Manny being Manny

Ladies and Gentlemen:

I stand at the precipice of a dilemma, again. Manny Ramirez was being "Manny" again, this time, instead of whining about fake hurt knees and loafing on his team, he got caught using performance enhancing drugs. The benefit for me as a baseball fan is that at least he's not still playing for my beloved Red Sox.

If you all know me well, you know I am a ridiculous Red Sox nut. I love the "SAWX". And everyone always asks the same question, "Are you from Boston?" Nope, I am not. However, the Red Sox became my identity at age 20. You see, I had taken to leaving my hometown of Mt. Airy, NC, and exploring the rest of the world. That summer, I had booked a gig as a canoe instructor at a summer camp in New Hampshire. Coincidentally, my girlfriend (at that point in time) lived an hour away. Before she became totally crazy(one day I might tell the tales), she took to touring me around all of New England. And penultimately, the tour consisted of locking me into the lore of the Red Sox. She knew I was a hopeless romantic, and I guess she figured that since I was a sucker for lovable losers, I was a perfect candidate for the "Sawx".

I'll never forget that day, the park, the smells, the enthusiasm, every pore of that place oozed life, newness...a fresh start to a 20 year old with new ideas who just wanted to leave the repressing ideals of small-town America. It was like being reborn. The New Englanders adopted me at Fenway Park..."Oh a southerna who wants to cheer for the SAWX, you like to be miserable? Ok, have a beer and a Fenway Frank."

I was a welcomed stranger in a land I had been taught to fear all my life. "Those "NORTHERNERS"....THOSE "YANKEES" up there, they're so rude, they can't drive, you'll get shot if you look at them cross eyed". All my life, those were the quotes I heard from my "The South Shall Rise Again" compatriots of North Carolina.

On that day, and many days to come in the land of the "Northerners" I was adopted as the favorite son from the south. I was an honorary "New Englander". And I finally felt a place where I belonged. I could swear with ease, not trust anyone until I actually knew them, wear sear sucker suits, bowties, pastel shirts and pants, and say stuff like, "Wicked Good". I was looked at as intelligent for thinking forward, rather than just being a "fancy smart kid". Yeah, the Red Sox and New England became my identity.

And until 2004, the Red Sox kept losing with style. You see, they hadn't won the World Series since 1918. This was big, and I was a small cog in the Red Sox Nation wheel. There were old people hinging every last breath on living to see them win in their lifetime. Folks, this Red Sox thing was serious business. And countless times, the "SAWX" would get to the precipice, only to be knocked back down to base camp. They didn't just lose, they lost with style. Get your heart and soul into it, and they would gut you, stomp on your organs, burn them, and then feed them to birds of prey. Yet, again and again, the whole fan base would come back for another season.

In 2003, they broke my heart. Pedro was left in too long, Posada hit the game tying double, and Aaron "Bleeping" Boone hit the walk off in extra innings. However, I was back for '04. By then, I had adopted the same mentality as any New Englander/Red Sox fan. I was used to being miserable, never expecting anything to come of something that seemed good. "Yeah we're playing well May-July, just wait till the playoffs, they'll find another way to break our hearts again." In fact, it was my mantra for life..."Yeah life seems good, but I'll find some way to fuck it up when it counts."

And in 2004, everything changed. The greatest comeback EVER happened, we finally beat the "Evil Empire", and the curse was reversed when we swept the Cardinals. At the same time, I had met a girl named "Meghan" who later became my wife. Coincidentally, my attitude started to change. Things that were good could stay good, they didn't have to turn bad.

In 2007, when they won again, I was engaged, had bought a house, and was working at a successful job in Neurosurgery. My life had changed from dating fat psycho chicks and thinking I could do no better, to a guy who was a consistent winner. No longer was I waiting to fuck up, I was expecting to win.

When Manny was traded for Jason Bay last year, I asked my wife, "Do we have to change our cat's name to Jason Bay (Of course I named our cat Manny, and of course they won the series in 2007 when we adopted him)?" And now, tragedy has struck again, and I find myself thinking, "Do we need to change his name, or will our cat be associated with steroids and cheating?" On a broader level, do the recent championships count, or do they have the dreaded asterisk beside of their name?

