Last night, I peacefully drifted off to sleep.  All was good.  Then at about half past midnight, I realized my arm was falling asleep, so I shifted around on my side of the bed trying to get comfortable.  This involved lots of tossing and turning and eventually I put my hand under my pillow to adjust it.  Putting my hand under my pillow also resulted in a surprise.  A nasty surprise.  There was wetness under my pillow.  Wetness that should not under any circumstance be present.  Grunting my disgust, I turned on the light and discovered (gasp!) dog vomit!  That’s right, it appears as if sometime during the previous morning, while Charlene and I were getting ready for work, our beloved beagle had thrown up what appeared to be chicken leftovers under my pillow.  Well hidden so that when the bed was made it was completely unnoticed.

Completely disgusted and completely tired.  I told Charlene that I would just sleep on the couch.  Thankfully, my wife’s brain wakes up much faster than mine, so she had the good sense to inform me that I could not just leave dog vomit until morning and that it needed to be cleaned up.  Changing the sheets and removing all remnants of Kirby the Beagle’s upset stomach, I again drifted off to sleep reflecting on life’s many blessings.  Needless to say, my dog’s under the pillow surprise was not one of them.

Three years ago, when we moved to Willmar, I noticed something odd about our grocery store.  In the chip aisle, hanging off a shelf was a bag of ping pong balls.  Week after week, I would pass the ping pong balls, ponder their odd placement, and wonder if I would ever find a reason to purchase them.  Since we don’t own a ping pong table and it seems like an odd housewarming gift, I’ve never even placed them in my grocery cart.

Well, along came yesterday’s ugly “Cookies by Dave” t-shirt giveaway.  Lightning struck.  I had a use for the ping pong balls.  Write a contestant name on each ball, place in a bag, pick the winner.  Brilliant!  My ping pong ball purchasing destiny would be fulfilled!

Yes, the shirt is as ugly as first reported.

Heading to the store, I picked up some milk (we were short) and headed straight to the chip aisle.  Even though the store is in the process of being remodeled, the chips are still in the same location.  I was efficient.  I knew right where to go.  Entering the chip aisle, I looked for the ping pong balls and…  nothing…  they were gone.  Victims of the corporate directed remodeling initiative.  My ping pong destiny would never be fulfilled.  A check mark that would never be placed on my bucket list.

A bit sad, I headed toward the checkout lane, unsure of how I would solve my winner selection quandary.  Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw them.  A gift from my savior.  A plastic solution.  Easter eggs.

Picking up a pack, all of the world seemed right again.  As I reflected on the words of the Rolling Stones, I smiled.  “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you might find, you get what you need.”

Oh and by the way, Jeff’s egg was selected.  Congrats!  The extra ugly t-shirt will soon have a new home.

 Jeff’s “Egg of Destiny!”

When I was in the fifth grade, I was a Philadelphia Eagles fan.  Showing pride for my favorite team, I also owned a t-shirt featuring an iron on of their quarterback, Ron Jaworski.  One day, when I was in high school, I discovered this old t-shirt and squeezed my teenage body into it.  It was tight.  It was yucky.  Most of all, it was epically bad (in a comical way).  Since then, every March 23rd, I celebrate Ron Jaworski’s birthday.

Ron Jaworski, a.k.a. “The Polish Rifle,” in his glory days.

Well yesterday, I was inspired to do a little spring cleaning and tackled my closet.  Inside, I found another epically bad shirt (not in the least bit funny, however), my first attempt at “Cookies by Dave” apparel.  The logo is too big.  The layout is all wrong.  Most of all, it makes me look pregnant.  Pregnant with a big cookie baby.

So in honor of Ron Jaworski’s birthday and celebrating bad t-shirts everywhere, I am giving away my prototype “Cookies by Dave” white t-shirt shown below.

As a bonus, this shirt also comes with sleeves (not shown).

To enter, leave a comment at www.CookiesbyDave.com under this post entitled “Cookies by Dave T-Shirt Giveaway,” with your first and last name, and why you would love an extra ugly men’s XL size “Cookies by Dave” prototype t-shirt.  Comments must be posted by 8PM (CST) tomorrow, Tuesday, March 24, 2015.  A winner will be selected by whatever process I eventually decide upon.

Happy Birthday, Ron Jaworski, and good luck.

When life takes a detour and you are left with feelings of anger, take heed, there’s a productive place to turn.  Channel that frustration and dark feelings toward something truly productive.  Something positive.  Something delightful.  Something called cookies.

That’s right, kitchen based therapy taking all of that negative, placing it in a preheated oven, and transforming it into warm bites of happiness.  Can cookies solve all of the world’s problems?  No, but they can certainly help take the edge off.

