Insult to Injury

I got my hair cut today. I tend to keep it pretty short and disheveled (maintenance-free, baby!), so I just go to the cheap-o Great Clips place around the corner where I can get it cut for $8 with a coupon. Usually, my once-a-month visit is quiet, quick, and pleasant. Today, though? Lacking the pleasant part.

Now, I've been going grey for quite some time. Around 17 or 18, I started to notice my first grey hair, and it's been getting steadily worse since then. Now, I'm downright salt-and-pepper. I'm generally okay with that, and it's probably helped my career a bit. I've found that if I keep my hair short and maybe put a little gel in it, it's not nearly as noticeable to most folks. It doesn't hurt that I'm also 6'4", so there aren't a whole lot of people getting a good view of the top of my head on a regular basis.

Today though, it was an issue. The stylist (someone I'd never seen before) and I were chatting as she trimmed my flowing locks (ha!); just the general chit-chat that always occurs. Somehow, we got to a point in the conversation where I mentioned that I had just had a milestone birthday this past Sunday. Here's how that conversation went:

Me: "Yeah, I just had a milestone birthday this past Sunday."

Her: "Oooo, let me guess how old you turned...um, forty?"

Me (noticeably peeved, I'm sure): "Yeah, um. Actually, no, I just turned thirty."

Her: "Oh my gosh. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to..."

Me: "That's okay, I'm starting to get used to...."

Her: "It's just that I saw all that grey hair on the apron and thought....I mean, you're REALLY grey for thirty."


Wow. Gee, thanks, lady. You sure know how to brighten my day.

At least I only paid $8 for the abuse.

YFNN

I Wanna Be a Mean Parent

When I was a child, my parents were mean. Horribly mean. And, I hope that I will be just as mean as they were.

My parents weren't physically, emotionally, verbally, or psychologically abusive. That's not the kind of "mean" that I'm talking about.

When other kids had Oreos and ice cream for breakfast, we had to have eggs, toast, or cereal. When other kids had Pepsi and chips for lunch, we had sandwiches and carrots. While other kids had pizza and cake for dinner every night, my mean parents gave us healthy meats, potatoes, vegetables, and fruits. My parents were mean when it came to food.

We were required to be clean and wear clean clothes; other kids could wear the same clothes for days. We had to have normal, appropriate haircuts; other kids were allowed to be rebellious with their hair. We had to look “presentable.” Since I'm the oldest of their three children, I didn't have to wear hand-me-down clothes, but my mean parents made my brother and sister wear my old-but-still-good clothes, just to save money for other things like college. Can you imagine?

Our mean parents gave us bedtimes. And we had to stick to them! While other kids got to sleep until noon on the weekends and have no responsibilities, my parents completely disregarded child labor laws and gave us chores to do before we could play. We had to help with the dishes, set the table for meals, and keep our toys picked up. It was like they dreamed up chores for us to do in their sleep! Where did they come with these unreasonable expectations?!

Once we were in school, things got even worse. We had to walk to the bus stop, about a block away, for junior high and high school. Even in the rain and when it was cold. Other kids got to sit in their parents’ fancy car, even on nice days, avoiding the unrestricted socialization with the kids besides us with mean parents.

My brother, sister and I weren't allowed to be "sick" like our friends and miss school. Some other kids could stay home by themselves when they had a headache, hangnail or other critical ailment. Not us. In fact, I can distinctly remember my mother saying "You're not sick, you just have a cold. Get up and go to school." We never got pulled from school to go on vacations. "That's what summers are for," we were told.

They were mean about our grades, too. While other kids celebrated Cs and Ds and just passing classes, my parents accepted nothing less than As and Bs. Somehow they knew that if we got anything less, we weren't really trying. They had us figured out. They were actually involved in our education. They kept tabs on major projects, annoyed us about completing our homework, and constantly asked if we needed help. We were expected to speak properly, and write even better. It was horrible. Come graduation time, none of us were allowed to drop out and we were expected to go to college. Just awful.