More deeply, does this somehow give my life an asterisk? Did I really ever deserve everything good that happened to me? Quite seriously, you can correlate the Red Sox winning the World Series in 2004, and Meghan and I first meeting and deciding to seriously date. In 2007 when they won again, I got an amazing job that boosted my self confidence to what it is today, oh yeah, and right around that time Meghan and I got married. Have you seen my t-shirt that says "My Wife is Hot"?...yeah, damn hot, I married the prom queen.

On the most personal of levels, I used to really like doubting and hating on myself. I loved to "almost" get to date the hottest girls, but then I would fail with the same style the Red Sox would, losing when the games counted most. I loved feeling sorry for myself, worrying about failing, failing, and then crying about it. Honestly, the early 20s of my life were the most inconsistent and stressful because I couldn't close the deal, and at the most opportune times I put myself in bad situations.

You can say what you want about Manny and whether these championships are now tainted by the dark cloud of steroids. But you can't put an asterisk on the positive changes in my life. Will I rename my cat? No, I can't, because to me, that places an asterisk on my life, that sends a message that says, "And I've changed to become a permanent winner, and now I'll go back to when life was less certain...when we hadn't won since 1918". Manny is Manny and will always be Manny. And Matty will always be Matty, it's just that ever since those Sox won, Matty did too.

Saying "Yes"

So I said "Yes", when Meghan said, "You don't have to come to Grandma's Mother's Day Luncheon, really it would be ok if you didn't come". I may not be the smartest man, but my dad has taught me a lot in the 34 years he has been married. No way was I going to fall for that trick!

And so I went. We loaded up the dog, got dressed up in our pastel "Prep-tastic" Spring colors and made a day of it. And dagnabbit, it was fun! The whole party was really a lot of fun. Picture a bunch of 75-80ish year old really wealthy women (who have by now mostly outlived their husbands) sitting down for a formal luncheon. The event was fabulously done; elegant China (Grandma has about 300 place settings of priceless hand painted China, I've seen nothing like it), hand cut crystal, silver, and some really nice gourmet courses that my mother-in-law and wife put together. Seeing these old ladies start with Mary Ellen's signature vodka cocktail at noon was more than humorous.

The overall atmosphere was a really happy place for me. Watching the old timers get doted on by their children, grandchildren, and close friends was probably more of a reward to the hosts of this event than the guests. And although the event was all about Grandma and her entourage of "Golden Girls", it felt a lot like a date with my wife and me. Meghan was dressed to the nines, smokin hot, and I felt like were had just started dating again. I kept stealing glances while we prepped our dishes, bussed the tables, and washed the bone china, crystal, and tiffany glass that easilly tripled our salary.

And honestly, I was happy I said "Yes". After the party had ended, Mary Ellen said, "Matt, thanks for coming, I know you'd rather spend your day off in many other ways, but it was nice to have you". And I thought, "Sure, I guess I'd rather be having a nice selfish day doing what I want, but in hindsight, this is what I wanted to do. I may have griped about it, and I may be a terriffic Martyr, but I really enjoyed myself today."

Folks, I am terrific at whining, and I have been schooled well in the annals of Martyrdom. But there are a lot of times (and many more lately), when I have found that shutting up and doing is much more rewarding. Because, when it's said and done it was never as bad as that selfish ego made it seem. In fact, why is it that we bitch and whine so much, why is it that we all have the fault of being selfish?

For me, I find that being selfish and making excuses is better than trying and failing. Not that I was worried I'd fail at cooking for a bunch of old ladies, but more globally, I constantly battle fear of failing with a lot of things I end up investing in. For me, it is much easier to hide from events that, "Might not turn out to be a success" and use excuses of "I'm too busy".

This is no revelation, and I am certainly not the only one who experiences these emotions. However, I'm lucky to know who I know, and have wonderful inspirational people around me who challenge me to rise up and be that figurehead, and not a bumbling idiot too afraid to take a chance. Thus far, I'm 30, married to a really hot wife, becoming more and more successful at life and my job. So, "Thank You", to my wife, my friends, enemies, mentors, and any remote inspiration that makes me say "Yes". "Yes" is much more empowering than worrying about saying "No".

