The potato chip that changed my life.

Avid readers of this blog might recall my ode to the sausage. A spur of the moment tribute to that cholesterol laden, artery clogging, culinary masterpiece. Then again, there may not be anyone that falls into the "avid reader" category. So, then, I am set to tell the tale of the most amazing potato chip I have ever eaten.

Tuesday, on the way to Elmhurst. Stopped at tollway oasis to grab a bag of chips. Doritos. Lunch was average.

Wednesday, repeating routine. Lays Barbecue. Always a favorite.

Thursday, just as I was beginning to succumb to my fate of another lunch with average chips, it happened. I had the bag of Lays Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream in my hand. That rack by the register makes it easy for you to avoid going to the back of the store where the real chip section was. I ventured anyway. Tucked away on the bottom shelf, in the far corner, were a few bags of Kettle Brand Potato Chips. I was fully aware of the "Kettle Cooked" phenomenon that has invaded the market. Crunchier, healthier, "Kettle Cooked" just sounds too cool to pass up. I set down the Ruffles. It would be a turning point in my life.

I selected the Honey Dijon flavor, as I have a secret affinity for the whole Honey Mustard thing. I got back into my car and headed south. The entire way, the bag of chips was calling to me. But it was only 8:45 in the morning. Is there a time rule on chips? Can you have a few with your Egg McMuffin? I wasn't about to find out and spoil my lunch. I drove on.

At approximately 11:45, I broke for lunch. Pickle first, half my sandwich next, it's a routine I can't ignore. Then I opened the bag of chips. To say that the first bite was a tantalizing explosion of crunchiness and sweetness would do no justice to the moment. Chip after chip, the experience grew exponentially until I thought that no experience in my life had ever given me this much pleasure. I broke my cardinal rule of lunch sins that day: I finished the bag before I finished my sandwich. I had none to leave the final taste in my mouth as I returned to work. I had none to savor on the way home. I was left to keep the bag for a few deep inhales. Sort of like walking into a bakery just to enjoy the smells.

So it was, that fateful Thursday, that I would fully embrace the "Kettle Cooked" era. I went to the Jewel to buy a more plentiful sized package, and even as I reached the chip aisle, I was contemplating where I would stash my horde away from the bottomless pits that were my teenagers. To my utter disbelief and horror, there was no Honey Dijon flavor. My life was over. So I did the next best thing. I grabbed the Honey Barbecue flavor instead. It's the sacrifices we make that define us as human beings. That and the brand of chips we eat.

Fathers day 2010, my laziest day ever.

That was one for the ages. It's our day, right guys? And we are entitled to spend it any way we like. Maybe you're into the whole "picnic on a Sunday afternoon thing", or a nice dinner with your loved ones. Maybe even a bike ride? All were considered, but in the end, here was my day:

12:56am--Woke up on couch and couldn't fall back to sleep. Watched TV.
2:30--Still can't fall asleep, trudge to bed and try anyway.
6:15--Hit snooze button on alarm clock.
6:22--Hit it again.
6:29--And again.
6:36--And again.
6:43--Dream I am Bill Murray in Groundhog day and imagine smashing alarm clock with my fist until the little speaker dances on the floor next to fragments of plastic and wires.
6:55--Try to order at BK only to find all the lights are on but no one is home.
6:57--Succeed in ordering from McDonald's. Sausage, egg, and cheese McGriddle. Mmmm for about the next 10 minutes, uggh for the next 3 hours.
7:11--Mad scramble to get golf shoes on, pay for round, select 6 "gently used" balls, and find playing partners for my 7:12 tee time.
7:13--Get a ride from Ranger to join group already on 1st hole. (My "buddies" teed off early when the group ahead was waiting for their fourth to show. What am I, chopped liver? Maybe I should have played with them.)
7:16--Tap in for par. I had to drop at the 150 and play from there. I am SO taking that 4.
9:33--Realization of a good round out the window with triple on the 10th hole.
9:59--Realization of a relaxing round of golf also out the window as I take my second triple.
11:42--Seek out lunch on the way home. Still can't believe that there were no hot dogs ready @ 9:31 as we made the turn.
11:49--Hit McDonald's again to satisfy the hamburger craving. Feel like that guy in Super Size Me.
12:06pm--Kiss wife, open cards, hug daughter, hit couch.
2:15--Get off couch after fruitless effort to get in a nap. Must've been in that "almost asleep" moment 4 or 5 times to no avail.
2:19--Turn on final round of US Open.
8:16--Watch Graeme McDowell roll in 2 footer to win. (Snuck in a trip to Best Buy so daughter could buy new Wii game)
8:17--Find movie on HBO that I've seen probably 6 or 7 times.
11:48--Wake up on couch and go to bed.

