For most of my life, I thought I hated reading. Turns out, I just hate reading fiction. Fiction is boring, and just doesn't hold my attention. But give me a Marketing or Business book and I can read it in a few days.
I have probably read more books in the last two years than I have in my entire rest of my life. All marketing and business books. I picked up one of the Harry Potter books to give fiction another try, just to make sure. I couldn't read more than a page.
Lately I have discovered books on CD. They are a great way to spend the morning commute. Way better than a radio morning show.
So I guess the lesson to learn is, that if you think you hate reading, you might just be reading the wrong thing.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Goals in Life
So it may take longer than a year to get through 52 blog posts.
To get started again, I decided to write about 2 goals I have in life. Keep in mind, these are not my end all be all, ultimate goals in life, just two things that I intend to accomplish before I die. Also keep in mind that these are very, very difficult goals in that they will both take a lifetime to achieve.
First goal.
I have a goal to never see the movie "Titanic". Like I said, not the loftiest of goals, but I have never seen the movie and never will. Why? Well, there are a few reasons.
The first reason, Leonardo DiCaprio. When Titanic came out, I hated Leonardo DiCaprio. I admit now, he is a good actor, but at the time I didn't like him. To understand why I didn't like him, you have to understand something about me. I don't like things that are trendy. It's not as bad now, but when I was younger, the more popular something was, the more I disliked it.
For example, while back to school shopping for eighth grade, I got a batman shirt. You know, the black shirt with the yellow batman symbol on it. I think Batman with Michael Keaton had just come out. I liked the shirt, but on the first day of school, everyone had the shirt. So I never wore it. Not once.
About that same time, UB40 re-did the song "Red, Red, Wine". I couldn't stand that song, mostly because everyone else liked it so much.
Which brings us back to Leo, a good actor, but all of the girls liked him, so of course, he bugged me.
The second reason has to do with Star Wars. For a long time, Star Wars held the title for all time box office sales. Due to a bunch of teenage girls, who were in no doubt in love with Leo, grrrrr, Titanic broke that record. People began comparing Titanic to Star Wars in greatness. That upset me.
The more people asked me if I had seen the movie, the more set I became in never seeing it. And I never will.
Second Goal
The second goal is even better. I will never run a marathon. Like the first goal, there are several reasons.
I don't like to run. I take that back. I love to run, if it involves a ball. A basketball, football, baseball, or anything that ends in ball. But take away the ball and the fun stops.
Don't get me wrong, I love to exercise. I even took up swimming once and went swimming twice a week, to get ready to foot ball. It felt great. There is just something about running that I don't like.
Like Titanic, I think it goes back to eighth grade.
In junior high, we had what the PE coaches called "Fun Runs". I hated them. Every Wednesday, as I rode the bus to school, I, and the rest of the eighth grade boys, wondered whether or not we would have to run 1.5 miles around the school. Its not that it was that far to run. I was in great shape and could easily complete the run in less than 10 minutes. What made me hate them was the PE coaches and the pleasure they got from our groans of pain as they announced the "Fun Runs".
To make it worse, junior high is an awkward time for a boy. After the "Fun Run" you had two options, shower or not shower. If you had PE near the beginning of the day and you didn't shower, you were sweaty all day. I had no clue when it came to girls but I did know that "sweaty" didn't help.
Or you could shower. For those of you who have never been in the boys locker room, the shower consists a large tiled area with two to three poles that each had a bunch of shower nozzles on it. The area was just big enough to fit 30 naked boys, but didn't leave much room to walk and left no room for privacy. None. I even seem to remember a boy having to do naked push ups in the shower because the hormones in his lower regions went a little haywire while in the shower. Needless to say, eighth grade is probably responsible for many an emotional scar.
So those are two of my goals. Like I said not lofty goals, but very difficult as they will take a lifetime to accomplish.
To get started again, I decided to write about 2 goals I have in life. Keep in mind, these are not my end all be all, ultimate goals in life, just two things that I intend to accomplish before I die. Also keep in mind that these are very, very difficult goals in that they will both take a lifetime to achieve.
First goal.
I have a goal to never see the movie "Titanic". Like I said, not the loftiest of goals, but I have never seen the movie and never will. Why? Well, there are a few reasons.
