ER Trip #1

Well today was a milestone day for the Delp family. We had our first trip to the E.R. for Riley. He has been sick for the past few days. Nothing out of the ordinary but he certainly has not been his normal, vehicle-organizing self. Today he was worse than any of the two prior days. He would not let Missy put him down at all. Missy wisely decided to take him to the doctor.

The nurse practictioner (is that like a step in between a nurse and a doctor? - they should call them something less cumbersome like a "noctor") checked Riley out and everything looked fine. That is until she look in his mouth. She then exclaimed, "His throat is a MESS!!!" Not the comforting words you want to hear from your noctor. She immediately left the room and went to confer with a doctor. She came back and told Missy that there seemed to be an abscess on the inside of his throat and that she would need to take Riley to the E.R. (which was conveniently across the street) immediately.

Meanwhile, I am at work singing Christmas music and writing auto policies. I get a call from tearful Missy saying that they are on their way to the E.R. and that a C.H.O.P. (Children's Hospital of Philadelphia) doctor was being called to examine him. She said I could stay at work if I wanted to. I was in the car in three minutes.

On the drive up to the hospital, I prayed and thought at warp speed. When I heard lump on my child's throat, I immediately thought worst case scenario. And seeing Riley curled up in Missy's lap in the same E.R. waiting room we sat in hours before he was born with a hospital ID band on his wrist didn't help.

Riley through all of this was a trooper. He was fascinated by the waiting room snack machine. I was fascinated that they could charge $1.50 for a Coke. He proudly told me that his band said "Riley Delp" on it. I prayed that it would be the last time he would have to wear one of those things.

Once we finally got in there, the doctor was wonderful. She was calm and calming (neither of which could be said for the noctor). She looked at his throat and didn't gasp. In fact, she said it looked like he just had a very bad sore throat. They took some tests and a few hours later, we were out the door. Worst case scenario is that he has strept throat and even if that is the case, once he has antibiotics, he will be fine.

For a first trip to the E.R., it could have been a lot worse. I was very relieved to be out of there after only a few hours. It made me step back and thank God that He has protected our family and given us a (relatively) healthy child. It is truly a blessing that we don't deserve and many others don't have.

We got home and Riley kept saying, "Home! Home! Home!" He was very happy to be home again.

That made three of us.

Taking a break

I will fully admit that I am a selfish parent. If I can have five minutes that doesn't involve cleaning up a carpet or a piece of furniture or keeping my child from breaking something, I savor it.

So whenever Riley would play quietly by himself (usually with a truck or a car or a motorcycle or a rocket or a helicopter or an airplane - are you getting the idea here of what he likes - or a train....), I look for a chance to watch ESPN or read the mail or anything.

However, a few weeks ago, I decided to change it up a little bit. I guess I was in a nostalgic mood or maybe had just watched Family Ties or something. The thought came to me that maybe I should actually savor RILEY during these times rather than my fleeting moments of non-child related activity. I thought, he will never be this age again. I want to see this kid in action. What does it look like for a 20 month old to play in his own world?

So instead of watching college basketball, I sat down at the kitchen table where Riley had set up shop and watched him.

Basically what he does is he takes his various toy vehicles and lines them up in some semblance of order that only makes sense to him. Then he moves them to another side of the table and does the same thing.

He is extremely businesslike when he does this. His face shows no real sign of joy or excitement but he is obviously enjoying it. He is very focused and very intentional about what he is doing. He knows exactly what he wants and where each toy should be (as I find out when one car isn't in the exact right spot and he explodes in frustration - I wonder where he got that from). Here is a shot of my boy in action.















The unexpected part for me though was that I loved watching it. I could have watched it all day. In watching him, I was convinced he was a genius. I mean, could Einstein or Edison or Gates line up a firetruck, a motorcycle, another firetruck, a rocket from a Wendy's kid's meal, an old truck that I think he found in the mud and one of my 1981 Matchbox cars in a sort of amoeba like formation? Of course not.

We sat there for 30 minutes and I just watched with a huge smile on my face. Every once in a while, Riley would acknowledge my existence by identifying what vehicle he was about to put in his alignment:

"foo foo" - train or choo choo
"kah" - car
"kruk" - truck
"peepain" - airplane

Since then, I have changed my ways. Sportscenter will always be there (five times a day). Deadliest Catch will be there. Seinfeld will definitely be there. But watching my son organize his vehicles like General McArthur in WWII will not.

So every chance I get, I stop what I am doing and simply watch my son play.

It is way better than ESPN.

Brief Follow up

In my last post a whole month ago - where does the time go?- I spoke about voting as a Christian and the whole abortion issue.

Soon after I wrote that post, I got an email from my very dear friend, Josh. He is a pastor in Boston and has put action to his stance on abortion but not in the way you would think.

I love Josh and I love his heart and the dedication he puts into his ideas. Check out his blog and the last two posts he has done. It is a very interesting perspective on a very volatile topic.


www.joshuathroneburg.blogspot.com

Who I voted for......

A little bit about me. Most of my blogs start with a moment. Something to get this odd brain of mine working. Then my mind starts to create an inner monologue. Then I talk to myself. Eventually, the monologue spills out onto this blog for you to read.

This one was tough. I mean, a few weeks have past. The decision has been made. The people had spoken. And discussing politics can be dangerous. People get pretty emotional about what candidate they support and why. Plus the holidays are coming up. This may cost me a present or two. But I need to spill what has been swirling around in my head or I will risk walking around talking to myself indefinitely. I know Missy wouldn't be thrilled about that. So let the spilling begin. Here is my moment.

A day or two after the election, I read an article that Billy Graham would not be providing counsel to President-elect Obama once he was sworn in. Not because he was adamantly opposed to Obama's political positions but because his frail 90 year old body would not let him. His son, Franklin, said that even catching the common cold could end his life. Rev. Graham did say that he would very much like to meet with Obama and pray with him and for him. Then the article added a line that took me by surprise. It said that Billy Graham was a registered Democrat.

I'll be honest. I was one of those undecided voters. I guess that's why Sarah Palin and Rudy Giuliani kept calling and emailing every day. I went back and forth. Even once I had made up my mind, just before I pressed the glowing "Cast Vote" button, I took a few deep breaths. Then I pushed it. I voted for Barack Obama. (goodbye Christmas gifts)

I looked at this one from a lot of angles. As a father. As a middle class, tax paying U.S. citizen. As a registered Republican. As a Christian. And that is where I started and ended.

What one issue more than any other stands head and shoulders above the others when you look at Jesus' life? The economy? Health care? The war in Iraq/Mesopotamia (in Jesus time)? No. The answer is easy: the poor. Taking care of the poor is the number one thing that Jesus spends his time doing and talking about while on this planet. And what political party (at least in my estimation) does more for the poor? That would be the Democratic party.

Now are there people that take advantage of the programs put in place mostly by the Democratic party? Of course. Do people use welfare as a crutch? Absolutely. However, that is human nature. Do CEO's and large corporations use and take advantage of the loopholes put in place by the Republican party even to the detriment of their own company and perhaps the country? You bet your Enron they do. Humans will be tempted to be selfish no matter what tax bracket they are in. That is why we are a fallen people.