Our mean parents made us go to church every week. We couldn't skip and stay home like some other kids. We weren't allowed to wear jeans or shorts and we had to look presentable. We had to pray, participate, and pay attention in our Sunday School classes and during the service. Unlike some of the other kids, we weren't allowed to climb on the pews, make noise, or fall asleep. It was completely unfair.

When we were older, my mean parents insisted on knowing where we were at all times. They had to know where we were going, when we were getting back, and who we were going with. If plans changed, we were required to call. If we were late, we had some explaining to do.

They set rules and boundaries for the three of us. They knew how to say "no" and weren't afraid to do so. Their "no"s were uncompromising and there was no negotiating the standards of behavior that were expected. Even if they didn't totally agree with everything, they worked as an unwavering team to set the bar high and expect the best from us, always.

Somehow, their mean-ness worked. All three of us grew up to be well-adjusted, polite and well-spoken. None of us have been arrested or talk like Valley Girls. We all hold college degrees (one of us, multiple!) and are now successful on our own. They taught us to be tough, smart, and strong. None of us are entitlement-minded or dependent on anyone or anything. We grew up to be honest, God-fearing, and self-motivated. And, we owe it all to our horrendously mean parents.

Now, with a child of my own, I hope to set the same mean standards and expectations. I can only hope to be as mean a parent as they were. I can’t wait to use one of my favorite phrases, “You’re not sick, you just have a cold,” and I can guarantee you that I will be filled with pride when my child finally calls me "mean."

So, if you're reading Mom and Dad, thanks for being so darn mean.

YFNN

Third Trimester Thoughts

My lovely wife is in the third trimester of her pregnancy (I won't even attempt to say our pregnancy...I'm not doing anything compared to her). On the general schedule of growing humans from scratch, that means she's just about finished. A couple more months, and we'll have a living, breathing, helpless person relying on us for everything. A bit scary.

The baby inside her apparently isn’t too well-versed on concepts like "day" or "night", so he'll kick whenever he damn well pleases. What this means is that wife never knows when she's going to get a swift kick to the spleen or bladder, usually resulting in a groan, moan, or grunt. Could be during a lovely dinner at a lovely Italian restaurant like Luce, or in the middle of a deep sleep. Baby doesn't care; he just knows he's gotta stretch out a bit.

Alien kicks. What's interesting to me (and uncomfortable to her) is that no longer can you only feel the kicks when you place your hand on her belly, you can actually see them. It not unlike that scene in the alien movie when the guys chest bulges and pulsates right before the alien busts on out. There have been times when I would swear that I saw the outline of a foot pushing on her belly from the inside. It's disturbing actually.
Pee. Every day is all about peeing for her. Before we leave the house, she pees. When we get to the restaurant, she pees. Before we leave, she pees. Getting showered and dressed sometimes requires up to three pee breaks. Even just making it through the night with only two pee breaks is a huge exercise in willpower and endurance. Fortunately, (and maybe I'm assuming too much here) all of the pants she wears now are stretchy and without buttons and zips...even the jeans. I would certainly think that would help drop the events down on the "pain in the rear scale".

Nesting. I had no idea. Seriously, no idea. The instinct to prepare is absolutely unbelievable. Suddenly, walls need painted, furniture needs moved, carpets need cleaned, closets need sorted, and there are constant ambiguous references to "getting ready." She's still got 8 weeks to go, and I'm already getting interrogated about packing for the hospital.

Emotions. It's like someone took her emotion output and amplified it ten fold. When she laughs, she laughs until she has tears in her eyes and her stomach hurts. When she cries, it's for silly reasons, and is as intense as I've ever seen. Certain foods make her dance in her seat, and disappointments crash her for the entire day. A rollercoaster? You betcha.

Words. This is probably the part that has shocked me the most. My wife has completely lost her grasp on the English language. Like a toddler with a 100-word vocabulary, she can never seem to find the right words to convey what she's trying to say. Ridiculous substitutions are common, and I'm usually at a loss to understand what she means. Usually I stare at her blankly as she frustratedly struggles to better define her intent. Examples? No problem.

She recently wanted to know if the basket of dinner rolls was still on the table from dinner, so she asked me "Is the bread-bun-pot still available?" What? Huh? Bread-bun-pot?

