If you love something, set it free...

WeekTwelve:Observe Lent

I had a very difficult time trying to figure out what I was going to do for this week’s installment of 52to30. As I’ve mentioned before, being the wintertime in Buffalo I’m relatively limited in what I can attempt at a reasonable cost. While I’m trying to make this adventure as meaningful and fun as possible I can’t afford to be throwing money around like I’m in a rap video. I mean, I’d love to see Mount Rushmore but in the name of fiscal responsibility I can’t just hop a plane to South Dakota for the sake of the blog. I’m trying to start a life here and quite frankly, I’ll have plenty of time to accomplish the rest of the things on my life’s list after my 30^th birthday – hopefully.

Therefore, at this time, it’s become a challenge to find fun, new experiences for this adventure without putting myself in the poor house. This isn’t for lack of trying, however. I was hoping for another foray into winter sports but, unbeknownst to me, the toboggan chutes at Chestnut Ridge are currently closed for construction and I can’t find anyone willing to lend me some cross-country skis. There were several other activities I attempted to set in motion this week but for various reasons I was unsuccessful - at the risk of spoiling future installments, I won’t disclose these endeavors at this time.

After sharing this problem with several interested parties, I received many different ideas for this week’s adventure. Some were things I’ve already done in my life, so those were disqualified, several were activities I’ve thought of but are planned for later in the year and a few weren’t very good ideas at all – Pat can’t seem to let that litter box thing go.

However, on Tuesday, with the week winding down and fear growing over the possibility of a let down, inspiration came, as usual, from my wonderful girlfriend Jackie. We were discussing my dilemma while watching news coverage of Fat Tuesday festivities when she suggests, “You should give something up for Lent.” This idea was so brilliantly obvious I was stunned.

I like the idea of adapting my ventures in 52to30 around the current holiday or season and I seem to be fond of testing my will power through self-deprivation (see Week Eight), so it works from several angles. Also, with the lack of religious practice throughout my life (see Week Three), I’ve never previously observed Lent. Therefore, considering my ignorance of the tradition, I did some research to ensure my understanding of its meaning and practice. However, like many Christian customs, including Easter and Christmas, self-denial during Lent has transcended religious practice and become more of a cultural tradition. (Note: To any devout readers, please forgive my blasphemy).

So now that I’ve decided on my new experience for week twelve, the next step is determining what I will give up for the next forty days. Jackie’s first suggestion was alcohol but since I really don’t drink that often I didn’t think it would be very impressive. Also, we have a wedding this weekend and St. Patrick’s Day in a couple of weeks, so why spoil two of those otherwise rare opportunities to tie one on. Next she mentioned coffee, but that’s just ridiculous. You can’t reasonably expect me to give up coffee for over a month and live to tell the tale. Some sacrifices aren’t worth the suffering. Finally, I decided on another of my favorite indulgences. One I really could afford to cut out of my daily routine – sweets.

Please don’t get the impression that I’m some pig, constantly stuffing my face with candy and baked goods. In fact, I never go out of my way to buy treats on my own, but if they’re available I’m jumping in. Chocolate, brownies, cake, donuts and anything in this general category, when presented I’m taking my fair share. Anyone who knows me, however, will tell you my greatest weakness is easily chocolate chip cookies. They’re just impossible for me to resist and I rarely stop at one. But take all of these sweets, put them on a list and forget about them for the next forty days. Trust me, this is going to be very difficult for me.

However, beyond simply being a new experience, I’m excited for my first observed Lent because of the benefits involved. Not only will it test my perpetual fat kid will power (definitely not my greatest strength), I hope it also encourages more positive eating habits. I’m always looking for ways to shed or keep off extra pounds. So when hunger strikes (pun intended), rather than plundering the nearest candy dish or binging on the week old baked goods in the spare cubicle at work, I will be forced to explore healthier options.

