I wish I were making this up.

I interrupt my new-found ability to post my own videos (I'm so 1998) to bring you yet another story of me being an idiot. International style.

On my trip to Europe last week, one stop was for 3 days in a beautiful, tiny German village called Schura. I stayed with a friend's family there.

So one day they invite some family and neighbors over and there are about 15 people total, all local Germans except for my buddy Gene who traveled with me. The language barrier is an issue, but at some point we start playing games and are soon playing a fun, simple game called "Celebrities." Each person writes down the names of five famous people on little slips of paper and they all go into a big bowl. You divide into two teams and take turns basically playing charades, trying to get your team to guess the person you are depicting.

I'm up.

Britney Spears. Ok, uh, pretend I'm singing and shaving my head. 1 point.

Michael Jackson. No brainer: I moonwalk. Cha-ching.

I pull the next paper out. I unfold it. I pee in my pants.

"Adolf Hitler."

Blaring red sirens in my head. Shock. Disbelief. Utter dismay. If I do ANYTHING, I will surely be the next day's news. Is this some sort of cruel joke? A set-up? All signs point to "Abort! Abort!"

But the timer is ticking. My team needs the points.

Three seconds later my finger is over my lip as a mustache, my other hand shoots into the air in a "Sieg Heil" and I'm goose-stepping back and forth on my German host family's back-porch. The group lets out a collective groan, some competitive idiot like me on my team blurts out "Adolf Hitler!" for the point, and I'm doing Christina Aguilera (the next paper) "Genie in a Bottle" moves to save my life.

I really don't know what else to say about this story except that somehow the rest of the day went ok and they were really cool people. And lastly, did my buddy sneak that name in somehow when it was my turn? I'll be waiting for him at the airport when he gets back.

Sweet. I lerned it good.

So thank you Mr. Train and MDiddy for posting below that my video thing worked. On with the show!

From the country where David Hasselhoff was able to become a rock star, I bring you the following footage of a festival I attended last week in Trossingen, Germany (home of Hohner Harmonicas, incidentally). About the "band" in the trailer, uh, well, just watch and listen. And if you can't see too well, yes, that's a super-mullet, and yes, those are liederhosen.

Testing testing 1...2...3...testing....

Hello all and sorry for the no-explanation of the dead air the last two weeks. I actually just returned from 10 pretty awesome days in Germany and France (and one in Switzerland).

I have some decent vids to share but my technology awareness is a little low. Below is a test. Can you see and hear it?

My white friend, Kenny

I just found out that my very good friend Kenny Johnston is playing keyboard for C.G. Ryche. C.G.Ryche who specializes in Latin rhythm and is seen here with The Samba Pimps.

Kenny, my white, middle-aged, kinda-bald, married-with-kids-in-the-burbs friend is rockin' the world beat. Love you bro'. =)

But seriously, that is so frickin' cool. We've known each other for 20 years and I can say with great certainty that neither of us would ever have guessed that today he'd be doing that and I'd be dancing salsa. Life gets stranger and better every day.

And if you'd like to see my soul-brotha' in action, check him out with C.G. Ryche at the Orange County Pavilion on May 30.

Bad mood

Today is one of those days when I am not enjoying being single. I feel made for lasting connection.

What I want to do now is lift weights and listen to angry rock.

Anyway.

Random restaurant recommendation: "Pi" on the first floor of the Hilton Garden Inn in downtown Denver on Welton Street. There is no good explanation for having a good restaurant there, but there is. The ambience is so-so, but the food is great and the wait-staff knowledgeable. The artichoke soup is awesome (no cream - totally tangy and different), and I could drink their poblano chile salad dressing. The shrimp tacos were made from (gasp!) large grilled shrimp. Not tiny little fried bay shrimp.

Why the heck am I talking about a restaurant? I guess to get my mind off things. Just one of those days.

Meat and Dirt and Fire and Blood

As a divorced dad who loves being a dad and is very involved in his kids' lives, I think sometimes about the collateral damage from divorce upon parenting. When one or more of the parents simply leave town, the impact is obvious. When both stick around, have a functional co-parenting relationship and are clearly committed to their kids, the impact can be more subtle.

One thing I struggle with is the balance I present to my kids in the realm of masculinity and femininity. When you are married and parenting together, you and your spouse reside in (hopefully) natural poles, and together you present the whole picture to your children. I believe that this "wholeness" of masculine and feminine, joined in marriage, is also a way God gives us of demonstrating His wholeness, not limited by either gender role. I'm not talking about extremes (a caveman father and a lacy-dressed, sweet-voiced mother), but just the natural gender polarity that exists in a healthy marriage that the kids benefit from being around.

I am a guy. I am wild. I like dirt. I played water polo and enjoyed the violence of it. I like catching a fish, gutting it and eating it. I like war history and tanks and ships and fighter jets. I smoke a pipe and like good gin and tonic. At work, the parts I enjoy most are the parts that involve some sort of a "hunt."

The rub: when my kids are with me, which is fortunately very often, I find myself poking around inside myself, wondering how much I need to moderate and present a bit more femininity to them. They crave things like home-cooked meals, cuddling, etc. I like those things too, but in a different way than a mother does and I don't provide the same tenderness (without thinking about it) as their mother does. (And I definitely don't desire to attempt to replace anything she does for them, because they have an amazing mother.)

But I can sense my kids' craving, and like I said, I CAN provide those things, but I have to THINK about it. And then at times I realize that I have thought about it too much and gone three days without wrestling with my son, or some other random part of my natural masculinity has been suppressed to try to provide more balance to them. I guess in a way (I'm realizing this as I'm typing it...) I'm trying to be mother and father at once in an attempt to lessen any potential pain my kids feel as a result of the different living arrangements we all now have to live with.

Hmmm. I have no answers, but trying to be mother and father at once seems to certainly NOT be an answer, eh? I like solutions, but today I don't have one.

(Sculpture "Masculine Mystery" by someone named Cynthia Kresse at http://www.cynthiakresse.com/)

I'm a Jewish Mother

The kiddos and I had a nice dinner at a local steakhouse with my grandparents (86 and 91 years old!) on Saturday night. My daughter was sitting to my right and I found myself many times just watching her eat, taking joy in her enjoyment of the food. The moments are frozen in my mind not much unlike the photo above: a moment in time, a smile, memory heavy with the emotion of the moment. I liked watching her cut up her steak and chew it. It made me much happier than I ever could have been from my own food. Isn't this the territory of the stereotypical Jewish mother/grandmother? Eat, eat!

After a nice day with their mom for Mother's Day, the brood is back here, tucked away asleep. There is something peaceful and sustaining about these moments: the kids are in bed in the next room, I do the dishes, the lights are low, I break out my pipe and a book...ahhhh.

Happy Monday to everyone!