Or when she wanted me to put the dirty towels in the hamper last night, I was asked to "Please correctly place them in the roughrider." Yes, the roughrider. If you had an armful of towels and someone asked you to "correctly place them in the roughrider", you'd do what I did: stare blankly at them.

I can't tell you how many times she's been frustrated with me when I don't understand what she's talking about. Any and all paperwork is refered to as "information", regardless if it's a bill or a christmas card. She often refers to "the thing" and makes ambiguous hand gestures. What makes it even more difficult is that I find it so cute and endearing. It's nigh-impossible to keep from giving her a hard time about it.

So what's my role in this whole ordeal? Well, near as I can ascertain, it's my job to perform arbitrary organizational tasks, interpret the language of a crazy person, perform as a helping hand for getting out of cars and sofas, and exercise lots and lots of compassion and patience. And, I'm trying. I know that the frustrations I have to deal with are NOTHING compared to her daily ordeals.

Captain Safety Glasses

I wear safety glasses a lot.

My new job has me wearing them most of the day, except for when I'm in my office. It's the metal chips and hot plastic and such. A piece of lava-hot polyethylene in the eye would be a surefire way to ruin your day. So, we wear safety glasses. I think it's a great idea.

At home, I wear them quite a bit, too. Whacking weeds, grinding lawnmower blades and sanding boards are all occasions that I think require safety glasses. So is changing the smoke detector (paint and plaster chips HURT!), changing oil in my car, and any soldering work. I even make my wife wear them when she's spraying siding wash or weedkiller (she hates me for that). From my point view, you just never know when a gust of wind or a stream splashback is going to give you a face full of Roundup. Is it so wrong to want to prevent that from blinding my one and only?

Maybe it's because I wear contacts and even the tiniest piece of trash in my eye hurts feels like a rusty steak knife. Maybe it's because I used to manage a lab and machine shop where I've seen the pain and damage that a tiny sliver of copper can do. Maybe it's because over two thousand eye injuries occur everyday and over 90% of them are preventable with safety glasses . Maybe it's because I'm just a total nerd.

Regardless, I'm definitely cool with wearing them. They're cheap, nearly unbreakable, and I don't wear glasses, so doing the whole double-glasses thing isn't a problem.

I am jealous of the guys at work that just wear their regular glasses and some clip-on side-shields, though. Those things are slick.

YFNN (aka Captain Safety Glasses)

Anniversary Lessons

Today (October 7th) is my wife and my second wedding anniversary. Just a short 731 days ago ('08 is a leap year), we tied the knot on a beautiful evening in front of just over 200 friends and relatives. In the time since then, I have learned an enormous amount about marriage in general and how to make things work smoothly. So, today at lunch, I scrawled down a list of things I've learned that I'd like to pass on. Some are obvious, some not so much.

- Marriage is REALLY hard work sometimes. You thought they were exaggerating at the time, but when your pastor, your parents, your friends, and everyone else told you so, you should have believed them.

- When you're single, you are as happy as you are; when you're married, you're only as happy as the least happy person in the marriage. If you're not the one that's the least happy, do everything you can to make the other one happier. It brings up the overall happiness in the marriage.

- Even if you lived with your spouse before the wedding, it's different after you're married. I can't really explain why or how, but it is. In this case, different is good.

- Church and bible studies are great for your relationship. Ditto for praying together. Seriously.

- Sometimes your spouse asks for you to be a leader, without really asking. Learn to recognize this and when you do, lead. Even if you don't know exactly what to do, lead. Sometimes it's not about leading the right way, it's just about being the leader.

- TiVo and DVR save relationships, I'm convinced. Being able to temporarily pause that show on the history of beer or the Eagles game while you take out the trash or answer "Can you help me for a second?" will dramatically reduce the potential for arguments. $15 a month has never been better spent.

- Full-disclosure financial organization, planning, and communication are of critical importance. Be open, honest and completely communicative with your spouse about EVERYTHING financial. Monthly "budget meetings" can bring a huge amount of peace-of-mind to the relationship.

