With the Super Bowl coming up I thought I’d name this issue of Suburban Rogue using Roman Numerals. It’s the XVIIth best idea I ever had.
I’ve observed a lot of unusual things in the past couple of months and I’ve been delaying writing about them because I couldn’t seem to organize them into a coherent, well written narrative. Then, I thought, “Why worry about that now…”
So here goes…
I was at the grocery store recently when I passed a petite 30-ish woman doing overhead presses with two six-packs of V8 juice and talking to herself while briskly walking down the aisle. I also noticed she had very well defined biceps and triceps. So I now drink V8 juice, but it’s V8 light, since I’m not strong enough to do the overhead presses with the regular version.
The other day Mrs. R and I were at the local mall when we observed a man standing beside his pick-up truck while swinging a baseball bat. In January. In Colorado. His wife had their laptop out on the hood of their SUV, which was parked facing their pickup, and she was busily searching for directions. I offer no explanation for this, other than to say this couple had to be related to Delbert and Nadine, whom we met in the November 5, 2007 edition of Suburban Rogue .
Speaking of Delbert and Nadine, it’s time for another coveted Designating Underachievement in Marketing By Advertisers Selling Stuff (DUMBASS) Award. This weeks’ category is fast food, and the winner is Kentucky Fried Chicken for their new Hot Wings commercial:
We see a young lady bite into a hot wing and exclaim “Whoa. Didn’t see that coming.” I guess that’s a natural reaction when you bite into a hot wing and it, you know, tastes like a hot wing…
Earlier this year there was some tough weather up in the mountains, and heavy snows resulted in some avalanches that closed I-70 for a day or so, and stranded several dozen travelers. A local news anchor, in his gravest news anchor voice, intoned, “The avalanches were due to bad weather.” No kidding? Thanks for the insight there, Captain Obvious.
I saw a commercial on TV the other day for a product called Kinoki Foot Pads . Apparently you stick these things to the bottom of your feet right before bed, and toxins are magically drawn from your body, and collected on the pads. Hmmmmm, seems a little suspicious to me. What was it that P.T. Barnum said?
It’s also that time of year when nominations for Mother, Father, and Family of the Year start rolling in. Here are the early contenders:
Mother: To the mom who sent both of her kids to a local elementary school with ear infections and strep throat because, well, she had to go to work. Way to step up there mom!
Father: To the dad we saw at a local restaurant reading the newspaper while his two young daughters ate lunch. Hard to believe a guy with communication skills like that only gets to see the kids every other weekend…
Family: To the family at the local mega-warehouse store for looking to the future. When Junior asked if he could have a book, Mom said “You never read those damn books!” And Dad chimed in “You can use your own money to buy books. We’re only going to buy you the essentials.”
The future is bright, indeed…
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Confusion...
You can’t make this stuff up…
One evening, a month or so ago, I decided to run a quick errand. In my haste to leave, I left my cell phone sitting on the couch. Usually I just leave myself sitting on the couch, but that’s a topic for another blog.
I was gone longer than expected and Mrs. R became concerned that maybe I had developed car trouble and needed some help, so she decided to call me. She was sitting about 6 feet away from where I left my phone when she dialed my number.
Apparently my phone rang immediately after she dialed, and Mrs. R thought it was strange that someone else would be calling me at exactly the same time as she was, but she also knew that I was expecting a couple of calls. So Mrs. R answered my phone. It was very thoughtful of her, and I’m sure she had a nice conversation with herself…
What goes around comes around…
This past weekend, I went to the local building supply store to get some stuff, but mostly because I was running low on testosterone. Mrs. R said she might go visit her friend and run a couple of errands while I was gone.
I came home and unloaded the supplies to the backyard. Marci, our Golden Retriever, was excited to see me outside and was whining and generally making a nuisance of herself, and demanding to come outside with me. It’s really kind of annoying when she does this, and if you’re inside while it’s going on it’s impossible to ignore.
Anyway, a few minutes later I was standing in the garage on the exact spot where Mrs. R parks her car, you know, when she’s home, when my phone rang. It was Mrs. R, and she wanted to know if I was home yet.
“Yes” I said disgustedly, “I’m standing in the garage. How could you not know I’m here with all of the racket Marci is making?”
“I’m at the library honey. I’ll be home soon,” Mrs. R patiently explained. “Oh, and don’t forget to take your medicine. It’s on the counter…”
And now, for the encore performance…
One of our cats recently developed a problem that requires Mrs. R and me to give her an IV on a regular basis. We were at the Vets’ office for about an hour where they patiently trained us on how to do this relatively simple procedure. It was decided that Mrs. R would be the “needle-sticker-inner” and I would be the “cat-holder-downer.” We were told that it was very important for the inner workings of the IV bag to be kept sterile and to remember to change the needle before each use. It all seemed like sound advice to us.
The very next day, we were ready. To hang the IV, I had fashioned a hook from an old wire clothes hanger (it seemed important to us to have all four hands available) and we had converted to kids’ bathroom into a “treatment room.” All that was left to do was to change the needle and get going.
