Wearing Out My Welcome

A couple of weeks ago, an old radio friend of mine whom I haven't heard from in decades found me on the internet and sent me an email. I was thrilled. There's nothing like hearing from someone who knew you in a much earlier time. It's like getting a piece of yourself back that you didn't even know was missing. I've had this kind of thing happen before, and I always get very excited. I guess a little too excited.

Almost without fail, I've messed this kind of thing up each time. I'm so jazzed to hear from old friends that I go way over the top with the whole process of catching up. They must feel like I've been totally alone since they last saw me.

At my most recent high school reunion, I was so excited to see my old friend Ricky Kirk, that I totally creeped him out recalling the entire layout of his parents' old home. (You could tell he wanted to run and hide, but I would've tracked him down in that little study right off the guest room on the west side of the house.) When college chum Bruce Boyd wrote me an email a few years ago, I responded in my usual way and never heard from him again. And the old radio friend I told you about has no doubt applied to the Internet Protection Program by now since I haven't heard back from her either.

The problem, which isn't really a problem, is that I really like my life. I always have. And I really like the people who have been, are in, or are attempting to be back in my life. I make it a point not to just talk about me. I ask a lot of questions. I always want to know what old mates have been up to. I also don't always expect old friends to be new best friends. Sometimes just saying, "I was thinking about you, even after all these years" is enough. I'm more than happy with that. I just want to somehow express how thrilled I am to hear from them without having them think that I'm one of those old friends whose brain chemicals have shifted just enough that they're now pressing cat poop into scrapbooks. In fact, of all the people I know, I've evolved the least. I've been doing the same job for 29 years, I still play guitar in a band, and I love to take pictures and play golf. There's no unknown to fear about me.

It must be like dating I guess. You're not supposed to call the new girl back right away. You're supposed to be aloof. So from now on, I'm holding back. Words liked "thrilled" are going to be replaced by "surprised". "It's so cool that you tracked me down" will change to "It's a good thing I double-checked my spam folder". And "Write back soon" will be substituted with "Gotta run", which I actually do because my cat just finished dinner and I have some memories to preserve!

What Women Want

Orlando's TV's Hunkiest Hunk 2007 is now in the books and your winner this year is WKMG's Todd Jurkowski. It's Todd's third win...something no other hunk has been able to accomplish in our morning show's annual contest.

Since this is our 16th year holding this slightly tongue-in-cheek male pageant, it's an interesting time to notice it's evolution. In the early days, it was all about hair and abs. Anchors and reporters would appear on our show to demean their competitors by talking about their opponent's mini-vans, thinning scalps and hours logged at Gymboree.

But hunk tastes change.

This year the leaders were more than happy to flaunt their marital status. Large egos were replaced by big hearts. The contenders' wives called in to talk about how sensitive their spouses were. Children were heard in the background cheering on their fathers. What used to considered baggage now made the phones ring with female votes.

In the end, Jurkowski won not by flexing, or arm wrestling, or bench pressing. But by baking.

Congratulations Todd. You've figured out what women want.

Turning Grey

When grown-ups complain about getting older, words like metabolism, chronic, ache, and pain get a lot of play, along with 50 other terms that end in "itis" or "osis." Aside from exercise, eating well, and a well placed nip or tuck, we can't totally stop our slow and steady physical decline. But we rarely embrace one of the great aspects of aging. We get smarter. If the old addage "You learn something new everyday" is true, and if you've ever said "I wish I knew then what I know now," then you know what I mean.

But before you make me out to be a delusional optimist, I have a complaint about being more knowledgeable. It's the part about turning grey. Not the grey on my head, but the grey IN my head.

I've noticed that as I get older, I can't seem to settle on choices, make decisions, or take stands on things as quickly as I used to. Last year it took me weeks of research and two 2-hour visits to the store to decide on a new cell phone. And now that I need a new guitar amplifier, I'm putting the sales person at the music store through the same hell. It's not just me either. At restaurants kids can order their meal in 5 seconds, while adults can take 5 minutes after all the questions, switching, and special requests.