- It's exceptionally rare that you can be both right AND happy at the end of an argument. You can be right OR you can be happy, but not both. It may take a while, but eventually you'll realize that it's way better to be happy than right.

- If you're like me, you'll get more accomplished around the house when your spouse isn't around. Once you both come to this realization, you shouldn't feel bad for asking her to leave you alone for a couple of hours, and she shouldn't be offended for you asking.

- When your spouse presents you with a problem, she doesn't always expect you to fix it. Sometimes, she just needs to talk about it. There's no shame in asking "do you need a listening ear or a solution?" before she starts in. But be careful, even if she wants a solution, make sure you don't give it to her until she's done completely stating the problem.

- It's perfectly fine to continue to do your laundry separately. She'll enjoy not having to turn every single one of your socks right-side-out and you'll enjoy not having to separate your laundry any more distinctly than "white" and "not white".

- Eating at the dining room table together once in a while, with the TV off, is good for you both. Ditto for sitting in the same side of a restaurant booth and sharing a dessert.

- When you first get home from work, it's important that you both get a good 15 minutes of wind-down time. Being bombarded or bombarding her with "You should..." or "We need to..." or "Can you...?" statements right when you get home just gets people frustrated. Give each other fifteen minutes to settle in first. Amazingly, everything will still get done and you'll both be happier.

- If you leave the house and there's a chance you won't be home before your spouse gets in, leave a note. Yes, it seems trivial to you, but it's not to them. It only takes a second. Just do it.

- Sometimes when your spouse says "Can you help me with this?" she really means "Will you just do this for me?". That one took me a long time and a lot of frustration to figure out. I now know that when my wife asks for my help in rolling up the garden hose or take something to the attic, she really just wants for me to just do it. And that's okay. Sometimes it's faster and easier to just do it yourself than with her, ahem, help.

- Right before bedtime can be really stressful for her. I'm not exactly sure why, but apparently it is. Being helpful gets you in bed and asleep faster than just getting in bed and trying to fall asleep while your spouse stomps around.

- The hormones from pregnancy make your wife go completely bat-s**t crazy (at least the first 22 weeks...that's all the farther we currently are.) You will never cease to be astounded by the completely irrational and non-sensical things that come out of her mouth and that she does. Even she will readily admit that some pregnancy-related books that explained these things (that'll be a future post) have been the only thing that has stopped me from committing her to an asylum.

So there's the lessons I've learned. In just a couple short years, I've learned a lot. Just imagine how much I've got to go!!!

YFNN

Dumb Things I Do All the Time

After reading a post on a personal finance blog about dumb things the author does on occasion, I felt rather inspired to create my own list. But, I'm not going to limit mine to just personal finance, mostly for your entertainment. Now, I'm a pretty smart guy. I got good grades, I've got an above average IQ, I excel at most things academic, but I still do some REALLY dumb things on a daily basis. Really dumb. Here's a short list.

1) Hit the snooze alarm about 6 times every morning.
My alarm goes off about an hour before I really need to get up. Every night, I think that I'm going to get up when the alarm goes off the first time and take my time getting ready and enjoy the morning. Does it ever happen? Of course not. I hit that snooze button every nine minutes until I'm 30 minutes away from having to leave. The real kicker is that I'm sure that hour of intermittent dozing does absolutely nothing for my rest, and it drives MLB crazy. Yet, every day it continues. Dumb.

2) Put off doing laundry until the absolute last possible day. My laundry hamper typically overflows onto the floor several days before I decide it's time to do laundry. What this means is that when I decide to do laundry, it ends up being an all-day chore, and I hate doing laundry. It makes for a miserable day. I'm sure it'd be much less painful for me to just do a load or two every couple of days, rather than all at once, but I never do. In fact, I've even gone so far as to buy new underwear so I could put off laundry a couple more days. Also dumb.

3) Buy a soda for the drive home.
I know it's expensive, I know it's a poor choice, and I know it's intentionally marketed this way, but I always do it. It never fails that when I go to the grocery store (or Target, or Lowe's), I'll pick up a bottle of soda on my way through the check-out lane. Why? Well, because I'm thirsty. Why can't I wait the four or five minutes until I'm home and get a drink of water? Because I'm dumb. Those check-out lane coolers get me nearly every time.