At this point I think it’s important to note that needles in the veterinary medicine world are every bit as sharp as needles in the human medicine world…
When Mrs. R tried to pull the needle out of the tube that runs from the IV, the protective cover came loose and she sliced her finger, at which time it started to bleed. I asked if she was OK, and she said yes, despite the drops of blood on her blouse.
I then offered to remove the needle, and being a “visual learner” I promptly sliced my finger in the exact same way as Mrs. R had.
Uh, one thing we forgot when we set up the treatment room was to stock it with basic first aid supplies.
So now we have two bleeding adults, an unharmed cat in desperate need of the IV, and no way to stop the bleeding fingers. Our options were to go downstairs and get some bandages, or call 911. We chose the former. So, while I stood in the bathroom with a Kleenex wrapped around my finger as I held it above my head, the wounded Mrs. R bravely went and found first aid supplies.
We were then able to successfully treat each others injuries, get the needle changed, and give the cat her IV.
I’m glad to report that the cat is doing just fine, but Mrs. R and I have a couple of sore fingers…
One evening, a month or so ago, I decided to run a quick errand. In my haste to leave, I left my cell phone sitting on the couch. Usually I just leave myself sitting on the couch, but that’s a topic for another blog.
I was gone longer than expected and Mrs. R became concerned that maybe I had developed car trouble and needed some help, so she decided to call me. She was sitting about 6 feet away from where I left my phone when she dialed my number.
Apparently my phone rang immediately after she dialed, and Mrs. R thought it was strange that someone else would be calling me at exactly the same time as she was, but she also knew that I was expecting a couple of calls. So Mrs. R answered my phone. It was very thoughtful of her, and I’m sure she had a nice conversation with herself…
What goes around comes around…
This past weekend, I went to the local building supply store to get some stuff, but mostly because I was running low on testosterone. Mrs. R said she might go visit her friend and run a couple of errands while I was gone.
I came home and unloaded the supplies to the backyard. Marci, our Golden Retriever, was excited to see me outside and was whining and generally making a nuisance of herself, and demanding to come outside with me. It’s really kind of annoying when she does this, and if you’re inside while it’s going on it’s impossible to ignore.
Anyway, a few minutes later I was standing in the garage on the exact spot where Mrs. R parks her car, you know, when she’s home, when my phone rang. It was Mrs. R, and she wanted to know if I was home yet.
“Yes” I said disgustedly, “I’m standing in the garage. How could you not know I’m here with all of the racket Marci is making?”
“I’m at the library honey. I’ll be home soon,” Mrs. R patiently explained. “Oh, and don’t forget to take your medicine. It’s on the counter…”
And now, for the encore performance…
One of our cats recently developed a problem that requires Mrs. R and me to give her an IV on a regular basis. We were at the Vets’ office for about an hour where they patiently trained us on how to do this relatively simple procedure. It was decided that Mrs. R would be the “needle-sticker-inner” and I would be the “cat-holder-downer.” We were told that it was very important for the inner workings of the IV bag to be kept sterile and to remember to change the needle before each use. It all seemed like sound advice to us.
The very next day, we were ready. To hang the IV, I had fashioned a hook from an old wire clothes hanger (it seemed important to us to have all four hands available) and we had converted to kids’ bathroom into a “treatment room.” All that was left to do was to change the needle and get going.
At this point I think it’s important to note that needles in the veterinary medicine world are every bit as sharp as needles in the human medicine world…
When Mrs. R tried to pull the needle out of the tube that runs from the IV, the protective cover came loose and she sliced her finger, at which time it started to bleed. I asked if she was OK, and she said yes, despite the drops of blood on her blouse.
I then offered to remove the needle, and being a “visual learner” I promptly sliced my finger in the exact same way as Mrs. R had.
Uh, one thing we forgot when we set up the treatment room was to stock it with basic first aid supplies.
So now we have two bleeding adults, an unharmed cat in desperate need of the IV, and no way to stop the bleeding fingers. Our options were to go downstairs and get some bandages, or call 911. We chose the former. So, while I stood in the bathroom with a Kleenex wrapped around my finger as I held it above my head, the wounded Mrs. R bravely went and found first aid supplies.
We were then able to successfully treat each others injuries, get the needle changed, and give the cat her IV.
I’m glad to report that the cat is doing just fine, but Mrs. R and I have a couple of sore fingers…
Monday, December 17, 2007
Dan Fogelberg
It was the summer of 1975 and I, along with some friends (who are now readers of this blog), had tickets to a Dan Fogelberg/Eagles concert at Red Rocks. My two favorite artists on the same bill, at the best place on the planet to hear live music, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect concert!Unfortunately, when my friends and I arrived at Red Rocks, we discovered that Dan Fogelberg had tonsillitis or strep throat and would not be performing that night. Instead, Tom Waits would open. This was disappointing since most of us were not familiar with Waits’ music, and he often sounded as though he had a sore throat…
A few years later, after I had met, fallen in love with, and married a beautiful young woman, another opportunity to see Dan Fogelberg at Red rocks came along. We eagerly headed to Red Rocks, and he performed that evening. It was a magical night, despite the driving rainstorm that blew through early in the first set.