Now there is one big issue (and several smaller issues but that is for another time) that I disagree with PE (I can't keep typing President-elect, it's 11:07) Obama and it is the one issue that I think many intelligent Christians based their entire vote on. That, of course, is the issue of abortion.

Let me be the first to tell you that I am pro-Life. I have seen my son's 8 week old heart pounding inside Missy's belly (or wherever he was at that point). The life of an unborn child is of the utmost importance and should be protected. No question. God loves the life of an unborn child. But He also loves the life of the homeless orphan in Africa. He loves the life of the child in Afghanistan whose parents were just killed by a U.S. bomb. He loves the life of the child used as a human shield to battle U.S. soldiers in Iraq. My thought is God loves everyone equally even if they are not from the United States. WE may not love them or think of them as much but God does. I fully admit I don't. I see images of wheeping mothers holding their dead sons somewhere in the Middle East and I just change to the channel to ESPN. But I realized that God doesn't. And I SHOULDN'T.

To that point, let me say this. Many years ago, a man ran for President by the name of David Duke. He was one of those third party nut jobs that make Ralph Nader look like Lincoln. But he was way conservative and naturally pro-Life. He was also the former leader of the Ku Klux Klan. Now, just for arguments sake, what if he beat out John McCain for the Presidential nomination? Would he get the pro-Life vote? He supported the beating and lynching of African Americans but he also supported the lives of the unborn. My point here is that to me, finding a President who looks at ALL lives across the board (and across the ocean) is more important than one who would focus on only the lives of the unborn here in American.

Also, in my estimation, having a President who is pro-Life (and then who would presumably elect Supreme Court justices to overthrow Roe vs. Wade) would be great. However, even if that did happen, even if we outlawed abortion, would that stamp out abortions once and for all? Would there never be another abortion again? Of course not. We have outlawed underage drinking, marijuana and even more serious things like murder and rape. Have those things been eliminated? Have they even been reduced? Philadelphia had more murders last year than they have had in a half-century. To me, it is not about outlawing something, it is about getting to the source of the problem. And to me, that is loving those that need it. And educating them. (And goodbye stocking gifts as well).

And then there is the thought that we need to put a good Christian (which usually translates in most peoples' minds to a Republican) in the White House with good family morals. Because he will lead this country the way it should be run. A strong Christian like:

George W. Bush

When he was first elected, I read countless stories of how he would share his testimony with people. How he would profess his faith at any and all times. And I think that is awesome. But:

How many people would say that our country over the past eight years has grown by leaps and bounds and has become the beacon of hope and life that the rest of the world longs to be? Anyone? Anyone? Beuller? During the campaign, they locked the President up and kept him as far away from John McCain as they could.

Believe me, I WANTED to like this guy. I mean he is a Christian (so by the way was Jimmy Carter). He drives a pickup. He can throw out first pitches better than any other President. My Secret Service buddy says he is a nice guy. But how many people will look back and say that he was a great President?

Did Jesus campaign to overthrow Cesar because he was not converted to Christianity? No. What does He say about government? "Give to Cesar what is Cesar's and give to God what is God's." And that is pretty much it. He was smart. He didn't blog about politics.

Do I agree with everything that PE Obama believes and has voted for? No way. But unless the candidate is me, I will never agree with everything a candidate believes. And even that may change. I simply felt, standing in front of that board of choices, that in this election, at this time, with these candidates, PE Obama would be the better choice to lead our country for the next four years. And apparently so did a few other people.

Do I regret my decision to cross party lines and vote for a Democrat? Ask me in four years.

And while your at it, could you spare a Christmas gift?

Best Laid Plans (Part 2)

Please read Part 1 before you read this one. It won't make much sense if you don't. Though, it may not make sense anyway. But that is just my writing style. Sorry about that.

Once I realized that I would spend my last night (and most intense studying night) watching my team possibly win the World Series, I mapped out my days like I was escaping Alcatraz. I calculated every second of every day so that I could allow for a 2-3 hour window to watch the Phillies play. RIGHT after the game was over, I would go back to studying flood and personal umbrella policies.

When the night actually came, everything went according to plan. I studied up until 8:37 and then turned on Fox. I then spent the next few hours sweating as the Phillies went through a sprint of a game. I cheered. I yelled. I stood up. I sat down. I ran to the bathroom during commercials so as not to miss a single moment. All in a hotel room. In Allentown, PA. By myself.

When I had envisioned watching my team win a championship, I had thoughts of high-fiving a group of people. Hugging everyone in the room. Clinking bottles with friends and family. So when Brad Lidge struck out Dave Linske for the final out, I cheered. But there was no clinking of glasses. No high fives. No hugs. But there were phone calls. Before catcher Carlos Ruiz even got to Lidge to hug/tackle him, my phone was ringing. It was Missy. I think she had her finger on the "Send" button for the entire 9th inning. We talked a little bit. But most of the time, we spent in silence. We both just watched the TV, with smiles (I assume she was smiling) on our face. We did the best we could to enjoy the moment together. Then I told her I had to call my dad.

I went to my first Phillies game with my dad. I have been to countless games since then with my dad. I went to Game 1 of the NLCS with my dad - maybe you read about that. I had to call him. We talked for a little bit and then WE just sat in silence and took in the moment.

Then I called my grandfather. I wanted to catch him before he fell asleep. As big a fan as my dad and I are of the Phillies, my grandfather might be a bigger fan. I don't know if he has ever missed a game. He is such a big fan that he has converted my otherwise disinterested grandmother into a fan simply by osmosis. Every time I talk to him, we discuss two things. Golf and the Phillies. So I had to call him and congratulate him. I asked if he was going to spray champagne around their living room. He said Grandma already had on her goggles.

In addition to talking Missy, Dad and Pop, I got a call from my friend, Tim and a text from my brother in law Scott. Long distance high fives. I couldn't be in the same room as these people but we were able to share the moment nonetheless.

I finished up my conversation by telling my dad that I loved him. Because watching sports isn't just about watching your team play and win. Even when they win it all as the Phillies just did. Watching your team is about the bonds that are created with friends and especially family. I think winning a World Championship is such an incredible experience for fans because you get to share it with the people you love and who have suffered through non-championship seasons (in this case 25 years) with you. The difference is that you don't have to talk about next year. You can savor this year. At least for a little while.

I didn't study any more that night. I couldn't. I did however take a picture of the TV screen to prove that this wasn't a dream. The two words that I was so used to seeing attributed to other teams - the Red Sox, the Yankees, the Patriots - were now being put after my team's name.

Philadelphia Phillies World Champions

(This picture, by the way, is an overhead shot of Broad St., Philadelphia after the Phillies won - they estimated close to 10,000 people were there and it was one of about 15 different locations around the city that had a scene like this, you don't think this city was starved for a championship? The best way I heard it described was that it was New Year's eve but only in Philadelphia)

Best Laid Plans (Part 1)

As an insurance agent, I am required (for the most part) to get a designation. In other words, letters after my name. To do this, I am required to take five classes made up of three intense days of training on a particular topic and a fourth day to take a two hour essay test. What this means is that fifteen days of my life (three days of classes multiplied by five separate classes for those of you who are mathmatically challenged), I am away from my family to immerse myself in some facet of insurance. Also what this means is that for five evenings of my life, I have to study for several hours to make sure I am familiar enough with the materials of the previous three days to take (and hopefully pass) a test the following morning. Why am I telling you this?

