Nothing is something

I got nothing. And plenty of it. So here's the deal about this almost last-post-of-the-year post.

I wanted to publish one more before my New Year's Eve post (which I've already written). Problem is I don't have anything in particular I want to write about. Every time I hit this wall, an acquaintance of mine tells me to just open a new window, stare at the screen and eventually an idea will pop into my head.

I've been staring at this screen for a while now. You know what I got? I got nothing.

Then I started thinking - staring and waiting for something to write is pretty much what I do for a living. Sure, there's a strategy (such as it is) to start from. There's a subject in place. But when it comes time to actually sit down and write, there I am staring at the screen.

The difference is that when I'm being paid for it, there's always a deadline attached. And I don't get a choice. I have to come up with something. With this blog, there's no deadline. And there's definitely no money.

There's nothing but the challenge and fun of coming up with something.

In this case, that something is nothing.

Doodle Jump is so much like life

Rarely has 99¢ bought so much frustration.

Ever since I purchased Doodle Jump from the app store for my iPhone, not only have I become addicted to that little sucker jumping from rock to rock, I've also managed to squander a not insubstantial amount of time trying to get my high score past 17,326.

In meetings. In waiting rooms. In restaurants. Talking on the phone (when I'm not using free call-dropping from AT&T). I get close to that score, but have yet to tie or surpass it.

Occasionally the thought does cross my mind that maybe this maddening game is a metaphor for life. In particular, my life. I sure hope not. The fact that I only get to a certain level no matter what I do is embarrassing as well as disheartening. And the fact it's such a low score to start with is never going to have anyone accusing me of being an overachiever.

Then I think, well, okay you animated little bastard, let's take a look at how far I've gotten in my own life.

In so many ways, I'm in much better shape than a lot of my friends: financially, emotionally and psychologically (that should have them seriously concerned). I own lots of fun stuff, including my house. I have a wife and two kids who love me something fierce (love is blind, but still...). I make a lot of money doing a job that can occasionally be great fun, and isn't exactly breaking rocks. And even though I could lose a few pounds, overall I'm pretty healthy.

If I had to assign a point value to my life, I'd say it's a high score most people would have a tough time beating.

Eventually I hope to say the same about that freakin' little time waster.

Merry Christmas

Don't send me eCards for the holidays

Everyone's busy this time of year. I get it.

I also get how time consuming and tedious sending out Christmas and holiday cards can be. As an award-winning procrastinator, I usually wait until the last minute before I get mine done and out.

But I do eventually get it done.

And the last thing I'd ever do - using the clock running down as an excuse - is send an eCard for the holidays instead of a real one to someone I even remotely cared about.

At our house we have a breakfront in the entryway. You can see from the picture we put all the holiday cards we receive on it. Sometimes there are so many they overlap. They stick out. They fall off. But they also demand to be looked at, and they make the season feel special. They bring joy to each of us every time we walk in, out or by the front door.

eCard's are like the ice-queens of the greeting card world. They have no feelings and just leave you cold. Instead of giving joy, they rob you of it. And even though they usually say Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas or Happy New Year, what they're really saying is, "I couldn't be bothered."

How fast do I delete eCards? Canadian pharmacies and Nigerian lottery officials have a better chance of getting their emails read.

So if you want to send me a card, send me a real one. And if you don't, then don't.

But just know I'd have put yours right in the middle.

P.S. Unless all you have is my email address. Then you're good.

Estate planning (laughs) What estate?

It's the holidays again.

That joyful time of year when we count our blessings. Gather with our loved ones. Celebrate tradition. Exchange presents.

And plan for our own inevitable death.

Years ago my darling wife and I drew up wills and a living trust. But with the new estate tax laws coming into play the first of the year (a tax which should be abolished entirely for everyone. Don't get me started...), our estate lawyer said it might be a good time to review the paperwork.

Good thing we died. I mean did.

The thing I worry about most is who'll take care of the kids in the event of our untimely death should that occur. I actually worry about it a lot. Every time just the wife and I are driving anywhere, I can't help but think we could be taken out in a heartbeat by some driver who decides to get in a head on collision with us (not unlike Christopher Walken in Annie Hall).

Of course, it's easy (or easier anyway) to talk about in the abstract. When we really start discussing who'll take care of the kids when we're gone, there are a lot of things to consider. Not so much financially, because we've put that in place for them. But who would raise them similarly, if not exactly, the way we would? With the same values we share. Who are the ones who will offer them the kind of unconditional love they'll need after the tragedy of our passing?

Seriously, I just light up a room don't I?