4) When working in the garage, place a tool down someplace unusual and think "I'll remember where I put that because it's an unusual place for it."
For example: If I'm underneath the car, I'll place the ratchet on top of one of the tires, rather than back in the toolbox or on the floor next to me. Then, when I'm ready to use it again, I spend ten minutes trying to figure out where the heck I put it. Or, I'll put the notes for the motorcycle restoration in with the sandpaper, thinking "I'll remember that," and then waste 45 minutes later in the day. Dumb.

5) Leave my cellphone at work.
I don't get very good reception at work, so I typically leave my phone charging on my desk all day. As I leave, I'll bet four out of five workdays, I leave my cellphone in my office. Usually, I'll remember as I get out to my car and have to go back in the building, unlock my office, and retrieve the phone. Somedays, I forget until I get home. I leave it there on my desk, just charging away 80% of the time. Dumb.

So, that's a good start. Maybe now that I've put these dumb things into writing I'm stop doing them. Not likely, but maybe.

YFNN

A Putterer and a Tinkerer

I'm a putterer and a tinkerer. I putt in the garage, the kitchen, the yard and our basement. I tinker with my tools, my cars, my motorcycles and anything else mechanical that I can find. I'm happy as a lark just hanging out and performing menial tasks in some of the more manly areas of the FNN homestead. And that's exactly what I did this past weekend since ripping through the countryside on two wheels was not an option (yes, I'm still bitter).

I spent a good portion of the day this past Saturday and all of Sunday in the garage, enjoying the nice weather and getting in some solid, quality puttering. Since spring is right around the corner, I concentrated on getting some things cleaned up and ready for summer use.

The lawnmower was thoroughly checked over. It received an oil change, a clean air filter and some fresh gasoline. I cleaned and repainted the deck and performed one of my favorite garage tasks: sharpening the mower blade. For some reason, I just love donning some gloves and safety glasses letting the sparks fly.

I also prepped the snowblower for storage. I removed the remaining fuel with my brand new shiny transfer pump (I busted my old one), and gave it a good cleaning and a coat of wax.

"He waxes his snowblower!?!"

Yes, I wax my snowblower. It helps to keep rust away, and it helps the snow to slide off the paint in the winter. So what?

I also finished the small table I built for a friend's dog. It needed another good finish sanding and another couple coats of polyurethane.

The rest of the time was spent sanding and refinishing my workbench (winter projects had it pretty banged up), putting away the tools, odds and ends that had accumulated over the last several months, and giving everything a good cleaning and wipedown.

Now, that sure sounds productive, but I'll be the first to admit that a very large portion of my garage puttering is just that, puttering. I re-organize tool drawers, sort sandpaper, perform some basic cleaning, and just generally move stuff from here to there and back. But, I love it. I love listening to the radio (talk radio or baseball games in the summer) and just being around tools, dirt, and projects. I love the smells of gasoline, sawdust, and that wonderful hot-electricity smell that power tools emit.

If this is what retirement is going to bring everyday, I can't wait.

YFNN

Old Age at 28?

I'm only 28. I feel old.

Examples:

1) I can't drink a lot of caffeine anymore. In college, I used to be able to suck down a couple bottles of Coke doing some homework, and still fall right asleep. Shortly after that, I was drinking Diet Cokes all day long, sometimes up to nine or ten a day (soda is free at TCFWIW). But, one night I was sitting on the sofa, watching television with a Diet Coke in hand. My chest started to get tight, my left arm started to tingle, and I got that shortness-of-breath and heart thumping that you get when you get really scared. I thought "Oh boy, these are heart-attack symptoms and I'm only 26." So, I went to the doctor and had a stress test done, as well as lots of other scans. As it turns out, my health is very healthy, even more so than most people my age, and everything else was normal. So, the doctor turned to my diet. As soon as I mentioned the amount of Diet Cokes in a typical day, he stopped me and stated that was my problem. So, I dumped caffeine almost entirely, cold turkey. Those first two weeks were the most painful I've ever experienced. Relentless terrible headaches, sleepless nights, and general crankiness were par for the course. But, caffeine is gone and I'm likely healthier for it. I still miss that sexy silver can, though.