Because one of these five days of my life just so happened to intersect with the SINGLE greatest day of my life as a Philadelpia sports fan. Wednesday, October 29th, 2008. The date that the Philadelphia Phillies were crowned World Champions.

I scheduled my training months ago. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that the three day joy fest that is a CIC seminar (CIC of course stands for Certified Insurance Counselor) that I set up for the last week of October would coincide with the World Series. For me, the World Series hasn't been a blip on the radar screen of my life in 15 years. I was a junior in high school. I was on a youth group retreat. I watched Joe Carter hit a walk off home run in Game 6 of the World Series to beat the Phillies. I watched the screen flash words I have become so accustomed to:

"Any other team but a Philadelphia team.......World Champions".

So when I discovered that Game 5 would be held on Monday night after my first class (not so bad since it was the first day and I had two more days to study that material) and much worse - Game 6 could be held on Wednesday night - the night before my test when I would need several hours to go through 100 notecards, I was in total shock.

When the Phillies won Game 4, I had a bizarre and unusual feeling: hope. There was a chance that the Phillies could not only win the World Series but do it on the first night of my class and I would be able to stay up late, celebrate with fellow fans and have two days to catch up on the material.

So, Monday night I headed down to the hotel bar to meet up with my fellow Phillies fans (try saying that five times fast - I couldn't either) and celebrate a World Series title. I walked in the door to find about 12 guys not really paying attention to anything in particular. An odd sight considering that the game was being played on two big screens in front of them. I sat down and ordered a tasty Sam Adams Octoberfest. I then tried to strike up a conversation with the guys around me to see what they thought the Phillies chances were that night. I quickly realized I was about to be disappointed.....on many levels.

On my left was a guy from Houston. He (along with everyone else in the bar, I discovered) was in town for a conference on something electrical. I still am not sure what he did and why he was there. Anyway, he was a Denver Broncos fan somehow. To his left was a guy from Toronto who assumed I knew where Toronto was. I don't. He was annoyed because there was no hockey on. I offered to make the goal horn sound whenever anyone crossed the plate. He declined my offer. They were nice guys but Phillies fans, or even baseball fans, they were not.

Now, the gentleman on my right was a different story. This guy was from Canada too but he was from Montreal so the guy from Toronto didn't like him. I guess Montreal is kind of like Canada's New Jersey. They just don't know it. As I watched with great intensity in what could be the deciding game of the World Series, Mr. Montreal asked me questions. His first question pretty much told me what kind of night it was going to be.

"Is this a playoff gayme or sometheeng?"

Then he started asking me other questions (please read phonetically as I try and write Canadian):

Mr. M: "What was the nayme of that golee fer da Flayers? We played him yars agoo."
Ryan: "What?"
Mr. M: "Thayt golee! He was a naystee (expletive)"
Ryan: "Ron Hextal?"
Mr. M: "Yay! Rahn Hextol! He was a naystee (expletive). I hayted that guy. He was a naystee..." Ryan: "Wow, look the Phillies just scored - don't you have a moose to shoot or something?"

OK, I didn't say that last part but did I ever want to. So in between hearing about Rahn Hextol and how homeowners like to pay $15,000 for enterainment systems in Texas, I couldn't really tell what was going on in the game. I later discovered that neither did the commissioner of baseball.

What happened next will go down as one of the weirdest things to ever occur in World Series history. A suspension of a (potentially) deciding game. But really, could anything different happen to a group as starved for a win as Philadelphia sports fans?

What that meant for me was that I would be facing my worst case scenario. A World Series (half) game the night before my test.

Stay tuned for Part 2..........

The NLCS

The drive home from Michigan was a long one. We had a child who screamed. We had a child who cried. We had a child who screamed and cried so hard he threw up. And that was in hour #2. Out of twelve. And a half. We had a 20 mile backup due to construction. That was in hour #9. Out of twelve. And a half.

My parents who went to the wedding drove back about an hour ahead of us. I talked to my dad a few times during the trip about traffic, where we were, how things were going, etc. A few hours after the throwing up child and a few before the parking lot on I-80, my dad said to me, "I have something that might make the trip a little better for you."

"What are you doing Thursday night?"

Those of you who know me, know I am a huge Philly sports fan. I love the Eagles with a passion. I have followed the Phillies since the mullet days of John Kruk, Lenny Dykstra, Darren Daulton and Mitch Williams a decade and a half ago. I am an admitted Flyers and Sixers bandwagon jumper. If they are doing well, I am interested. If not, I don't care. But the Eagles and Phillies I follow religiously. Soon after we first got married, Missy asked me if I HAD to watch EVERY Phillies game.

My dad has had monthly tickets to Phillies games for the past few years. We have an annual ritual every Spring where dad asks me to look over the schedule and recommend games for him to buy tickets to. By getting those tickets, he had the inside track to get Phillies playoff tickets. Thirty seconds after the Phillies clinched the series over Milwaukee, his contact for tickets called him. He had two tickets to Game 1 of the NLCS.

So last Thursday, my dad and I donned our matching Chase Utley shirts (not intentional) and headed for Citizens Bank Park.

Now when I say that my dad had the inside track to playoff tickets, I mean he had the HOOKUP for playoff tickets. We didn't have seats so far out that we might as well stand on top of our car in the parking lot. He had seats just below Joe Buck, Tim McCarver (of Fox Sports) and Harry Kalas - the legendary Phillies announcer. A guy I know is a beat writer for the Phillies. Our seats were 20 feet in front of him. We had our own restaurant, bar (which didn't close after the 7th inning), bathrooms and private entrance. Needless to say, these were great seats.

We got their early, enjoyed a nice meal of pulled pork sandwiches and headed to our seats to watch batting practice.

The game was a little nerve wracking for the first five innings. The Phillies did nothing and trailed by two. Until the sixth. Chase Utley hit a home run to tie the game. The cheering was deafening. I high-fived my dad. I high fived everyone around me. Then two batters later, Pat Burrell hit a solo home run to put the Phillies in front. For good. I lost my mind. I picked my dad up. I high fived everyone again. Including the 10 year kid next to me who I think was scared of me. I waved my rally towel. It was one of the highlights of my life as a Philly sports fan.

The Phillies, as they usually do, made us nervous at the end but finally won the game. We had a blast. Thanks for taking me, dad. I will never forget it.

Mel's Wedding

What a whirlwind last few weeks. Let me tell you about it:

My sister in law Mel, who I consider my second little sister (though she is almost as tall as I am) got married to Mr. Scott Barrett a few weeks ago - 10-4 to be exact. We were very excited to pack up and head out to the wedding in Michigan.