As I think back upon things now (and I know this is somewhat of a cliché) Dan Fogelberg’s music was a backdrop to my younger years…
The rollicking songs,
Love when you can
Cry when you have to
Be who you must
That's a part of the plan
Await your arrival with simple survival
And one day we'll all understand
One day we'll all understand
(Part of the Plan 1974)
(Part of the Plan 1974)
The poetic lyrics,
Once in a vision I came on some woods
And stood at a fork in the road
My choices were clear yet I froze with the fear
Of not knowing which way to go
Oh, one road was simple acceptance of life
The other road offered sweet peace
When I made my decision
My vision became my release
(Nether Lands 1977)
(Nether Lands 1977)
And the beautiful melodies…
Listen to “Same Old Lang Syne” from the 1981 album “The Innocent Age,” and then listen to Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” (at about 4 minutes in). You will notice some remarkable similarities in the melodies of these two songs. Dan Fogelberg did as well, and thanks a “P.I. Tchaikovsky” for his inspiration on the liner notes of “The Innocent Age.”
Dan Fogelberg composed and recorded some of his best music while living near Boulder in the 70’s and 80’s, and I bought most of those albums. Still have ‘em too. His music deeply touched me and that beautiful young woman I married, and it still does, even today.
Dan Fogelberg is the first of my generations’ music icons to leave us.
He died this past Sunday. He was 56…
Sunday, December 16, 2007
City of Angels
Five or so years ago, after a business trip to San Francisco, Son Rogue came out and we spent a long weekend in the City by the Bay, and had a great time. A couple of weeks ago it was finally Daughter Rogues’ turn.My week started in Seattle, where my coworkers and I got to enjoy the 2nd wettest day in the history of the Emerald City - enjoyable in a webbed-foot sort of a way. We did, however, make it down to the waterfront for a dinner at a place called Ivars
The food was delicious, I had the Seared Northwest Wild Salmon and it was the best salmon I ever had. If you’re ever in Seattle, give Ivars a try. Just be careful though, and watch out for the petite, curly-haired waitress. She is a food snob, and doesn’t like people who eat animals. Other than that she’s a lovely girl. Oh, except for the part where she tried to stick us with extra bowls of chowder and appetizers on our check. For the remainder of our trip, our waitress was known simply as “Ultra-Bitch.”
The next night our team was in Berkeley and we again found ourselves at a seafood place at dinner time, Spengers Fresh Fish Grotto.
This restaurant is also worth a try. Just remember that you’re in Berkeley, and it’s kinda like Boulder on steroids…
On Wednesday midday we were in Sacramento for another meeting. It was warm and sunny and we ate lunch on the deck at the Blue Gecko, which you may or may not have read about in the Feb 8 edition of Suburban Rogue
We got up early on Thursday and flew to Orange County, for our fifth and final meeting of the week. Afterwards, I met DR at John Wayne Airport; we rented a car, and were off to Hollywood. Well actually Studio City, to our hotel.
We decided to have a pizza and dine on the patio of our 4th floor hotel room. You don’t get to do that much in December in Colorado. I volunteered to order the pizza…
“Mamas and Papas Pizza, what’s up dude?”
“Yeah I’d like to order a pizza for delivery.
“Awwwright! We got some tasty pies maaan.”
Do you deliver to the Sportsmen’s Lodge Hotel?”
“Is that the big one on Ventura?”
“Yes”
‘Uh, I dunno… Hang on, dude.”
It occurred to me that I was having a real life conversation with Jeff Spicoli
Friday we woke to a cool cloudy morning and decided to go sightseeing, and hope for better weather on Saturday. We headed to Pasadena and went to the Rose Bowl, but we couldn’t get past the very large security guard. The stadium is a beautiful setting, and sits in a natural bowl with mountains to the north and east. While in Pasadena, we did not see any Little Old Ladies…
“Is that the big one on Ventura?”
“Yes”
‘Uh, I dunno… Hang on, dude.”
It occurred to me that I was having a real life conversation with Jeff Spicoli
Friday we woke to a cool cloudy morning and decided to go sightseeing, and hope for better weather on Saturday. We headed to Pasadena and went to the Rose Bowl, but we couldn’t get past the very large security guard. The stadium is a beautiful setting, and sits in a natural bowl with mountains to the north and east. While in Pasadena, we did not see any Little Old Ladies…
We then drove along Mulholland drive, and were treated to some spectacular views of Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley. For lunch we went to Hollywood, to the In-N-Out Burger across the street from Hollywood High School. There was quite a collection of characters in this fast food joint. Some of them might have actually been contributing members of society…
Somewhere that day we drove past a sign for Occidental College. DR wondered if that was where poor spellers Accidentally went to college…
We spent most of Saturday at Universal Studios where, as you can see, I purchased a new car. I’ve always wanted a Dodge Charger, and they just happened to have one. It was a little pricey, but what the heck. Just don’t tell Mrs. R…
On Saturday night, DR and I got all gussied up and she took me to a restaurant in Santa Monica called The Lobster , it is one of the Top 10 Seafood Restaurants in the Los Angeles area. This is a very cool, very hip place located right on the edge of the Santa Monica Pier. We enjoyed a terrific dinner, DR had Chilean Sea Bass and I had Crab Cakes, and then we followed it up with Wild Blueberry Cobbler for dessert, and a walk along the Santa Monica Pier. What a special evening!
