The Buddy System

The Buddy System. We used it a lot when we were children. Crossing the street, walking in the dark. Maybe it's time to revisit the Buddy System as adults.

I went Christmas shopping today for a few of my friends. This was my second attempt at Christmas shopping this year; the first being last Saturday when I forgot my money clip. So today, after pre-shopping many gifts on Saturday with my friends around, I set out alone to buy their gifts.

Big mistake.

Without getting too specific (I wouldn't want to give away the surprise of the gifts, after all), I had seen an item at Bed Bath and Beyond that I thought would be perfect for one of my friends. I searched online for a store nearer to my house (I had been in another city the first time) and embarked out to get the gift. When I got there, I could not immediately find the specific item I'd driven there to get. It was, you could say, part of a series and I found many of the rest of the items in the series, but not my specific item. I wheeled my cart around and around and around the store looking for any other area that they might be keeping them.

I passed slippers, margarita glasses, do-it-yourself beer or chili kits, scented candles, but I could not find this item. After about a half an hour with an empty cart, I finally asked someone if they had any more. I was directed to the right "room" (in BB&B, they're not aisles, they're "rooms") and found more of the series but still not my specific item. "That's okay," I thought. "I'll just get it at the other store."

That should have been enough. But unlike many of you, I am not a professional shopper. I refused to leave the store empty handed! I found a Mistletoe scented candle and I had to have it. But it was so expensive and such a tiny little candle. "Hmm..." I thought. "Maybe I'll find something for someone else, too. Then I can get my candle AND someone's gift." So I wheeled around some more. And more. And more. I still couldn't convince myself that there was anything there I needed to get someone else. Also, I couldn't convince myself not to get a pair of memory foam massaging slippers. That's right, they're not just memory foam slippers, but if you put two AA batteries in each one, they'll massage your feet!

This was just too much to resist. So now the slippers are in the cart with the candle. But there has to be something else, right? I can't buy only things for myself!

Batteries! Of course, I need batteries! And not just four batteries; I need an 8-pack. Batteries, slippers, and a candle. I was beginning to feel like Steve Martin in "The Jerk". "That's all I need are these batteries, these slippers, this scented candle, and this Thermos!"

No, I didn't find a Thermos. Fortunately, I already have one of those. But I wasn't done yet. I went back to the candle section. I'm going to need some new Advent candles, right? Let's see...hmm, they're almost $2 a piece. That's expensive for some unscented tapers, isn't it. Ooh, but look: I can get SIX candles for only two dollars more than this one scented mistletoe candle. Two "mistletoe", two "Christmas cookie", and two "Home for the Holiday" scented candles and a little glass candle holder. That goes in the cart and at a bargain price!

And what's this? Here's a power strip/extension cord set that I need. Finally, something I actually can justify buying. That doesn't quite make up for the other impulse buys, but it'll have to do.

I check out with over $40 in merchandise (they're MASSAGING SLIPPERS, for God's sake!) and head to some other stores. I never did find any of the things I had actually meant to buy, but at least my feet feel pretty damn good* as I type this blog.

I've learned a lesson though. I am reinstituting the Buddy System for all of my Christmas shopping duties. Come along...maybe I'll buy you something you don't need!


*note: Actually, the slippers are kind of small and uncomfortable. I'm hoping they'll stretch out some so I don't feel like a total jackass.**

**note: They can stretch out as much as they want. I'll still be a total jackass. (But at least I won't feel like one.)

Some pictures of original "Hersheyized" cupcakes...and Mister Spatula

Yardwork: The Final Frontier

About a year ago, I was living in someone else's 3-story house. I paid a little rent and did some yardwork and everyone just left me alone.

It was a housesitting gig the required very little of me. The owners were having major work done on the house and wanted someone to watch over the place while they relaxed in comfort in the home they were about to leave.

I'll never forget the big moment when I felt like I'd finally achieved adulthood (I've since had some relapses). I had just fixed the garage door on my own. I had just fixed the garage door. That may not seem like a big deal to a lot of people, but it was to me. And it wasn't just the garage door, but I also got the garbage disposal to work, too. I was becoming a regular handyman. Or, at least, your typical adult male.