It should be interesting to see which environment poses the greater challenge to my goal: the workplace, where the generous ladies of the office love taking any opportunity to share candy and baked goods; or my family, which seems to celebrate a birthday every other week, not to mention my mother’s propensity for baking delicious treats. As a matter of fact, my first test came Wednesday night at my parent’s house where we were celebrating my sister-in-law Carrie’s birthday. True to form, my mother baked this incredible looking “cannoli cake.” I’ve never previously heard of such a thing it looked as delicious as it sounds. Thankfully, I was able to resist.

Now that I’m thinking about it, this experience could make a drastic difference in my life. Forgive my chubby lament, but I’m just realizing how often I indulge in any variety of treats for a pick-me-up or simply because they’re available. Quantity is often an issue as well so it can’t hurt to learn how to say ‘no thanks’ every once in a while. Hopefully I have the strength to last the full forty days but trust me, I’ll be honest with you either way. Expect an “Unsolved Mysteries” style update around Easter Sunday (possibly sooner if things don’t work out). And if you see me out and about don’t be afraid to give me a little pat on the back. I can use all the support I can get.

POP CULTURE UPDATE

Listening to: Cheap Girls – Find Me a Drink Home
Reading: Redemption Song: The Ballad of Joe Strummer
Recent Movie: The Elephant Man

Life must be lived as play...

Week Eleven:Museum of Play

Originally established in Rochester in 1982, the Strong National Museum of Play reopened its doors in the summer of 2006 after an extensive renovation and expansion. Since reopening, the museum has experienced tremendous success and has been roundly praised by all visitors (I’m sure some people have been disappointed but I haven’t heard from them). Described as “the only museum in the world devoted to PLAY,” the Strong Museum contains many permanent and limited run exhibits based on the study, development and history of play. Most of these exhibits are hands-on demonstrations meant to encourage visitors to play and learn like children in an imaginative and vibrantly colored setting (of course, many of these guests are in fact children). The rest of the displays are fully intended for adults, consisting of endless rows of toys and collectables from decades past divided among category, decade or age range.

I was immediately interested in visiting the Strong Museum when I first learned of its existence - around the time of the grand reopening in 2006. Since that time I’ve known a handful of people who have visited the museum, all with rave reviews. However, despite all the hype born from extensive advertising and unanimously positive word of mouth, I never took the opportunity to make my own visit. Once again we are faced with one of the recurring themes here at 52to30 - my general laziness. Why spend a boring winter afternoon exploring a fascinating museum when it’s much easier to stay in my pajamas all day, drinking coffee and watching Canadian, five-pin bowling? (Note: This is actually a regular occurrence on Sundays once football season is over.) Therefore, in accordance with our purpose on this grand adventure, I’m using 52to30 as an excuse to accomplish something I’ve never taken the energy to undergo on my own.

Since my incredible girlfriend Jackie is a teacher (unlike myself, unfortunately) and has off for various government holidays, I like to take those days off from work so we can spend our time off together. With President’s Day occurring this past Monday I decided to use this free time to my advantage and plan a nice little day trip to the Strong Museum. Being heavy into the home buying process for some time now, vacations have been few and far between. Instead we survive as weekend warriors, using any extended time off to live it up the best we can. This long weekend was no exception.

Jackie and I decided to hit the road early, so after fueling up (gas in my truck and Denny’s Grand Slams in our bellies) we were on our way. We made good time to Rochester arriving a little over an hour later and conveniently found some free, overflow parking - apparently this wasn’t such an original idea after all. Walking in the main entrance, the first thing you see (besides the gift shop of course) is a big-city style diner car. The backdrop for this functional diner is the façade of a brick building, the windows of which are realistically decorated to simulate the businesses and homes imaginatively existing within.

Now I wouldn’t normally go into so much detail about these surroundings but I think it’s a big part of what makes this place so successful. (Plus, it’s worth noting - I love set ups like this!) It has a feeling I can only liken to Disney World, where the environment is so thoughtfully designed you can’t help but believe you’re inside a completely different world. The sort of attention to detail that really grabs your imagination to the point where you realistically envision the lives going on inside. Forgive me if I sound like I’m rambling here but I think that’s what makes the Strong Museum such an incredible place – the detail, focus and creativity that captures your mind and inspires the sort of excited energy children have on Christmas Eve. I love that feeling, but I digress.

