Business Ideas

I admire people who can start up a business -- a restaurant, a website, a clothing line, whatever. I'm too risk-averse and too "9-to-5" to make that happen.

I have my ideas, though. Here are a couple I've been mulling for a while -- comments and refinements welcome. Maybe one of these will be a big hit.

1. A new line of self-help books
(I've run this by a few people, with mixed reviews so far.) The two very successful self-help series over the last 10-15 years are the "for Dummies" and "Idiot's Guide" books, like "Microsoft Word for Dummies", "The Idiot's Guide to Chess", and so on. That's all well and good, but a key market segment has been left wanting: morons. If you're a dummy or an idiot you can get all the instruction you need, but if you're a moron? Nothing! The possibilities are endless: "A Moron's Book of Gardening", "Pay Your Taxes, You Moron", etc. And the beautiful thing is, you could charge whatever you want per book, since the people who'd buy it -- well, they're morons!

2. Health club equipment
People will avoid almost any form of exercise, and then happily do a simulated version at a health club. Walk or run a few blocks at home, or a mile or two? No way -- but let me at that gym treadmill! Take the stairs instead of the elevator at work? Nah, but I'll put in my time on the StairMaster. We'll hire someone to lift and carry stuff from the basement to the garage, and then lift and carry weights ourselves two days each week at LifeTime Fitness.

I'm designing a new gym machine around a 4-foot rod attached to a series of cables, pulleys, and weights, which simulates snow shoveling. Snow shoveling is a renowned strenuous exercise -- it's known for giving old men heart attacks -- but we avoid it at home at all costs. The "SnoMaster" could have a video screen showing you the length of sidewalk you have ahead of you, and the depth of the snow on the screen could vary based on the resistance level chosen. Nike and Reebok could make special SnoMaster gloves and hats to wear. Maybe boots, too. I can picture a whole row of people at the gym, listening to their iPods, wearing their gear, happily shoveling their way to fitness -- especially in warm places like Florida and Arizona, where there's no outdoor opportunity at all.

I'll let you know how these progress. And the "RakeMaster" is not too far behind.

Pat

Adaptations

It's been two months now since Rachel's passing, and a little over a month since I've been back at work. I'm taking care of the basics at home (food, clothing, and shelter) pretty well. Having dinner delivered every other night helps, as does the yardwork and dog-walking assistance. Meaghan's working out great for after-school care, and the every-other-week house cleaner does a good job.

I still think of some things as "Rachel's" (the Honda Pilot, the left-hand nightstand) and others as "ours" (the house, the place in Wisconsin). That's slowly changing -- I was bold enough to re-set the radio station buttons in the Pilot to my preferences, and to move my clothes into the bigger bedroom closet. Crazy, huh?

Making the kid's lunches in the morning is enjoyable, and not yet drudgery. I've made more sandwiches and used more Ziploc bags in the last month than I have in a long time. I also know who eats what, which I was oblivious to before.

I went to the parent-teacher conferences last week; in 8 years at St. A's I've only been once or twice before. I actually liked it, as the kids are all doing just fine in school (except for one bad math grade, from an unexpected source.)

One chore we used to fight about at home was laundry. Rachel was constantly doing laundry, and constantly complaining about constantly doing laundry, and mad at me for not pitching in. I would get mad at her when I did help, because we had no system, and I'd wind up folding a basket of dirty laundry, or re-washing a load that was already clean. As an engineer and naturally organized person it drove me nuts, and I can't count the number of times I offered to just take the whole thing over. She would never let me -- I'm not sure if she was afraid I'd screw it up, or that I wouldn't...

Now I make the kids bring their laundry baskets to the basement Monday and Thursday mornings before school, and sort their stuff into the white-dark-colors baskets. I start a load before leaving for work, and Meaghan keeps it moving when she comes in the afternoon. We fold on the counter downstairs and put everything back in the kids baskets, and make them take their own stuff back upstairs and put it away in their rooms. Was that really so hard?

There's often satisfaction in being an engineer, although I'm not sure I'd want my daughter to marry one...

Pat

Favorite Sayings

I've got a few favorite sayings that I use all the time. Some are from movies, some from TV shows, and some are just inside jokes among a few people.

Why do we quote movies and TV shows? Sometimes it's the right saying at the right time, and everyone understands and smiles. Other times it's already worn down to a cliche, and the listener groans at the lack of imagination. (Remember "Where's the beef?") I suppose it's generally a speaker's attempt to make a connection with the listener, which is usually (but not always) succesful.