The first reason, Leonardo DiCaprio. When Titanic came out, I hated Leonardo DiCaprio. I admit now, he is a good actor, but at the time I didn't like him. To understand why I didn't like him, you have to understand something about me. I don't like things that are trendy. It's not as bad now, but when I was younger, the more popular something was, the more I disliked it.
For example, while back to school shopping for eighth grade, I got a batman shirt. You know, the black shirt with the yellow batman symbol on it. I think Batman with Michael Keaton had just come out. I liked the shirt, but on the first day of school, everyone had the shirt. So I never wore it. Not once.
About that same time, UB40 re-did the song "Red, Red, Wine". I couldn't stand that song, mostly because everyone else liked it so much.
Which brings us back to Leo, a good actor, but all of the girls liked him, so of course, he bugged me.
The second reason has to do with Star Wars. For a long time, Star Wars held the title for all time box office sales. Due to a bunch of teenage girls, who were in no doubt in love with Leo, grrrrr, Titanic broke that record. People began comparing Titanic to Star Wars in greatness. That upset me.
The more people asked me if I had seen the movie, the more set I became in never seeing it. And I never will.
Second Goal
The second goal is even better. I will never run a marathon. Like the first goal, there are several reasons.
I don't like to run. I take that back. I love to run, if it involves a ball. A basketball, football, baseball, or anything that ends in ball. But take away the ball and the fun stops.
Don't get me wrong, I love to exercise. I even took up swimming once and went swimming twice a week, to get ready to foot ball. It felt great. There is just something about running that I don't like.
Like Titanic, I think it goes back to eighth grade.
In junior high, we had what the PE coaches called "Fun Runs". I hated them. Every Wednesday, as I rode the bus to school, I, and the rest of the eighth grade boys, wondered whether or not we would have to run 1.5 miles around the school. Its not that it was that far to run. I was in great shape and could easily complete the run in less than 10 minutes. What made me hate them was the PE coaches and the pleasure they got from our groans of pain as they announced the "Fun Runs".
To make it worse, junior high is an awkward time for a boy. After the "Fun Run" you had two options, shower or not shower. If you had PE near the beginning of the day and you didn't shower, you were sweaty all day. I had no clue when it came to girls but I did know that "sweaty" didn't help.
Or you could shower. For those of you who have never been in the boys locker room, the shower consists a large tiled area with two to three poles that each had a bunch of shower nozzles on it. The area was just big enough to fit 30 naked boys, but didn't leave much room to walk and left no room for privacy. None. I even seem to remember a boy having to do naked push ups in the shower because the hormones in his lower regions went a little haywire while in the shower. Needless to say, eighth grade is probably responsible for many an emotional scar.
So those are two of my goals. Like I said not lofty goals, but very difficult as they will take a lifetime to accomplish.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Crawling equals gooder readers.
Every so often a study comes out by some pediatrician about how babies who crawl before walking grow up to be better readers. This is the story of when that study came out when I was a kid.
When I was young my mom heard about a correlation between crawling and reading. Trying to be the best mom she could, and she was, she decided that her kids would be better readers if we crawled more. So one summer my mom began making us crawl for 10 to 15 minutes a day. Every day, she would set a timer and we would crawl, hoping to become better readers. In principle this sounded good. The flaw was that the study was for babies who crawled before they walked, not for six year old kids. Yes, I was six.
So you can imagine, my siblings and I (there were six of us at the time ranging in age from 10 down to a newborn, who may have actually benefited from this) all home on summer break, crawling around the kitchen floor hoping to get better at reading.
Its not that my family is illiterate, reading just never caught on for us. On my brother's myspace page, under interests it used to read "Books: People still read those?"
I am wondering if we would be better readers if instead of crawling, we had spent that time READING.
When I was young my mom heard about a correlation between crawling and reading. Trying to be the best mom she could, and she was, she decided that her kids would be better readers if we crawled more. So one summer my mom began making us crawl for 10 to 15 minutes a day. Every day, she would set a timer and we would crawl, hoping to become better readers. In principle this sounded good. The flaw was that the study was for babies who crawled before they walked, not for six year old kids. Yes, I was six.