From what I have heard, read and seen in pictures it was an unbelievable wedding. Some said it was the best wedding they had ever been to. I mean, how couldn't it be? (By the way, you can check out pictures of the wedding at the family blog - delppartyofthree.blogspot.com) You had a God-centered service surrounding two beautiful people with a great love story. You had a parade of joy with six very adorable kids (including young Riley Delp in a newsboy hat, bow tie and Chuck Taylors). And of course you had the wonderful Missy Delp as the co-matron of honor and special music along with her sister Dana and Scott's sister, Julie. It was destined to be a perfect wedding.

Unfortunately, I missed about 95% of it.

You see, my job for the weekend was Riley duty. Because Missy was in the wedding party and singing at both the wedding and reception, she had a very busy (but FUN!!!) schedule from the time we got there until the time we left. My job was to make sure Riley got his naps and got to the church on time. Overall, I think I did a decent job however I am not nearly as good as Missy. I readily admit that.

Once Riley was done with his part in the parade of joy (with a little help from daddy), I sat him down in an open pew to take in the proceedings. However, unlike Missy, I was not prepared. I had no books. No toys. No pacie (how do you spell the short version of pacifier?). Nothing. So I busted out the Bible and started quietly reading from the first page I turned to - 2nd Chronicles. Unfortunately, about the time that Micaiah prophesies against Ahab (about 15 seconds in), Riley discovers that if he yells loud enough in church, it makes an echoey sound. So we had to get out.

Now my intention was to take to Riley back to where his pacifier and beloved Snoopy blanket were and leave him in the nursery with his cousin Scout while I snuck back into the service. However, when I got to the nursery, I discovered two high school girls, four kids playing and one REALLY upset baby. Baby Riley, can you do an impression of this child for me, please?

Thank you.

My initial thought was to wish them luck and take off. However, from the look on the one girl's face (it was similar to the face I have seen head coach Andy Reid have when the Eagles are on the goal line and he doesn't know what play to call but I digress), I knew she didn't know what to do and needed some help.

I offered a few suggestions - try the pacifier, try the bottle. I even tried the sssshhhhhhhhing that used to calm Riley down. Nothing worked. Then it hit me. That smell. I knew what was wrong. The dreaded poopy diaper. I told the girl that this child had a poopy diaper. Once again I read her face instantly and knew that there was only one person who was going to change this thing.

So, while Mel and Scott celebrated their blessed union on the happiest day of their lives less than 50 feet away, I changed a VERY poopy diaper from a child I knew nothing about other than his name was Cooper and he had the lung capacity of Pavoratti.

I spent the rest of the service rocking young Cooper and calming him down. Once he was settled and it was clear the service was over (parents started coming in and asking me how old this child was - I told them I had no idea which brought some concerned looks), I handed Cooper over to one of the girls. Instantly, Cooper's father showed up, scooped the boy into his arms, thanked the girls for their help and left.

It's funny. I really felt kind of bad about the whole thing for a while. I mean, yes I was there to watch Riley. But I wanted to be in that sanctuary. I wanted to see Mel and Scott get married. However, after some introspection and the voice of Godly reason via Missy, I realized that God had other plans. I was exactly where He wanted me to be. He wanted me to help those girls and that little boy more than He wanted me to be in that service. Even if I wanted the complete opposite.

That day, I was Jonah - the reluctant servant. You can read about him a few books after Chronicles.

Puerto Rico

So for our fifth anniversary, I thought it might be fun to get away for a long weekend. When I discovered I could cash in my travel miles and get two free flights to Puerto Rico, I jumped on it. Coupled with the fact that I could get a room at a four star hotel on the beach (with a casino!!!!) for just over $100 a night, I was sold.

So last Thursday we took off bright and early for PR. It was our first long(ish) trip without Riley. We have done a couple of overnights without him but this was going to be five days and five (which should have been four but there was a flight screwup that bumped our return flight by 4 hours) nights of just Missy and I.

In short, we had a wonderful time. We slept in - all the way until 7:30! We had meals together, whether they be at a local bagel place or by the beach. We toured Old San Juan which was beautiful and OLD. We took LOTS of self-taken pictures - you know the ones where you see two people, some sort of background and then part of a person's arm reaching out towards the camera. Looking back, we should have hired someone to take our picture. My arm is still tired. We watched a salsa band perform and watched locals salsa dance to their music. That was an incredible experience. You could see on everyones' faces - both the musicians and the dancers - that they truly loved what they were doing. I did not understand one single word that was sung but still bought a CD. We hit the casino a few nights. I was up $100 in blackjack until the last night but they brought in a closer who cleaned me out of $40 faster than I could say "pina colada". We drank pina coladas and Coronas too.

I think the highlight for me, other than spending five pure uninterupted days with Missy of course, was going to the rainforest east of San Juan. We rented a car - like we were on the Amazing Race - and drove 45 minutes to El Yunque National Park. We drove up 13 miles of 45 degree inclines and hairpin turns. However, once we parked, we trekked through a beautiful, lush rainforest complete with waterfalls, breathtaking views and, of course, rain. While heading down the trail after reaching the highest lookout tower, Missy and I were having an intellectual conversation about how we felt like we were on the Island on "Lost". All of a suddent the skies opened up and it began to rain. Like the kind of rain you would imagine being in while in a rainforest. Sudden, strong and loud. However, with the canopy above us, we didn't really get that wet. We sought refuge under a large leaf and took a few pictures. It was the perfect setting with the perfect person. I couldn't have described a better moment.

Looking back, I was excited to have a few days where I could wake on my own as opposed to be awoken by a baby monitor. I was excited to have meals that didn't involve cleaning up messes on the floor (unless Missy made one but that's another story) or wiping off dirty hands in between bites of my own food. I knew I would miss Riley. But what I didn't expect was how much.

Every child we saw brought up thoughts of Riley. We would just sit and smile at every kid we came across. We would look at his picture on our phones. We would tell anyone who would listen that we had an 18 month old at home. The sounds of Puerto Rico were wonderful. The ocean. The breeze. The rain. The Spanish. But the sound I missed was that of scampering. Like just about every small boy, Riley has only one way to get from point A to point B. And that is to run. I missed that sound.

So needless to say, we had a wonderful time. It was time that Missy and I absolutely needed. I would go back to PR again. But it's good to be home. Waking up to the ocean is nice but waking up to a little boy laughing is better.

Five years....

A little of five years ago (it was five years on Saturday), I married my best friend. The fact that it has been five years absolutely blows me away. It was a day that brought on panic attacks only two years prior to it actually happening. On the actual day, I couldn't have been more calm or more happy or more excited.

Since then, the wedding money has been spent. The wedding gifts have been used excessively (or returned, shhhh). The wedding cake has been tossed - we never got to eat it since it was in a freezer in Michigan and we were in PA. The day is five years in the past. However, the story of Missy and Ryan has continued and grown.

Through one apartment, one house, four cars, four churches, eight - yes eight - jobs, trips to the cliffs overlooking Boston, the bars of Key West and the battlegrounds of Gettysburg (and in three days the beaches of Puerto Rico!!!!), countless Sundays, Thursdays and weekends with the youth group of Grace Bible Church, family trips to Maryland, New York, Florida, Wisconsin and Michigan. Laughter, tears, "disagreements", romantic dinners. Oh, and the most beautiful child in the history of children.