"Mawwage is what bwings us togetha today"

I love being married. I love it so much, we're preparing to celebrate our first anniversary on May 25th. Say what you will about being with one woman the rest of your life, I think it's swell and I think it's one of the best things I have ever done. However, I have found that marriage is not without it's pitfalls. So far, I have realized the following about the opposite sex/marriage (I encourage my readers to be forthright if they know any other secrets about women):

1) If you have had fun without them, you're already minus two when you get home. If you have had fun without them and come home late, you had better been saving some stray kittens, cooking at a homeless shelter, or something else Mother Theresa would do. Have a bad excuse, your score card looks like Tiger's...except you're not in the running to win anything but a night on the couch.

2) When they say yes, generally they mean no, or they have a caveat to the yes. However, they don't really let on to the caveat until you proceed with whatever they gave you permission to do.

3) They become more honest about your figure.

4) When they say, "I really don't care if you come, it's okay if you don't (when inviting you to a function)", you better tag along.

5) The longer you are with someone, the less likely you are to pay attention to what they say even when you mutter, "Yep".

Last weekend we had four glorious days off together. Rather than jet setting to a far away place, we decided to stay at home in order to landscape, garden, and cook a lot of new gourmet meals. We were prepared for a traditional date weekend. There was a however. Friday, we were both set to spend our nights apart at two meritable events. Meghan traveled to southern Maryland, to stay with her best friend who was expecting her first child at any minute. She wanted to be there for the big moment, and wanted to help out just to be there to help de-stress the future parents.

Me, I had the civic duty of attending a bachelor party.

Needless to say, I may have told Meghan that I would be home around 10am the next day, so we could start bright and early on our gardening. Since I was riding with my buddy Drew who also had to be home early to spend his wedding anniversary with his wife, I felt it a fail safe that we would arrive home on time if not early.

After getting a delayed start due to the hangover breakfast, and after changing a phantom flat tire on Drew's car, we arrived at 12:30. Not good, not good at all. Already, I was minus two because I had fun without her...

Listen up, you all know it, you've seen the face, but something changes once you're married and you go out and have fun without her, especially if she has been working all day. I'd expect it's minus three once you actually have children. Before marriage we were always told, "So glad you could go out with your boys, great job, keep it up, you need your man time.". Now it's a little different. There's a strain in her face when she says the same thing, the gleam in her eye has left. Don't believe me, ask Hege. He just went to the PGA tour on Friday down in Charlotte, NC. His wife worked all day, and then she came home to their daughter. Think he wasn't down a couple of points after chilaxin' with a bunch of golf pros? And we both knew he was nervous pulling into the driveway. The simple statement of, "Matty, gotta get off the phone, Leslie doesn't like it when I come home after being away on the phone"...Yep, because once you're home, your eye has to be back on the proverbial ball.

It's game time when you hit the door. Bring flowers, tell her she's special, do something to make her remember she is very special, at least tell her you missed her and would have had more fun with her there. I'm not sure why guys...but it works. In the words of my father, "You gotta lie"...and honestly, it's not lying per se, it's just getting a little extra mushy in order to say, "Hey, I really care about you". And since you got married, I hope that you really actually do care about her. If not, you got in too deep too soon. I got lucky, I love my wife, and I love our life together, but you gotta remember, COMMUNICATE those feelings with more than hungover sweaty grunts.

Next, when they say "yes", they really mean "no", except they aren't sure if they mean "no", but after you do what they say "yes " to, they wish they would have said "no". Therefore, you put yourself in the wrong.

Last weekend I was invited for a fishing trip on the Bay with my cousin T.J. I vacillated on this subject for about 48 hours because the trip was during our "date weekend". I even got Meghan invited, and she ended up turning down the invite in order to go pleasure boating with some other friends. Me, well, Meghan said the following, "You really need to go fishing with T.J, it would be nice for you to get to know your new cousin, you need man time. You can meet up with me after fishing, we'll pick you up on our boat as you come in."

And then the story sorta goes like this...You see, what had happened was...well, we got skunked all day. So, the fishing captain decided we'd just keep trolling the boat 40 miles round trip. The trip that was supposed to last till 2 or 3pm lasted till 5pm. Thusly, I never met up with my wife until I drove home at 6pm. The words out of her mouth weren't, "I'm so mad", they were worse. "I'm just disappointed, I really wanted to hang out and now we have squandered two days of the four". Can you say minus a trillion points for something I had no responsibility for, yet somehow it was my fault? Disappointed is far worse than mad. Mad leads to make up sex. Disappointed doesn't lead anywhwere special.