So you can imagine, my siblings and I (there were six of us at the time ranging in age from 10 down to a newborn, who may have actually benefited from this) all home on summer break, crawling around the kitchen floor hoping to get better at reading.
Its not that my family is illiterate, reading just never caught on for us. On my brother's myspace page, under interests it used to read "Books: People still read those?"
I am wondering if we would be better readers if instead of crawling, we had spent that time READING.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
A Large Box
QUESTION: What does one do with a box large enough to fit a full grown 6'3" man inside?
ANSWER: Put a full grown 6'3" man inside, leave the box on unsuspecting doorsteps and wait for the fun to begin. So thats just what we did.
While in college and living at Liberty Square, my roommates and I were hanging out at the apartment of a group of girls that we knew, some of whom had just moved in. One of the girls had moved some of her stuff to the apartment in a very large Rubber Maid bin. Seeing the large empty bin, I thought to myself, "I wonder if I can fit in there?" After discovering that I could, the next question was, "What can we do with it?"
We just happened to know the apartment of girls across the hall. So we took the box, put it on their doorstep, and after I had climbed inside, my roommate put the lid on, rang the doorbell and then hid around the corner.
After opening the door, the girls cautiously looked at the box, wondering what was inside and why was it on their doorstep. As they got closer to the box I scratched the side and the girls let out a shriek. Eventually curiosity got the best of them and they built up enough courage to open the lid. Upon opening the lid I popped out of the box and surprised them. Their fear quickly turned to laughter when they realized it was me.
It had worked so well that we had to try it again. In fact, we spent most of the rest of the night going from one apartment to the next leaving me in the box on random girl's doorsteps. And yes, as college boys would do, we only left the box on girl's doorsteps.
Each time the reaction was generally the same involving curiosity, fear, courage and finally laughter. On the doorsteps of the people I didn't know, when asked "How did you get in the box?" I would play dumb and reply that I couldn't remember how I had gotten in the box. After a brief conversation on the doorstep, and often an invitation to come in and hang out, we would move on to the next unsuspecting victim.
As it turns out, it was probably a good thing that we were having so much fun and passed up the opportunities to hang out, as a I had not yet met my wife. A few months later, in the same apartment complex, fate intervened and I met my beautiful wife as I came down the stairs from a friends house.
ANSWER: Put a full grown 6'3" man inside, leave the box on unsuspecting doorsteps and wait for the fun to begin. So thats just what we did.
While in college and living at Liberty Square, my roommates and I were hanging out at the apartment of a group of girls that we knew, some of whom had just moved in. One of the girls had moved some of her stuff to the apartment in a very large Rubber Maid bin. Seeing the large empty bin, I thought to myself, "I wonder if I can fit in there?" After discovering that I could, the next question was, "What can we do with it?"
We just happened to know the apartment of girls across the hall. So we took the box, put it on their doorstep, and after I had climbed inside, my roommate put the lid on, rang the doorbell and then hid around the corner.
After opening the door, the girls cautiously looked at the box, wondering what was inside and why was it on their doorstep. As they got closer to the box I scratched the side and the girls let out a shriek. Eventually curiosity got the best of them and they built up enough courage to open the lid. Upon opening the lid I popped out of the box and surprised them. Their fear quickly turned to laughter when they realized it was me.
It had worked so well that we had to try it again. In fact, we spent most of the rest of the night going from one apartment to the next leaving me in the box on random girl's doorsteps. And yes, as college boys would do, we only left the box on girl's doorsteps.
Each time the reaction was generally the same involving curiosity, fear, courage and finally laughter. On the doorsteps of the people I didn't know, when asked "How did you get in the box?" I would play dumb and reply that I couldn't remember how I had gotten in the box. After a brief conversation on the doorstep, and often an invitation to come in and hang out, we would move on to the next unsuspecting victim.
As it turns out, it was probably a good thing that we were having so much fun and passed up the opportunities to hang out, as a I had not yet met my wife. A few months later, in the same apartment complex, fate intervened and I met my beautiful wife as I came down the stairs from a friends house.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Broken Bones
I have broken 2 bones in my life and was considering writing first about my broken arm, as I believe it happened before my leg. But since the broken arm story is a better story, I will start with the leg.