Miss, I love you more today than I ever could have imagined loving anyone. Five years has felt like five days. I can't wait to see how God uses us, grows us, molds us, stretches us and loves us over the next five years.

Happy anniversary, beautiful.

Gentlemen, start your engines

I am not a racing fan. I guess I have too many teeth. Riley, on the other hand, doesn't have all of his teeth and so he loves racing. He also has learned something from Daddy about taking advantage of your opponent when you have a chance.

Getting Older

Happy Labor Day everyone. It has been a while but I have found a moment to sneak away, grab an adult beverage and type some thoughts.

In the last few years (especially since hitting 30), I have become more cognicent of getting older. I have started waking up in the morning with pains in various places. I don't have quite as much hair as I used to though I have done better than some of my contemporaries. I had to have my contacts prescription strengthened recently. And the big one, I am not being carded AS MUCH when I buy alchol.

To be honest, this terrifies me. I am used to eating whatever I want and doing whatever I want with not negative consequences. I am used to playing sports or doing active things and jumping out of bed the next morning rather than painfully crawling out. I still see myself as a 20 year old kid with no responsibilities. In actuality, I am 31 year old man with a number of responsibilities. One of the biggest is sleeping (at least he is in his bed, whether or not he is sleeping is anyone's guess) 15 feet away from me. I am getting older and will continue to get older and there is nothing I can do about it.

A day will come when I can't hit a golf ball as far as I do now. A day will come when I will have difficulty walking. A day will come when I will have difficulty seeing. And a day will come when my body finally wears out to the point of expiration. It's inevitable. And there is nothing I can do about it.

And I hate the thought of that.

This past Sunday in church during communion, they ran a series of verses on the screens for us to read and ponder. One of them hit me right in the face on this very subject. I don't know that I have ever read this verse before but it has instantly joined the list of my favorite verses.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day" 2 Corinthians 4:16

I instantly reflected on my life and where I was when I was 20. Physically, I could dunk a basketball. I could eat anything at any time with no problems hours later. But internally and spiritually, I was an immature child.

I thought of my broken engagement with Missy. The stress of that event permanently shredded my stomach. That event was also the single greatest influence in my spiritual growth. I would not be the man I am today, the husband I am today, the father I am today, the Christian I am today if that event had not occurred. And for that, I happily take all ridicule about the "Delp stomach".

And I look forward. My body will continue to waste away. However I have the opportunity, and so do you, to internally - spiritually, emotionally - actually get stronger. On my deathbed, I could be at the healthiest point of my entire life spiritually. I use the words "opportunity" and "could" because where I go internally is my choice.

For the past few years, I have been recovering from spiritual burnout. I have resisted most things "Christian" under the belief that it is full of cliche, hypocrisy and selfish human nature. However looking back, I have realized that my break has been about a few years too long. What I am in is a cycle of laziness. I have allowed life's current to sweep me along and carry me wherever it goes. And I have landed in a place that I don't want to be.

If you ask me where I have grown spiritually over the past few years, I don't know if I could give you a good answer. I could tell you that I feel I have actually gone backwards.

If that trend were to continue, I could not only waste away physically but spiritually as well.

And what good would that be?

People have and will continue to try and have control over the external facet of their life. And I can understand why. You have to look at yourself in the mirror everyday. You don't want to see an old lady or an old man. You want to see that person you were when you were 20. That cannot happen. I'm sure you have seen those people who from the side may look young - their clothes, their hair - but if you look at their face, you know they are much older.

I don't want to be one of those people. That is a losing battle.

Everyone tells me I look a lot younger than I am and "that's a good thing". So if I look like I am 25 when I am 40 it is by no conscious effort of my own. I DO want to be one of those people that others talk about in that way. You probably have talked about or heard about those people.

Those people that loved their neighbor more than themselves. Those people that gave more than they took. Those people that loved their spouse and their kids selflessly and sacrificially and you could tell because of what great people their kids turned out to be. Those people that never knew and never cared that others talked so highly of them because that was not their goal. I want to be one of those people.

And I can be. And I can grow as I waste away. I just have to want to. I have to try. I have to be disciplined. I have to choose to.

And if you read this blog, I would love your help to get there.

The Olympics

I love the Olympics. I especially love the Summer Olympics. I don't know why. I guess I always have. I actually remember when Mary Lou Retton got that perfect 10 on the vault in the '84 Olympics. My mom was folding laundry. I remember cheering for the gymnast Shannon Miller in the '92 Olympics because she was born the day after I was. If you give me a story about an athlete that involves "trials" and "hurdles" and "peaks and valleys", I will be a crying mess. I saw a story before the Olympics even started about a female weight lifter who had an autistic son and I needed half a box of Kleenix.

We are four days into the Olympics and so far I have watched swimming (how could you not, there are 234,718,927,649,812,376 heats and events), gymnastics, volleyball - beach and indoor, sculling (that's rowing), badmiton (the Chinese are ridiculous), weightlifting, archery, synchronized diving (which appears to be popular in Key West, San Francisco and most male owned hair salons), cycling and swimming. I have seen so much swimming that it had to be mentioned twice.

I think because the Summer Olympics only happen every four years, I try and watch and savor as much of it as I can. I have ZERO interest in almost every sport (except volleyball which has a warm place in my heart) played during the 3 11/12 of the year leading up to the Olympics but as soon as it is on, I am suddenly an avid fan of sports like archery. Which Korea won today. Over Italy. No, I'm serious.

The other thing I like are the amazing camera angles that come out during the Olympics. It is as if NBC thinks the same thing I do. "This only happens every four years, lets get as many camera angles as we can!" My favorite is the camera that follows the divers from the platform, through the air and under the water. During diving, they showed each dive from 15 different angles.

So far in this Olympics, other than the Opening Ceremonies, my favorite moment has come watching George Bush. He is the leader of the most powerful country on the planet and he looks like a kid on Christmas. He had his binoculors on during the Opening Ceremonies. He tried bumping the volleyball with beach volleyball players Misty May and Kerry Walsh. Then he was in the team huddle with the USA basketball team. Actually, if I was in his position, I would do the same thing. No one is going to say no to him. And what is the worst thing that could happen, he creates a polictical firestorm and isn't elected this fall? I think I would try a cannonball off the top platform just because I could.

Oh, time to go, Michael Phelps is about to break another world record......

A Boy Becomes a Man

When I think of the stereotypical things a guy does when he grows up, a few activities come to mind. Going to the hardware store. Taking out the trash. Watching football while drinking beer. (check, check and check)

However, two things stand out to me. Probably the big reason they stand out to me is that I haven't done them. Until now.

#1. Mow the yard. Yes, growing up I would mow my parents yard. I would put on my best early 90's mix tape (Informer by Snow, anyone?) and take two hours to mow the yard. I even spent a summer during college mowing yards to bring in some extra money. However, what I am talking about is mowing MY yard. Nothing to me says homeowner like mowing your own yard. This little piece of planet earth is yours to take care of. And while our piece is infinitely smaller than most peoples'. It is ours. I have to mow it.