A story many of you know is that Rachel quoted from "Caddyshack" when we first met, and I was duly impressed. Any quote from "Caddyshack" is OK by me, no matter how many times I've heard it -- I think the same goes for "Seinfeld" and "Austin Powers". Together that's a rich trove of sayings, to cover almost any occasion.

A couple others I use are inside jokes. I try not to grin too much, or expect the listener to get it, but I still use them for my own amusement. As I think about it that doesn't seem cruel to me, just a little odd.

So without further delay...

1. "Well, anyway..."
We had an engineering professor, Dr. Soo, whose English was just OK when he taught us for the first time. (It actually got pretty good, although heavily accented, and he was a pretty good instructor.) He started every lecture with the words "Well, anyway..", as if he had just stopped talking, instead of our last meeting being several days ago. This got picked up by us clever engineers right away, and we said "Well, anyway..." all the time. Somehow it stuck with me, and I still use this saying -- especially with my brother Ed, a fellow Dr. Soo student.

2. "Where will this madness end?"
In the episode of "Laverne and Shirley" when they moved from Milwaukee to California, Lenny and Squiggy came bursting into the apartment (they were great apartment bursters long before Cosmo Kramer). They were lamenting the girls' departure when one of them noticed the suitcases by the door. After these were explained Squiggy cried out "Their luggage is leaving too? Where will this madness end?" I normally leave the luggage reference out, and find this phrase is useful in all sorts of ironic ways.

3. "Haben sie kartoffelzuppe?"
A German friend of mine from years ago, Rudy, had befriended an American G.I. back home in Dusseldorf. This poor soldier had only learned a few phrases of German, and the only thing he could order in a restaurant was potato soup (kartoffelzuppe). If he sat down and asked for it and they didn't have it, he'd get up and go to a different restaurant. Rudy and I thought this was so funny that he and I used to use this as a greeting, with the response always being "Ja, ich habe kartoffelzuppe!" This one's a little harder to work into general conversation.

4. "Oh, the humanity!"
I'm not the only one who uses this quote from the radio broadcast of the Hindenburg disaster. It's saved for a minor pile-up of some kind, when you know everything's OK -- like a collision at a little kids' soccer game that briefly leaves a few players sprawled out.

5. "Whaddaya whaddaya?"
A New York expression with no specific meaning, as far as I know. I picked it up from Tom Wolfe's novel "Bonfire of the Vanities", and my college roommate and I used to use it as a telephone greeting, just for fun.

6. "Sentence enhancers"
In the SpongeBob episode "Sailor Mouth" SpongeBob and Patrick innocently start using profanity, or "sentence enhancers" as they call them. To quote Patrick: "You just sprinkle it on anything you say, and.. Wham-O! You've got yourself a spicy sentence sandwich!" I think "sentence enhancers" is my current favorite euphemism.

There are others, of course, but this is a nice sampling. I suppose a final reason for using these in conversation is that I always have something ready to say, instead of having to think of it on the spot.

So I've got that going for me. Which is nice.

Pat

Kid Conversations

Kids are naturally selfish, and one of a parent's jobs is to train them to be less so. Sharing with their brothers and sisters, not bullying (just because they can), doing nice things for others -- these are learned behaviors.

One order I give at home that's always ignored is "That's enough!" If Conor's telling a story at dinner that belittles Emmet, I give him a "That's enough!", but he seems physically unable to stop until the cruel point is made. Repeating the order, ever louder, has no effect. I haven't decided yet if I have to ramp up the consequences, or let them outgrow it (it's not just Conor). It's frazzling.

Another one: My kids are almost to the point where they don't automatically interrupt a conversation just because they've got something to say or ask. Almost. But I remember the early years well, when one of them (any of them) would interrupt with "Mom?" or "Dad?" regardless of who was already talking, and repeat this every 1-2 seconds until he was acknowledged: "Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? " It was like a dental drill without anesthesia, especially at the end of a long day. I can find it a little amusing now when it's someone else's beloved child, but the memory still gives me a toothache.

Revenge can be had, though. Here's a conversation non-starter we've had a hundred times at home, and we'll have another hundred, since it never gets old -- at least not to me:

(Whichever Kid): "Dad, d'ya know what's weird?"
"Flying monkeys?"
"No!"
"What, you don't think flying monkeys are weird?"
"DA-AD!"