After purchasing our tickets, including an additional charge for the Butterfly Garden, Jackie and I proceeded into the museum where we first stopped at the salt-water fish tanks just past the ticket counter. A diverse selection of colorful sea life abounded in the three tanks including clown fish, anemones, eels and a stingray. From these stunning displays we continued into the “Field of Play” which felt like we were stepping into the playroom from the Richard Pryor movie The Toy. This area includes scattered displays of historical to modern toys demonstrating the similarities and importance of play through various eras. However, the highlights of this area were definitely the perspective room, the overhead ball machine and the slanted house. I’ll refrain from going into too much detail, because we could be here all day, but these exhibits were tons of fun.

We then continued our journey, walking through a doorway into an incredible recreation of the Sesame Street set. This exhibit is just mind blowing! Jackie and I had so much fun checking everything out and posing for pictures on the steps, with Big Bird and next to Oscar’s can (unfortunately he wasn’t there). For anyone raised on Sesame Street, like I know many of you were, the Strong Museum is worth the trip for this display alone.

After walking through this area several times, we continued through the Adventures of Mr. Potato Head and an exhilarating cup-stacking competition between several young prodigies before arriving in Reading Adventureland. Here we explored Mystery Mansion (creating sound effects and using secret passageways), Fairy Tale Forest (all your favorites were there) and a pirate ship (no need for further explanation – pirates rule). We rounded out the bottom floor with a stroll through Bear Country with the Berenstain Bears – still a favorite read in the waiting room at the dentist.

Eventually Jackie and myself made our way to the second level of the Strong Museum, which opens with the National Toy Hall of Fame. Among the honorees in this hallowed hall are Lego’s, Silly Putty, Atari and, of course, 2008 inductee, the stick (I was apprehensive at first too but they make a convincing argument). Beyond the Hall of Fame was one of my favorite parts of the museum due to the nostalgia factor – Toys by Decade. We had so much fun going through this section, repeatedly exclaiming, “I totally had that!” at every G.I. Joe, Ninja Turtle or, in Jackie’s case, My Little Pony. Chronologically ordered and historically accurate, this section was definitely a good time!

The final stop of our day at the Strong Museum was a walk through the Butterfly Garden. Just being in this room during February in Western New York was refreshing as it was 85 degrees with 75% humidity. Add to that the beautifully landscaped greenery, ponds with turtles and koi and hundreds of multicolored butterflies fluttering everywhere - it was a very relaxing experience. Unfortunately this area is limited to twenty-minute intervals to avoid overcrowding. Therefore, unable to enjoy a cozy afternoon nap, we absorbed the scenery for our allotted time before moving along.

Jackie and I walked out of the Strong National Museum of Play totally satisfied - a great experience with tons of fun at a decent price. Plus, after an uneventful ride home we enjoyed some dinner and an average weeknight together. I’d call that a successful day trip. If you can’t tell already, I highly recommend a trip to the Strong Museum at your earliest possible convenience. Obviously it’s great if you have kids but I’m glad we could enjoy it by ourselves. Quite frankly, the hundreds of kids were the only drawback of the entire experience. And that pretty much sums up the paradox of me turning thirty - stuck somewhere between immature, hyper child and jaded old man. I’m a work in progress.

Some of the worst experiences of my life have been haircuts...

Week Ten:Give Myself a Haircut

Haircuts have generally been an intimidating experience in my life. I usually put them off a bit too long due to all the negative emotions involved and when I finally succumb, I’m rarely pleased with the outcome. I’m not vain enough for haircuts to be considered a dreadful occurrence but overall they’re a hassle I would rather not deal with. In fact, getting a haircut is kind of like going to a strip club. There’s an overall uneasiness leading up to the encounter followed by anxious waiting and then you have to pay some haggard skank too much money for an unsatisfying experience. There simply needs to be a better way for this to happen. Therefore, for this week’s adventure in Fifty-two to Thirty, I will be giving myself a haircut.