Now, I have a mower. I have had a mower since we moved in. It was left with the house when we moved in. Actually there were two. However, I had my doubts that it would work. So I never tried it. Plus, our neighbor was mowing our yard because his grandkids use it as a playground so what motivation did I have? However, finally, a few Saturdays ago. I wheeled out the mower we didn't recycle (yes, apparently you can recycle mowers), gassed it up and pulled the handle. First try, it started right up.

So I promptly mowed the yard which took about 20 minutes. However, I felt like a homeowner. Since then I have mowed it one other time. And while the whole process doesn't take very long, I savor it. I'm sure that will fade by mow #5 but for now, I love it.

#2. Grilling. My dad is a huge griller. He grills all the time. And he is really good at it. So you would think that his first born (and only) son would be an accomplished griller by now as well. But you would be wrong. I have only grilled once by myself. I was out in Michigan when Missy and I were dating. I was the only male in the house and the womenfolk wanted some chicken grilled. So guess who had to do it. I spent the whole time worrying about burning it and blowing my cover as an expert griller (I was still in the "try to impress Missy" stage). So I had the grill on low heat at the first sign of blackness on the chicken skin, I pulled the meat. We went inside where Missy's sister Mel now famously said, "Um, I can't cut my chicken." No one could. The jig was up. So we all put our chicken in the microwave and I got the "thanks for trying, faker" smile from everyone.

Since then and especially since buying our house, I have wanted to grill. I have done research. I have read reviews. I have spoken to friends who grill. I have spoken to the Dalai Lama of grilling, my father. But I couldn't pull the trigger. Finally, my in-laws all chipped in for my birthday and gave me money towards a grill (THANK YOU DOMSTEN, GRETZINGER FAMILIES!!!!!!!). So after more research and countless scouting missions to Home Depot, I finally got a grill. A Weber. A small Weber.

We tried it out last week for the first time. Something simple. Burgers. And man, were they good. Since then I have been hooked. I have only done it twice since that first time but I can't wait to try it again. So far, no fireballs. No food poisoning. Both good signs.

At 31, now married for almost 5 years, father of one, I can now say that I have stepped into manhood. I have mowed my own lawn and grilled my own burger.

Just a note on the pics. NO, I am not grilling in the street. There is an alley behind our house which is where I do my grilling (with my trusty companion, Blue Moon beer). The alternative would be to do it on the front porch. But since it is brand new and made of wood (the porch, not the grill), I have chosen to stay out back. If you are ever in the area and want a tasty burger, stop on by. We can play Rock Band too!

Laughter is contagious

So my sister "Aunt Jenna" is watching Riley this summer. They are having a wonderful time together. One day a few weeks ago she set up this video camera while Riley was eating - or attempting to eat. What transpired next makes me laugh every time I see it.

If you are having a bad day, I encourage you to watch this minute and a half video. It will make you feel better. I promise.

A few other pics

Also from 4th of July - some action shots of my grandparents (GG and Pop Pop to Riley) battling on Wii bowling. My grandmother won at the end by racking up 4 strikes in a row.

Also, one of my new favorite shots of Riley and I on the dock. This picture is very special to me because I have a very similar one of my and my grandfather from about 28 years ago.

Rock Band

Well the summer is just flying by as usual. Typically, the time between Memorial Day and 4th of July is about a week and a half. The calendar says it is separated by 5 or 6 weeks but that is not possible. I am trying to make excuses for yet another gap in posting on the blog. Any sympathy out there?

OK, so as most of you know, I got a Nintendo Wii for my birthday a few months ago. I have been diligently working on my golf swing, tennis stroke and 7-10 split. Now, I have another thing to work on. My guitar riffs.

I first played Rock Band at our friends house on Super Bowl Sunday. We were supposed to just play during halftime of the "Big Game". However, we had such a blast that it spilled into most of the second half. Since then, and with the addition of the the Wii, I have been counting down the days until Rock Band came out on Wii - June 28th. On June 29th, I had a package waiting for me on our front porch from Amazaon. The full Rock Band set with game, guitar, microphone and drum set - all the essentials to rule the world as a rock legend, or at least a rock legend with a plastic guitar and colored buttons.

So the way you play is you put on a pretty famous song (Roxanne by the Police, Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi for example) and you play along by pressing the colored buttons with the correlating colored tiles on the screen. As those tiles hit a certain point, you "strum" the little flipper on the guitar and out comes the music. If you do it right, it feels like you are playing a song. If not, the sickening sound of silence.

It sounds sort of complex and it can be. But it is also a blast. I took it down to our place in MD over 4th of July and our family had a ton of fun playing. Here are some highlights. Enjoy.

I'm not sure but I think that is how U2 got its start.

A couple of things to note here:

#1. Tyler was the first person I ever saw sing a song AND play guitar while playing Rock Band. And I think this was the first night he had played.

#2. My uncle Doug playing Rock Band while wearing a "Rock" T-shirt we got him for Christmas. A personal highlight of my weekend.

As a follow up, the band in the video - my cousin Tyler on vocal, Chad on guitar and my sister on the drums - has since gone double platinum covering Blitzkrieg Bop. They are opening for Coldplay this summer.

An Addendum

Before you read this post, be sure to read the previous one. I'll wait...........
















OK, so remember the whole thing I mentioned about lady luck? Well, I would have had more pictures from INSIDE the concer that I took with the camera on my phone. Except that four days after the concert, my water bottle leaked into my backpack, frying my cell phone which was sitting inside. So all of my phone numbers and pictures are gone. Thanks Lady Luck!

Margaritaville and a rusty muffler

Now most of you who know me, know that I do not have lady luck on my side. I am usually on the wrong side of luck and this past weekend was no different.

So like most white Americans, my dad LOVES Jimmy Buffet. I mean, how can you not? Margaritaville? Cheeseburger in Paradise? Fins? They are classics. And on those songs, Mr. Buffet has created a culture unlike anything I have ever seen. And A LOT of money.

My dad's dream has also been to go to a Jimmy Buffet concert. It's sort of like Richie Molinaro, it is more like an event. A MUCH bigger event. So as a thank you for spending months of his life working on our house, I picked up two tickets for he and I to go see Jimmy Buffet this past weekend.

We packed up our supplies - suncreen, Hawaiian shirts, and a cooler FULL of beverages and headed to Citizens Bank Park - yes the place where the Phillies play. Jimmy was performing in center field - our seats were at second base.

We got down to the sports complex to try and meet up with Steve and Val and a few other people. While we were sitting in a long line of traffic among 30,000 drinking, partying Parrotheads, we heard a very loud thud and something that sounded like one of those ghetto cars with no muffler. I originally looked around for the punk with the loud car. Then I hit the gas on my car and realized who the punk was. Combined with the LOUD exhaust coming out from under my little Civic was a painful grinding sound. That would have been my muffler which has just fallen off.

About the same time, we discovered that our friends were about a mile away in the opposite direction in another parking lot. So we made the trek across four lanes of traffic, through one illegal u-turn and past the previously mentioned 30,000 Buffet fans. We obnoxiously cruised, grinding muffler in tow, around the parking lot which was closed off at every entrance only to finally find the ONE entrance that wasn't locked. However, the parking attendant refused to let us in. I couldn't really blame him. We were a Hawaiian-shirt-wearing fire ball waiting to happen.