Productive? Not by a long shot. Selfish? Certainly. Memorable? I won't be writing about this day again. But relaxing? I didn't care that I shot a 90, missing the 80's by a stroke. I didn't have to do any chores around the house. I didn't have to listen to my kids arguing. And for one day, I didn't feel guilty about being a lazy bum. But today's a new day.

It's 11:37pm, do you know where your young driver is?

Ahhh, Sunday mornings. Just love that lazy feel as I am sipping the coffee, turning the pages of the paper, and plotting my course of action for the last day of the weekend. No worries, no hangover, and the stress level is nil, that is until the phone rings at precisely 9:00am. I used to love caller ID, letting us know if a tele-marketer is about to rob us of our early morning sanctity. But this morning, Gurnee Village Police was the last thing I expected to see blinking back at me.

Within minutes, there stood the officer at my door. Now a flood of possibilities have entered your mind, I'm sure. As did mine when I first got the call. The minute he mentioned the license plate number of my Mercury, I stiffened. I prayed to God he wasn't going to say the word "accident", or "hospital". You see, that is the car my 16 year old son drives. When he convinced me that there were no reports of injury, he continued. When I heard the words "11:37am" combined with "Jewel" and "4 cartons of eggs", my mind did the math. Phew, I said to myself. He had spent the night at a friends house, and obviously they were really hungry, so just before midnight they went to buy some eggs to make a bunch of omelets. Case closed.

That's it, right? I mean, really, what are the other possibilities? He's a good kid, gets decent grades, works hard to be on the basketball team, and he eats a lot. Sure, they could have settled for a bowl of Lucky Charms, but I mean omelets at midnight, it just doesn't compare. But 4 dozen? Even that is a lot for 3 boys to consume. Then my mind began to consider the possibilities. Just maybe, he was secretly making a carrot cake. I know for a fact that it takes 4 eggs to make one of those, I have to make about 3 or 4 every year. But even if he messed up the first one, and needed a redo, he would still have about 3 dozen left over. That really leaves only one other scenario. Must be getting a jump on Easter for next year. What a good kid.

Long story short, I am not really that naive. Nor is the Jewel employee that wrote down his plate number after witnessing 3 teenage boys buying 4 dozen eggs at midnight on a Saturday during summer vacation. Nor is the 20 year veteran cop who has to go through this same routine EVERY Sunday morning, he tells us. But the cop wasn't looking for a bust. He offered that if indeed mischief had occurred, it was correctable before mischief became criminal. That is, until some car owner calls to say the drying eggs were removing the paint and now becomes property damage. The 16 year old is at this very writing, walking the neighborhood of his buddies house with a bucket of soapy water.

Like I said, he is a good kid. But even good people sometimes make stupid decisions, and it is how we react to those stupid decisions that really defines our character, rather than the act itself. He fessed up, knew what he had to do, and did it. That call could have been a lot worse, I know. A long rope had been extended to the lad when he got his license, but the rope just got a whole lot shorter.

Duck soup.

Whew, been busy! And that's a good thing, 'cuz busy = money. Er, most of the time. For a few years there, busy meant coaching and shuffling both kids to baseball and soccer, sometimes both kids, both sports, in the same night. Not to mention tending to 6 baseball fields as head of field management for three years. But the other day, just before we were to drive to the guitar store so she could buy her first guitar, the daughter and I happened upon a little lost soul.

He was so tiny, so pathetic, so lost, so damn cute, this little 4 day old baby Mallard duckling. He was by the front door to the High School, a vast expanse of concrete with no real water in site. No bushes to hide in, nothing. He was like a little kid that lost it's mommy at the mall. He was wobbling, falling over, and could barely keep it's eyes open. We couldn't just leave him there, so I scooped him up, stuck him in my golf shoe, (the left one I think), and took him home, where I promptly stuck him in a bowl of water. He drank for like 10 minutes straight.

Now against the advise of the police, I did not take him back to where we found him so his mother could take over. We looked. There was nowhere for any ducks to hide. I knew that if I brought him back he would never make it. So I found a woman who takes in abandoned animals and raises them. She was amazing. She knew more about ducks than Wikipedia. She had the little guy eating in no time, and told us that newly hatched ducks need to get to water ASAP for that first drink once they are hatched. So sometimes if one is hatching late, the mother duck takes the rest and abandons it. I bet this little guy took his first sip of water in my garage.

Feel good story, not my style I know. But the daughter (and The Guitarman) felt it was more important to help out the helpless creature than to buy a guitar. The woman did tell us one other thing. She said that baby ducks need 3 things to survive: water, food, and warmth. She was sure he would not have survived the night. So I guess we saved it's life. And then we went and bought the guitar.