We went out for crabs and beer to rectify the situation. Apparently picking crabs is the equivalent to "I love you, you are special" in our household. Minus a trillion went to par I think, until I do something else she says "yes" to, but really means "no".

And when you think you are really good at mind reading, you just get smacked down with the bludgeons of "Marriage Honesty". I'm still licking my wounds from last week.

While training for our honeymoon/wedding day photos/beach shots/six-pack abs we both lost a good amount of weight. Those beach pics were pretty sweet, and I was definitely ripped up and sexy. Even after the honeymoon we did well, trained for a half-marathon and kept those beach bodies for a few more months. However, as the cold weather set in, we started to sit more, exercise less, cook a lot of really rich food, and drink heaps of good wine. Needless to say, I put the 15 pounds I lost back on. Thankfully, I just lost a good 7 pounds in Colorado, but need to lose just a few more in order to get that bad ass body back. And as my own worst critic, I know I need to shed just a little bit more. However, during the weekend I always happen to place myself back up deNILE river, and I engage in cheeseburgers, beer, and fried goodness.

But I guess that will have to stop because the honesty police showed up at our house in the form of my wife as she said, "Yeah, you need to tighten up your abs some more, maybe Pilate's will help". Gunshot wound to the ego...ouch. We all know I'm not a fat guy, more or less I'm completely obsessed with my body, anything less than a 6-pack of abs, and I'm putting myself in the Morbidly Obese section. Suffice it to say, honesty is perhaps the best medicine, but damn it stings like the dickens. And I find it more prevalent the longer I stay married. I could bore you with more examples, but you married boys out there feel my pain.

Tomorrow, we head to Grandma Burton's house. My mother-in-law has decided to cater a lunch for Grandma and her 12 closest friends as an early Mother's Day present. The outsiders can only agree this is a very nice thing. I too think it is wonderful. However, Meghan has been mandated to "Help" at this event. This essentially means she will be preparing most of the food being that she is the gourmet. Since both of us are conveniently off of work, Meghan presented the situation as such, "Mom told me I have to go and help, I have no choice, but you don't have to come if you don't want to".

Stop!!! Hold it right there! To the buffoons who decide to heed that teaser statement, have fun. You will be sorry. Just like the statement, "Don't get anything big for my birthday, we are trying to save money". You might mean it when YOU say it, BUT they do NOT mean it. It is called lip service. You don't get anything nice for their birthday, you're done. You decide to stay at home and not help cook because you can't bear to stand the thought of wasting your day off with Grandma...good riddance, back to minus numbers.

Women are tricky, they cannot be figured out. It's like "Jedi Mind Tricks"...if you have an intuition and it reads, "I don't understand why she would say "yes" or "you don't have to if you don't want to"...do the opposite. If you somehow get in trouble doing the opposite thing, tell her you were just trying to make her happy. That generally suffices for the time being until you can figure out another method to crawl out from the busted up dog house.

Lastly, I find myself listening less and less. This is subconscious as I find myself an intelligent and thoughtful guy. However, I'm started to succumb to the disease I saw my father and grandfather go through. The disease of muttering "yes", and never knowing the words pursed my lips.

The other night we got sushi. Meghan said the following (note, I don't remember any of this), "I got napkins, chopsticks, and soy sauce, you bring the sushi"). And I muttered, "Yep".

As I moved from the kitchen to the living room table I said, "Did you get napkins, chopsticks, and soy sauce?"

My mother and grandmother and everyone else's mother call it selective listening. I just call it "Overload Protection". Face it, men aren't as smart. Their brains work in the process of one at a time thinking. We cannot multi-task. When we try to multi-task we generally screw things up or end up in the fetal positioning with our heads splitting from information overload. Although we are generally physically stronger we are mostly mentally handicapped when it comes to listening and processing what our wives tell us. Admitting your weakness is 99% of the battle. Try hard to listen, and when you fail just get that blank look on your face, shrug your shoulders and say, "You were right, sorry about that".

And those words are sometimes better than those three little words, "I love you". Heck, if you can master combining the two phrases together, you will be married to a happy wife, equaling a happy life for the eternity you promised.

Punched for a What?