Sunday was bright and sunny and warm, just in time for our trip home to a frigid Denver. We went back to Santa Monica, did a little sightseeing in the daylight, and then caught our plane home. It was 12 degrees when we landed Sunday evening, about 50 degrees colder than where we left, but it didn’t really seem that cold after such a great weekend.
P.S.
Another of our readers is having some health issues right now, so please keep a good thought for her… Thanks!
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Homecoming
Thirty-two years is a long time…
The other day a friend sent me an e-mail that she had gotten which contained some photographs from a 1970’s era JC Penney catalog. The author of the original e-mail was having a great time making fun of the styles, and who could blame him? It was simultaneously hilarious and sobering to see those pictures. To think that my generation once looked that way (bad hair, bad clothes) is troubling…
Anyway, the photos sent me for a brief trip down memory lane, to my senior year of high school and the fall of 1975.
I really was not a BMOC at my high school, probably more of a Medium MOC, but I was an ambitious 17 year-old, and was always looking for opportunities to move into that upper echelon.
One afternoon during homecoming week, I received a call from a cheerleader asking me if I wanted to participate in a kissing contest with all of the cheerleaders during the pep assembly of homecoming week. Even for me, this was a no-brainer, and I eagerly accepted her invitation. I checked with my buddies, Bill and Mark and Doug, and they too had been asked to participate. We saw this as our chance to make the move to BMOC status (although in reality, Mark may have already been there).
The pep assembly went along as pep assemblies did in the 70’s, building toward the grand finale, the kissing contest.
All of the participants were then asked to come down to the gym floor where we were seated in front of about 1500 people (it was a big suburban high school) in a row of folding chairs that stretched across one end of the gym.
We were then told that we would be blindfolded, kissed by a cheerleader, then be asked to rate the kiss. Seemed easy enough.
As we were being blindfolded we were a) eager with excitement that we were finally going to get to kiss a cheerleader and b) eager with excitement that we were finally going to move up to BMOC. We anxiously waited for the cheerleaders…
The PA announcer said “Bring the girls out!” and as they entered the gym it erupted into a cacophony of laughter, hoots, hollers and whistles…
It was at this point that I began to suspect something was terribly wrong…
The girls lined up behind us, and when it was your turn the girl standing behind you would lean over and give you a kiss. As I recall I rated the kiss kind of low. After all of the guys had rated their kisses, the girls were asked to come around and stand in front of us, and our blindfolds were removed.
We looked up to see our mothers standing directly in front of us… That’s right, we all had just kissed our moms in front of the entire high school!
Take a close look at the picture at the top of this blog, it’s from my senior yearbook. That’s me, kissing my mom at the homecoming pep assembly, in front of my entire high school…
I never did make it to BMOC…
P.S.
50 bonus points for anyone who can identify the aerial photograph at the top of the blog.
For you AHS-ers, only 25 bonus points…
The other day a friend sent me an e-mail that she had gotten which contained some photographs from a 1970’s era JC Penney catalog. The author of the original e-mail was having a great time making fun of the styles, and who could blame him? It was simultaneously hilarious and sobering to see those pictures. To think that my generation once looked that way (bad hair, bad clothes) is troubling…
Anyway, the photos sent me for a brief trip down memory lane, to my senior year of high school and the fall of 1975.
I really was not a BMOC at my high school, probably more of a Medium MOC, but I was an ambitious 17 year-old, and was always looking for opportunities to move into that upper echelon.
One afternoon during homecoming week, I received a call from a cheerleader asking me if I wanted to participate in a kissing contest with all of the cheerleaders during the pep assembly of homecoming week. Even for me, this was a no-brainer, and I eagerly accepted her invitation. I checked with my buddies, Bill and Mark and Doug, and they too had been asked to participate. We saw this as our chance to make the move to BMOC status (although in reality, Mark may have already been there).
The pep assembly went along as pep assemblies did in the 70’s, building toward the grand finale, the kissing contest.
All of the participants were then asked to come down to the gym floor where we were seated in front of about 1500 people (it was a big suburban high school) in a row of folding chairs that stretched across one end of the gym.
We were then told that we would be blindfolded, kissed by a cheerleader, then be asked to rate the kiss. Seemed easy enough.
