would-be or be-marketers out there is this: cut to the chase. Our world has become so crowded and so connected that you can't follow in other people's footsteps anymore -- you've got to strike out on your own and break new ground.

Just don't make it Mayo Margueritas.

U2: A Band on the Cutting Edge

Marsha and I went to the U2 concert last night. Awesome show. I hadn't seen them since 1987 when Phil Joanou, a director who worked in my building at Disney and liked to hit on my secretary (and later hooked up with Uma Thurman), shot Rattle and Hum -- their live concert film. Membership has it's perks.

They played a lot of songs from the new album last night but also reached way, way back to the "Boy" days. It's amazing after 20 years that they still play like a bunch of punk teenagers from Ireland. At the same time, they use tools and stagings that are so cutting edge (no wonder Apple chose them to launch iPOD) but that do not draw away from the most important thing -- their music. I call this technological elegance, where the choice to use a certain tool is based upon how appropriate it is; not how new or hip it is.

Perhaps the most exciting example came late in the concert, when Bono mentioned his involvement in One and wanted to illustrate just how important each individual is to a sense of global unity. Remember the old days of concert lighter tributes (Freebird! Freebird!). Well, since smoking's a Laker no-no in Staples Center, he used the next best thing: cell phones.

All the lights in the arena went out and all you could see was a massive sea of moving green and blue lights. Some flashing on and off, like lights on distant sea oil platforms. It was one of those moments where you said "of course." Pure elegance, and some amazing music.

The Wine Tasting

Just like this guy and this throughly leery dog, I can never take wine tastings seriously -- no matter what the venue. If you're at a store, or even better a vineyard, with all the accoutrements and stylings, you've got to laugh when a guy holds a custom-blown glass by the stem with 2 fingers, swirls the pouring, checks the color, "approaches" the bouquet, and finally sips the teensiest bit of wine into his mouth with a strange gurgling sound before spitting it out. Then, he (or she) starts describing the experience with words that only a bearded Wisconsin U. English Professor or Bard Historian on sabbatical (and acid) in Oxford would ever use. I mean, really, when it comes down to it, there are only two words to describe a wine: "yum" and "sucks." There are further classifications, like "hhm" and "suckier," but overall, it's really about those two.

Now Mike and Jackie do a really good job of getting people together from all different walks of life and making excellent excuses for such. There was the potluck BBQ a few years back, the ski trip to Mammoth (where Jackie threw out my pasta and baked cookies on paper towels (bad idea for you culinarily-challenged)) and Marsha and my engagement party. But the wine fete took the prize. Here's a perfectly non-sensical reason for a bunch of people to get together and drink. Shiraz? Cabernet? Nobody really cared, except for a guy named Gary who would do anything -- and I mean anything -- to win. He did.

More pictures HERE.

Global Balance

We men have a bit of an odd situation in the present world. On the one hand, we are told that things are becoming more competitive in America and that jobs are going overseas to young, eager, ambitious workers in India and China, and that our children will have it tougher and we better fix social security because, if we don't, our children's children will have major, catastrophic problems. And all along, housing prices are going up and the minimum wage stays flat and our public schools fall into a state of disrepair resembling the Jornada del Muerto Trail after the dropping of the first atomic bomb.

All this, and we're supposed to feel a connection to our work (and hopefully like it) and enjoy a good quality of life. But I have to tell you something. I was at dinner tonight with two hard working immigrants: probably the nicest people you will ever meet. And I was thinking about how hard they work, and what they believe in. And I thought about Ben, my son, and how I wish I could spend more time with him, but there is absolutely no way that I can do this all and still have time with him. It's just not possible.

And so, we men are stuck in a double-blind. Whether or not you have a family, you need to strike a balance between your personal life and your business life; without it, you are a 1-dimensional, obsessive. But our society makes it very hard to strike the balance. Our capatalist system has become so WIN WIN WIN that we've lost track of the more important thing. Work was always something that our ancestors did so they could LIVE. Cavemen went out on hunts so they could feed the clan and draw pictures on walls -- no more. Work has become an obsession. My question is: have we become a nation of over-workers scared of losing our jobs when in fact we're losing our lives?