Last weekend was Nicky Freitag's Bachelor party. Held in Baltimore, Maryland, or as we call it, Balmore, all the usual suspects from high school showed up for a very memorable evening. Shenanigans were had, beers were drank, and women were certainly gawked at. I find being married keeps things on even keel because it's easy to stare, but you don't have to do anything about it. It's like being in middle school again. Except you're just not afraid that you'll mess up if you get a chance, because the chance came and went when you said, "I do". My dad calls it window shopping.

A recounting of the night is illegal, but there were highlights...

1) Skinny Rob trying to fight the large African American scalper over ticket prices in front of Camden Yard Stadium. This resulted in the rent a cops "Holding Him Back". Rob...145lbs of financial wizardry. Stick to Finance man, not drunken Balmore fights.

2) Taking our 10 dollar scalped tickets and sitting 10 rows behind first base 15 people deep.

3) Seeing the various Blackberry and iPhone snapshots of the lucky fella receiving a "Blumpkin". We aren't' sure who he was, but we were happy to see such a thing is not just an Urban Legend.

4) Being punched at (with closed fist action) by a girl who was mad I stole her dildo hat...

What? You read right. As the night wound to an epic close, I thought it necessary to pal up with the bachelorette party at the club we were all partaking at. Throughout the night our party got along swell with their party. Let alone until I spotted a really angry looking petite blond stuffed sadly in the corner, who was wearing a dildo hat (yes, you heard it right, Dildo Hat).

Stupidly, I decided to take it, smile at her, and do some cute little "Dildo Dance". She being unamused, took to cocking back her fist, putting all of her 110lb frame behind that little arm of hers, and swinging for the fences (The fences being my purty little face). Thankfully both blows glanced off my left cheek. Instinctively, and rather slowly, I swatted her hand away after she went for thirds. Foreseeing violent retaliation would land me in the clink, I grabbed her Buffalo Babe colleague, stood behind her, and said, "Hold her back, protect me, she's gone wild"...thus infuriating "Little Miss Sunshine" beyond angry face recognition.

As her "Posse" held her back, I made my escape into the herd of drunken buffoons and retreated to the hotel, finding the last slice of late night pizza, grabbed a "beer for bed", and drifted off in front of "Baseball Tonight".

Fortunately, my buddy Drew and I left the weekend of bedlam a day early in order to go back home to our wives. I say fortunate because Saturday's activity involved betting on horses. If you know me, I hate to lose, and when I lose, I bet more.

We both had our obligations, Drew had his eighth wedding anniversary, and I had yard work "date weekend". I felt like "Frank the Tank" telling his pals, "I can't drink tonight, me and the wife have a nice little day planned, Home Depot, Bed Bath and Beyond...I'm not sure what we'll get to, I'm not sure if we'll have enough time".

But I must say, it was really nice to see the guys from high school. Hell, I hadn't seen most of them in 8 years, and like life, everything changes, but stays a little bit the same. Some guys were married, some with children, some still single. Most importantly, they were still the same old guys who always had your back, the only difference is that we had gotten just a little bit older.

Mandolines and Violins

I had the pleasure of a day off on Friday. Actually, I had just gotten home from working all night and was operating on a one hour nap I picked up in between consults.

Foregoing sleep, I took on the day for Honey-Do tasks. Dog to the park for 1 hour, return things to the mall, buy things at the mall for Meghan and me, grocery shop, and return home for dinner prep and the benefit of a nice fat cigar in the dusky sun.

The most exciting part of the day (other than my wife coming home), was purchasing our new Mandoline. Why so exciting? Mandolines cut veggies, including potatoes, thusly giving you fries...we had determined our night would be devoted to truffle fries.

To surround that decadent side, we had decided on Mediterranean Lamb/Beef burgers, with a nice herby mix of rosemary, chive, mint, and garlic. It was a snap putting that together. And to be honest, the rest was pretty easy as well. I whipped up a nice cucumber, tomato, onion, and kalamata olive salad, made some tzatziki sauce for the burgers, kept dessert as the BIG SURPRISE for later, and started on the fries.

After ruining a few potatoes with our new device, I got the hang of it. I was whippin those russets through the slicer and julienning the frick out of those bad boys. Meg got home, we opened a nice starter bottle of white, and put the heady aroamed fries in the oven to bake.

After 45 minutes, the "Those are too thin Matty" fries were greasy limp lumps of grey flesh. Slightly buzzed, we had the idea of placing them in the frying pan to make Truffle cakes...