As we were being blindfolded we were a) eager with excitement that we were finally going to get to kiss a cheerleader and b) eager with excitement that we were finally going to move up to BMOC. We anxiously waited for the cheerleaders…
The PA announcer said “Bring the girls out!” and as they entered the gym it erupted into a cacophony of laughter, hoots, hollers and whistles…
It was at this point that I began to suspect something was terribly wrong…
The girls lined up behind us, and when it was your turn the girl standing behind you would lean over and give you a kiss. As I recall I rated the kiss kind of low. After all of the guys had rated their kisses, the girls were asked to come around and stand in front of us, and our blindfolds were removed.
We looked up to see our mothers standing directly in front of us… That’s right, we all had just kissed our moms in front of the entire high school!
Take a close look at the picture at the top of this blog, it’s from my senior yearbook. That’s me, kissing my mom at the homecoming pep assembly, in front of my entire high school…
I never did make it to BMOC…
P.S.
50 bonus points for anyone who can identify the aerial photograph at the top of the blog.
For you AHS-ers, only 25 bonus points…
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Metamorphosis
Earlier this week, the people I work for were nice enough to send me on an almost all expenses paid trip to the desert of northeastern California. My assignment was to perform an investigation of a building in which the roof beams had cracked. Now I know that looking at cracks is not that interesting for most of you, but for guys like me it doesn’t get much better. Fortunately for all of us, there aren’t that many guys like me….
I flew into the Rogue Valley International Airport in Medford, Oregon, and boy were my arms tired… (Sorry I couldn’t resist….)
Rogue Valley International
Medford sits in the Rogue Valley, which was apparently named after bloggers with marginal talent. Well, either that or the Rogue River.
The Rogue River valley was originally inhabited by Native Americans who lived along the banks of the river. The river got its name because of this, and was known as “The River of the Rogues.”
Rogue River
On the flight to Medford our plane flew a little to the west and a few thousand feet above Mt. Shasta. The mountain was on my side of the plane and we were treated to a spectacular view of this snow-capped peak. Geologically speaking, Mt. Shasta is classified as a “Big Damn Mountain,” and rises approximately 10, 000 feet above the surrounding valley floor and topping out at 14,179 feet.
Mt. Shasta
On Saturday, Mrs. R and I went to the CU-Oklahoma game in Boulder. Before the game we went to the bookstore and loaded up on some gear, then headed over to the field surrounding the Benson Earth Sciences building where the Alumni Association sets up a big ol’ tent, has some live music, and serves some good food. We were treated to a performance by the Golden Buffalo Marching Band, and then all of us got up and followed the band into the stadium.
The field around the Benson Earth Sciences building was previously known as Brackett Field, and was used primarily as a site for intramural sports such as flag football and coed softball. As a student in the fall of 1979, I was asked by some junior high buddies of mine to join their flag football team. Being all too aware of our athletic ability, we signed up for the B-League tier, which was the lowest classification possible.
I played tight end on offense, and defensive end on defense. My role in the offense was to stand at the end of line and, “if nobody else is open, maybe we’ll throw it to you.”
On defense, I was to stand at the end of the line and “if somebody runs near you carrying the ball, grab their flag.”
B-League Intramural Flag Football offenses and defenses were very sophisticated in those days….
A few days before our first “practice” I read in the school paper that the Boulder Gay Liberation (BGL) was going to field two intramural teams in the fall semester, women’s volleyball and men’s flag football. I thought to myself “that’s cool; they should be involved in all of the campus activities.”
I went to our first practice; eager to show the guys how good I was at standing at the end of the line. I saw our captain, shook his hand and said “so, who is first game against”? The poor guy turned ashen, beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and in a quivering voice he said “dude, we’ve got to win…”
It took me a few seconds, but then I got it. Our first game was going to be against the BGL. Now, intramurals was supposed to be a fun, low-stress, no-pressure way to get some exercise. But our team quickly realized that the all of the heterosexual men on campus would be counting on us. So much for fun, low-stress, no-pressure exercise…
At this time, the future Mrs. R and I had been dating for about a month or so. My father-in-law-to-be conveyed a message to me, through her, that said, “If you wish to continue seeing my daughter and to be welcome in my home, you better win the damn game!” So much for fun, low-stress, no-pressure exercise…
Game day was suddenly upon us, it was one of those glorious Colorado fall afternoons, with warm temperatures and clear blue skies. My roommate, who was also a teammate, and I left our dorm and made our way to Brackett Field. As we approached the field, we noticed quite a bit of folks surrounding the west end of the field, where our game was to take place.
Those folks included news trucks from a couple of the Denver news stations, and an all-male cheerleading squad wearing lavender shirts and white knit pants. They called themselves the “Lavender Express,” a not-to-subtle reference to the Denver Broncos Pony Express cheerleaders.
There were dozens of spectators surrounding the field, which was unusual for intramural sports. Most of the time, spectators included only the girlfriends of the two guys on the team that actually had girlfriends.