Now before I get ahead of myself, let me break down a brief history of haircuts in my life. For starters, I’ve never liked my hair. As a kid, it was always too thick and wavy to manage in any fashionable way and since it was the 80s, there was usually a lot of it. This issue was only exacerbated between ten and twelve years old when I decided I wanted to look like the Ultimate Warrior and sculpted the all too familiar and terrifying hairstyle we now know as the mullet. Mine was a doozy too - very thick and fluffy but not too pretty. I didn’t know any better and after all it was cool at the time.

Once this stage mercilessly ended I spent a few years with a standard short and fluffy style, often resorting to hairspray to spackle my mane into obedience. Nothing too drastic occurred again until I was around 14 and thought it would be a good idea to dye my hair green. Several attempts were made with various color agents – all with less than stellar results. I’m not sure which instance I prefer: the time I used food coloring (my brother Pat’s idea) and turned everything above my belly button green - except my hair, of course; or the time I used the Halloween color spray before a football game freshman year. Once again, it stuck to my face and the inside of the helmet but the sweat managed to keep it off my hair. Needless to say, this phase was short lived.

Following my green period, I decided to try my luck with the standard grunge-rock style of the day by shaving the back and sides of my head while growing my hair long on top. While many of my straight-haired friends had success with this style (as greasy and stringy as that success may have been) I wasn’t so lucky. Instead, my thick and fuzzy locks grew outwards a bit faster than they grew down until finally I had what has been described as two hairy triangles stuck to the sides of head. I suffered through this design for several months until the first humid day of spring. After passing a mirror on this particularly muggy afternoon and realizing how ridiculous I looked I headed straight to the nearest SuperCuts.

This was 1996 and, with a few brief exceptions, it’s been a standard short cut ever since – worn spiky, pointy, messy or some variation of the three and held together by various products. The only thing that really changed during this period was my growing uneasiness with the whole haircut experience. Once my hair reached the stage where it was nearly impossible to manage I would simply head down to SuperCuts. However, I soon realized every visit was a gamble. On some occasions I would walk out with a nice, average, no-nonsense trim. Other times, however, the stylist might physically assault me and leave me looking like a mangy dog. In fact, during one of my more recent visits to this establishment I felt like a sheep being sheared at the state fair as the girl practically straddled me and got me in a headlock. And while I didn’t so much mind the straddling, I can’t believe I actually paid for what amounted to a buzz cut. Definitely not what I asked for.

Now, it would be negligent of me if I were to leave out a short window of haircut Zen I experienced during the years I lived in North Buffalo. During this time I discovered Charlie the Barber on Hertel Avenue and all my problems were solved. Charlie is a totally awesome old man that gives a perfect haircut for $10 while talking about football, hockey and golf. Life was good when I was visiting Charlie but since moving to West Seneca last summer I haven’t been able to make the trip. My work schedule aligns with his hours so unless I start taking days off for haircuts I just can’t find the time. Therefore, I returned to SuperCuts with typical results and that is what inspired me for what is now Week 10 of Fifty-two to Thirty – Give Myself a Haircut.

The last thing I wanted to do was jump into this adventure blind so as usual I did my research. After scouring the Internet, I assembled the necessary tools, washed my hair and stood boldly in front of the bathroom mirror. With clippers in hand I started with a # 3 attachment and began trimming up from the back of my neck. The directions recommend starting at the bottom and working your way up so after successfully bringing the back and sides to an acceptable length, the next step was to use the comb and scissors to blend the edges before moving to the top. Unfortunately, I severely underestimated the difficulty of the reverse hand-eye coordination necessary for using scissors in a mirror.

I spent about five very unsuccessful minutes trying to cut the clumps of hair gathered between fingers on the top of my head. This was a very disorienting experience and I may have cut about twelve individual hairs during this entire attempt. Despite being disheartened at this fiasco I was determined to see this thing to completion. Therefore, I ditched the scissors and decided to take the easy way out – grabbing the # 8 attachment for the top and #6 to blend it with the sides. This approach required me to pull the clippers back and forth across my head many times to ensure all the hairs are the same length. It’s not a science but it’s effective.