2) I play "mystery bruise" in the shower. When I was younger, it seemed like I could practically whack myself with hammer and show no marks. What daily injuries I incurred seemed to heal before my very eyes. Now though, I get bruises that I have no idea where they even came from. Did I run into a table? Did I bang my arm on something? Who knows for sure, but it seems like I get bruises for no good reason now. When did I become so fragile?

3) I went from an iron stomach to one of paper. In my younger days, I could eat two dozen super-hot buffalo wings, some chili, and some warm Dr. Pepper in one sitting and feel like I could run a marathon. Now, my stomach moans and groans just at the thought of a greasy pizza or Chinese food. What the heck happened?

4) I take vitamins. When I don't take vitamins, I'm sluggish, cranky, and achy. If I miss my gingko biloba, I'm stuck with a dull headache all day. Am I really this close to a shoebox-sized box of pills with the days of the week on it?

Like I said, reality smacks me around on a pretty regular basis, but Mother Nature has been more than happy to throw some extra jabs and uppercuts my way over the last couple of years. With my birthday coming up shortly, it sure seems like she's not holding back now.

If anybody finds a fountain of youth, let me know, okay?

YFNN

Be Still My Calculating Heart

spread•sheet (sprěd'shēt'):
n.
1. A piece of paper with rows and columns for recording data for use in comparative analysis.
2. An accounting or bookkeeping program that displays data in rows and columns on a screen.

I need to let the whole world know that I love spreadsheets. Make no mistake; I am absolutely, positively, 100% head-over-heels in love with spreadsheets. In grade school, when I learned just a few basic techniques on one of the first Microsoft Excel programs, I found that Lady Spreadsheet had her hooks in me and was never going to let go...and I never, ever wanted her to.

Now, it should be a given that I use spreadsheets every day at work. What good nerd wouldn't? But, I use spreadsheets extensively in even my daily personal life. Finances, to-do lists, Christmas card databases, inventories; spreadsheets hold them all together. I keep no less than thirty different spreadsheets I've written updated regularly. They're tracking, calculating, and listing various aspects of my life, and each one of them warms my heart in a different way. We're not talking simple ones, either. Oh, no. I've got them automatically updating, creating charts and graphs, forecasting, and monitoring countless variables and data.

I know what you're thinking: "That man has lost his #@$%! mind!" Let me try to explain:

da•ta (dā'tə, dāt'ə, dä'tə)
pl.n.
1. Factual information, especially information organized for analysis or used to reason or make decisions.
2. Numerical or other information represented in a form suitable for processing by computer.
3. Values derived from scientific experiments.
4. Plural of datum.

I'm a data man. I love data. I literally can not get enough. The more, the better. I want measurements, assessments, and quantifications until I'm drowning it. I want as much numerical information as I can get my hands on. It's the reason I walk with a pedometer. It's the reason I track household expenditures to the penny. It's the reason I count the number of steps from my office at work to the car. I crave numerical information.

With this constant stream of information constantly coming at me, I need a way to store, organize, and analyze it. That's where spreadsheets come in. As far as I'm concerned, they have no competition. They're the reason I can tell you how much my take-home pay will change if I up my 401(k) contributions by a percent (-$22.90) or how many gallons of gas I put into my motorcycle on September 24th (3.26).

I know, I know. You still may not completely understand my passion, so here in list form is why I love spreadsheets so:

1.) Automation - If I change a number on a spreadsheet, it can automatically re-run every calculation based on that change. Even if it's three hundred and forty-two formulas away, it'll do it, and do it instantly.

2.) Error elimination - I know that if I enter a formula correctly the first time, the spreadsheet will never make a silly math error, like forgetting to carry the four. It's perfect every time.

3.) Charts and graphs - There is nothing I like better than a solid, informative chart or graph. It can convey information so clearly, so concisely, and provide an understanding that no data table could ever dream of. Spreadsheets can generate them beautifully.

