What if I were a caterpillar?

"Creepy, Crawly Caterpillars" is how channelcincinnati.com titled a story about the large number of caterpillars currently spreading all throughout the Tri-State. It sounds a little dramatic to me. I don’t think the little one inch bugs are really creepy or crawly. Maybe “Cute, Inching, Caterpillars”, but I guess that wouldn’t be a catchy title or something worth reading about. Nonetheless, they are actually pretty fascinating and reading this article reminded me how just last night while golfing, was imagining myself as a caterpillar and asked "What if I were a caterpillar?"

As I approached the 16^th green, my ball, having settled within 3 feet of the cup, I noticed a little caterpillar working its way across the expanse of the green. I thought, wow, if I was that small, getting across this green would be a day’s work. As my father-in-law setup for his putt from the fringe, I squatted down to look at what my putt had in store, but I was quickly distracted again by the little caterpillar. It was approaching the cup, inch by inch, and immediately I could feel myself in its place. I imagined myself heading out to take a look at the one of the natural wonders of the world, the Grand Canyon, a place so special it requires capitalization of its name, but in this case it was just the hole on the 16^th green. I wondered, “If I were a caterpillar, what would amaze me?” With humans walking around everywhere, towering trees looming overhead everywhere, gigantic buildings everywhere, and automobiles whizzing by everywhere, would I even recognize these large objects as something special. As humans we often take large wonders and recognized them for their size. Do caterpillars do this?

After arriving just to the rim of the cup, the caterpillar turned and headed toward me. My father-in-law hit his putt and was still away, so he began to setup again. I began daydreaming again about caterpillars. It was inching toward me and continually getting closer. It went right up to my ball, almost inspecting it. I thought how for the caterpillar, looking at my ball is probably like going to Disney’s Epcot Center. It made me laugh to myself. I wonder if it thinks anything of my ball being in its path. Does it wonder what it is? If I were a caterpillar, would I wonder what it was?

He hit is putt and made it, leaving me with my 3 footer to bogey the hole. I set myself up and looked down and the caterpillar was right in my line. On any other day, I probably would have hit it out of my way with my putter, but today was different. This caterpillar and I had a connection. I gently placed my putter right near it, it crawled up on it, and I moved it to another path, closer to the edge of the green, a place where if it continued the caterpillar could be on its way, to its next adventure; to the rainforest lying just beyond the fringe.

Google Calendar

Google Calendar - another great tool from our friends at Google. It seems like just when you think they have not released something new in a while, you are hit with another very handy tool.

What I like so much about this, and all their tools, is they are released with so much functionality in beta and only improve based on user feedback from there. This tool was released with multiple, shared, and public calendars making it useful in so many new ways. It has literally changed the way I think about a calendar. I personally like the "quick event" feature allowing you to enter an even in sentence format rather than clicking days times, etc. Another nice feature built right in is the text reminders - very useful! This tools is quick, reliable, and so far has met all my needs.

I recommend everyone giving it a try. If there is something you don't like about it, let Google know. If other people agree with you, most likely, you will see it implemented in the near future.

Cincinnati Reds Opening Day

Opening Day: A virtual holiday in the city of Cincinnati. A day Marty Brenneman calls the "greatest single day" each year in the City of Cincinnati. A day the Reds, a team soaking with baseball tradition and history took on the Chicago Cubs. But, as you may or may not know, the baseball game is just the closing of a much larger event.

It begins much earlier than opening day. It begins before spring training. It begins with passion. There is a passion by the people in Cincinnati for their Cincinnati Reds. Touted as the oldest team in baseball, the Reds are a tradition in Cincinnati that outdates all its residents.

Despite a string of lackluster years, in early February, a week before tickets go on sale for opening day, people pack up their camping supplies and stake a claim in the line for tickets at the ballpark. Waiting through bitter cold, snow storms, and the incessant sound of the nearby interstate, fans wait, mostly patiently, for the chance at the elusive opening day ticket. Then almost as soon as the moment arrives, it is gone. Within 15 minutes, all of the over 42,000 tickets are gone. The only hope becomes an overpriced ticket from eBay, 333-SEAT, or scalpers trying to get $150 for nosebleed seats when the game is already in the fourth inning.

Ten days before opening day, 700WLW begins their countdown. Nonstop would be the word to describe discussions of prospect and reminiscence. A new owner this year makes the hype and expectations elevated.

On opening day itself, the parade takes place from Findlay Market and snakes its way around downtown with numerous dignitaries, former players, and average Reds fans. Students skip school, employees skip work, and even those that don't, are attached to either a radio tuned to Marty and Joe (and Steve), a television, or are clicking away online watching the play-by-play.

