Woke up.
Got out of bed.
Did not a thing to my head.
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup…

From that point on, this day in the life was different than the usual Thursday, but very similar to many other days in ways that really matter. After a protein shake including soy milk, yogurt, whey, a banana and berries, Kyle and I headed West on the Mohawk Trail… destination: 1912.

Our first stop was in historic Deerfield at the Yankee Candle Shop Factory. What a cool place! We had a nice lunch at their Chandler’s Restaurant that was surprisingly good… I had the pilgrim sandwich, a traditional pairing of fresh carved turkey and sage stuffing on multigrain bread. The cranberry sauce was enjoyed on the side and it was quite nice, as was the Pepi Pinot Grigio. Pepi’s web site describes it better than I could:

Yep, it tasted just like that… I do believe Kyle thoroughly enjoyed his chicken tenders and fries chased by a large, ice cold milk. From there we entered through the Yankee Candle Museum and enjoyed a little history lesson on candle making. After that it was just a blur of Halloween stuff with some guy who looked like Voldemort (natch), a Christmas holiday village where it snowed, thousands and thousands of candles, and a Hummer dealership. OK, I made the Hummer part up, but the place was big. We scored 3 22oz’ers: Buttercream (Kyle’s fave), Ginger Citrus and Autumn Wreath for $50. I’ll tell you this, Ginger Citrus smells way better than those tallow candles of yesteryear.

As we rode South on 91 toward Springfield, Kyle was enjoying “Titanic” on his portable DVD player received last Christmas from Auntie Noreen and Uncle Kev. What he didn’t realize was that our next stop was to be at the Titanic Historical Society Museum in downtown Indian Orchard, MA. What a treat for my boy! Literally located in the back of a jewelry store, the museum is a real labor of love for the curators. There are artifacts, movie posters and many models of the infamous ship. With the audio of the 1997 self-titled film playing in the background, I watched Kyle take it all in. He chatted up the woman about Rose, Jack and even some of the people who were not Hollywood fiction. Then he saw it. “Oh, I knew they’d have the diamond!” he gleefully exclaimed upon seeing an exact replica of “Le Coeur de la Mer” (The Heart of the Ocean).

After about thirty minutes, we’d seen all of the tiny homage to history. I know it was very special for Kyle and so, it was for me. We headed home with the sun setting to our backs on a day different than the usual Thursday.

It’s official. Pluto has been shown the intergalactic door and is no longer considered a planet by the International Astronomical Union. To me, Pluto will always be the last bastion of the solar system I grew up with, and there’s no freakin way I’m snipping Pluto off the mobile in my room.

The Plutoversy has produced some interesting commentary from the rocket science set, some of whom can’t seem to um, theorize beyond their own local spinning rock. I’m sure, for example, Alan Boss, a planetary theorist at the Carnegie Institution of Washington, was speaking universally when he declared, “We have a duty to satisfy the whole world.” Really Al? What if those nasty Klingons think Pluto is a planet in their hood?

Anyway, Pluto’s demotion really pissed some people off, including NASA’s New Horizons project mission head Alan Stern, who barked, “It’s a sloppy definition. It’s bad science. It ain’t over.” Love that passion, Al (another Al?) but I think we could probably spend $700M a little more constructively than on flying to Pluto, OK? Listen, I can predict with certainty exactly what the thing will beam back to Earth when it finally gets to Pluto in ten years: “It’s f#$%ing cold here.”

Finally, since every controversy can be analogized into a battle of the sexes, Jack Horkheimer, who has a better name than either Al, and is also host of the PBS show “Star Gazer, got cute when he said, “It’s like an amicable divorce. The legal status has changed but the person really hasn’t. It’s just single again.”

Speaking of divorce, Forbes magazine has some advice for their male and lesbian readers: “Don’t Marry Career Women.” So, I agree, but only if the “career” is at KFC. Seriously, if I ever get married, or even date a woman for any length of time, she’ll have to be smart. I mean, after the otherworldly thirty seconds of sex, I want someone interesting to talk with… Smart? Yeah. Married to their career? No, thank you. After all, how’s a woman going to be a good partner if she’s constantly thumbing her blackberry?

Vacation was delayed a few days to crank out a new program to… Well, it was delayed and now I guess I’m officially on vacation. It remains to be seen if I’ll stay off work eMail given this is our critical 4th quarter.