Late adolescence can be a difficult time for men, (actually anytime can be a difficult time for men, but I’ll save that for another blog) and so the unwritten code of flag football was that you used the shotgun formation for all offensive plays, be they run or pass. This was primarily done in case a couple of gorgeous coeds were to wander near the field as you were taking a snap… So our team used the shotgun, however, the BGL quarterback took the more conventional approach, and ahem, got right up under the center…
Anyway, once the game started, you forgot about all of the extra-curricular nonsense going on around the field, and played and had fun. The BGL was a good bunch of guys and they played just as hard as we did. We treated each other with respect, both sides had a lot laughs, and no one was injured. After the game, we shook hands and wished each other good luck for the rest of the season.
The final score of that game is lost to history, but let’s just say that I was allowed to continue seeing the future Mrs. R. Some video clips from the game were shown on the evening news, much to the delight of my future father-in-law, and our team went on the win the B-League Intramural Flag Football championship that year.
Last Saturday, the real football players played. Oklahoma was ranked No. 3 coming into the game and listed as a 22 point favorite. We sat up high again, and had a beautiful view of the Flatirons to the south and the mountains to the west. At the start of the game our seats were shaded by the club level seats behind us. Also, we were surrounded on three sides by OU fans.
The guy sitting next to Mrs. R., and clad in OU regalia from head to toe, asked “will it get warm when ‘at sun comes ‘round the stadium?” What I wanted to say was, “Yes, it’s the same sun you have in Oklahoma, and it makes things warm. It’s of the reasons there’s life on this planet, and because of that we get to spend our leisure time enjoying college football.” Instead, I just said “yes” and was met with a skeptical look from Mr. OU.
During timeouts scores from other games are often shown on the scoreboard. At one point the score of the Kentucky- Florida Atlantic game was flashed, and it showed Kentucky to be ahead.
I heard these sounds from Mr. OU No.2 sitting behind us.
“YepKintuckayzzzzzzzpurdygoodnissyeer.”
I had to consult with several linguistics experts, and as best as can be determined, what was actually being said was:
“Yes. The University of Kentucky has a fine football team this season.”
The Buff defense played very well once again, but the offense was having some trouble. The Sooners led 17-7 at the half. I told Mrs. R that the score was closer than I thought would be.
With 2-1/2 minutes gone in the third quarter, Oklahoma scored again, making it 24-7. I told Mrs. R. that is was over, the roof was going to cave on the Buffs, that I’d seen this happen more times than I care to remember. I was quickly chastised as being “Oh ye of little faith. Come on dude, it’s your team, don’t give up.”
She was right of course. Midway though the third quarter, CU kicked a field to make it 24-10, and that’s how the third quarter ended.
Then two amazing things happened. Mrs. R began to transform into a CU football fan before my very eyes. She was, yelling and screaming, and she even sung a couple of bars of the fight song. I started tearing up, and not because the Buffs were making a comeback.
Down on the field, the Buffs suddenly found their running game, and began to move the ball with some authority. With about four minutes left, the Buffs tied it up at 24.
The stadium was rocking. There was cheering, yelling, screaming, and big smiles on all of the Buffs fans.
Oklahoma got the ball back and went three and out. CU returned the ensuing punt to midfield, then calmly drove down to the Sooner 28 yard line and kicked the winning field goal as time expired!
Mrs. R and I screamed, high-fived each other and every CU fan we could reach, the students stormed the field, and it was the greatest afternoon ever at Folsom Field.
And one more thing very important thing folks. One of our readers is having some health issues right now, and will be having surgery week after next. Keep a good thought or two for her…
I flew into the Rogue Valley International Airport in Medford, Oregon, and boy were my arms tired… (Sorry I couldn’t resist….)
Rogue Valley International
Medford sits in the Rogue Valley, which was apparently named after bloggers with marginal talent. Well, either that or the Rogue River.
The Rogue River valley was originally inhabited by Native Americans who lived along the banks of the river. The river got its name because of this, and was known as “The River of the Rogues.”
Rogue River
On the flight to Medford our plane flew a little to the west and a few thousand feet above Mt. Shasta. The mountain was on my side of the plane and we were treated to a spectacular view of this snow-capped peak. Geologically speaking, Mt. Shasta is classified as a “Big Damn Mountain,” and rises approximately 10, 000 feet above the surrounding valley floor and topping out at 14,179 feet.
Mt. Shasta
On Saturday, Mrs. R and I went to the CU-Oklahoma game in Boulder. Before the game we went to the bookstore and loaded up on some gear, then headed over to the field surrounding the Benson Earth Sciences building where the Alumni Association sets up a big ol’ tent, has some live music, and serves some good food. We were treated to a performance by the Golden Buffalo Marching Band, and then all of us got up and followed the band into the stadium.
The field around the Benson Earth Sciences building was previously known as Brackett Field, and was used primarily as a site for intramural sports such as flag football and coed softball. As a student in the fall of 1979, I was asked by some junior high buddies of mine to join their flag football team. Being all too aware of our athletic ability, we signed up for the B-League tier, which was the lowest classification possible.