The char that ensued was neither edible or intelligible, so we scrapped the heap of Truffle dung and tucked into the burgers, and the salad, and a really nice bottle of Pinot Noir. Pleased, we settled into the couch, and with the dog nestled under the blanket, I sneaked away for our latest dessert creation.

Macerated Blackberries, Vanilla Bean Frozen Yogurt, covered in Creme de Casis....props to Bobby Flay, we got the idea whilst watching our tvo'd "Boy Meets Grill". Thrilled and exhausted my wife woke me up and said, "it's time for bed". From Honey Do, to Honey Did...it was a good day to be a Matty.

Spring is Springin and Sprung

Ah...

Nothing like the joys of Spring. Hege and I used to praise the days when the girls started losing that winter weight and started showing up for class (and to the bar of course) tanned, scantily clad, and always ready for a romp!

And as much as that gets a young man's trigger happy, there is no more frivolous fornication with the abundance of loose and often times large women. It's a total blessing that those days full of risky business and liver damage are behind us. Frankly, it's a blessing we all survived disease free. As my good friend Mickey Burks said, "I'd be dead on the side of the road had I not met my wife". Here here Mickey...here here...as I told Grandma Burton last year..."Meghan is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and regardless of whether I know her for 1 year or 100 years, I'd have spent the most important part of my life with the most amazing and wonderful person I know. A lot of people say that Jesus is their personal saviour. Not to get too far into religious mumbo jumbo, I'll just say that Meghan is mine.

I started reflecting on Spring the other day whilst our dog Fenway and I were running through the rain at our local park. As there was no one on the trail and I could only yell, "Good girl Fenway, run run run" so much, I started to think about Spring and what the season has signified at different times in my life. In my early days, I remember a lot of long holy days at church. I'm taking 2 services of 2 hours each. Boring? Of course, just a little, but I always remember the fellowship, the green grass, the new smells, the birds, the picnics as we braked for lunch, and of course, the nice pastel colors of flowers and new church wear accessories.

As things changed and I attended less and less of the marathon church services, the theme of new and exciting stayed the same. Even throughout those crazy college years there was always a new hope that certainly "sprang forth" (that pun is for Hege).

And it brings me back to the other day, finishing our run in pouring down rain, seeing the new plant life covering the forest floor, and watching our newly 1 year old "Fenway" happily running, tongue slightly poking out, and ears erect as to detect any foolish nuisance in the woods. Life has indeed changed, and it's pretty neat. No more boring 4 hour sermons, no more "Oh my God why did I hook up with that?", or "Why did you all make me drink that?", and no more, "I really hope she likes me, do you think she'll go out with me again?", more importantly, no more, "I hope I pass this test, graduate, get a job, buy a house, the list goes on..."

I used to think once you were married life just got boring, and predictable...especially when those kids come around. I'll have to say I was wrong. Married life rocks, coming home to the most beautiful woman in the world who is still happy to have you around kicks ass. Watching the dog run in the rain and play at the park is better than any stupid shenanigans I pulled in college, which brings me to the point. As unsure as life is, you have to make wonderful whatever happens around you. Embrace the little moments, and little things. Life isn't slowing down as we get older, it's trying to pass us by, and eventually it will.

As your spring days get longer and the season heats into the summer, remember we are all lucky to be alive, please make your days the best you can.

April Fool

Almost 3 weeks later I reappear. Fresh and ready to begin anew. You'll have to pardon the grittiness of the last few rants...overworked, underpaid....I now come back working, still underpaid, but ready to get things restarted.



It's daunting how much has happened over the past 3 weeks. Let's see if I can list it. Apparently making a list makes things easier to accomplish...I saw that on "The Office" last week....

In no certain order:



1) Snowboarded and hung out with our cousins in Colorado

2) Took a private Snow Cat ride with our cousin Tommy

3) Won a lot of money watching UNC beat the TAR out of Michigan St.