I believe I was about 15 or 16. We were just coming off of winter and it was one of the first warm days we had had that spring. This inspired me to clean off my mountain bike and get it ready to ride in the coming weeks. I spent all morning fine tuning my bike, not realizing that I wouldn't get to ride it for weeks because of what would happen later that day.
So what happened later that day? Church basketball. As a young teacher stole the ball and made a fast break for the other hoop, I, being a tall and much bigger priest, was determined to stop him. As we reached the other end of the court he went up for a layup and I stuffed him. Only to come down wrong on my foot and roll my ankle. I immediately knew something was wrong and hobbled off the court. When I got home after the game, I removed my shoe to find my ankle swollen to the size a grapefruit. I was convinced that I had only sprained it yet my mom insisted we go to the doctor for an X-ray. I have nothing against doctors, but unless I am missing an arm, I don't usually go. I guess I just figure I will get better on my own.
As it turns out, I had broken my fibula( the smaller of the two bones in your lower leg) just above the ankle. Hence the swelling like it was a sprain. The doctor put a temporary cast on it until the swelling went down and I came back a few days later to get a boot cast.
Some people might think a broken leg and a boot cast would keep a 15 year old boy from playing basketball. Those people are wrong. The boot cast is fitted with a little shoe on the bottom, and while I couldn't run fast, I could still play.
So now the broken arm story. It was Christmas Eve of either 1990 or 1991 which would make me 14 or 15. My friends and I were hitching a ride with one of their older brothers up to Brighton to go snowboarding. This was only my second time snowboarding but by the end of the day, I thought I was getting pretty good. Little did I know how things would end up. After a full day of snowboarding, we were tired.
While two of my friends had had enough and decided to head to the car (hind site is 20/20) I wanted to take one more run and headed back up the lift. I managed to make it all the way down the hill to the very bottom, only to crash in front of the lodge on the last run at the very end of the day. I am not sure how it happened because that moment of time surrounding the crash has been blanked from my mind. I just remember kneeling in the snow holding my broken arm with my snowboard still strapped to my feet. As I said, I was at the bottom of the hill and could have just walked to the car except I couldn't get my feet out of my snowboard bindings. I also couldn't see any of my friends.
So mustering up all the courage I could, I would let go of my broken arm and try and reach down with one hand to unbuckle my bindings. THIS HURT LIKE NOTHING ELSE. It took about 3 tries, but I got the binding off of one foot. With the snowboard still strapped to the other foot and supporting my arm the best I could, I began walking to the car. About this time, one of my friends came walking up the hill. I laid down in the snow and told him to take off my snowboard and carry it to the car. When we finally got to the car, I just slumped over in my seat. My friends had to help my remove my gloves and jacket and the 45 min ride home was less than fun. The worst part was that my friend's brother didn't have time to drive us to our houses because he had to get to work. He just took us to my friends house and we had to wait for their mom to come home to give us a ride. I wondered if I would ever make it home.
By the time I finally made it home, about 2.5 hours had passed and when I walked in my mom said, "I had a feeling that something bad would happen today." So as most people were getting ready to eat Christmas Eve dinner, my Dad was running me to the emergency room. And my wait didn't end there. Because it was cold and flu season, the ER was full of young children who were sick and took priority over a 14 year old boy with a broken arm. I think we sat there forever.
Little did I know that getting to see the doctor meant being in more pain than I had ever experienced in my life. You see, doctors like to set broken bones and to set an arm they have to pull really hard. And to make matters worse I had broken the upper part of my arm just below the shoulder and it just didn't want to set right. So after a lot of pulling and a few X-rays the only thing we accomplished was PAIN. He put my arm in a sling and sent me home with some medication and asked me to come back in two days to try again.
So the big question is, "What did I get for Christmas?" I got a weight bench for lifting weights and honestly I don't remember a thing from that day. Most pictures from that Christmas show me passed out on the coach.
The day after Christmas I went back to the hospital to see if the doctor could set the bone. He decided to put me to sleep to set the bone so that I wouldn't have to be in so much pain while he pulled. I expected to wake up with the bone set and that I would go home later that day. Instead I woke up with my arm all bandaged up. Apparently after unsuccessfully trying to set the bone, the doctor decided that he would have to put screws in it to hold it together. So with me already out, he cut me open and put two screws in my arm, which I still have to this day. The surgery left a six inch scar on my left shoulder.
