Once more, with feeling

There are always telltale signs of New Year's Eve. Like the news telling you at 7a.m. it's already new year's in Australia, and showing you the fireworks over Sydney harbor. Wonder how the new year's going for them so far?

And of course what celebration would be complete without the Year In Review on the Today Show, reminding us all of stories and moments we'd more often rather forget than remember. I'm speaking specifically about what Matt and Savannah dressed up as on Halloween, and all the shots of Savannah visiting the set while on her maternity leave to show off her new baby (I don't know if you're aware of this, but apparently she's the first woman ever to have a child).

Even though I feel more encouraged and optimistic looking forward instead of in the rear view mirror, I think it's a good thing to take a little inventory now and again before saying goodbye to the year (as long as it doesn't include pictures of Savannah Guthrie and her baby).

As I look back - and don't panic, this isn't going to be a Christmas card 'All About My Year' letter - several great things happened. For example, I did some great work for agencies I've never worked for before. I got to work again with my pal Johnny. I got over myself and went to a reunion for one of the agencies I've worked for, and saw friends and colleagues I was surprised I'd missed so much. I also worked with new people, like Jim and Nicky, that I'm excited about working with again.

On a personal note, I was reunited with a long lost friend. I had lunches with people who matter to me. I also started college tours with my handsome, talented son (that's an objective opinion by the way), which is good because I just don't get enough reminders in the day about how fast time is passing.

We also got a new puppy. Which seems like a good time to mention I'm offering a generous reward for the first person who invents a self-cleaning yard.

Anyway, enough looking back. Here's to health, happiness and prosperity for all my family, friends and loyal readers.

All five of you.

Things I was wrong about: Butt heaters

This time, I think I've stumbled on to a series that, as my wife would be the first to point out (can I get an "Amen" from the husbands), will give me a limitless supply of material to drone on about.

Joining the already wildly popular series on this site like Don't Ask, Guilty Pleasures, Things I Love About Costco and What Took So Long is now Things I Was Wrong About.

First up, car butt heaters.

I used to laugh at people who raved about butt heaters in their car seats. After all, it's not like we live in Minnesota. It just seemed like a useless option no one needed, a waste of money and a car fire just waiting to happen.

That is, it seemed like that until I finally got a car that had them.

Suddenly, magically, I couldn't get enough of those frigid Southern California nights, you know, where the temperature plummets to around 58 degrees. With my driver's seat butt heater set on high, driving on chilly nights became a comfy, cozy ride that I wanted to go on for as long as possible. Especially since on my car, the heat also extends to the mid and lower back. Which, if you've never experienced it, is just a little bit of heaven on wheels.

As the seat warms up, so does my attitude behind the wheel. The asshats who text while they drive, the people not signaling when they turn or change lanes, drivers with the eternal turn signal or just plain slow drivers seem to bother me a little less when my butt is warm.

I'm pretty sure Einstein had a theory about that. Look it up.

So I'll just say it. I was wrong about butt heaters. It's one of those things, like remote controls and GPS navigation systems (by the way, watch for those items in future installments), I didn't know I couldn't live without.

Until I didn't have to.

T'was the day after Christmas

T’was the day after Christmas and all through the house
Gifts were scattered - a book, a toy, a blouse
The socks that were hung by the chimney with care
Are gone now as if they’d never been there

The family was here, there are telltale signs
Wrapping paper everywhere with Christmas designs
Some gifts were great ones, some not so much
Trinkets, knick-knacks, re-gifts and such

When the family wakes up, there’ll be such a clatter
But the day after Christmas it just won’t matter
They’ll stumble to the living room and look at the tree
But without all the presents it’s not much to see

Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen
Can start on the sleigh, it needs some fixin’
For next year will be here before they know it
And with so much to give, they don’t want to blow it

For breakfast there’s always cookies and cake
Leftovers are ready, we don’t have to bake
We’ll just stuff our faces like the holiday’s not over
Then after we’ll sit and feel bad about ourselves and wish we hadn’t and wonder what the hell we were thinking.

Christmas lights

They say the two happiest days of owning a boat are the day you buy it and the day you get rid of it. I think the same can be said for Christmas trees. I know what you're thinking. Why's the Jewboy talking about buying Christmas trees?

I'll tell you why.

For starters, I love the trees. The fresh scents, the lights, the decorations. I also happen to be married to a woman who isn't a member of the tribe, so Christmas has always been the big December holiday in our house for as long as I can remember. And not to advance any stereotypes here, but I'm pretty good at math. 8 days of Hanukkah, 12 days of Christmas.

After four years of Hebrew school, a bar mitzvah and dating enough Jewish girls who made "till death do us part" sound more like a goal than a vow, I decided to opt in for a holiday a little more festive than what I'd grown up with, even if the point of the celebration wasn't exactly in my wheelhouse (although He was a member of the tribe, just saying).

Plus why would I limit myself to just blue and white lights when I can have so many different colors?

Anyway, every year we go to Brita's nursery in Seal Beach, and re-enact Goldilocks & The Three Bears as we pick out our perfect tree. "This one's too small." "This one's too large." "This one's just right."

