magic number: 42

so campers, here are a few fun facts about the number 42.

• the angle at which sunlight reflects through a raindrop (or more precisely, a bunch of raindrops) to form a rainbow.
• the atomic number of Molybdenum.
• the number of results displayed if a person Googles (or Bings) the phrase "the answer to life the universe and everything."
• number of generations in the Gospel of Matthew's genealogy of Jesus.
• one of The Numbers - 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, and 42 - featured in _Lost_.
• the jersey number of Jackie Robinson, the only number ever to be retired by every single Major League Baseball team.
• the number of spots on a pair of standard 6-sided dice.
• the last size in men's jeans that retail stores sell on the shelves outside of the Big 'n' Tall section.

Obviously it is this last trivium on which I would like to focus.  this past weekend, Susanne and I went beach camping in Rehoboth Beach, DE, and at the end of that [fantastic] trip, we made a stop at the outlets so I could purchase some pants to get me through the winter without exposing myself unintentionally when my pants inevitably ended up falling down.

Great was my satisfaction and delight when I approached the shelves of jeans with trepidation, selected a size 42x30, straight-cut jeans, soldiered off to the fitting room, and jumped right into those jeans.  Gone are the days of shopping online exclusively (because I couldn't find anything in the store that fit me) - I can literally walk into any store in the entire outlet mall (with the possible exception of Yankee Candle) and pick something that I can get into.

The very best thing about the number 42?  In all likelihood, this time next year it will be in my rearview mirror. :)

autumn

top 5 reasons not to have weight-loss surgery in August:

1) Blue Moon - Harvest Moon seasonal ale
2) Dogfish Head - Punkin' Ale
3) Sam Adams - Octoberfest
4) Sierra Nevada - Tumbler seasonal brown ale
5) O'Fallon - Pumpkin Beer

as i walked through the grocery this morning, stocking up on ultra-portable snack items (string cheese, olives from the olive bar, bananas, etc), i unwittingly walked past the beer/wine section, where the first thing i saw was a giant cooler case full of Harvest Moon.  instantly, my stomach and beer-sense went on full alert and i was literally foaming at the mouth.  all that excitement came to a screeching halt in almost the same moment, as i remembered that i won't be partaking of any of these fine brews this particular season.  you're probably thinking - hey, leaves more room for cider and pumpkin pie, right?  well, technically that's correct - having less beer in one's stomach does tend to make room for other things.  the chasm in my soul created by the loss of my time-honored autumn tradition of indulging in a glass of fine, spicy, malty, punkin-y goodness is a bit more to worry about.  ultimately, of course, there are worse things (such as - in no particular order - gout, sleeping sickness, enduring October as a Cubs fan, and weighing 50 lbs more than i do now, as i did those scant weeks ago) - but doggone it, a person is allowed to be sad.

i know i'll survive these coming months, with all their Fezziwig Ale/Winter Welcome/Holiday Porter/Cranberry Lambic festivities, but today's post is all about fully appreciating now what i did not appreciate last October: this season is practically custom-made for drinking beer (82 million Germans can't be that wrong), and as i've noted in previous posts, nothing should ever be taken for granted.

so go forth - snuggle up in front of the faux-fireplace with one of your favorite autumnal brews and soak it in (or drink it, it's up to you).  i'm giving you fair warning now, though: you and i have a date next October for some serious overcompensating for this year's brew-less autumn.


Official pounds lost (since pre-op diet started): 48 and counting. :)

reality check

sue and i were sitting in our hotel room on Long Island sunday night when i happened to pop on Facebook.  as soon as i logged in, i was IM'd by a friend of mine from college, asking if i had received her text message.  i hadn't, and told her that.  she then told me that one of our mutual friends in college had just lost her husband as a result of an apparent, and incredibly sudden, heart attack.  my first instinct was to say she must have the wrong information, since the guy she was talking about was too young...we had all known each other and hung out in college many times, and i just couldn't believe that someone a year younger than i am could possibly have disappeared in the blink of an eye.  then it hit me like a body blow, reminding me of his wife, my good friend, and their 7-week-old daughter.  i leaned back against the sofa and just cried.  tears for the baby who will never have the opportunity to know what an amazing gentleman her father was, except through stories; tears for my friend, who has lost her soulmate and best friend; tears for the incredible person Jonate already was, and all the promise of the man he would surely have become; and tears for the powerful reminder of the true brevity of our time in this world and the uncertainty of tomorrow.

once my tears were spent, i realized i had been weeping for almost ten minutes, the perfect medicine for my bruised heart, and with that realization came thanks, regret, and trepidation.  thanks for the friends, family, and doctors who helped us get through the surgery; and thanks that we were financially able to take that step in the first place.  regret: for the many wasted opportunities that have slipped by, sometimes without notice; for the harsh words i've shared with those closest and most important to me, never realizing until now that those could be the last they hear from me; and regret for the times when i had the chance to show someone love or compassion, or to offer a shoulder to cry on, and didn't.  trepidation - what if this drastic change i've made is too little, too late?  though i've seen some incredible results, and my doctor tells me i'm healthy (and getting ever healthier), the loss of so young a friend stirs my insecurities and deepest fears in a way that heart palpitations and getting tired too quickly on the treadmill never did.

in the long run, i know that Brandy will heal and that Madison (Jonate's daughter) will come to treasure the memories and stories she hears of her father, and that she will be proud of him without ever having known him.  as surely as i know that, i know that this event has changed me in a way that i'm not yet able to recognize, but it feels something like a Scrooge moment.  i feel more resolve to take the extra time to share a laugh or a cry with a friend, to breathe in the aura of innocence and adventure that permeates time spent with my nieces (and eventually, our own children), to make every moment count, to end every conversation with a loved one on a positive note - letting the person i just talked to know that they are and always will be dear to me, and most of all - to love with reckless abandon, making sure that my sue knows that she is in every breath i take and every beat of my heart. if we are blessed with children of our own, i hope and pray that i will be able to watch them grow and help guide them, as i have done with my three beautiful nieces.

i leave you with this: if there is someone you haven't talked to in a while - whether it's a family member with whom you had a falling out, or a friend you've been missing, or even a spouse that you feel you never see because of ever-diverging schedules - take the time to pick up the phone or write a note or plan a dinner together.  let them know how important they are to you and how much your relationship means to you.  and then go eat something terrible for you and luscious - if tomorrow's not coming, make sure you have something memorable in your belly and lingering on your palate when you go. :)

In memoriam: Jonathan Duran Scales (1979-2010) - we love you brother, and we'll miss you.