Blocks of wood make great gifts

As I procrastinate on my Christmas shopping again this year, I remembered one of my all-time worst gifts which I so graciously gave to my only brother. Sorry Chad.

I think I was about 11 years old and I had this cool box car kit. It came with wheels, nails to put the wheels on, and a wood block. It sat in my drawer for a long time until I decided that I was going to put it to good use and make a really cool, homemade gift for my older brother, Chad. He is my only sibling, which is unfortunate, because he got lots of crappy gifts from me and had no other source for gifts except my parents.

So, I started on my project. I went out to the garage and started carefully shaving wood chunks off what was meant to be the front of the car. Thankfully, I had my trusty cub scout pocket knife to assist me, but after carving off the edges to create my masterpiece (a grueling 20 minutes or so) I realized it was going to be pretty hard work and it was going to take a while. I decided I needed a break and went inside for a glass of lemonade. Unfortunately, I never worked on it again and before I knew it Christmas had rolled around. So, I put the wheels on (but I did that wrong because they didn't actually turn) and wrapped it up (actually, I think I had my mom wrap it). I didn't paint it. I didn't draw cool logos on it. I just ... put the wheels on. It didn't even look like a car. It looked like a piece of wood that had been used as a door jam for a while ... and then someone ... put wheels on it. As you can expect, it wasn't his favorite Christmas. Sorry Chad.

"It's the worst thing you can think of"

With mother's day approaching, I thought I would share some life lessons from mom.

When I was about 6 years old, my brother and I were playing football in the front yard and our annoying neighbor (Otis) came up to our house. He wanted to be included in the fun, but we really weren't interested in his company. After he asked a few times and we told him to go home, it was obvious he wasn't going to give up and we needed to take further action.

So, my brother being the smart one had me do the dirty work. My brother holds up his middle finger and tells me to go up to Otis, put it in his face and say, "Get off our property." Nice Chad. Me, being the young innocent non-tainted mind sibling had no idea what it meant but apparently it was a nice way to tell Otis to go home. So, I did it. Otis marched right past me through our yard, rang the doorbell and informed my mom of what I did. "Thank you, Otis" she replied...."Now go home" (she didn't really like him either). I knew by the tone of her voice when she called me inside that I probably shouldn't have listened to Chad's solution for getting Otis home. "Toby, we NEVER do that" my mom said. I was clueless and said, "Why not? What does it mean?" Instead of giving my six-year-old mind descriptive details, she just said, "It's the worst thing you can think of." WOW! I felt terrible and I'm sure the horrified look on my face communicated to my mother that I would never do that again, at least not until I was old enough to start driving.

A few weeks later, I was spending the night at a friends house in his tent in the backyard and we were telling dirty jokes and eating the white bread we snuck into the tent. (Yeah, white bread. Apparently that was the best we could come up with). Anyway, I decided to share my insight with my friend, Jonathan, so I held up my middle finger and said, "Check this out....it means POOP!"

Step Up: I'm ready!

My brother and I used to fight a lot and when I say "fight" I don't mean bickering, I mean Fight Club type fight. You see, we are only 15 months apart so we've always been very close. However, at one point, my brother was about 6'4", 260 lbs and 1% body fat when he was playing football. I, on the other hand, was about 5'6", 90lbs with no body or fat. So, it was hardly ever a real even playing field. One day in elementary school (I was in 2nd, he was in 4th grade) we decided to fight out on the playground before school. Now, understand that kids would gather around and watch as my brother and I squared off. Most of my fans would continue cheering even though I was laying on the ground in crazy pain. I wanted to show them that I could win occassionally. Fun times. Anyway, this cold winter day, we resorted to fighting again, but I decided this was my day. I was set in my mind that I would beat him and all my friends would cheer. I let him throw a few punches and then I socked him right in the mouth with my winter gloves on (the kind that smell funny on the inside when they get wet). He went down instantly! But, I pretty much knew that would happen since I had slipped a handful of cold rocks into the knuckles of my gloves. I think I got a little bruise on my finger when the rocks crushed against his front teeth. Anyway, right as he fell to the ground, the teacher blew the whistle and all the kids lined up to go to class....except my brother laying in the middle of the baseball field face down, covering his face. Maybe he was thinking if he held the spot where his front teeth used to be it might stop bleeding...it's hard to say. Finally, he got up and made some threatening remark to me. I don't know...I really couldn't understand him with his new lisp. Looking back, I should have thought it through a little better and positioned the rocks so they wouldn't hurt my fingers.

Times we made mom cry

My family often went camping 4-5 times each summer when I was younger. One year, we went to a spot just up the mountain from Vail, CO. My brother and I had wondered up into the forest and had been playing up there for hours. You see, we found a tree that had fallen over onto a rock so we walked up the tree, then grabbed the top of a nearby aspen tree and jumped. I think it was a good 20-30 feet down, but aspen trees tend to be very flexible, so the strength of the tree's resistance made it "safe". What can I say -we were boys, about 12 & 13 years old at that point. I honestly can't believe I survived my childhood. Anyway, as the sun went down we decided we better start making our way back to camp. We couldn't believe how quickly it was getting dark and before we knew it, it was pitch black. So, we wondered down the mountain until we finally hit a road, realizing we were still quite a ways from our campsite. As we're walking up the road, suddenly a man (whom we've never met) comes running toward us and asks in a half-scared, half-angry voice, "ARE YOU CHAD AND TOBY!?!?" This was the point we knew we were going to be in trouble. When we finally made it back to our campsite with the escort of Mr Perky McFinderson, my dad was around the picnic table with the park ranger and other concerned campers and my mom was in the tent crying. Whoops. I guess they hadn't heard yet that we were alive. All kids make their moms cry - Clay Aiken's mom probably cries everyday. Thankfully my brother and I tried to not "bring on the waterworks" too often.

Those pennies sure do add up!

Yeah, I just got back from a family reunion. You'll notice that I'm gambling - pretty much becuase that was one of the few things to do in Des Moines, IA. Unfortantely, I was playing .02 cent slots, so the 1350 credits was a total of $27. It didn't last long... I also made some bets at the horse race track, but I lost before I could even figure out what was happening. That was fun.

It was fun to see everyone, and I had lots of time to think about life in general on the 12-hour drive (each way). One last picture: my cousins Chris, Kim and me (I'm not sure who's beers those are). Anyway, I'm still here - more to come soon.