When it comes to decisions, I feel like I have Randy, Paula, and Simon in my head, each seeing things differently. As I get older I find that I can't get both feet to jump in the same direction. I eventually do climb off the fence, but only when I've really considered every option, angle and consequence. On the internet, if there are 165 user opinions on a product, I'll read all 165 and then check back the next day to see if number 166 has appeared that'll settle it all for me. I'd rather be right the first time, than wrong in fast time.

Now before you deem me to be wishy washy, or to lack character or conviction for not seeing things in more black and white terms, consider the fact that dictionaries can't even come to a consensus on how to spell the color of my world. Is it gray or grey? That's beyond ironic.

And as we become more worldly, which is it? Knowledge is power? Or ignorance is bliss?

I'll get back to you on that.

The Green Light

Being married rocks. It's the coolest thing in the world to be able to share my life with the one and only person on the planet who truly understands me. I'm not sure what she gets out of the deal, but I'll feel bad if I worry too much about that, so let's move on.

I think I speak for happily married husbands everywhere when I declare that one of the best things our wives can give us is The Green Light.

Let me distinguish though between a green light, and The Green Light. A green light is when she doesn't mind that you want to play 9 more holes. A green light is when she doesn't wake you up from a nap because you promised to cut the grass. That's great stuff, but The Green Light is the best of the best. Where a green light is more spontaneous, The Green Light requires more long-term planning and campaigning. It also requires swift action once you get it. When I got the okay after two years of carefully posturing for a Vespa, it was in our garage within 24 hours of getting The Green Light. Waiting only makes her feel that she may have given one out prematurely. It'll hurt with future Green Light requests. Green means go. Don't dally. You can say your thanks when you get back.

Now, for the uninitiated, Green Light school.

When vying for The Green Light, be aware of all the stages she must go through, and don't push too hard or too often.

The Early Stages
1. She giggles at your outrageous request, thinking that you're kidding.
2. She seems to ignore hints to revisit your new passion.
3. She appears annoyed when your new obsession doesn't go away.

Then, if The Green Light is going to happen...

The Hopeful Stages
4. Seeming to hear you for the first time, she asks a quick question about what you're talking about.
5. She giggles again. This time it's because she's totally empowered, and your sincerity is now kinda cute.
6. She says those 7 magical words, "Well if that's what you really want..."

Time it takes to get from stage 1 to stage 6? 3 weeks to 3 years depending on your skill level. Remember, there are no guarantees. You may even red light yourself if your interest starts to wane.

Because I've recently joined a band, and my impotent amplifier is getting drowned out at rehearsals, I applied for The Green Light.

Just last night I hit Stage 6. See you at the music store this afternoon!

Time to crank up my guitar because being married rocks!

Pinball Wizard

No matter what your thoughts are about President Bush, you have to give him this much...he's organized. By 6am, he knows he has a cabinet meeting at 8am, a photo shoot with Cub Scout Troop 568 from 9:10-9:14, alone time with Laura from 9:30-9:34pm, and probably 20 other items on his printed agenda in between. He's the most powerful man in the western world and he's probably rarely late for any of his appointments.

I, on the other hand, don't and can't work that way.

At 7:15am I may turn on my microphone with a plan to talk about something like Alec Baldwin's appearance on The View, when right then a listener may call in with a talking parrot who can mimic her husband belching the alphabet. Sorry Alec, we have to go to Polly on line 2.

And that's how my whole day goes. I could walk down the hall to use the bathroom, when I may get called into our marketing office for an impromptu promotions meeting about what color our new t-shirts should be. 10 minutes later I'll head back to my office, with even my bladder forgetting about needing the men's room.

It's like being a human pinball. Bounce here. Bounce there. Start working on this, and then stop mid-sentence because I just had an idea about something else.

And just when I think I'm done for the day, a flipper bats me back up to bounce around some more. That's why my wife just laughs when I tell her I'll be home in 30 minutes or so. After 17 years of marriage, she knows "or so" adds an hour to my best intentions.

I've done the Franklin Covey type thing, where I prioritize, categorize, and organize. It works, I get much more done. But I need and bleed chaos.

For me, random beats plan-dom everytime. Seeing something through from beginning to end in one sitting rarely, if ever, hap