So we made the same trek around the same parking area, grinding and bellowing the whole way back to the SAME entrance. This time, we snuck into a line (as much as we could sneak) that was going in to the lot (there was a Rush concert right next door - I guess my car made us look more like a Rush fan than a Buffet fan) and we got in no problem.

Once we parked, and after a few beers and a cheeseburger.....we rigged up a makeshift support of string that kept the pipe off the ground by about 3 inches. From that point, we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. We had a blast tailgating. Two minutes before the concert, the heavens opened and we got SOAKED but didn't really care. It was all part of the experience. Jimmy was great. There was even a ten minute fireworks show after he was done.

Then the moment of truth. We got in the car and headed home. Somewhere around 60 miles an hour (which on I-95 is the equivalent of sitting still) the sound wasn't too offensive. However, about 10 miles down the road, we heard a thump and an all too familiar grinding sound. The string had broke. So we pulled off on the shoulder and tried to figure out a way to hold up the muffler. We even tried to cut our losses and rip off the muffler but to no avail. So Dad cut the string and wrapped it around the pipe. He then pulled on it and jumped into the car and closed the door and yelled "Go!" - like we had just robbed a bank. I punched it and we were (loudly) back on the highway.

Until another 10 miles or so when we heard that same familiar thump and grinding sound. By this point I was ready to just blow up the car and walk home. So once again we pulled over. And once again, there we were, in our Hawaiian shirts and leighs, lying under our car. I was absolutely convinced that this was how my life would end. Someone would see a couple of Parrotheads lying on the side of the road, get to close and that would be it.

However, it wasn't. With a look of sheer determination, I watched my dad whip off his belt and wrap it around the rusted pipe. He once again jumped in the car, closed the door and instructed me to go. Which I did.

We spent the first several minutes of Father's Day 2008 in silence, in a bellowing car, holding a rusted muffler with a now destroyed leather belt. Happy Father's Day.

Needless to say, it was a concert experience that I will not soon forget. Dad, I hope you had fun. Wanna go next year? If so, let's take your car.

Over the Rhine

I have always enjoyed Missy's taste in music. She likes Pearl Jam. She is a borderline expert of 80's music. However, her best call and the one that has affected me the most is her PASSIONATE love for a band called Over the Rhine. She has followed this husband and wife duo from Cincinnati since high school - or a decade and a half ago. She got me hooked on them when we started dating in college.

It is hard to describe their sound. Soulful. Passionate. At times quirky. Raw. The kind of music you would want to hear in a smoky bar while partaking of the drink of your choice. Preferably something strong.

Over the last few years, we have made converts of our good friends Steve and Val. We started them with a taste and they haven't been the same since.

So a few months ago, Steve, while scouring the Internet discovered much to our amazement, that Over the Rhine decided to perform in a little refurbished theater 10 minutes from our house. They had never been closer than Philly (30 miles of traffic and poorly lit parking lots) before. So we snatched up tickets as soon as we could. The cabaret seats. (I had heard of the show Cabaret so I was a little nervous until I learned that that just means we get a table and chair and get to sit in front of the front row.)

In keeping with the Delp/Cap tradition - we went to the concert only to find out it had been rescheduled until June 5th. It worked out fine. We went to a local bar and kicked butt in Trivia night. I think someone won a t-shirt.

Fast forward (and now rewind) to last Thursday. Finally, we got to see Over the Rhine. In a gorgeous little theater. From a table and chairs. With wine. And a microbrew. Did I mention it was 10 minutes from our house?

Well, this was the first concert where after an hour or so, I wasn't checking my watch. I was hoping they would keep going. Usually, it is a great concert if the artist can sound sort of like their album. This time, the artist(s) sounded BETTER than their album(s). It was incredible. I seriously contemplated packing up Missy and Riley and going on the road with them.

If you have not heard of them, I HIGHLY recommend you check them out. They play great background music for work. They play great sitting around on a rainy day music. They play great get up on a Sunday morning with a cup of coffee and a newspaper music. And for those of you who may one day consider parenthood, to quote someone from the concert who shall remain nameless, they play great "baby making" music.

Quickly and awkwardly sequeing, their website features a "record player" that will play their current album for free. It is called "Trumpet Child".

Grab a bottle of Merlot and enjoy.

http://www.overtherhine.com/

The other picture

Thanks to fellow fan club member (and fellow person in the picture - which was taken with an iphone!) Josh Rigstad for sending the picture that I referenced in the last post.

Richie, this is for you!

I parred that hole, by the way.

Richie

Have you ever been to another country and after being there for about 10 minutes you realize that you are in a completely different culture? Well, every year a few friends of mine and I, along with about 80 other guys get to experience this feeling in a little place called Hazleton, Pennsylvania. You see, we make the trek to this little place every year to play in a three day golf outing. We look forward to this event every year almost like it is Christmas. We start emailing each other somewhere around the first of the year with messages of anticipation and trash talk. The emails intensify the closer we get to the outing.

The golf is great. Don't get me wrong. It is a great chance to play with friends, drink some beers and even make some money. However, along with the golf is the town of Hazleton and the people who reside there all year long. Hazleton sits in a beautiful area of Eastern Central PA. However, it seems like a place that time forgot. The dress, the haircuts, the culture seem stuck somewhere between the Reagan and Clinton administrations.

And there, at the center, is Richie. I call him Richie because a last name is not needed in Hazleton. Richie, is Richie Molinaro. He is, I guess, a local celebrity of Hazleton. The Ryan Seacreast if you will. He does a little of everything. He has a TV show. He is big within the local Chamber of Commerce. He works at a local car dealership. However, what he may be best known for, and how he crossed our path, is that Richie is a singer. No, Richie is a "performer". He performs regularly at the Timbers Lounge in the hotel that we stay in for this outing.

Here is a link to his myspace page or maybe someone devoted to promoting him. Seriously, I wouldn't be surprised if it were the latter.

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=104942521

A "concert" of Richie's is more like an experience. He sings the best of Neil Diamond, Rod Stewart, Frank Sinatra and a host of other well known lounge tunes. He sings like he is performing at Radio City Music Hall. However, in actuality, he is in a dark lounge about the size of a football endzone. However, the people come out for him like he is U2. The place is PACKED and people dance the night away. Since the first time we saw him a few years ago, the legend of Richie has grown. The last two years he hasn't performed while we were there (though I make my annual call to the Comfort Inn a few weeks before to see if he is going to be there). So some guys have never had the Richie experience. But those that have will never be the same.

So this year, we sponsored a hole, like we have the last few years. It is a way to bring money into the event and keep it going. None of us own businesses (yet) and we didn't want to be boring so we decided to come up with an interesting faux name. The choice: The Richie Molinaro Fan Club. We felt very proud of ourselves for coming up with a clever name that probably many people wouldn't get.

However, one of the guys who DID get it was one of the people who ran the event, Mr. Terry George - who looks JUST like Puddy from Seinfeld. And he pulled a move on us that I still can't believe. To keep it short - he called us up in front of everyone on Saturday night to recognize us and our fake organization. However, as a way to express our appreciation - he had something for us. I give you, an actual signature from Mr. Hazleton, Richie Molinaro.