Let me make this clear. See, I didn't just rig the thing up with bubble gum and some WD-40. I had actually fixed the thing. This from the guy who once burned his socks in the microwave.

Growing up, I never took much interest in these kinds of projects. My dad had a good number of tools. I even watched him use some of them. But it never soaked in. I used to watch my dad work on his car or on some other project and everything was just kind of supernatural. How could he possibly know what he's doing? He showed me how to check my oil, but I still pay to have it changed.

I was an actor. I didn't get my hands dirty with grease and grime. I had no desire to change a spark plug or sand a bench. And I knew one day I'd be called upon to do these things, perhaps by my own disinterested kids. (I think that's why I wanted--want--so bad to be famous. So I could pay someone else to do it all for me.) And look at me now: I'm a singing cupcake decorator. What kind of a man does that for a living?

I laughed at my friends who were getting married...it always made me laugh to see all these power tools in their registry. As if owning the tools means you know how to use them. "I'm the man. I have to register for tools." Ha!

If anything, I was more domestic indoors. I can cook an entire Thanksgiving dinner without so much as a burnt turkey wingtip. I can (but don't) clean an entire bathroom without batting an eye. But ask me change a gasket and I'll just laugh (gasket's a funny word, after all).

Things have changed. I fixed that garage door and that garbage disposal. I've shovelled snow for 6 hours straight (that driveway was nine car lengths, I swear.) I've done some stonescaping around the outside of my house. And today I used a leaf blower vac for almost 2 hours straight (see photo...I filled two bags). There's a certain something to be said for manual labor. It is rewarding! I'm actually looking forward to going back out there and finishing the job. Maybe I will register for tools when I get married. Maybe I won't look at my kid like he's got eels coming out of his nose when he asks me to fix his bicycle.

I can do this. I'm a man!

A Life's Lesson Learned

The other day while flipping through the channels I came across one of my guilty pleasures, "Blind Date". I never know when it's on, but will almost always watch it when I find it. That day would be no different.

Unlike normal episodes where they follow around two couples on their dates and entertain the viewing audience with their misery aided with humorous captions, this episode featured part of a series. The woman involved had vowed to get married in 90 days and Blind Date was going to help her find the right guy.

I've heard of people doing crazy things like this before. Auctioning their virginity on eBay, things like that. But this time my eyes were really opened to the bigger picture. I wondered which was more precious to her; a long and lasting relationship or being right? Suppose she missed her deadline by 1 day. Or a week. Or a year. Is it really so bad? Is her pride really so important to her that she's willing to force herself into a miserable marriage just to say she did it? 90 days to marry, 90 seconds to divorce.

A little later that day I found a list of my New Year's Resolutions from last January. I think I've accomplished two of about 8. One of those I accomplished was to get a full time job, which I had at Navy Pier for about two weeks before they let everyone go. I never even worked a full week because I had prior commitments before going full time.

Again I thought of "Blind Date". Is it so important that I rush to accomplish these remaining goals in the next two months, or is it more important that I just accomplish them and do the right? I decided on the latter. So when January rolls around, I suspect I'll have some resolutions to add to last year's, but I doubt I'll place much importance on the time I have with which to do them.

I walked around all day feeling like I'd answered some great life question. Then I hit a snag. I received a phone call from my parents telling me that my cousin Gabriel, at only 28-years-old, had died in a motorcycle accident. He had a wife, I think, and a few kids. Gabriel and I weren't particularly close (I'd only met him twice, I think) but it had a profound effect on me. Immediately I began to think what everyone thinks when someone dies: You never know when it's your time to go, so you'd better get it all done now. It was like a cold shower on my earlier profundities.

Then I reconsidered my attitude reversal. I don't dare speak for Gabriel as to what was important in his life, but I can say this: It wasn't the amount of stuff he got done in his life, it was how he made use of the life he lived. That is, he may not have accomplished all he had hoped to in life, but as long as he achieved the goals he did with full satifaction, he lived a full life.

Amazing, isn't it, how he could meet me twice and teach me such a profound life lesson?

God bless you, Gabriel.