My arm remained in a sling for several weeks. By the time the bone had healed and I was able to take my arm out of the sling, my muscles had atrophied to the point that I could barely move my arm. I eventually got full range of movement back.
Needless to say, I am not looking forward to having 3 teenage boys and no, I don't beep when I go through the metal detector at the airport.
I believe I was about 15 or 16. We were just coming off of winter and it was one of the first warm days we had had that spring. This inspired me to clean off my mountain bike and get it ready to ride in the coming weeks. I spent all morning fine tuning my bike, not realizing that I wouldn't get to ride it for weeks because of what would happen later that day.
So what happened later that day? Church basketball. As a young teacher stole the ball and made a fast break for the other hoop, I, being a tall and much bigger priest, was determined to stop him. As we reached the other end of the court he went up for a layup and I stuffed him. Only to come down wrong on my foot and roll my ankle. I immediately knew something was wrong and hobbled off the court. When I got home after the game, I removed my shoe to find my ankle swollen to the size a grapefruit. I was convinced that I had only sprained it yet my mom insisted we go to the doctor for an X-ray. I have nothing against doctors, but unless I am missing an arm, I don't usually go. I guess I just figure I will get better on my own.
As it turns out, I had broken my fibula( the smaller of the two bones in your lower leg) just above the ankle. Hence the swelling like it was a sprain. The doctor put a temporary cast on it until the swelling went down and I came back a few days later to get a boot cast.
Some people might think a broken leg and a boot cast would keep a 15 year old boy from playing basketball. Those people are wrong. The boot cast is fitted with a little shoe on the bottom, and while I couldn't run fast, I could still play.
So now the broken arm story. It was Christmas Eve of either 1990 or 1991 which would make me 14 or 15. My friends and I were hitching a ride with one of their older brothers up to Brighton to go snowboarding. This was only my second time snowboarding but by the end of the day, I thought I was getting pretty good. Little did I know how things would end up. After a full day of snowboarding, we were tired.
While two of my friends had had enough and decided to head to the car (hind site is 20/20) I wanted to take one more run and headed back up the lift. I managed to make it all the way down the hill to the very bottom, only to crash in front of the lodge on the last run at the very end of the day. I am not sure how it happened because that moment of time surrounding the crash has been blanked from my mind. I just remember kneeling in the snow holding my broken arm with my snowboard still strapped to my feet. As I said, I was at the bottom of the hill and could have just walked to the car except I couldn't get my feet out of my snowboard bindings. I also couldn't see any of my friends.
So mustering up all the courage I could, I would let go of my broken arm and try and reach down with one hand to unbuckle my bindings. THIS HURT LIKE NOTHING ELSE. It took about 3 tries, but I got the binding off of one foot. With the snowboard still strapped to the other foot and supporting my arm the best I could, I began walking to the car. About this time, one of my friends came walking up the hill. I laid down in the snow and told him to take off my snowboard and carry it to the car. When we finally got to the car, I just slumped over in my seat. My friends had to help my remove my gloves and jacket and the 45 min ride home was less than fun. The worst part was that my friend's brother didn't have time to drive us to our houses because he had to get to work. He just took us to my friends house and we had to wait for their mom to come home to give us a ride. I wondered if I would ever make it home.
By the time I finally made it home, about 2.5 hours had passed and when I walked in my mom said, "I had a feeling that something bad would happen today." So as most people were getting ready to eat Christmas Eve dinner, my Dad was running me to the emergency room. And my wait didn't end there. Because it was cold and flu season, the ER was full of young children who were sick and took priority over a 14 year old boy with a broken arm. I think we sat there forever.
Little did I know that getting to see the doctor meant being in more pain than I had ever experienced in my life. You see, doctors like to set broken bones and to set an arm they have to pull really hard. And to make matters worse I had broken the upper part of my arm just below the shoulder and it just didn't want to set right. So after a lot of pulling and a few X-rays the only thing we accomplished was PAIN. He put my arm in a sling and sent me home with some medication and asked me to come back in two days to try again.