“SEEING RED” NUTMEG COOKIES

“These eye popping cookies are a play on Snickerdoodles.  Don’t worry, however, these cookies are anything, but ordinary.  Fun to make and tasty to eat, these cookies hold their own.  With an intense nutmeg flavor and pleasing red appearance, these cookies have a soft interior, which is complemented by the exterior coating’s delicate crunch.  Plus, nutmeg is considered an aphrodisiac, so it’s difficult to find much wrong with this week’s baking adventure.  Enjoy.”

Cookies

¾ cup Sugar

½ cup Butter

1 Egg

½ teaspoon Vanilla

1½ cups Flour

½ teaspoon Baking Soda

1 teaspoon Cream of Tartar

Pinch of Salt

½ teaspoon Nutmeg

Coating

4 Tablespoons Red Decorating Sugar

½ teaspoon Nutmeg

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Cream butter and sugar.

Mix in egg and vanilla.

Mix in flour, baking soda, cream of tartar, salt, and nutmeg.  Set aside.

Create the coating by mixing together the red decorating sugar and nutmeg.  Set aside.

Form the dough into 1½ diameter balls.

Roll each ball of dough in the coating to fully cover.

Place coated balls of dough on parchment paper lined baking sheets.

Bake for 10 minutes.  These cookies do not brown, so be careful not to overbake.

Makes about 22 cookies.

Revised Source:  “Nutmeg Noel Cookies” on www.tastebook.com.

In late February, we made a trip to the grocery store.  As is often the case, when the boys accompany me to the store, we plugged a few quarters into the “Claw Machine.”  We identified which stuffed animal appeared to be most “vulnerable” and one after the other, we took a try.  Again and again, the claw would descend perfectly onto the stuffed animal, pinch in what appeared to be a total embrace, and then mysteriously let go as the claw returned to the sky.  Empty claw.  No toy.  Again and again.

Then it was 6-year-old Ben’s turn and he brazenly decided to target a stuffed snowman on the other end of the machine.  His likelihood of success was extremely slim and we expressed our disappointment in his decision.  Ben however wanted the snowman and positioned the claw above his target.  Then in unorthodox fashion, rather than press the release button, Ben let the game timer run down to zero.  The claw descended, clamped around the snowman, and wonder upon glorious wonders maintained its grip.  The stuffed snowman was lifted up into the air and traveled above the chute.  After a hard push on the machine from Ben’s 11-year-old older brother Jacob, the claw finally released and the stuffed snowman descended into our lives.  Ben had pulled off one of the greatest claw machine feats of our time.  He beamed with pride (his brother’s reluctantly acknowledged his success).

Being silly with Snowy.

For two weeks, Ben carried “Snowy” all around the house.  On one notable occasion, Snowy was even playfully tossed into the air and landed in the sink full of dishwater.  After a brief tour of duty in the dryer, Snowy again returned into Ben’s loving arms.  Snowy was a good friend to young Ben and a source of happiness.

Earlier this week, we noticed a rip in a seam connecting Snowy’s arm to his plump stuffed snowman body.  The author says with dripping sarcasm, “Who would have guessed that a claw machine toy could fall apart so soon?”  Snowy would need serious help.  Help that I could not provide on my own.  On Monday, we enlisted professional support and took Snowy to the seamstress.  Day after day, we awaited news on the results of Snowy’s surgery.  Earlier today, we could wait no longer.  We called and with great joy heard that Snowy was ready for pick-up.  Heading to the dry cleaner, who also provides mending services, Ben was reunited with Snowy.  For a small payment of $6.41, Ben’s friend Snowy was healed.

The repairs were nothing major for the professionals.  A small act, but oh how that small act brought young Ben so much joy.  Over the past week, we have experienced personal struggles (see “Pride”) that have challenged us in many painful ways.  Even in that pain however, we were surrounded by so much love.  Love expressed in so many different ways.  Calls, prayers, and messages of support.  People bravely expressing public words of encouragement.  Pick-me-up gifts through the mail and in person.  Hugs.  Flowers, wine, meals, and even a dear friend bringing us coffee.  All love.  All friendship.  All powerful.  We have been surrounded and lifted up by the love of God shown through others.  Truly humbling.  Truly holy.

So every day remember, tiny acts of love are simple, but incredibly powerful.  You can act on behalf of God in this sometimes broken world.  You can build others up.  Your simple acts can make a huge difference.  Just as a $6.41 stuffed animal repair may not seem like much to the seamstress, it can bring so much happiness to a young soul.  Thank you, friends.  You are the light that makes the world a better place.  You are the balm that daily heals our souls.

The triumphant return of Snowy the Stuffed Snowman.

Winter…

Spring…

‘Nuff said.

Breaking News:  as of 3:47PM today (Thursday, March 19, 2015), our 6-year-old Kindergartener Ben ranks (drum roll, please)…  Number 1 in the United States with his March Madness Bracket!

