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Posted by on Nov 18, 2012 in Blog, Essays, Personal | 3 comments

Who Would You Most Like to Have Dinner With?

 

Top of Harvey's Lake Tahoe 2012

 

Photo Caption:  Dinner tonight at “19,” which is high atop the Harveys Resort and Casino at beautiful Lake Tahoe.  I wolfed down a 20-ounce coffee-rubbed rib-eye, with garlic mashed potatoes, asparagus, a house salad, a full bottle of Pellegrino, two double expressos, and two bottles of Caymus (shared, of course).  Epic dinners like these always bring about great conversation, especially when you are with great company like Steve Schorr (Race and Sportsbook Manager) and Glen Cademartori (Caesars Entertainment Marketing Director for Northern Nevada).  Dinners like this are what living life is all about.  Tonight’s dinner prompted the following thoughts and column:

 

I wish there were 36 hours in the day, instead of 24.

I wish there were eight days in the week, instead of seven.

I wish I had more time.

 

There’s not enough time to read all the books I want to read.  There’s not enough time to listen to all the music I want to hear.  There’s not enough time to travel to all the places I want to go.  There’s not enough time to make all the friends I’d like to meet.  There’s not enough time to covet those family relationships and friendships that I’m already blessed to have.  There’s not enough time fulfill a vast cauldron of desires.

Indeed, each of us lives inside an hourglass.  The sand beneath our feet is always shifting and slowly disappears, one grain at a time, one ticking second at a time.  At some point — no one knows exactly when — the sand runs out.  Our hourglass becomes empty.  And then, we will be gone.

When you think about it, other than our good health, time is our most precious resource.

Why then do we waste so much of it?

 

Tonight at dinner, the conversation turned to living a good life.

A random question came up that made me to pause and think.  And quite frankly, I got stumped.  I usually have quick answers for just about everything.  That’s what comes with being opinionated.  But a question was asked that I still have trouble answering.  Perhaps you’d like to pretend you’re dining with us over a few bottles of wine and you suddenly get asked the following:

If you could pick one person in the world to have a long one-on-one dinner conversation with, who would it be?

Let’s embellish this just a bit.  You must make two choices.  The first choice must be someone living.  The second choice must be someone deceased.

I find this a very difficult question to answer.

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Posted by on Nov 5, 2012 in Blog, Personal | 4 comments

My Disgusting Relapse — 215 to 228

Nolan Dalla Running at The Lakes 2012

 

I’ve written extensively about my struggle to stay in shape.  Well — this past week was a very bad week.

Do you know how difficult it is to work out every single day of the week?  Can you picture the drudgery of hoofing five fucking miles — no matter how hot it is outside or how few hours you slept last night?  Well, I did it.  60 straight days last summer working the World Series of Poker from noon until 3 am every day — and I was up at 10 am every single morning to run in the 108-degree heat.  The sweat was like a baptism.

My diet plan worked.  In fact, it didn’t just work.  It kicked fucking ass.

Ten months ago, I started out as a 262-pound blob of laziness and worked it off one grueling step at a time.  Make no mistake.  I don’t like to run.  The pain was often intense.  I had plenty of excuses to skip days, but never did.  I had good reasons to cut my workout, but never took a shortcut.  I was determined to stick to the plan.  My idea — and it worked like magic – was to eat and drink myself silly, but then to work off every pound by pummeling the pavement five miles per day, seven days a week.  I’m not religious.  But if I have a belief, it is in the power of human willpower.  If I can do it, anyone can.

It’s no mistake that the very first blog post I wrote some four months ago was about running.  For me, it was a mental and physcial challenge to do someting I had never done and then stuck to it.  It was — a life transformation.

And so, I proudly reported that nine months after my workout ritual began — I managed to drop from 262 all the way down to 215.  That’s an astonishing 47 pounds, or about 17 percent of my total body mass.  Incredibly, I never missed a meal.  I never missed a drink.  I ate WHATEVER I WANTED.  I drank two cocktails and a bottle of wine a day — more when someone else was buying.  Warren Lush comes to mind.  I ran those meals and manhattans off and fucking loved living life.

Well, all journeys worth taking have bumpy roads and detours.  I’ve just taken one.  And now, I need to get back onto the highway.

It all started out five weeks ago when I worked two weeks at Bossier City, Louisiana.  A grueling schedule caused me to shorten my run route down to just two miles per day.  Then, it was off to France for ten more days and nights.  I drank and ate even more than normal in Cannes — while averaging just three miles per day, instead of five.  Next, my journey took me to Hammond-Gary, Indiana where the nauseating oil refineries and an exhausting schedule caused me to totally abandon my workout program for ten straight days.

So, according to my estimate — I have departed my ritual for 35 days.  I have run an estimated 100 less miles than would have been normal.

What do you think happened to my weight during this time?

As I stated previously, my low number was 215 pounts, which I proudly carried in early September.  Life was so good, I was eating quarts of Baskin-Robbins and washing it all down with Malbec.  Goddamn, what a statement of pride — 215 pounds, down from 262.

Upon my return from five weeks spent on the road, I stepped on the scale.  I feared the worst.  Like some kind of ashamed addict that had relapsed, I looked down over a jello-like gut.  The number was a kick in the groin.

228!

Fuck!

I gained 13 pounds in just over a month.

I have written about this before.  I could not give one flying assfuck about the number.  I have no numeric goal.  For me, the diet and the commitment to health is a statement.  It’s a demonstration of mind over matter.  It’s a personal conquest over the forces from within.  It’s showing everyone that might be watching that one need not sacrifice nor be denied of life’s greatest pleasures.  The answer is simply to work it all off with a dedicated ritual of running and exercise.