So the big question is, "What did I get for Christmas?" I got a weight bench for lifting weights and honestly I don't remember a thing from that day. Most pictures from that Christmas show me passed out on the coach.
The day after Christmas I went back to the hospital to see if the doctor could set the bone. He decided to put me to sleep to set the bone so that I wouldn't have to be in so much pain while he pulled. I expected to wake up with the bone set and that I would go home later that day. Instead I woke up with my arm all bandaged up. Apparently after unsuccessfully trying to set the bone, the doctor decided that he would have to put screws in it to hold it together. So with me already out, he cut me open and put two screws in my arm, which I still have to this day. The surgery left a six inch scar on my left shoulder.
My arm remained in a sling for several weeks. By the time the bone had healed and I was able to take my arm out of the sling, my muscles had atrophied to the point that I could barely move my arm. I eventually got full range of movement back.
Needless to say, I am not looking forward to having 3 teenage boys and no, I don't beep when I go through the metal detector at the airport.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
I love my wife.
I have been busy this week and have not had time to write. As it is the end of the week and today is Mother's Day, I can't think of anything better to write about than my beautiful wife and how great she is.
That's right, I have the greatest wife in the whole world. She doesn't think so, but I know the truth, she is the greatest and I wouldn't trade her for the world.
To start off, she is a wonderful mom. My wife would do anything for her kids and always puts their needs before her own. She has sacrificed her time, talents, body, sleep, wants, priorities, sanity, and everything else to make sure that my kids needs are met and that they are the happiest kids that they can be. Case in point. In order to get my daughter into the right preschool, she got up at 3:00am and waited outside with a bunch of other moms for four hours so that she could register. This on top of the countless sleepless nights waking up to nurse a newborn, staying up late to decorate and prep for a birthday to make them feel special, and the endless list of thankless sacrifices that only a mom can give. My kids may never understand how much she loves them, but I hope that some day when they are grown they realize how much she has sacrificed for them.
I also think that my wife is gorgeous and is as every bit as beautiful as the day we met, ( she stopped me coming down the stairs in our apartment complex and offered me a cookie, but thats another story.) She has the most beautiful brown eyes and a smile to match. And I don't just think she is beautiful because I married her. Even if we weren't married I would still think she was beautiful.
One thing that I love about my wife is that she is fun to hang out with. One of my favorite days was when she and I, before we got married, spent the whole day together at Disneyland. I can honestly say that I don't get bored of my wife and really enjoy hanging out with her.
I love my wife. She is beautiful and I love to hang out with her and am looking forward to when the kids are grown and we can spend some time together. This may not be the most eloquent blog entry and I know that it doesn't communicate just how much I love my wife, but I just want her to know that I love her and think the world of her.
That's right, I have the greatest wife in the whole world. She doesn't think so, but I know the truth, she is the greatest and I wouldn't trade her for the world.
To start off, she is a wonderful mom. My wife would do anything for her kids and always puts their needs before her own. She has sacrificed her time, talents, body, sleep, wants, priorities, sanity, and everything else to make sure that my kids needs are met and that they are the happiest kids that they can be. Case in point. In order to get my daughter into the right preschool, she got up at 3:00am and waited outside with a bunch of other moms for four hours so that she could register. This on top of the countless sleepless nights waking up to nurse a newborn, staying up late to decorate and prep for a birthday to make them feel special, and the endless list of thankless sacrifices that only a mom can give. My kids may never understand how much she loves them, but I hope that some day when they are grown they realize how much she has sacrificed for them.
I also think that my wife is gorgeous and is as every bit as beautiful as the day we met, ( she stopped me coming down the stairs in our apartment complex and offered me a cookie, but thats another story.) She has the most beautiful brown eyes and a smile to match. And I don't just think she is beautiful because I married her. Even if we weren't married I would still think she was beautiful.
One thing that I love about my wife is that she is fun to hang out with. One of my favorite days was when she and I, before we got married, spent the whole day together at Disneyland. I can honestly say that I don't get bored of my wife and really enjoy hanging out with her.