Satisfied with this step, I used the # 6 attachment to blend the top with the sides. When I realized this wasn’t doing the trick I decided to take decisive action and switch to the # 4. This was a bit of a gamble as I was a little nervous about going too low and being forced to sport the military look. Trust me, with this giant melon it would not be a great look. Thankfully, however, the gamble paid off and I was pleased with my side transition.

Now that I was satisfied with the length and blend of my hair, I was in need of a spot check to make sure the line in the back of my head was straight and smooth. I could easily tell this was not the case and I definitely did not feel confident enough to attempt to this on my own. Thankfully, my wonderful mother was available to even out this line thus putting on the finishing touches. All that remained was the clean up, which wasn’t as bad as expected but I’m sure I’ll be finding pieces of hair in the bathroom for weeks to come.

Overall, I was satisfied with the final result of my first self-haircut. I went into this experience hoping for enough success that I could regularly cut my own hair for the sake of ease and value. I might just be on my way. However, while I’m definitely not the fancy-pants type that is willing to spend thirty bucks on a hair cut, a professional touch might not be such a bad idea. Therefore, until I start feeling a little more confident, I think I’m going to have to start scheduling visits with Charlie.

A man without a moustache is like a cup of tea with out sugar...

Week Nine:Moustache

For years I’ve been convinced that I have some natural born talent I have yet to discover. I am completely average at everything I have ever attempted including school, sports, music or anything else I’ve put effort into. However, despite a lifetime of mediocrity, I am confident I will someday realize my secret talent and when that happens I just hope it’s not too late to capitalize. And while my recent foray into snowboarding was just another in a long line of disappointments in this quest of discovering some innate ability, I’m still holding out hope for surfing or accounting or some other useful skill - only time will tell.

However, the operative word in this pursuit is useful. The mountains of pop-culture and historical knowledge in my brain might be impressive when playing Trivial Pursuit but it’s not worth much in terms of employment or monetary gain (Jeopardy hasn’t returned my calls). Another less than useful skill I have successfully developed is the ever-impressive ability to grow facial hair. Now I realize this doesn’t sound terribly remarkable but trust me, I can go from baby-face to lumberjack in a matter of days. Therefore, during week nine in my adventure I will showcase this talent by keeping a moustache for an entire week.

Since puberty, I have experimented on occasion with many varieties of facial hair. Particularly in my late teens and early twenties, I tried every style of beard and goatee imaginable, from chinstrap to Van Dyke and even the dreaded line beard. However, despite my usual sideburn and soul patch combo nothing ever made a lasting impression. But despite this rampant experimentation, the one taboo I never dared to attempt was the moustache. Quite frankly, I never thought I had the stones to pull it off. After all, when successfully employed, it is one of the manliest and most badass accessories on the face of the planet. So this week, I will quite literally “man-up,” and sport several variations of moustache in my daily life for seven straight days.

In order to really do this the right way I just stopped shaving one day in early January. I had no timeline for this experience but I knew I needed a solid foundation in order to have an effective moustache. My plan was to start full and shape it down rather than just grow it from scratch. Therefore, after about a month of unencumbered growth I was left with a very full, dark and manly beard. Once, I finally felt my canvas was ripe for harvest I set out my plan. I knew I wanted to experiment with a variety of moustache styles and shapes so obviously I had to start with the largest and work my way down.

My first choice, and very easily my favorite moustache style, is the classic handlebar, or what I like to refer to as the Hogan-stache - of course, named for the American wrestling icon Hulk Hogan. Originally, I wanted to start a little more intense, thinking along the lines of the father from Orange County Choppers. However, that proved to be much more challenging than I anticipated and as I whittled away my beautiful beard, it was nearly impossible to keep that thing even. Also, for good measure, I was going to add some nice, big pork-chop side burns but they suffered the same curse of imbalance before returning to my standard, more conservative, sideburn shape.

