Get off my lawn

Note: The following will appear soon in the Statesboro Herald.

After nearly three years of marriage, Yes Dear and I thought it was a good time to take the next logical step in our relationship.

(Sorry Mom, we’re not having a kid, but the idea of telling you about it though one of my columns does seem appealing.)

No, instead we decided to buy a house. I guess, technically, the bank bought a house and we’re going to spend the next 30 years paying them for it. But semantics aside, we now own a home.

And now I get to look forward to all the joys and trials of home ownership, including spending my weekends working around the house rather than watching ball games and constantly praying for rain to nourish my lawn.

Instead of calling a landlord when something breaks, I’ve actually got to call someone to fix it – and pay for it. For all you students out there renting, there are some benefits to it.

However, now that I have a house of my own, there are quite a few things I’m looking forward to doing.

First of all, I know that I have years of yelling at the neighborhood children to get off my lawn whenever they cut though my backyard on the way to their friend’s house.

Along with that, I guess I’ve reached the stage in life where I can grumble and complain about the state of America’s youth.

“Kids today with their iPods and their Internets. Back in my day, we had a healthy dose of respect for our elders. We had good, wholesome entertainment like MTV and rap music. And look how well adjusted I turned out to be."

I’m not sure if 27 is old enough to play the role of crotchety old guy in the neighborhood, but it always seemed like a fun role to play. I always got the feeling the cranky old fuddy-duddy who hated kids would go inside after yelling at them and take some kind of twisted delight in scaring kids into submission.

I’ll also have the opportunity to be the house that all the neighborhood kids scurry past on Halloween because “that’s where ‘Old Man Martin’ lives" followed by some wildly exaggerated tale of horror that has no basis in truth.

In all fairness, I really don’t think I’m allowed to tell any kids to get off my lawn without being labeled as some sort of hypocrite. I’m pretty sure I wore a path in the yards of the people who lived between my house and my friends’ house. And as far as I know, none of the neighbors ever complained to my parents.

(If they did, my parents must have ignored them as they never told us not to go running through people’s yards. Although that could explain why my parents are never invited to the neighborhood Christmas party, even 15 years later.)

When I was tossing around the idea of writing this column, I was all set to include a part about how we must have offended the neighbors because they hadn’t taken the time to come introduce themselves and bring us a pie to welcome us to the neighborhood. Unfortunately for this column, it turns out our neighbors turned out to really nice and even though they didn’t give us a pie, we did get some banana-nut muffins, which were pretty good.

And now they’re inviting us to dinner. How can I relentlessly mock my neighbors if they’re going to be friendly and polite? Obviously they don’t care about my needs or they’d fill a stereotypical role to make my job easier.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go water my grass.

New Wedding Tradition: I was listening to the Sports Bash on ESPN Radio and the host said he has a tradition at every wedding he attends. At some point before the bride and groom cut the cake, he takes a dab of icing with his finger. He doesn't jab his finger into the cake and leave a giant hole, but just a swipe off the side. This sounds like a way to keep weddings exciting for me. I just wish I'd thought of it four years ago when all my friends were getting married.

What's been new with me update: You'd think I'd have a lot going on, but the truth of the matter is I'm just plugging along at work as I always do. Now I just go home to a different place each night.

Official Brother Baseball Update: Two weeks ago, Yes Dear, Official Brother and I went to Atlanta to watch the Red Sox (Official Brother's favorite team) take on the Braves. Boston won all three games and we were able to see a lot of our friends who live in the Atlanta area. A good time was had by all (except the Braves fans, who were vastly outnumbered by the Red Sox fans there.)

Kids are easily entertained update: As it turns out, there is a four-year-old girl who lives across the street from us. Whenever her mom is outside, she's with her and when they came to introduce themselves, the little girl decided it would be fun to play "chase." (Apparently this is a lot like "tag" only I never get to be the one being chased, I always have to chase her. I guess if you're making up the rules to the game, you can do this.) Well, now, everytime that I see her, she wants to play chase. I'm as friendly as the next guy, but not as in shape as the next guy. It's fun to play, but I'm worn out by the time we're done. Maybe it's because I sit behind a desk all day, but I'm out of shape.

Fantasy update: Denise Richards still hasn't sought me out to comfort her as she still struggles with the break up of her marriage to Charlie Sheen, but I'm still holding out hope she'll call me. (Denise, if you're reading, Yes Dear is going to be out of town this weekend, so I'm available.) In other Fantasy News, I'm not sure where I left off with the updates, so I'll just say I'm in first place in one league and sixth place in the other. Overall, as we near the half-way point in the season, I'm feeling pretty good about my teams (even the sixth place team.) I guess all those hours reading about how to analyze statistics during the winter is finally paying off.

Open House Update: When you buy a house, you're supposed to hold an open house party for your friends. I was unaware of this, but Yes Dear wanted to do it, so who am I to say no. It's scheduled for July 8 so if you're in the neighborhood, feel free to stop by. (Ladies, in the interest of remaining married, if you do stop by, please let my wife know you read my blog so she doesn't wonder why strange women are appearing at our door. Thanks.)