I played tight end on offense, and defensive end on defense. My role in the offense was to stand at the end of line and, “if nobody else is open, maybe we’ll throw it to you.”
On defense, I was to stand at the end of the line and “if somebody runs near you carrying the ball, grab their flag.”
B-League Intramural Flag Football offenses and defenses were very sophisticated in those days….
A few days before our first “practice” I read in the school paper that the Boulder Gay Liberation (BGL) was going to field two intramural teams in the fall semester, women’s volleyball and men’s flag football. I thought to myself “that’s cool; they should be involved in all of the campus activities.”
I went to our first practice; eager to show the guys how good I was at standing at the end of the line. I saw our captain, shook his hand and said “so, who is first game against”? The poor guy turned ashen, beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and in a quivering voice he said “dude, we’ve got to win…”
It took me a few seconds, but then I got it. Our first game was going to be against the BGL. Now, intramurals was supposed to be a fun, low-stress, no-pressure way to get some exercise. But our team quickly realized that the all of the heterosexual men on campus would be counting on us. So much for fun, low-stress, no-pressure exercise…
At this time, the future Mrs. R and I had been dating for about a month or so. My father-in-law-to-be conveyed a message to me, through her, that said, “If you wish to continue seeing my daughter and to be welcome in my home, you better win the damn game!” So much for fun, low-stress, no-pressure exercise…
Game day was suddenly upon us, it was one of those glorious Colorado fall afternoons, with warm temperatures and clear blue skies. My roommate, who was also a teammate, and I left our dorm and made our way to Brackett Field. As we approached the field, we noticed quite a bit of folks surrounding the west end of the field, where our game was to take place.
Those folks included news trucks from a couple of the Denver news stations, and an all-male cheerleading squad wearing lavender shirts and white knit pants. They called themselves the “Lavender Express,” a not-to-subtle reference to the Denver Broncos Pony Express cheerleaders.
There were dozens of spectators surrounding the field, which was unusual for intramural sports. Most of the time, spectators included only the girlfriends of the two guys on the team that actually had girlfriends.
Late adolescence can be a difficult time for men, (actually anytime can be a difficult time for men, but I’ll save that for another blog) and so the unwritten code of flag football was that you used the shotgun formation for all offensive plays, be they run or pass. This was primarily done in case a couple of gorgeous coeds were to wander near the field as you were taking a snap… So our team used the shotgun, however, the BGL quarterback took the more conventional approach, and ahem, got right up under the center…
Anyway, once the game started, you forgot about all of the extra-curricular nonsense going on around the field, and played and had fun. The BGL was a good bunch of guys and they played just as hard as we did. We treated each other with respect, both sides had a lot laughs, and no one was injured. After the game, we shook hands and wished each other good luck for the rest of the season.
The final score of that game is lost to history, but let’s just say that I was allowed to continue seeing the future Mrs. R. Some video clips from the game were shown on the evening news, much to the delight of my future father-in-law, and our team went on the win the B-League Intramural Flag Football championship that year.
Last Saturday, the real football players played. Oklahoma was ranked No. 3 coming into the game and listed as a 22 point favorite. We sat up high again, and had a beautiful view of the Flatirons to the south and the mountains to the west. At the start of the game our seats were shaded by the club level seats behind us. Also, we were surrounded on three sides by OU fans.
The guy sitting next to Mrs. R., and clad in OU regalia from head to toe, asked “will it get warm when ‘at sun comes ‘round the stadium?” What I wanted to say was, “Yes, it’s the same sun you have in Oklahoma, and it makes things warm. It’s of the reasons there’s life on this planet, and because of that we get to spend our leisure time enjoying college football.” Instead, I just said “yes” and was met with a skeptical look from Mr. OU.
During timeouts scores from other games are often shown on the scoreboard. At one point the score of the Kentucky- Florida Atlantic game was flashed, and it showed Kentucky to be ahead.
I heard these sounds from Mr. OU No.2 sitting behind us.
“YepKintuckayzzzzzzzpurdygoodnissyeer.”
I had to consult with several linguistics experts, and as best as can be determined, what was actually being said was:
“Yes. The University of Kentucky has a fine football team this season.”
The Buff defense played very well once again, but the offense was having some trouble. The Sooners led 17-7 at the half. I told Mrs. R that the score was closer than I thought would be.
With 2-1/2 minutes gone in the third quarter, Oklahoma scored again, making it 24-7. I told Mrs. R. that is was over, the roof was going to cave on the Buffs, that I’d seen this happen more times than I care to remember. I was quickly chastised as being “Oh ye of little faith. Come on dude, it’s your team, don’t give up.”
She was right of course. Midway though the third quarter, CU kicked a field to make it 24-10, and that’s how the third quarter ended.
Then two amazing things happened. Mrs. R began to transform into a CU football fan before my very eyes. She was, yelling and screaming, and she even sung a couple of bars of the fight song. I started tearing up, and not because the Buffs were making a comeback.
Down on the field, the Buffs suddenly found their running game, and began to move the ball with some authority. With about four minutes left, the Buffs tied it up at 24.