The other thing is just because we've named someone to take them now doesn't mean they'll be able or want to when the time comes. That's why we have several nominees: if one declines, they move on to the next name on the list.

We're fortunate to have a lot of very good friends who would be excellent guardians of our children. Many of them with bigger houses and pools. Now that I'm thinking about it, the kids may not think we're the only ones who've died and gone to heaven.

The other part of this document is the Power Of Attorney for major health related decisions. My wife and I both hold it for each other. Which means basically we have to stay on good behavior, or the other one can choose to pull the plug if given the option.

At least that's how it was explained to me.

Believing it's best to be straight with the kids, we've told them who they could wind up with and in what order we'd like it to happen. They're good with it. A little too good. In fact I've asked them if they could act just a little more broken up at the thought we might be gone.

They said they'd think about it.

So for now, we're all up to date with our final wishes. I even got the part about dressing me in a black tee shirt and jeans, and having an iPod playing Thunder Road to take me into eternity written into the document.

In the most literal sense, we're good to go.

Ahhhh capella

See that guy leaning against the lamp post in the center of the album cover to the left? That's Jerry Lawson, formerly lead singer of the a capella group The Persuasions.

Now, not only have I leaned against a few lamp posts in my time, I've also actually sung onstage with Jerry Lawson. Yes that Jerry Lawson. More about that in a minute.

I've always been a huge fan of a capella singing. Doesn't matter where I find it - in front of the theater with the group's hat on the ground for change, on the Third Street Promenade, street corner boys singing in a movie (yes, even Take You Back from Rocky), or occasionally on an actual street corner on a Saturday night.

What's amazing to me is how not only do they hear the music that's not there, they make you hear it.

If you could measure how much I love a capella, that's the same amount I hate competition talent shows like American Idol and Dancing With The (Z-list) Stars. But this week I happened to catch a show called The Sing Off on NBC, hosted by Nick Lachey (talk about Z-list). I was reaching for the remote when I heard Nick explain that this particular competition was between a capella groups.

He had me at a capella.

And as if that wasn't enough, one of the groups was Jerry Lawson - the Jerry Lawson - and The Talk Of The Town, his post-Persuasions a capella group that sounds exactly like the Persuasions. Go figure.

I was glued to the set. The first night ten groups sang a capella. And while they weren't all equally talented, they were all entertaining. Jerry and his group came out and sang Save The Last Dance For Me, promptly showing the young 'uns how it's done.

Towards the end of the show there was a group of college students called The Backbeats. They stole the show with their version of Beyonce's If I Were A Boy.

I have nothing but admiration for anyone who's willing to put it all out there, and risk failing on that kind of scale. Of course, they're also risking success.

Now, about being onstage with Jerry Lawson. When my wife and I were dating, we used to see the Persuasions every time they came to town. One night, they played a club that used to be in Venice called Hop Singh's. We'd seen them there a lot, but this one night at the end of the show, they invited the audience to come onstage and sing the final song with them.

If you know anything about me, you know what a shy, quiet wallflower I am.

I think I set a new land speed record for jumping onstage.

I was standing right next to Jerry Lawson, singing my little off-key, out-of-tune heart out. Fortunately an audience member who could actually sing was the one holding the mike, so no one but Jerry had to endure my vocals. And he was very gracious about it.

So even if it is a competition show, and even if Nick Lachey is hosting, I'm still glad there's a venue where a capella is being brought to the masses each week.

The best part is now I get to sing with Jerry Lawson twice a week.

Even better, this time he can't hear me.

Why I Love Costco Part 2: Giant Shopping Carts

The first thing you should know is this isn't an actual  picture of my shopping cart. I wouldn't be caught dead buying anything as healthy as  fat-free milk or celery (Janice, I didn't reach for the celery. - Inside joke).

But there are lots of other things I do buy at Costco. And the beauty of it is it all fits in their ginormous shopping carts.

I work in advertising. I know while the company line about the size of the carts might be convenience, they're actually giving you all that room so you'll buy more. Here's what I have to say about that: thank you, thank you, thank you.

I love piling gallon jars of strawberry jelly, 50-pack rolls of Charmin, a year's supply of Bic Disposable Razors and boxes of Tide large enough to wash everyone's clothes for 10 years in there.

And that's just from the first aisle.

At check out, when they collect all my items and put them in boxes so they're easier to handle when I get home, those boxes also fit easily into the carts.

Of course, oversized is Costco's theme and reason for being (joke about why I relate to it goes here). And even though I know I don't have anyplace at home to put all these boxes that look like props from Land Of The Giants, I have lots of room in the basket.

And that's all that matters.