So… what to do? Kyle is with me for the duration, although he may hang with his mom tomorrow night since she leaves on a real vacation next week. The Williamstown day trip is definitely on, perhaps tomorrow. Then there’s the MFA show I never got to and possibly a day or two down to the Cape or the Vineyard. What else? Any suggestions? Maybe some golf. That would be new.

I want my vacation to be more than just a chill. I’d like to enrich my life and experience some new things. Hmmm… How about some books. Let’s see… Here are a few I’ve purchased but not yet read:

• The Way of Zen
• The Right To Write
• Golf My Way

I’ll keep busy.

Apparently Pluto is going to be a former planet soon. Yes, it’s true. A “Planet Definition Committee” of the International Astronomical Union is meeting in Prague this week to decide the icy ball’s fate. Obviously, folks are upset, and no one more so than Pluto. I reached out to his people for this exclusive interview. Note: It was very clear right from the get-go of this interview that Pluto was very distraught and drinking heavily. It was truly heartbreaking.

Fifteenkey: “Are things better since Michael Eisner left?”

Pluto: “Hey man, Mike was dope. You noticed any Pluto features since the dude got canned?”

Fifteenkey: “Uh, sorry. From what I read, Mr. Eisner wasn’t too popular with the shareholders.”

Pluto: “Yeah, well that’s because the shareholders had blind allegiance to the board, and the board was manipulated by the main mouse.”

Fifteenkey: “Why was Mickey Mouse manipulating the board?”

Pluto: “Boy, you’re a sharp one, you are. You ever work for Bush?”

Fifteenkey: “No, I’m an independent.”

Pluto: “I see. Anyway, it was the Pixar thing. They weren’t interested in doing that computer generated shit for any of the old crew and that really frosted Mick. I remember one time we were at Jack Nicholson’s house and Mick was hammered. It was when Minnie had that thing with Goofy and Mick was hittin’ it pretty bad. At least it ended the debate about what Goofy was.”

Fifteenkey: “So what happened?”

Pluto: “You really did your homework, eh? Mick tossed a drink in Steve Jobs face and fu&^%in lost it, man. I finally was able to drag his ass out of there, but Jobs was messed up. Mick really freaked him out. His eyes were bulging and his whiskey coated screams of ‘YOU’LL NEVER WORK IN THIS TOWN AGAIN’ were chilling. I’ll never forget it.”

Fifteenkey: “Cool story. So what about this planet thing?”

Pluto: “Hollywood politics. Pure and simple.”

Fifteenkey: “I don’t get it.”

Pluto: “Yeah, I can tell, and you definitely need to. Dude, all the planets are wired ‘cept Pluto. Hey, I had my day, but somebody had to go and that somebody is me. I mean, Mercury’s f$%^ing HOT, Venus has the goddess of sex thing going. Earth? Man… Mars has scary fake Martians. Jupiter is huge and has that freaky spot thing. Saturn has rings, and I’ll admit, they’re f&^%ing cool. Neptune… I don’t know. It’s blue. What’s Pluto got?”

Fifteenkey: “What about Uranus?”

Pluto: “This interview is over.”

My brother and his family were up from Philly this weekend for a little family get-together. We had a great weekend and my kids really enjoyed their little cousin Margeaux. At one point during the weekend, my sister-in-law Noreen mentioned an article in the UK’s Guardian Online. I hadn’t read it lately, so I looked at my Bloglines RSS feeds and found this article citing how a poll of how 77% of some 2,000 British women “wanted to receive a handwritten love letter rather than a love text or email…” Incredibly, nearly 20% of these women have never received a love letter, and 44% responded that it had been over ten years since they last received one. I find that incredibly sad, but come to think of it, I haven’t written one in a while, handwritten or otherwise, and ten years passes quickly, like a mid-August rainshower.

If the time ever arrives, I’ll remember to say it the old fashioned way. Until then, the Guardian will keep me thinking about football.

Gotta love this pic of Dave in the funky-guy hat. He is one lucky dude as Graham Parker has asked the big guy to take a crack at writing the liner notes for an upcoming live record being released on Bloodshot Records. This has to be such a rock n’ roll fantasy for Dave. He’s been a long-time fan of GP and did this kick ass interview with him in June. Yep, it’s Dave’s passion that got him this gig and as he knows… Passion is no Ordinary Word.

I’ve been unable to determine the source of this excellent advice. Spanish proverb? New England proverb? I certainly have invoked it the past couple of days. I’ve been in all-day meetings with groups exploring and validating the business needs of our prospects and customers in Healthcare and Manufacturing. Of course, I know virtually nothing of those “Critical Business Issues,” but I’m very fortunate to work in a company with many very bright people, and several of these “experts” are participating in the workshops.