I had lost it all, or should I say, gained in all in one utterly detestable period of dishonor.

Fortunately, I’m now back to my ritual of running five miles — up the hills and through the searing heat.  Once again, I flip off the jackasses that drive in the right-hand lane oblivious to my struggle on the sidewalks, sreaming profanity at the lazy-ass motherfuckers in their speeding Benzes and BMWs who come within inches of ending my life with the indifferent arrogance.  My ankles are sore.  I have cramps in my thighs.  I was desperately out of breath.  But my will stays strong.  There’s nothing I look forward to more than the next trek around The Lakes, the next five mile circle.

I am back.  With a vengeance.  I am going to get rid of these 13 pounds..  And then more.

And after that, I’m eating a 16-ounce rib-eye and loaded backed potato.  Don’t bring me margarine.  I demand real butter.

I’m in the zone, and when I’m in the zone — it’s always happy hour.

 

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Posted by on Oct 19, 2012 in Blog, Travel, What's Left | 0 comments

My Great Privilege — Meeting a World War II Veteran

American Veteran Photo

 

In few more years, they’ll be gone.

Every one of them.

The millions who marched on foot across a continent and who sailed the high seas some 70 years ago are slowly but surely leaving us.  They pass away at the rate of thousands per year, which will gradually come to a few hundred, and then to a trickle.  In another decade or so, they will be no more.

They are what has been called “the Greatest Generation.”

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Posted by on Oct 11, 2012 in Blog, Personal, What's Left | 1 comment

How Is This Possible? Three Laptops Destroyed in Six Days!

 

Me and laptops don’t get along.

I average approximately three laptops per year.  What this means is — I somehow manage to lose or destroy about three laptops every 12 months.  Given those dismal odds, I started buying refurbished laptops a few years ago — which refers to discounted merchandise that went through hell and was returned to the store usually by some lying scumbag who pretty much did a war dance on the keyboard and then blamed the computer for suddenly “not working.”

Things got so bad for awhile, that I resorted to buying used laptops off of Craig’s List — which is really scrapping the bottom of the barrel.  I figure — why spend $795 paying retail at the store when you can fork over $250 for a used machine from some thief that will probably last just as long?

You’ve already read what happened to my new Acer while visiting France.  I bought that machine at Costco for $695.  It lasted only a month before some punk walked into my hotel and stole it.  Read the story here:  WHERE’S INSPECTOR CLOUSEAU WHEN YOU NEED HIM?

So this week, as soon as I got back home, I returned to Costco again and bought the same Acer model that had been pilfered in Cannes.

This one lasted a day.

Even worse, I somehow managed to destroy my backup HP mini-laptop — the one I use in case of emergencies.  You know, such as when something goes wrong with the primary laptop.

How this happened is a marvel not to be believed.  Here it goes:

Wednesday afternoon I was busy installing files onto both laptops — the new 16-inch Acer and the older 12-inch HP.  The laptops were plugged into the wall and sat on the floor beneath my office desk.

Marieta usually makes me a tumbler full of some kind of cocktail during the late afternoon.  The tumbler is actually a stainless steel mixer that’s commonly used as a shaker by bartenders.  At home, I prefer my cocktails served in a giant tumbler which stays colder longer because its made of metal rather than glass.

I have absolutely no idea how the following happened.  But we do own two cats — Alex and Faro — and they’re both now serious suspects.  I sat the 20-ounce tumbler down on top of the desk and walked away.  Meanwhile, the two computers beneath the desk were downloading new programs.

When I returned a few minutes later, I saw a horrifying sight.  The empty tumbler was laying on its side.  Liquid was spilled all over the desk and was dripping down onto the two laptops beneath.  The carpeting was SOAKED.  Both laptops were open and had a puddles of liquid and ice cubes all over both keyboards.

It was not a pretty sight.

No big deal, I thought.

I grabbed a towel and padded down both laptops, hoping to soak up what remained of what would have been a delicious Rum Runner.  To my amazement, the Acer keyboard no longer worked.  Worse, the HP showed a black screen.  After rebooting both laptops several times, I feared the worst — an accidental spill had wiped out not just one, but two laptops — one of them not even 24 hours new out of the box.

A hectic web search on my wife’s desktop (she usually forbids me to touch her computer, for some reason) found one possible fix — holding a hair dryer over the keyboard and blowing hot air into the motherboard.  Supposedly, this dries out the liquid trapped inside.  I tried that.  It didn’t work.

I allowed the laptops to rest and dry out overnight; but when both laptops were turned on this morning, the results were exactly the same.  The bottom line was — two laptops had been destroyed in my faux home happy hour.

The HP appears to be fried.  Ruined.  Gone.  Oh well — no big loss.  I bought that unit for $140 off Craig’s List a year ago.

But the Acer was more problematic.  I’m not exactly sure what the warranty says about spilling cocktails onto the keyboard and the liability thereof, but I decided to chance it and try and return the laptop to Costco, hoping for an exchange.  This afternoon, I returned the Acer with the keyboard that mysteriously no longer works, with no questions asked.  For those out there in the market for a refurbished laptop, you may want to avoid a silver Acer if you lean over the keyboard and get a heavy whiff of Bacardi.

So, for those keeping score — that’s four computers destroyed in 2012.  And, I still have nearly three months left to go.

What you’re reading now is my first post on a brand new Acer, bought (you guessed it) at Costco.  In a few minutes, Marieta will be bringing me a Tennessee Highball, encased in my beloved silver tumbler.

If you don’t see me updating my blog for the next few days, you can pretty much guess what happened.  And keep those cats out of the office.

 

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