Pulling the plug on this blog, focusing on new blog

Got busy, decided not to pursue this one, so I've decided to start a new blog called Normal People Don't Do That. It's basically a site where, I hope, people can find out just how normal you are, assuming that normal is what a majority of people do or believe. For example, normal people don't watch "American Idol." This isn't a judgment call, either. It's a fact. That's what's so cool about it. Don't believe me? Head on over to Normal People Don't Do That.

Aloha.

Old people's music

I don't think I'm old, but my music collection says otherwise.

With a few exceptions, most of the music in my collection is 10 years old or older. (The major exceptions are Alison Krauss, Josh Rouse -- basically, anyone whose name rhymes with "mouse.")

For years, I've given my parents grief for listening to nothing but music from the 1950s, but my tastes are stuck in the early '90s. I was doing dishes last night, and I took the 7-year-old's soundtrack to "High School Musical" out of the CD player in the kitchen and popped in Paul Simon's "Graceland." I hadn't played it in years. I think it holds up really well. I think it sounds really fresh and relevant, but then I looked at the back of the CD case, and it turns out that thing came out in 1986. That's 21 years ago. If that CD were a person, it would be old enough to drink.

It dawned on me a while back that the only place I hear new music these days is TV commercials. That's how I discovered Moby, but then I realized that "Play" came out eight freakin' years ago. A kid who was a high school freshman the year that CD came out would be out of college by now.

I feel old.

C'mon get happy

"I Think I Love You" by The Partridge Family is one of the most underrated pop songs ever.

Also, "Rock The Boat," by The Hues Corporation.

Didn't try this at home

When we bought our first house, we paid an electrician God knows how much money fix the wiring. There were switches and outlets that didn't work. The guy comes, climbs into the attic, looks around and says the problem is that the previous owner was a do-it-yourselfer, only he didn't know what he was doing.

I'll call him "Bob."

Judging from the junk mail that still came for him, Bob was mostly a woodworker. He built a quilt rack, pocket doors and some other projects that were really nice. But he wasn't an electrician. Nothing was up to code. (Yes, our inspector should have caught Bob's mistakes, but this was in Florida. Things don't work in Florida the way they do other places.) Bob had made a real mess of the wiring. We're lucky he didn't cause a fire.

My dad was never a DIY-er. He'd call his brother or ask a neighbor to install a light switch or fix the toilet. After that first visit from the electrician, I decided I wasn't going to call professionals for home repairs unless it was absolutely necessary. I got a couple of books, grilled the guys at Home Depot and learned how to replace a light switch, how to install a ceiling fan, replace shingles on a hurricane-whipped roof. I'm pretty comfortable doing light repairs.

But this garage door business, that was something else. So many parts, so high off the ground. It wasn't a one-person job. I felt lame hiring someone to put it in, but I know when I'm licked.

Don't try this at home

Someday, your garage door opener will break, and you'll be tempted to replace it yourself. Don't.

Unless there's another guy there to help you, and unless that guy knows what he's doing, you're better off paying Lowes the $105 to have it installed.

Trust me.

Happy Easter!

Went to the church downtown where we went at Christmas. Parked right in front, but it was roped off, and there were no steps. Turns out they're doing some remodeling, so we had to drive around to the side. We don't go to church much. We picked that because it's downtown, it's old and it's pretty.

Well, because of the remodeling, services were in the multipurpose room.

The room was cinderblock with tile floors, so every "DA-DA" out of the baby's mouth just echoed. He lasted 10 minutes, then I took him out. I was going to take him to the car, but I'd left my keys in my coat pocket, which I'd left in the pew. So I'm carrying him, and my pants start to droop, and that's when I realized I'd forgotten to wear a belt.

So, we walk around the corner to Starbucks. It's packed. I get a coffee and get Junior a Odwalla fruit smoothie. I grab the only table, a four top. This family comes in and I can feel them glaring at me, because I was taking up an entire table, and there's four of them. Also, one of their daughters was on crutches. So, they find an empty chair nearby and pointedly ask whether I'm using the other chairs at my table.

Finally, we leave. Starbucks is smack across the street from the church, but I have to walk around the block to go in the side entrace.

I get in, give Junior to the wife -- just as they're finishing the last hymn. I missed the whole thing.

When we got outside, I asked our 7-year-old how she liked it. She goes, "It was kinda boring. All they did was talk about the Bible."

So, that's my Easter story.

Saturday rule

No home improvement project, no matter how simple, no matter how small, can be completed without at least two trips to Lowes.