Unfortunately, not everyone adheres to the counsel above. Yesterday during a break I asked one of the workshop facilitators if their new book was available as an audio download. Out of nowhere, a woman I hardly knew chirped, “What’s wrong, can’t you read? Did you take the short bus?” I just turned my head and looked at her. I didn’t say anything, but maybe I didn’t have to. Now I’ve got no problem reading and I can write better than some, but let’s just say I’m a little sensitive than most to a comment like that.

Words can be so powerful. They can lift up or tear down. You just never know when one word may be the very thing someone needs to hear; or the last thing they want to hear. Words are also interpreted. You may imply one thing, but your recipient may infer something completely different. The more you know the receiver, the more you’ll understand their boundaries of appropriateness. I know if that woman knew me at all, she would have known better than to break the rule above yesterday.

Some 10,000 ran, walked and wheeled the Falmouth Road Race yesterday, but I was not one of them, in spite of the goal I set for myself 135 days ago.

I’ve let myself slide the last six weeks or so. Physically, anyway. I haven’t been to the gym and in spite of the increased amount of yard work, I haven’t replaced the calorie burn or the endorphin producing rush I enjoyed there.

I do have a reorganization plan, but I think I’ll keep it to myself because setting a goal in a public forum and then miserably failing to even come close to it kinda sucks.

Today was one of the best days I’ve ever experienced. Exactly one month from September 11th, the weather was glorious with a hint of my favorite season just ahead. I launched a new sales program that was received with great enthusiasm. I spent some time working with Barb and her boss on some important stuff for next week. I picked up Kyle and we had dinner at Megan’s Deangelos shop before going for a long walk and an ice cream. The recently skidding Sox are up 8-0. Kyle is watching “Harry Potter – The Chamber of Secrets” on TV and very content. I am tapping keys and thinking about where to take this.

It hasn’t been such a great day for everyone. Megan went to the wake of her 17 year old classmate who died during surgery to repair an imperfect heart. Megan said her friends 19 year old brother was a mess and that another brother couldn’t be home for the wake. He’s in Iraq.

Fifty year ago this very night, on August 11, 1956, a drunken Jackson Pollock drove his Oldsmobile convertible into a tree, killing himself and a female friend who wasn’t his wife. That couldn’t have been a very good day.

It was around this time exactly five years ago I drove out to Williamstown, MA to see an Impressionist show at the Clark Art Institute. It’s time for another trip. There’s a Pollock show at the Williams College Museum of Art and an interesting looking exhibit of Impressionism and Early Modern Paintings at the Clark.

That’ll be a good day.

I can’t believe pal Jeff didn’t jump on this report about how AOL let out 21 million search queries of more than 650,000 of its users. The article cites a few of the more bizarre personal search histories exposed and proves without a doubt: there are some shiny scary people out there.

So…what’s your search history look like? Would you want your family and friends to know how much of a freak you are? Would you want them to know about your obsessive David Hasselhoff or Olsen Twins searches? No, I didn’t think so.

How about old flames or spouses? Searched them? I’ll admit. I have. Never found much. What I have not searched are things like “free angry stuff to send to an ex lover,” like some loser in the AOL data did.

Anyway, a look at my recent history turns up these exciting searches:

• Dell PowerEdge 1800
• Honda Civic v. Toyota Corolla
• Lexus ES350
• SQL Server 2000 datasheet
• Idylwilde Farm
• Pink Floyd Pig
• rolling stones halifax tickets
• Mary Poppins Broadway
• Decordova museum
• Sean Patrick’s
• Griffin RoadTrip nextag
• ExxonMobil profits
• Powell Stone & Gravel
• XML Integration

What I also find interesting are the search terms that return my blog as a result. Here are the current top searches that bring people here:

• I wish that I’d sailed the darkened seas
• Caiaphas the Elder
• Human Destiny by Lecomte du Nouy review comments
• Trombone Player Wanted Marcus Buckingham
• curb your enthusiasm cheryl and larry’s vows
• fidelity 401k lava lamp
• hank III overrated
• marrying your soulmate
• rock star penis molds
• rockstar penis cast
• rockstar penis molds
• ryan adams wonderwall
• wakefield merchants baseball

Clearly, the penis mold is a big draw and more scary evidence about who’s out there. Ever wonder who might be “Googling” you?