It turns out that Terry did a little, no ALOT of, research and found out all of this stuff about Richie. And he called him. And he told Richie about us. And Richie loved it. So he swung by the Comfort Inn on Friday and signed a bunch of autographs for the Fan Club. That doesn't really exist.

It was incredible. Mine is going to be framed.

So overall, the weekend was somewhat of a wash out. It POURED on Friday. Was OK on Saturday and then rained again on Sunday. However, my most cherished keepsakes from the weekend are a picture next to our "Richie Molinaro Fan Club" sign and personally autographed picture of Richie Molinaro.

For bookings - 570-455-7369. Trust me. You will never be the same.

The Epicenter of Nerdville

Two posts in two days. What am I doing? I have a reputation to live up to.

So Missy's brother Greg and his wife Katy and their kids Luke(y) and Abby flew in from Chicago this past weekend to visit. We always have a great time with them. It was very cool to watch Riley interact - more than just lay there and stare - with his cousins. He sort of played with them. He wrestled with them. He stole their toys. Good times.

Anyway, we went down to the Franklin Institute on Sunday because A. it was a gorgeous day, B. there were lots of fun and interactive things for the kids to do and C. all the kids were free.

Like most museum type places, there is usually a featured attraction or theme that runs for a few weeks and then is replaced by another attraction or theme. We happened to come on the last day of their most recent attraction - Star Wars - Where Science Meets Imagination. We walked around the corner and this is what we saw.

Boba Fett lining up overweight Storm Troopers, overweight Jawas, underage Princess Leia's. All the while a photographer on a crate was trying to get museum staff out of the picture.

Then a group of pirates rolled up and reviewed the rows of overweight Star Wars characters. Then Darth Vader and the head pirate (I assume) exchanged swords/light sabers and a new banner came down. The next attraction would be Pirates-Where History Meets Imagination.

Inside, they had some awesome exhibits (excluding the Star Wars one which was like $10 more a person). We had a great time watching the kids go from exhibit to exhibit. Riley basically wandered aimlessly and found the most satisfaction with pushing his stroller. However, what stood out to me, other than the price of lunch, was the number of Star Wars fans that were in attendance.

Now I am a Star Wars fan. When I was a young lad, I would spend nights watching all three of the originals back to back to back. I know most of the characters and can recite most of the lines. I stood in line to watch the midnight showing of every episode when they were released (or re-released for the old ones). However, after seeing some of the people who were in the Franklin Institute, I don't even come close to being able to label myself a fan.

I wasn't wearing a Star Wars t-shirt. I wasn't wearing a Star Wars t-shirt that was supposed to look like Darth Vader's suit. I wasn't wearing a Star Wars t-shirt that was supposed to look like Darth Vader's suit with matching pants. Basically, if you were 40 years old, living in your parents basement and worked at Game Stop in the mall, you were at the Franklin Institute on Sunday. While privacy laws prevent me from showing you any pictures of the specific people who attended Sunday's festivities, I can tell you they all looked very similar to this person.

But really who can blame them? When else would you be able to walk around with your light saber, interact with Storm Troopers and get your picture taken with Princess Leia? It was a Star Wars nerd's real life fantasy.

I admit, it was kind of cool to see Riley interact with Storm Troopers. They all seemed to love him (I hope he isn't turning to the Dark Side!). And I even got my picture taken with a few characters (the line was too long for Darth Vader). Note Riley's expression. That was pretty much the face he had for much of the day.

The guy who got his picture taken before me (he was wearing a "Revenge of the Sith" t-shirt and was desperately in need of a shower and some sunlight) bent down and flashed a peace sign while the Storm Troopers pointed their blasters at the camera. It was classic.

Overall, we had a really great time. Below are a few pictures to help give you a sense of our trip to the Franklin Institute - Where Nerds Meet Reality.

My Super Bowl

As most of you know, I have played volleyball for over 15 years. It started at the good old family picnics and specifically Nace Family Camp. In 9th grade, I wanted to try out for the high school team. I convinced a few friends to try out as well. As it turned out, our high school had been (and still is) one of the best teams in the state with a coach who is considered a volleyball legend in PA.

After four years of high school volleyball, I played club ball at Taylor. Our club team had a blast traveling to different colleges and playing in tournaments. We even won a few. I also played intramural volleyball. I have two championship t-shirts (both won after I graduated but worked at TU) and a permanently dislocated finger to show for that.

After college, all that was left for me was a local volleyball league. I don't remember when I started playing in the league and I don't remember how I got hooked up with my team but I do know that I have been playing with this team (with a few changes here and there) for several years. We get along great. We have a lot of fun but Team USA we are not.

Our setter is approaching 60. Our middle hitter (who looks eerily like the killer from "Fargo") is more oak tree than athlete. The rest of the guys are younger (35 and under) but they can be inconsistent and that DEFINITELY includes me.

We approached these playoffs like we have every other year. As the 4th seed. We are better than most of the teams in our league. However, there are a few teams - two in particular - who are better than us. They are younger, more athletic, taller, everything. In short, we usually qualify for the playoffs but are gone by the end of the semis.

So last night were the semis and for those who won, the finals. My parents came but I told them to keep the car running because we would be done pretty quickly. The first game made me look like a prophet. We lost 15-7 to the #1 seed - the dreaded team "Duck or Bleed". Then it was as if a ray of light from heaven shone down on us. All of sudden, we were playing at a level that I had never seen before. We won the second game 15-1. The third game was rough be we prevailed. We were going to the finals!

Now, I am very aware that this is just a local volleyball league. There were no reporters there. Heck, there were no fans there. Our cheering section, which consisted of my parents and my teammate's fiancee and her mom, left after the first match. But to me, this was my Super Bowl. The only thing waiting for me at the end of this if we won was a lousy T-shirt. But if we won, it would become my favorite T-shirt if only because we had never won it before.

So the finals came and I was giddy. It may have been the Lemon/Lime Gatorade I had before the match. We had never been this far before. However, we were playing the OTHER team we could never beat - the juggernaut that is "Big Dawgs". We won the first game 15-10. We were one game away from the coveted T-shirt. They came back in game 2. We didn't play well - our typical playoff performance - and lost 15-8.

The third game came and everyone was exhausted. It was more of a grind than a game. We went back and forth. Both teams led by a few at some point in the match. Finally, they wore out and put three consecutive shots in the net. We were victorious 15-13.

Sure it was 10:15 at night but I was on cloud 9. We had gone further than we ever had before. Not only did we get past the semis but we WON the finals against the two teams we could never beat (we went 1-5 against them during the regular season). And now I had my coveted T-shirt.

I got home and proudly displayed my champion T-shirt to Missy. She shared in my excitement for a little bit then went to bed. I decided that, after a shower, I would celebrate myself. So I poured myself a vodka tonic (4 ice cubes, 40%-60% vodka-tonic, stirred with the knife I used to cut the lime - just like I have right now) and watched the Phillies.

Sure it wasn't the Super Bowl but for me it might as well have been.

Congratulations Team "All In", you are the champions of the Souderton Community Volleyball Mens BB-B League.

I'm going to Disney World!