4.) Organization - Data is kept in nice, neat columns and rows. Everything is aligned properly. Data can be labeled and sorted with colors, fonts, or even animation. Organization will set you free!

5.) Flexibility - They can be used for simple lists, or the most complex financial statement. They're just as happy storing your Christmas card list as they are at calculating complex failure analyses. I know because I do both.

6.) Power - There's no better way to express the meaning of hundreds of thousands of data points than by using a spreadsheet to illustrate it by generating a simple graph or reduced data table.

7.) Speed - Instantaneous calculation. I'm pretty good at punching numbers with my TI-85 calculator, but I'm no match for the lightning-like quickness of Excel.

If you're afraid of spreadsheets, please don't be. They're perfectly amiable, and are eager to be your best friend.

YFNN

So Who Is This Guy Anyway?

One of the big decisions you need to make when you start a blog is how much information and detail about yourself that you're going to divulge. I've read blogs where only the bare minimum is expressed, and I've read others where the author will tell all sorts of details about their financial, romantic, and personal life. I'm sure I'll fall somewhere in the middle. We'll just see how it goes.

To start, I'm a late-twenties guy that lives in the Midwest, that was recently married. My wife is a wonderful, tolerant woman that has more energy than anyone I've ever met, and absolutely lights up my life with her humor and spunk. We've got a good-sized house in the suburbs of a large city, and a 80-lb fun-loving, energetic dog that can make home-life interesting.

I've got a pretty normal job in a technology industry, dealing with various aspects of engineering, management, finances, and science in general.

Throughout the blog I'll refer to several different people regularly. To keep things a little more private, I'll use some acronyms. I'm sure my close family and friend know them, but the average Joe off the street won't. Here are some that I'm sure will come up:

MLB: My Lovely Bride. This is my wife. We've been married for only a few months, but have been together for a more than a couple years. I'm VERY fortunate to have a wife that is as understanding as she is.
DD: Our pet dog. We've had him since December of 2004. He's a big guy (Doberman/Lab mix) that's very playful and affectionate, and has more personality than any other dog I've met.
TCFWIW: The Company for Which I Work. I've worked there for the last couple years, quickly moving upward. I'm not going to divulge much information, but I can say that it's a technology company, and I have a position which deals with nerdy subjects like engineering, finance, and management.

I maintain the standard stable of nerdy interests like reading, computers, and especially science, but I like to think that I'm much more than your stereotypical nerd. I love to cook because of the science behind every reaction and technique and I'm very involved in every aspect of personal finance. I'm sure each of these will come up regularly.

Believe it or not, I'm involved in some other more, um, manly interests as well. I've got two motorcycles, one of which is a modern 1000cc V-twin sportbike that I ride regularly, and the other is a 30-year old 2-stroke cafe-racer that I'm in the process of restoring to new-ish condition. I've also been involved in many different aspects of auto racing, and still have a highly-modified sportscar that I used to race.

Since this blog really doesn't have much of an agenda, I'm sure posts will touch on every portion of the above at some time or another.

So that's about it. I'm sure you'll learn more as time goes on.

Later,
YFNN

What's With the Name?

Well, here it is. At the request of some family members, I've started my own blog, here at http://yfnn.blogspot.com.

The reason for the name? Well, it's a bit of a Spiderman thing, where he called himself "your friendly neighborhood Spiderman". I LOVED Spiderman as small kid. And, well, I'm a nerd. It's okay; I've embraced it, and often, it pays off to be a big nerd. So, here it is, Your Friendly Neighborhood Nerd.

What the point of this blog? Well, it gives me a chance to share my nerdiness with friends and family, giving them a short glimpse into my everyday life. And, if other people stumble across this site, well, they can see the trainwreck, too.

Now, I'm not going to be one of those people that say "I'm going to write every single day!" or "I owe it to the readers to put out quality articles!". I'm really doing this for myself and no one else. It's a pretty non-committed commitment, so I'm not going to even suggest at posting frequency and especially posting quality.

So, that's it.

Yeah blog!

YFNN