All this, and we are just approaching the beginning of the game. This year, President Bush threw the first pitch. Gates opened at 10:15 for the 2:15 game. He did well, at least getting it to the plate and then the Chicago Cubs went on to pulverize the Cincinnati Reds 16-7. By the 6th inning most of the fans had left the ballpark with frustration, only hoping the season doesn't end in June like it has for so many in the recent past and already anticipating next year's opening day.

My Thoughts on Strange Beings

There are some times in our life that we realize that we as humans are strange beings. I have recently been thinking about this in the context of the ever fascinating ear wax.

You all know what I am talking about. It's as irresistible as a sleeve of Thin Mints from the Girl Scouts. Whether you use a Q-Tip, finger, someone else's finger, pencil, or even screwdriver, there seems to be an instinctual need to get it out of our ears. But as we know, it never stops at getting it out. Something about it is required by our senses. We must look at it, inspect it, touch it, smell it, and in some cases even taste it. Why is this? What is wrong with us? We know it smells fowl. We know it tastes bitter. Yet we continue to habitually follow these instincts.

Are we no more in control of ourselves than a bird flying south, a herd flocking, or maybe more comparable, a dog licking itself? I'll leave you to ponder this question.

Olive Garden - Italian Elegance

I recently went back to Olive Garden for the first time in over three years. All I can say is; what have I been missing? From the time I rolled out my chair to sit down at the glossy wooden table, I knew I had been missing true Italian elegance.

Going back a few, forty, minutes to when we arrived, we were graciously greeted by the young woman who was taking names. The trainee, who couldn't figure out the concept of two for non-smoking was a nice touch. At first I thought maybe she only speaks Italian, but I was wrong. While waiting for the table, it was nice to watch anywhere between four and six servers hanging out at the bar all the while ten to fifteen tables were patiently waiting for their next occupants.

After being seated, we were greeted in style by our server. She was courteous enough to ask how we were doing. When we directed the same question back we got a thirty second spiel about how she would be great if she weren't at work.

I ordered the bottomless bowl of soup, salad and breadsticks. I'm guessing that bottomless means two, because after I finished my second bowl, our server was gone until our bill arrived. The second batch of breadsticks was cold. The half a bowl of salad was filled with my favorite type of lettuce; the iceberg kind that comes in big chunks. It’s kind of crunchy! I guess the bottomless glass of water wasn't included in the deal because once my water was gone, that was it. Upon receiving the bill, after waiting ten minutes without seeing the server, I asked for some water to wash down my cold breadstick and after a big sigh and a little hesitation, I got her to get it for me. I think she had just returned from a smoke break or something. She kind of reeked, and that's my best guess. You know, Italians like to smoke, so it was a nice effect.

My wife's meal was nice. She ordered something with a real fancy Italian name, and got a small piece of overcooked chicken on top of some boxed spaghetti. You know, the kind that comes out of one of those green boxes.

There was much more going on all around us as tables were pushed together for the party of twenty that came in and sat next to us. The ratio of parents to children was something like 1 to 8. I know Italian families stick together, but from the looks of this family, I don’t think they were Italian.

After paying, we left. Not long after, on the way home, I was greeted with the indigestion that I remembered so vividly from over three years ago. It is amazing how soup, salad, and breadsticks can do that to you.

That night we were talking and anxiously waiting until the next time we venture out for true Italian elegance. Thanks Olive Garden, for the experience we'd been waiting for. We'll be sure to call on you the next time we want a dose of Italian elegance.

The Day of Liberation

Here is something I wrote a few months ago. It was a fun little creative piece. It's a little long, but I hope it is enjoyable .

It was just like any other Thursday morning. After a long, dark night, light made its first appearance. A warm rush swept through, condensation settled, everyone stood at attention; waiting, hoping to be selected. Just like any other morning, the light came like a flash and dissipated even before pupils could narrow. But, unknown to those on the top shelf, today was not just any other Thursday. This was the day of liberation. This was the day of executed plans. This was the day of revolution. Yes, because it was this Thursday when the condiments on the refrigerator door were taking over the top shelf.

For years, the condiments had sat patiently on the refrigerator door, content with their situation, not expecting any more or less. “At least we aren’t at the bottom of the freezer; cold, frostbitten, forgotten” they used to say. Most were happy with getting out once or twice every month and when they got out, they always had a good time. The pickles always held their lid as tight as possible. The ketchup and mustard always made sure they needed a good shake. The Hershey’s syrup always made sure to make that last drip slide down the lip of the cap before swiftly getting licked off. Each condiment had its own method of having fun and each condiment was content.

That is until the arrival of the cream cheese. When cream cheese arrived everyone paid attention. Quiet whispering began among the condiments. Some questioned if cream cheese really belonged on the door with other condiments. “He’s not even a condiment!” some exclaimed. But there was one thing about cream cheese that all of the condiments noticed.