World politics quiz: What does U.N. stand for?

So what does U.N stand for? Anyone, anyone? Bueller, Bueller? If you said United Nations, then give yourself a Valium and go back to bed. I have a few more appropriate suggestions.

What do you call it when their forces are put in charge of keeping weapons out of southern Lebanon, a promise made to Israel as a condition at the end of the 2006 war with Hezbollah. And instead, missiles, with Scuds capable of hitting Jerusalem, have poured into the region under the helpless watch of the U.N. troops.
(http://www.haaretz.com/news/lebanon-army-7-missiles-ready-to-be-fired-at-israel-found-in-south-lebanon-1.260252) The same group that idly stood by while genocide was ravaging in Darfur and Kenya. How about Useless Non-Entity?

What do you call it when the governing world body rebukes a world power for exercising it's right to strike at it's enemies? Enemies of not only the U.S. but the entire world. Enemies that have no nation, no constitution, and no soul. CIA drone attacks have been successful in striking at the hidden leaders of Al-Qaeda and the Taliban, yet the U.N. says now that it is a no-no. (http://www.channel4.com/news/articles/world/americas/un+report+says+cia+drone+strikes+in+pakistan+aposillegalapos/3667127) Let's go with Utter Nonsense.

And what do you call it, in regards to the "flotilla massacre", when a supposed impartial world governing body immediately jumps to the defense of a group that has a terrorist organization at it's helm? An organization that willfully and publicly calls for the destruction of the other. An organization that has time and again rebuked efforts by said enemy to hold reconciliation talks that could lead to state-hood. Have you read that Israel offered to take the entire load of humanitarian supplies and deliver them, along with the tons of medicine and food they already deliver daily to Gaza? Have you read the statement by flotilla spokesperson Greta Berlin and I quote, "...this mission is not about delivering Humanitarian supply, but rather about breaking the Israeli siege." Peace activists? Armed with knives, slingshots, rocks, smoke bombs, metal rods, improvised sharp metal objects, sticks and clubs, 5KG hammers, and firebombs?
It seems that the Underground Nazis have one goal in mind. To enable the terrorists to continue on their destructive path.

So when a burqa-clad suicide bomber strolls into UN headquarters and kills himself along with a bunch of UN workers, what will their response be then? Will they stand up for the rights of the bomber?

Why?

Why? I mean really, why? If you have a young child, then you know that not a day, nary an hour, goes by without a question starting with that word. Why does the sun come up daddy? Why do to birds chirp in the morning? Why are you sitting at the computer typing? (I swear the young teen JUST asked me that question as I am typing this) Why are you wearing mommy's underwear on your head? You know, typical stuff. But, alas, I have read my morning paper yet again. And I have my own bunch of why's.

Why do some people feel compelled to tell the rest of us what do do and how to run our own lives? Do they feel this inherent "motherhood" syndrome where they must watch over us like their own offspring? Although it may seem like a good idea, the new car sign by Jodi Brubaker and Kari Galassi (Get Off The Phone!) infers that we are ALL stupid and can't protect ourselves from the evil world. They want to dumb the rest of us down to their level so they don't feel so alone in their world of bubble wrapped safety for all.

Why do some people blame anybody else but themselves for their own stupidity? Ask Lauren Rosenberg, who was injured by a motorist while following the walking route through Salt Lake City supplied by Google. Yep, you guessed it, she is suing Google. Seems common sense was trumped by a computer when she chose to follow the route along a busy street. Hey Lauren, do you ever think for yourself? Just maybe it was the motorist, or even, gasp, yourself to blame.

Why do we allow elected officials to make decisions in an election year? Illinois can't pass a budget because the law makers are too worried about what will happen to them in November. Popular opinion outweighs the law, especially when the Cook County commissioners pass a resolution boycotting Arizona business because they think that's what the voters want to see. And then turn around and hand a contract to an Arizona firm that makes red light cameras. A better question might be, why do we keep electing these hypocritical, self-serving morons?

Why does the world hate Israel so much? Now I try and avoid this topic, because 1. I am not Jewish, and 2. I am not Palestinian which = none of my business. But when the press starts quoting pro-Palestinian protesters (try saying that ten times fast) in saying, "It's been way too long since there's been a suicide bombing in the State of Israel," I can't help but feel the need to quote Rodney King. "Can't we all just get along?" Whether you think it's ok for Hamas to rain missiles down on Israel, or it's ok for the Jewish state to suppress an entire population with roadblocks and illegal occupation, the bottom line is that both sides hate each other. How the hell do you fix that?