So after a bit of struggle, I was forced to give up on the big spread, but I was more than happy to settle on the traditional Hogan-stache. Though classy and timeless, however, this style revealed my facial hair’s peculiar growth pattern. For some strange reason, despite the thick black hair sprouting from ear to ear, my upper lip grows in blonde. Therefore, my handlebar stache is slightly irregular, as the light hair turns dark just past the corners of my mouth – but it still gets the point across.

My first day with a moustache was a shock to most of the people I regularly encounter, not only because of its sheer awesomeness, but also because they were used to seeing me with a full beard. Many of these people really liked the Hogan (everyone else was wrong) and since I started this adventure last Friday, I was happy I could show it off in public that night. Jackie and I met up with some of her coworkers for a birthday celebration at Dave and Busters and, very appropriately, my new companion helped guide me towards bubble hockey glory. I’m telling you, I’ve never felt so manly as when I had that bad boy strapped across my mouth.

In fact, I was so fond of the Hogan I decided to let it ride through the weekend, which of course included a Super Bowl party at my brother Pat’s house where I was able to further show it off. However, Monday morning came and with it I felt the need to switch up my little nose neighbor for the sake of the adventure. I kept it simple enough, merely shaving the dark ends of the Hogan and leaving the puzzlingly blonde stache extending a bit over the corners of my mouth. Although not quite as powerful as the previous design, this shape was still pretty fantastic. In my efforts to appropriately name this version of moustache I could only liken myself to a cowboy or a 70s baseball player – both of which are definitely cool with me.

Unfortunately, after another two days it was time to move on again. The next stop on Mr. Moustache’s Wild Ride required me to further trim the handles up to the corners of my mouth. Sometimes referred to as “the caterpillar,” I would best describe this style as the Dad moustache – just your standard lip fur, perfect for mowing the lawn, reading the paper or teaching life lessons. Although it’s not the most impressive style of fanny duster, especially my inexplicably light version, it is easily the most popular - especially among fathers over the age of forty. However, as the week was coming to a close “the Dad” only lasted one day before it was time to move on. Apparently, I’m not quite ready for the responsibility of manning the barbeque.

Since this process of moustache evolution involves the strategic trimming of my face-pelt, I was limited to two options at this late stage of development. At first I considered the Charlie Chaplin, but that style carries some negative imagery due to its association with another prominent figure of the twentieth century. Over sixty years after his death, any visual similarities with Adolf Hitler are still generally frowned upon in most social situations.

Therefore, I decided my final style would be the pencil moustache made famous by such outstanding gents as director John Waters and swashbuckling actor Errol Flynn. Sculpting this masterpiece was certainly a challenge but I was able to successfully shave the top half of my lady tickler leaving a thin, straight line across my upper lip. Unfortunately, my baffling blond fleece diminished its stature but true moustache aficionados gave their full appreciation. However, it is now Thursday night, the end of week 9 and therefore the end of my mustachioed days.

I wish there was an uplifting message or some important moral to this adventure but that’s simply not the case. Instead, in addition to being something I’ve never done, I only decided to have a moustache for a full week because it’s funny. Please don’t get me wrong - moustaches look great on many people but usually only if they fit into one of several categories. These categories include but are not limited to police officers, cowboys, bikers, supervillians, and Burt Reynolds. The most important requirement for having a moustache, however, is the ability to grow one. Just as a full, dark moustache immediately demands a sense of machismo and respect, a greasy, thin pube-stache is a sure fire sign of a goofball. Personally, however, when it comes to facial hair, I prefer the clean-shaven to stubble look despite the hassle involved. At least Jackie will stop recoiling when I try to kiss her. Hopefully.

POP CULTURE UPDATE

Listening to: Otis Redding
Reading: Redemption Song: The Ballad of Joe Strummer
Recent Movie: Death Race (It's not Citizen Kane but we all need some guilty pleasures once in a while.)