Well, I guess there's nothing left to say but that it's good to be back. I missed you guys.

It's almost here

(That's "Coming soon, new post" for those who don't speak sign language.)

Sorry, sorry everyone.

The good news: The house is all set up and nearly everything appears to be working properly.

The bad news: My computer's on the fritz, meaning no blogging from home. And since they actually expect me to work while in the office, that means minimal blogging for me. I'll have one of my coworkers come look at my computer and tell me what's wrong and how to fix it soon.

Have a good weekend all, the fantasy updates will hopefully return soon.

I'm not quite dead

Hey guys and gals,

I haven't forgotten about this blog, and actually have wanted to post recently. However, until late yesterday, we didn't have internet at my home (stupid moving) and we've yet to set the computer up. A new post is coming soon.

We appreciate your understanding.

Spelling mania

Hello, my name is Luke M. and I’m a nerd.

I watched the Scripps National Spelling Bee Thursday night. That’s right, years from now when someone asks me where I was when Katherine Close correctly spelled Ursprache and became the first girl (woman?) to win the Bee this millennium, I’ll be able to tell them.

While others have mocked the Bee and those who would watch it, I embrace the competition that puts an inordinate amount of pressure on middle school kids and then, for added dramatic effect, televises it to the nation for millions to deride these spelling savants.

(Official Brother and I discussed during the Bee the effects of these kids being on national television. On one hand, they are obviously geeks who have no real hobbies and probably spend their days learning the importance of a word’s etymology from Greek to Latin to German. I think that means there will be a “T” in the word where there shouldn’t be. On the other hand, do the guys in the spelling bee suddenly become Lyle Lovett or David Coperfield, dweeby guys who end up getting the hot babes in their middle school? More importantly, what does it say about me that I used the phrase “hot babes” in conjunction with the term “middle school.”

And on a slightly related note, Official Brother said he was cheering for Saryn Hooks (pictured to the right, more on her later), the girl who eventually finished third because she was “the cutest.” Official Brother is a senior in college. Warrants mentioning.)

Making the broadcast even better is the fact that the losers (and really, aren’t they all losers) were interviewed and obviously had no social skills whatsoever. One kid was asked why he was able to do so well and he said, “I don’t know, God, I guess.” Good times.

Also, this year, the finalists were on stage with their parents sitting a few feet away. (And you know they were all sitting there thinking to themselves “For the love of God, don’t you embarrass me on national television.” I kept waiting for one of them to get their word wrong and break into a profanity-laced tirade that would end with security guards dragging the kid off stage while he shouted “Free Tibet.”

Making matters worse, when the kids misspelled a word, they had to go sit with their parents, only the organizers apparently didn’t think about the fact that the kids would need a chair. So they’d misspell a word, dashing their hopes and dreams for life (because let’s be honest here, this is the apex of their life. It’s all downhill from here. I’m actually surprised there aren’t more former spelling bee losers who end up homeless and addicted to sniffing glue on the streets while holding the sign “Will spell babism for food,” but I digress), but they were also forced to sit on the floor while those better than them kept spelling.

There’s comedy, there’s high comedy, there’s transcendent comedy, and then there’s watching kids have to sit on the floor because they misspelled a word. Very good times indeed.

But back to Saryn Hooks for a minute. She was at the center of the controversy in this year’s Bee. In the eighth round, she was eliminated after the word hechsher (a rabbinical endorsement or certification), forcing her to go sit on the floor.

However, during the commercial break, it was discovered the judges (the NATIONAL SPELLING BEE judges, had misspelled the word and the 14-year old Hooks had spelled it correctly.) Back into the competition she went.

When the judges can’t spell their own words correctly, it’s time to wonder why we even have the words in the English language. Honestly, do Jewish people ever say Hechesher anymore, or do they just go with “uh, yeah, what the Rabbi said.”

Unfortunately, we’ve got to wait another year before we get to experience the ups and downs, the highs and lows of the greatest spectacle in academia, the Spelling Bee. Next year, we’ll do a Fantasy Spelling Bee and then people like Alison will have a reason to watch.

Weekend Plans: This is my last post from my apartment. We closed on our house on Thursday and we’ll be moving in this weekend. Unfortunately, I waited until today to plan for phone service at the new place, so I’ll be without Internet access until Wednesday. Please don’t leave, I promise I’ll post again sometime next week when I get a chance.

House Update: Well, we’re in the house, but everything isn’t completely done. For example, we have dead bolt locks on the doors, only the keys they gave us don’t actually unlock the dead bolts. I realize you’re building a house and there are numerous things that need to be taken care of, but keys for the locks. How do you mess that up?
Crotchety Old Guy Corollary: Now that I’m a homeowner, I look forward to yelling at kids to get off my lawn. (Kids today with their iPods and Internets. Back in my day we had good, wholesome entertainment like MTV and Rap Music. What’s wrong today’s youth.)

Have a great weekend everybody.