Expiration was something everyone had to deal with. They just hoped to be used up before it came. If not, they at least hoped that they would be used up shortly after. Otherwise they all knew what it meant. First, the molds, then the drying out, and eventually disposal was eminent. Disposal was something that was feared by all but discussed by no one. Well, no one but cream cheese that is.

What everyone had noticed from the first moment he was placed on the door was that cream cheese’s expiration was much shorter than their own. “An expiration date that short is suicide on the door!” Mayonnaise whispered to BBQ. She was right. When you were on the door, you knew that you were going to be there for a while. As the light came and went, those on the top shelf got used all the time. They came and went and were used up within days, weeks at the longest, but never months. Cream cheese’s expiration was two weeks away.

Realizing his predicament, he immediately began petitioning for a riot. He needed to convince the condiments that they needed to take over the top shelf. He was tactful in his task. He explained how it is not fair for them to be placed on the door shelves when there was so much more attention on the top shelf. “You deserve better!” he demanded, selflessly of course. At least that is the way he came across. But in his mind he knew it was about himself. If they didn’t riot, he would be disposed before being even half used and that would be a disgrace to him and his family.

Most of the condiments were initially hesitant and disregarded cream cheese. But his relentlessness paid off and with only one week until expiration, he had convinced every condiment on the door shelves that a riot was in order and it would take place this fateful Thursday morning. These once content, condiments were raging warriors. Convinced of the atrocities against them and set on the distinct honor of their prospective new territory, they were not going to stop until they had claimed a spot on the top shelf. They determined the only real threats on the top shelf were the milk and the apple juice. Compared to the condiments, these two were giants. Surely the leftovers and the cottage cheese and a few others could be overtaken with ease, but the milk and apple juice had to be planned for.

The plan was to push the leftovers and cottage cheese and others off the top shelf. When the milk and apple juice tried to help come after the condiments and save the others a few of them would sneak behind and push them off the shelf too. Then it would be all theirs. They would have the top shelf all to themselves.

And that is exactly how it went. There were some casualties, but that is expected in a revolution. The peppercorn ranch and grape jelly didn’t make it to see the day when the condiments had taken over the top shelf of the refrigerator as they were lost in the battle against milk. Despite their losses, the condiments were joyous. They had accomplished their goal. They were in the promise land. They were out of their captivity. They were the rulers of the top shelf.

The next time the light came, it stayed a bit longer. The casualties were disposed and the condiments mourned their loss. But contrastingly, they celebrated their success. There was nothing any of them wanted more than this day. It would be remembered forever. They immediately declared cream cheese their leader and worshiped him like a god. All of this, however, was short-lived. Shortly after settling onto the top shelf, some of them began to shiver. It was colder up on the top shelf than the door. None of them had anticipated that. Others began to fight over a spot. Some were too tall and needed to remain lying down. For the most part, though, they were happy.

The cold, the fighting, the lying down no one had anticipated, but what happened next came as more of a surprise than anything. Before the end of that fateful Thursday, the light came again. Yes, the light came and each condiment was swiftly returned to the shelf on the door, the milk and apple juice and the others were replaced by those with newer expiration. But cream cheese, cream cheese was left on the top shelf with the milk and apple juice. He was laughing at all those from the door. His plan had run to fruition. The condiments from the door, shivering, first envied cream cheese and at the same time abhorred the way he had deceived them. But when mustard spoke, everyone stopped to listen.

She reminded them of how content they had been before cream cheese had come, how cold and miserable they had been for the short time they were on the top shelf. She told them how sometimes life appears better on the other side. Sometimes being blinded by greed and hope, you forget how nice it is right where you are. Some of the condiments were slow to listen, but others realized she was right. They didn’t belong on the top shelf nor did they really want to be there. The door shelf was their home. It is where their friends were and new friends would be placed.

Cream cheese went on to be disposed only 4 days later because mold had developed due to a crack in his lid; a result of the riot. Peppercorn ranch and grape jelly were replaced within the week. As for the rest of the condiments, they moved on, life continued and they were able to find a new contentment with their home; the shelf on the refrigerator door.

The Start - Of Something

Well, here it is. I've been talking about it for a while and I am finally starting a blog. Thinking about it, I have a lot of ideas, but at the same time, I'm not sure what form this is going to take for me yet. I have a feeling it can be a bit of a diary of events in my life, but at the same time a place for me to be creative in my writing.

While I don't consider myself a writer, I do enjoy writing, especially creative writing. I think sometimes I will take something out of my life and talk about it and how I or those around me were influenced by it. Other times, I think I will take a creative writing starter idea and just go with it. Others, who knows. We will just see. I'm going to post something I wrote from a creative idea starter from a few months ago. I don't really think it is a great story, but it is a start. Hopefully, not only will this let me talk about what is going on in my life and the ideas I have, but help improve my writing over time so that some day I may do more with this activity that I currenly would only consider a hobby.

I hope you enjoy reading and I welcome any feedback.