That’s right.  As of now, Ben’s tournament bracket is a perfect 8 out of 8!  He ranks number 1 out of 174,116 people who filled out the Gannett News March Madness Bracket.

Madness, baby!  March Madness!

Benny the Greek

Sometime over the past three years, I don’t know exactly when, I set a very lousy personal record.  A personal record with which I struggle.  A personal record that placed me in the “red” on the doctor’s office Body Mass Index (BMI) chart.  A personal record where my weight passed 200 pounds.

I had every intention of returning under 200 and over the past three years, I have made many many attempts to dive back under that troublesome number.  Each attempt failed.

Then came the past week.  A week full of personal challenges.  A week packed full of stress.  A week supplemented with plenty of delicious red wine.

Now, I don’t check my weight on a regular basis, maybe once a month at best.  This morning for whatever reason, I figured I would step on the scale and survey the damage.  That is when I saw an amazing site.  A site that I did not expect to see.  An odd number that contained beauty and wonder.  199½!

Apparently a steady diet of red wine and elevated stress produces incredible results.  Now, personally I would not recommend the “Red Wine and Stress Diet,” but it’s hard to argue with the short term results.

When Charlene and I met in grad school so many long years ago, we knew that we had signed up for a rough profession.  We knew that the average tenure for a City Manager was something crazy short like five years.  We knew there would be days like yesterday.  A day when Charlene’s city council approved a separation agreement.  A day that was not entirely surprising, but a day still painful.  A day still very raw.

Even though the events of yesterday still hurt, there is something to which I cling.  Pride in my wife.  Not only as a spouse, but as a professional.  Over our twenty years together, we have been through plenty.  Who hasn’t?  Twenty years is a long time.  Tragedies and challenges at home and work.  Yesterday was bad, but in no way was it the worst.  We will see brighter days.  Just like the Lord has provided for us in the past, we will be blessed again.  Of this I am certain.  As we experienced life together, my lovely, talented, smart, and above all strong wife has held her head high with me by her side.

Pride.  It is hard to measure.  Sort of an “I know it, when I see it” kind of emotion.  Well, last night, my pride in my wife and how she continues to carry herself was again present.  At the meeting, facing undesirable scenarios, my beautiful wife maintained her professionalism.  At one point, a member of the overwhelming group in attendance to support her stepped forward.  It was a grandmother with her preteen granddaughter at her side.  She just wanted to introduce her granddaughter to a strong female role model.  Someone who works hard, who cares abundantly, and who seldom looks back.  Someone her granddaughter could hold in high regard.

My pride was reaffirmed last night.  For even in the face of dark adversity, my wife, my precious Charlene held her head high.  She remained professional.  She stayed above the fray.  She stayed strong.  I could not have been more proud.

During the days ahead, I don’t know what opportunities will present themselves or what challenges await.  I do however know that the Lord will guide our steps and I will have the incredible woman that I love by my side.  Forever.

My wife.  My pride.  My source of joy and strength.  My Charlene.

Postscript – Your kindness and support have meant the world to us during these challenging past few days.  You have built us up.  For this, I am so grateful.

Over the next few months, I will be taking a step back and focusing on my family.  So when my posts become less frequent, don’t be concerned.  I’m simply taking care of my most precious blessing, my family.  Someday, when life settles down and the present tumult (great word, eh) drifts into memory, I will return with a steady stream of daily events.  I promise.

Thank you for sharing each day with me.  I treasure each and every one of you.

It may be an old photo from last Autumn, but it still showcases my amazing wife.

At church, our 6-year-old son Ben joined his brothers up front for the children’s sermon.  Our pastor began to tell a story about a bicycle.  At the word “bicycle,” Ben’s face lit up.  There he sat with his brothers and friends grinning from ear to ear.  I dare say that it is so very rare that you ever see an adult smile like that.  So sincere.  So energetic.  For whatever reason, happiness was ignited within him.

Sitting in our pew (Mind you, it’s our pew.  Don’t even think about sitting in “our pew.”), looking at Ben, seeing his smile, his cute Kindergarten face,  freckles spilling over the bridge of his nose like sprinkled cinnamon, and joy pouring out from within him, it triggered a thought.  There was our happy 6-year-old.  He has yet to have anger, frustration, and pain calcify his emotions.  His bliss has no barrier.  It flows from him without hesitation.

Let that be a reminder to us.  A reminder for each of us to minimize the hurt in our lives.  Don’t let it kill the joy.  There are so many things for which to be thankful.  So many things that are a source of happiness.  Resist the negativity, focus on the good.  Eventually, the smiles will shine through, much like those of a 6-year-old thinking about bicycles.

Spider-man socks.  Another source of smiles.