I love my wife. She is beautiful and I love to hang out with her and am looking forward to when the kids are grown and we can spend some time together. This may not be the most eloquent blog entry and I know that it doesn't communicate just how much I love my wife, but I just want her to know that I love her and think the world of her.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Star Wars Geek
I am a Star Wars geek. OK, so this may be something you already knew about me, but just in case you didn't, here is the run down of how bad it is.
I was a big fan of Star Wars as a kid. I even remember seeing the Empire Strikes Back in the theater and I am pretty sure the Wampa scared me. (The Wampa is the Ice Monster that attacks Luke and his Ton Ton on the planet Hoth at the beginning of the movie.) Some people (my little brother Mike) watched movies like Annie over and over again. Not me. For me, it was Star Wars. With toy gun in hand and pretending to be a Rebel Trooper, I would get down behind the couch and shoot the Storm Troopers as they stormed their way into the Rebel blockade runner.
I still have a Snow Speeder and two action figures from when I was a kid. Of course its in poor condition as I played with it a lot. I have added several original toys to my collection including an AT-AT Walker, Darth Vader's Tie Fighter, two more beat up Snow Speeders, a beat up Millennium Falcon and all of the action figures of the main characters. None of which Saxon is allowed to play with.
My collection doesn't end with toys. It includes 6 or 7 shirts, the best of which is my "Vader was framed" shirt. At one point we had two separate copies of Star Wars on VHS and another copy on DVD. One of the VHS copies was my wife's before we got married. I took it as a sign that I had to marry her. It also helped that she was(and still is) totally hot. Of everything that I have collected, my favorite piece would have to be my Light Saber. Its not the $20 ones you get at Walmart and let your kids play with. Its the collectors edition and is about as close to the real thing as you can get.
For Halloween I have even dressed up in full Star Wars costume as Darth Maul twice and Darth Vader once. My kids have dressed up as Darth Vader, Princess Leia, and Yoda, and my wife as Queen Amidala.
And apparently it's genetic as my son is an even bigger fan of Star Wars than me. All he ever wants for Christmas and B-days is Star Wars toys. I think we ran out of things to buy him. The kid's got like 12 light sabers.
I must admit, Star Wars makes me feel young. And to be able to share that with my kids is great too. Now if I could just find someone to play Star Wars Trivial Pursuit with. (Yes, I own it and am willing to take on any challengers.)
I was a big fan of Star Wars as a kid. I even remember seeing the Empire Strikes Back in the theater and I am pretty sure the Wampa scared me. (The Wampa is the Ice Monster that attacks Luke and his Ton Ton on the planet Hoth at the beginning of the movie.) Some people (my little brother Mike) watched movies like Annie over and over again. Not me. For me, it was Star Wars. With toy gun in hand and pretending to be a Rebel Trooper, I would get down behind the couch and shoot the Storm Troopers as they stormed their way into the Rebel blockade runner.
I still have a Snow Speeder and two action figures from when I was a kid. Of course its in poor condition as I played with it a lot. I have added several original toys to my collection including an AT-AT Walker, Darth Vader's Tie Fighter, two more beat up Snow Speeders, a beat up Millennium Falcon and all of the action figures of the main characters. None of which Saxon is allowed to play with.
My collection doesn't end with toys. It includes 6 or 7 shirts, the best of which is my "Vader was framed" shirt. At one point we had two separate copies of Star Wars on VHS and another copy on DVD. One of the VHS copies was my wife's before we got married. I took it as a sign that I had to marry her. It also helped that she was(and still is) totally hot. Of everything that I have collected, my favorite piece would have to be my Light Saber. Its not the $20 ones you get at Walmart and let your kids play with. Its the collectors edition and is about as close to the real thing as you can get.
For Halloween I have even dressed up in full Star Wars costume as Darth Maul twice and Darth Vader once. My kids have dressed up as Darth Vader, Princess Leia, and Yoda, and my wife as Queen Amidala.
And apparently it's genetic as my son is an even bigger fan of Star Wars than me. All he ever wants for Christmas and B-days is Star Wars toys. I think we ran out of things to buy him. The kid's got like 12 light sabers.
I must admit, Star Wars makes me feel young. And to be able to share that with my kids is great too. Now if I could just find someone to play Star Wars Trivial Pursuit with. (Yes, I own it and am willing to take on any challengers.)
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