I get bonus points if Whichever Kid forgets what he/she was going to say in the first place, although there's a little guilt, too. But that fades well before the next opportunity...

Pat

The Murphys

My father is as big a dog lover as we are, so when the kids were about 6, 4, and 2 he got each of them a different stuffed animal dog. Fiona's was sort of a Bernese mountain dog, and she named it Tulip (since shortened to "Tullie"). Conor's was a beagle, which he loved since we had a real beagle at the time. He gave his the same name: Murphy. Emmet's was a golden retriever, dubbed "Ruffie". (Originality in pet naming was not our long suit, as our first fish "Bob" would attest.)

Conor lost Murphy one time while running errands with Rachel around town. He was distraught, and Rach quickly found and provided an almost-identical replacement. But a week or so later when they were on Central Street they walked by the north branch of the library, and there in the front window was a sad-looking stuffed beagle watching out for his owner: the original Murphy. He was reclaimed, and Con now had a set of dogs, the Murphys.

One punishment Rachel would use with Conor when needed was to take the Murphys away for a while, sort of a beagle-free time out. Wherever she put them, though, as soon as Rach was distracted Conor would find and recover them, regardless of the consequences. One place he'd never look was the oven, so she started using that as the Murphy time-out box.

When pre-heating the oven one night for dinner (you can guess where this is going) there was an odd smell in the kitchen, and then some smoke: the Murphys had been forgotten about, until almost too late. They were singed all over, and had grill marks across them from the oven grate. With some delicate trimming and a good washing they were cleaned up pretty well, but retained their oven scars as badges of honor.

I don't remember how/when the third Murphy joined us, but it was years ago. He's a little smaller, therefore "Junior Murphy". And he's never been lost on Central Street, or cooked in the oven, so I suspect the other two still look down on him a little. ("Wimp!") All three are showing the typical signs of stuffed animal wear and tear, but are holding up pretty well.

The kids are pretty good with "alone time", usually reading or playing some computer game. None of them needs to be constantly entertained or engaged. But Conor's never really alone, as his pack of beagles is always close by.

Pat

Office Move

As part of a major reorganization at work I just moved my office. It's still in the same building, but I had to pitch what I didn't need anymore, box up everything else, and then unpack and arrange the new place. (Same size, roughly the same layout.)

While unpacking I noticed I had all of the usual office stuff, but I'd also accumulated an interesting assortment of decorations, mementos, knickknacks, tools, toys, etc. over the past 20 years. Here's most everything, in no particular order, with apologies to Umberto Eco:

• Bank deposit slips and envelopes


• Teflon tape


• Wall hook shaped like a finger


• Baseballs (3, with one signed by my old department)


• Old magnetic door name plates (4)


• Multi-vitamins, aspirin, ibuprofen, eye drops, comb, band aids, contact lens case


• Small hand lotion bottles from hotels (5)


• A variety of business card holders. A metal one is engraved with my name and the saying "ZAPP!", and the desktop holder has an engraved brass plate with "JUST REMEMBER, TEMA IS THE ONLY PRODUCT!"


• Lava lamp


• Mensa "Puzzle of the day" calendar


• A collection of pocket protectors, plastic templates for drawing chemical processing vessels, and a slide rule. Really.


• A porcelain "saddle ring" from a distillation column


• A small vial with several blue glass chips in it, labeled "from g.l. portable agitator shaft 5/24/90 PJH"


• French-English dictionary


• Webster's dictionary, a prize from a high school TV quiz show I was on in 1978


• Dilbert books (5)


• Cheap sunglasses


• Hardhat, custom-painted with my name and a shamrock


• A coconut carved into a monkey, with wire glasses


• Geode bookends


• "Learn Japanese" audio CD set


• Fancy commemorative pens in cases (4)


• Red plastic mugs (2): "Industrial and Specialty Chemicals - Abbott Laboratories"


• Framed pictures on display (6)


• Glass desktop trophy with inscription in Chinese


• Glass desktop trophy with small clock, and an etched picture of the people who attended a certain meeting


• Door magnets (2) with the image of a brain, labeled "PROACT"


• Strunk & White's "Elements of Style"


• Eyeglass repair kit


• Empty drug product display bottle of Zyflo (zileuton)


• Headphones


• Tiny tool set: Screwdriver, crescent wrench, measuring tape


• Pocketknives (2)