But the secret about Christmas trees is that the exact moment it's up, decorated and ready to be enjoyed is the exact moment my 6000-year (5775 to be exact) history of worrying kicks in.

Has the tree been watered? Is it taking the water? Are the pine needles dry? Why is it dropping so many? Did we turn off the tree lights when we left? Is it going to go up in flames and take the house with it? And can the presents be saved if it does?

After a minute of standing back and admiring it, the moment has passed, my mind is spinning and I can't wait until it's out of the house (which is also how I felt about my high school girlfriend).

Every day we have to vacuum the needles that've dropped so the puppy doesn't eat them. Suddenly, what started out as a joy and spirit-lifting visage has become something I can't wait to get rid of (girlfriend joke again).

Sometime after New Year's, long after everyone else has taken their tree down, we'll finally get around to putting the hand-made, antique, mercury glass, Salzburg-bought decorations away, then kick the tree to the curb for the recycling truck to come take it.

It's sad thinking about something that brought me so much joy - although briefly - being gone so suddenly. To snap myself out of it, I just do what I did when it first got here. Stand back, look where it stood and admire the pure beauty and joy of what I see.

All the living room space I get back.

Have a nice trip. See you next fall.

Yesterday I did something I haven't done in a very long time. And no, it wasn't write copy someone wanted to read. You're so predictable.

What I did was fall flat on my ass.

It was bound to happen. With two kids, two dogs and all the equipment that comes with them, it's no wonder the house is a virtual minefield most of the time. I would've said obstacle course, but obstacles can be overcome. In a minefield, you always have to be in a state of high alert.

Anyway, we have two extremely comfortable chairs in the living room. Right now they're covered in the powder blue slipcovers. Those are the ones we have on them when we're not using the floral ones. Clearly I lost the slipcover battle, which explains why we don't have the Elvis in Hawaii slipcovers. Or the ones with the cowboys and fire engines.

I might be getting off topic here.

Anyway, I was sitting in one of our comfy living room chairs, working on my laptop doing extensive, in-depth research into the topic of my next blogpost: Survivability Tactics & Probabilities and the Implications Of The Thermonuclear Threat.

That or I was watching Between Two Ferns. I can't remember.

At any rate, I got up to do something, and as I did I was closing my laptop and not looking down. Which was bad news for me, because there was a musical instrument in its case on the floor in front of me. My foot caught it, I lost my balance and went careening off a low bookshelf into a wall, involuntarily pirouetting like Baryshnikov and falling like a redwood all while trying desperately not to drop the laptop.

Unfortunately, not having my hands available to help right the ship, I went down like a ton of bricks. Fortunately I had a hardwood floor to cushion my fall.

The good news is I managed to stop the laptop from crashing to the floor. I was also able to hold my neck in such a way that my head didn't slam against the floor. The bad news is I'm feeling it this morning. I'm sore, scraped and bruised (which also happens to be the name of my law firm).

Having kids - well, teenagers - in the house, one thing I always notice is how resilient they are. They heal fast from almost everything: colds, injuries, hurt feelings, bad parenting. I however do not heal that fast. I fully anticipate hurting for a couple weeks while my body figures out what the hell I was thinking trying to get out of a chair.

So for the next few days, it's going to be ice packs, heating pads and Neosporin. And as long as I don't look to far to the right, my neck doesn't remind me how sore it is.

I've heard a rumor that, in some homes, there are actually dedicated spaces where you can store your belongings so they're out of the way and don't pose a risk to people walking in the house. But I'm not falling for it.

Growing growing gone

I was trying to find a good analogy about friendship, which isn't easy for me because, as I've proven time and time again here at Rotation and Balance, analogies are like, well, they aren't my strong suit.

But I'm going to go with this one.

Think of friendship as a garden. You can come in, water it and watch it grow and flourish. Of course for it to do that, you have to tend to it on a regular basis. Which, if you appreciate the beauty of the garden and the happiness it brings, isn't a problem. It's something you want to do.

Or you can just be a garden killer, leave it unwatered, keep taking stuff from it until it dies and has nothing left to give.

It's a busy world, and everyone has a life in progress. So it becomes more and more challenging to nurture friendships. I think too many of them enter the "what've you done for me lately?" phase far too easily. They forget about support you've given them when they needed it, the shoulder to cry on you provided when they were looking for one.

What've you done for me lately?

Understandably, sometimes a few of the items in the garden disappear on their own. And sometimes a little weeding needs to be done.

That angry plant that just sucks the energy out of you and kills everything around it? That's gotta go.

The one over there, that didn't like the way you watered it one day, somehow forgetting all the other days you watered it just right, well that one decides to just die on you.

More a weed than a plant, there's the one that expects to be taken care of when it needs it, offering nothing in return in the way of beauty, peace or appreciation. In fact, it would be fine if you just sent the water on it's own.

Friendships aren't fragile things, at least the good ones aren't. They can take a lot of abuse. But that doesn't mean they can't be killed off if you try hard enough.

Or don't try at all.