4) Went back to Mayberry (Mt. Airy, NC) for Easter

5) Visited with Will Hege (Hege Ramblings) for a Man Power Lunch


Folks, let me be the first to say, Meghan got me the best birthday present I have ever received when she took me out to Colorado for a week of hanging with family and snowboarding. Honestly, I'm a mountain man at heart. I love the thrill of hiking, snowshoeing, snowboarding, running up mountains, and basically any feats of strength and endurance I can handle in the great outdoors. After recently turning 30 and eating and drinking too much all winter, I was even more excited to push the limits in the thin air of the Rockies. We arrived to a sunny 55 degrees that quickly turned to 20s and snowing. Perfect Spring skiing...and man oh man it dumped about 3.5 feet of powder on us whilst we were out on Copper Mountain.



As a novice snowboarder I'm totally tentative. However my cousin Tommy and his two kids beat the wuss out of me by day two and had me bustin through the out of bounds trees, bombing down double black bowls full of moguls and any other type of ridiculous hazard. But, as a 30 year old with my cousin Tommy and his two kids in tow (10, 12 years respectively) who can board and ski like lunatics...my ego got the best of me. My favorite quotes were, "Matty, are you okay?"...as my 12 year old cousin yelled watching me slam into 5 feet of powder...my board buried into the tree base....and I yelled back..."Oh yeah baby....oh yeah!"....

Though my east coast lungs were getting shreaded in the thin air, and my legs were taking a pounding ...I was in heaven, I was challenged...I was living. Goddammit I had a helmet...I was gonna be just fine.

You had to love it when I decided to launch off the ramps at the snowboard park with my ten year old cousin Jakey (He is already sponsored by a snowboard shop). Meg even caught an action photo of me...stiff legged, a little wobbly up top, a whole FOOT off the powder. It felt better than it looked I guess...but the elation, the bliss...the appreciation that I was away from that East Coast grind was enough. Shit, I coulda landed on my head and I wouldn't have cared...I had a helmet for Christ's sake.


Rarely do I come back from vacations slimmer...but this time I came back a little leaner, and generally feeling good about my 30 year old self. Nothing like competition from some kids who can kick your ass down the mountain to keep you feeling young. I guess when I have kids...regardless of the type (boy or girl), I'll be that forever kid...trying to follow them where ever they are...bellowing behind them, "Oh yeah baby, I'm having a great time"...while my wife watches on and says, "You're a nut!"

Our cousin Tommy, a jack of all trades, happens to groom one the slopes at Loveland. During the season, he drives the Snow Cat at night, four nights a week. As a bonus to my already RAD present, Tommy offered to take us up on the Continental Divide at midnight. Indescribable is cliche, but I'll use it as I have no other words. Although the wind was gusting and overall visibility was poor, the magnitude of the elements were humbling. Most fun...getting to drive that 350,000 dollar machine. In fact, Meghan and I had a friendly competition of who could groom the best trail. I lost...but as we got out to switch places, I peed my initials in the snow...and I took a picture. I would publish it but I deleted the photo as it was pretty unintelligible...some things never change.

What could be finer than seeing Carolina whoop ass in the NCAA's? Winning a little bit of royaledge for our pockets at the same time. Long story short, Meg and I invested 30 dollars for one of those office type tourney pools and I won the whole thing. Money is already spent as Meghan has planned out renovations to our deck and fence. God Bless being married!


As I continued my blog less jaunt across America I found myself resting with the folks for Easter. A couple of months ago I made it a point to schedule a little Matty with folks time to reminisce on the days when I was a young spoiled only child without a wife. Time well spent indeed as I got to catch up with my mother and father, both whom I love dearly.


And who couldn't forget to mention hanging with his best pal. Yep...old man Will Hege and I caught up for a MAN lunch the day before Easter. No kids, no wives, and surprisingly no alcohol. When I got home my mother asked if we reminisced about the old days. When you have a great friend like Will, there is no reason to talk about the olden days because your relationship adapts to life beyond chasing women and booze in college. It was really nice to catch up with a guy whom I really respect and value as a human being in this world. Honestly, that lunch took me back to when Will and I used to chat endlessly the first summer we met. Call it the rekindling of a BROMANCE, call it whatever you like. Or you can call it special that you have a good friend and that you have kept a good friend through thick and thin.


As eventful it was for me to write the blog, I'm sure you're still searching for a clever punchline, or maybe a creative story. Maybe next time.


I'm less overwhelmed with the updates now and I am looking forward towards charging back into blogdom one snappy comment at a time. Until then...in the famed words of T-rent from M0-town..."Good Night, God Bless, Trash Comes on Tuesday"!

Matty