The stadium was rocking. There was cheering, yelling, screaming, and big smiles on all of the Buffs fans.
Oklahoma got the ball back and went three and out. CU returned the ensuing punt to midfield, then calmly drove down to the Sooner 28 yard line and kicked the winning field goal as time expired!
Mrs. R and I screamed, high-fived each other and every CU fan we could reach, the students stormed the field, and it was the greatest afternoon ever at Folsom Field.
And one more thing very important thing folks. One of our readers is having some health issues right now, and will be having surgery week after next. Keep a good thought or two for her…
Monday, September 17, 2007
Buffaloed
Daughter Rogue and I went to the CU vs. Florida State Seminoles game Saturday night. I’m the "skinny" guy in black….DR was mortified when I asked her to take this picture. She told everyone who walked by “He’s not my Dad!” And “I don’t even know who this guy is. He just asked me to take his picture. What a dork.”
The fun started a couple of hours earlier when DR came over before the game and remarked about my new CU (it’s not yellow, its gold) flag which I now proudly fly every game day, “Nice flag Dad. You’re a major nerd.” Ouch…
I was, however, glad to be upgraded from nerd to dork the closer we got to kickoff.
As we entered the stadium, I overheard a lot of people asking “Dude, what’s a Seminole?” I’m always so proud when the students of my alma mater display their depth of knowledge and an awareness of other cultures…
The Seminoles are Native Americans originally from Florida, with groups now living in both Florida and Oklahoma. They have the distinction of being the only Indian tribe that has never signed a peace treaty with the United States, and are known as the “Unconquered People.”
http://www.seminoletribe.com/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seminole
We entered the stadium and made our way to our seats near the top of the stadium. DR was very proud of me because I only need to stop twice for oxygen on the climb. I was proud of me too, until I got passed by a 68 year-old grandmother who was heading toward the top row two steps at a time, and not even breathing hard…
DR’s favorite part of a CU game is the “Ralphie Wranglers.” These are th
e brave young men and women who lead Ralphie onto the field before kickoff at the start of the game and after halftime. It is one of the greatest moments in college football, and not because the wrangler guys are “hot.” Not that I think they are hot, because I have no strong feelings either way, but DR seems to think that the wranglers alone are worth the ticket price.Oh by the way, Ralphie was recently named the best mascot in college football…
Ralphie is No. 1
When FSU scores, their cheerleaders run through the end zone waving flags that spell N-O-L-E-S. DR suggested that since most people don’t know what a ‘Nole is, they should spell S-E-M-I-S instead… It’s also a good description for some of their offensive linemen.
During the first quarter we got to listen to the saga of Craig and Debbie from the people sitting behind us. It seems that C+D and met at a tailgate before the game and had agreed to meet in the stadium. The conversation went something like this:
“Go find her Craig!” said Debbie’s friend, who we’ll call Susan.
“Where is she?” Craig asked.
“She’s in row 76.” Susan replied.
“Which section?” an exasperated Craig asked.
“Our section. God Craig, you are so lame” Susan said.
You probably remember similar conversations from your high school days. The fact that Susan, Craig and Debbie are all 30-somethings is unfortunate, but pretty damn funny…
Anyway, we got to watch Craig spend most of the first quarter pacing up and down the jam-packed rows of Section 215 searching in vain for Debbie. Craig even called Susan, who was all of four rows from where he was standing, to help him home in on Debbie. Why no one thought to actually call Debbie is unclear…
Later in the game, while the rest of Section 215 was distracted by the action on the field, Susan exclaimed “Oh look, they’re sitting together! Are they holding hands? I think they’re holding hands! Oh my God!”
The CU defense was terrific, giving up only 16 points to the Seminoles, despite having to defend a short field on a couple of occasions. The Buff defense played with heart and abandon, only gave up two big plays, and never quit.
The offense played well between the 30 yard lines but seemed to self-destruct in the red zone. The Buffs do not have much of a running game this year, and finished the night with negative 27 yards rushing.
Generally the FSU fans were classy and respectful. There was, however one notable exception. On a drive in the 4th quarter, as CU was moving the ball with some ease, an FSU fan sitting a couple rows behind us kept yelling at FSU defensive coordinator Mickey Andrews to “Rush 4 Mickey! Come on! You’re so f**king stupid!” FSU was playing a prevent defense and rushing only 3 down linemen. The tactic worked quite well since the drive ended without the Buffs scoring.
I didn’t realize Coach Andrews was such a moron, because when I looked at the scoreboard it said Florida State 16, Colorado 0. I did some high level math (you know, carry the 2, divide by 1) and figured out that for a defense the best you can do is hold the other team to zero points.
I ‘m always amazed at how many coaches are in the stands instead of down on the sidelines on game day…
CU didn’t score until there was 3:38 remaining in the fourth quarter.
Final score: Florida State 16, Colorado 6.
So the score wasn
't what I hoped for, but the company couldn't have been better...
't what I hoped for, but the company couldn't have been better...
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