• TAP tie pin


• Various management books (17)


• Mardi gras-type bead strings (2)


• Pictures from a team outing in 1999


• A bottle of the Korean soft drink "Yellow Life"


• A desk clock engraved for Abbott's 100-year anniversary in 1988


• Custom plaque from 1988 from Department 884 in building C-10, with a centrifuge and a pump


• Various small plastic signs from building C-10, removed before its demolition


• Books: "Just Enough German", "Culture Shock! Korea", "Berlitz Japan", "Astronomy 365 Days"


• Chemistry/engineering textbooks from the early '80's (10)


• Maps of: Macau, Hong Kong, Seoul, National Museum of Korea, Washington D.C., Eli Lilly facilities in Indianapolis, Mannheim (Germany), North Carolina, Newark, Madison, San Francisco, Puerto Rico, San Antonio (2), Frankfurt Airport, Burgenstock (Switzerland), Tokyo, Katsuyama (Japan), Osaka, Fukui, Osaka Castle. (I like maps.)


• A fake movie clapboard labeled "Project Office, Director Pat Harrigan, PBR, Take 2"


• Plant food and insect repellent


• Shamrock plant

I don't know what this all means -- I've never considered myself much of a pack rat, but that does seem like a lot of stuff. My office is still pretty tidy, though, so I suppose I've got room for the next 20 years...

Pat

Fitness

I have always liked being fit, for a variety of (mostly obvious) reasons.

I was in my best shape ever in my senior year of high school, at the end of wrestling season. For the last few weeks of the season we added a 45 minute before-school running session to our 2-1/2 hour after-school practice. In addition I had gym class each day; it happened to be when swimming was being taught, so I passed on the varsity-athlete exemption and went ahead with the lifesaving class. And I recall being aware of my state: "Gee, I'll probably never be as conditioned as this again."

Wrestling was an interesting sport, especially for someone with more of an academic bent. Having moved to a new school right before my senior year, my new friends in my AP classes were surprised at this activity: "You do what?" (Of course the guys on the wrestling team had the opposite question: "You're taking what classes?") But through hard work and my innate athletic ability I managed to achieve mediocrity on the mat. It's the kind of sport you leave behind in high school, but with a few fond memories.

During college exercise was mostly fun -- intramural and pick-up sports, especially basketball, etc. My conditioning throughout varied with the ratio of exercise to beer consumption, semester to semester. Later on I did get into running a little, but found it pretty boring. (No iPods back then, remember?) But it was a start: Fitness for fitness' sake!

A favorite quote at the time was from John Irving's novel The Hotel New Hampshire, from the football coach Iowa Bob: "You've got to get obsessed and stay obsessed!" I had that written out on an index card, taped to my dresser mirror.

In 20+ post-college years my workouts have come and gone, depending on how busy I was at work, or how many squealing babies we had at home. But I always come back to a routine like "Run on Monday-Wednesday-Friday mornings, lift weights on Tuesday-Thursday at lunch." I suppose that's pretty tame as obsessions go -- no drinking raw eggs, or punching meat in a freezer, or running up the museum steps. But it has worked for me, generally.

For at least 10 years now I've been dogged by exercise-related injuries: tendonitis in my shoulder from lifting weights, a partially-torn Achilles and later plantar fasciitis from running, etc. After the second of these my doctor diagnosed the root cause as "You're getting old." I have to be extra-cautious when starting a new routine, and extra-conscious of any joint aches or pains. I have no desire to run a marathon, or bench-press a certain weight; just maintain a reasonable level of fitness.

There have always been at least two other motivations at play:

• I'm a cheapskate, and if I get too pudgy I'll have to buy all new pants.
• Like everyone else, I look better when I'm in shape. (I'm more vain than I appear...)

Moving from adulthood into middle age, a final motivation is: I should stay in shape for my health, for the sake of my loved ones. If I can put off that heart attack until my 70's, it'd be good for everyone involved. Especially now.

A quote that describes my current fitness approach is from Gandhi: "Everything we do is futile, but we must do it anyway." It's this attitude that would keep Gandhi from being a personal trainer today. That, plus his unorthodox ideas about "healthy sports drinks."

So if you go by the house early in the morning and look up at the 2nd floor porch you may see a slightly flabby, grey-haired guy huffing and puffing on the elliptical machine. And you'll know why, if you didn't already.

Pat