I Have the Power

 The title was an unintentional He-Man reference, but I'm keeping it.

Good day, everyone and welcome to the latest edition of WTF China! In this episode, we will learn how to pay your electric bill in Beijing.

Is there a reason that would be difficult?

On the day we were shown into our apartment, the building manager walked us around and showed us three different meters in and around our new home. Now, my Chinese is not good (basically, nonexistent), but I believe the meters were for gas, electric and water. But one could have been our ninja repulsion meter. I really have no way of knowing.

If you didn't already know this, many people who do not live in the United States do not speak English. Not even a little bit. And while the people of America are getting more and more adamant that a person inside the borders of the States should be able to speak English, the people of other countries don't really have this debate. If you live in their country, then you need to speak the local language. It's just understood. Because of this philosophy, we have no idea what is going on most of the time.

For instance, we have these three meters in our new home. We know that we have them, but have no idea what to do with them. Will we receive a bill? Will someone be coming around to read them for us? Do we need to read them and send the information into someplace? Is there an office we need to go to? WHAT DO WE DO WITH THESE?

We have difficulty even knowing what questions to ask because the answers seem so simple to the locals that they don't really understand the extreme depth to our level of confusion, but a few days ago something happened.

The building manager dropped by to deliver our electric card.

AWESOME!!!
Now, what do we do with it?

All we learned during his visit (through extremely convoluted translation apps on our phones) was that we needed to take care of our electricity quickly because there was not much left on our meter.

I think this is the proper place for this .gif

After he left, I went outside to look at our meter. This is what I see. What does he mean that there isn't much left? So often, our conversations through phone translation apps are radically wrong, so I thought it must be another of the many misunderstandings we have encountered since arriving. However, we learned that it was not.

Apparently, no one ever comes by to look at your meter. You don't really even have to keep track of the numbers yourself. Sort of.

Upon taking a closer look at our meter, we noticed a small slot to the right side of the screen. Just about the right size to slide a card into it.

This is not a credit card slot as I initially thought.

It took a lot of trial and error, but we discovered that we were to put the electric card we had received into the slot. This registers the card to the meter attached to our apartment. Talking to some Chinese locals revealed to us that we then had to take that card to a bank and put money on it. They suggested putting 500¥ ($75) on it to begin. So the following day, I headed to the bank to begin my adventure.

I was initially sent to the Bank of Beijing. EVERYONE told me to go there because it is the easiest place to get it done. So, that is where I went, but there was a problem. Easy for a local person who speaks Chinese is not necessarily easy for a foreigner who not only doesn't speak the language, but has no concept of their practices here. However, my ever-optimistic self dove in.

Upon arriving, I approached the person who appeared to be a "bank information" assistant-type person. He spoke no English, but seemed to understand what I wanted when I showed him my electric card and shrugged my shoulders. I shrug a lot these days.

He directed me back outside to a machine and took my card from me to insert into the machine. He then started navigating through a series of Chinese screens and eventually turned to me and pointed at the credit card slot on the machine. This excited me because we are still over a month away from receiving our first paychecks and our cash on hand is getting a little thin. I popped in my VISA card and entered in 500¥. The machine beeped and spit the card back out. It took a lot of pantomime and grunting from both of us, but I finally figured out that the machine would not take my American card.  

We have learned since arriving in China that Mastercard and Visa are not nearly as universal as we have been lead to believe. The only place that has taken one of our cards here is IKEA (the Swedish furniture company). China has their own version of everything and is pretty insistent on using only their stuff. 

So, I held up a handful of cash. He shook his head, pointed across the street, said "I C B C" and walked away.

Across the street was another bank conveniently named ICBC (I'm pretty sure that why he said that). So, I headed over to try my luck again.

At this bank, I found a similar-type person and started the same routine again. I showed my card and was directed to a machine. I tried my card again because, apparently, this bank can do something that the Bank of Beijing cannot. I got the same results as before, so I held up my cash.

She then directed me to yet another machine, punched a few buttons and it spit out a paper which she handed to me and directed me to a waiting area.

My number was 110.
The 73?
That's the number of people ahead of me in line.

I headed to the waiting area and quickly realized that I was in for a long wait. I was praying that my issue could actually be resolved after waiting in this line because I haven't actually spoken to anyone yet.

Notice the numbers.
I was going to be here for a while.

I got comfortable and slowly watched the numbers climb. Senior citizens sitting next to me kept trying to engage me in conversation and I could only repeat the one Chinese phrase I knew.

Wǒ bù míngbái

我不明白

I don't understand. 

This usually got a lot of laughter and they excitedly said something to the others sitting around them while they were all laughing at me. You know, because foreigners are funny. I get it. It's at this point that I usually do the shrug that is growing quite comfortable by now.

I soon noticed that each person conducting business at the windows required approximately 17 hours and 42 minutes to complete their transaction. I was going to be here for a while. The days passed, but they finally called my number.

I timidly approached the window, held up my card and cash and pushed them through the slot. The employee entered something on the computer, gave me a pen and paper and pointed for me to sign. I signed it and he gave me another paper and called the next person as he handed my card back.

I had no idea what I had signed and my money was now gone. Plus, I was not entirely sure that I had just accomplished what I came for, but I had this piece of paper.

Click the image for an enlarged view and tell me what it says.

When I got home, I made a quick phone call to an expat who has lived here a while to see if there is anything else I had to do and he said I was done. Apparently, that card is tied to my meter through the national grid. When they entered the info at the bank, it automatically put the money on my account and I will have electricity until it runs out. I can look at my meter at any time to see how much money is left on it.

I have 511¥ left.
Now, I just need to monitor
to figure out how long that will last.

It was a long, frustrating day, but I can appreciate the simplicity of the system. Especially since I learned that this can be done online once we have a bank account. The electric company will never threaten you with a disconnect notice. The meter is right outside your door. If you don't keep a balance on it, the power shuts off. No customer service is even needed for this. You don't even have to set up an account or have service transferred when you move.

One utility down. Two to go. Next, I have to figure out how to pay our water and gas.

Token White Guy

I know I haven't blogged in a while (seven weeks to be exact), but I have been very busy. For instance, since my last post I have moved to China.

Yes, China. Home of fried wontons, cheap electronics, tiny people and kung fu pandas. Seriously, that Jack Black Kung Fu panda is freaking everywhere. His face is on every ad. They love that guy here.

Since arriving here, Red and I have both started our jobs, gotten an apartment and started trying to learn our way around town using the public transportation system. Being from small-town Illinois (Waltonville, pop. 450), I have never been educated on how public transportation works. When I lived in Indianapolis (pop. 858,000), I had a car and never gave it a second thought. All the criss-crossing bus routes and subways have always been a bit intimidating to me. Much like beautiful women in my teens, but now I could get dumped in the wrong part of town and not know where I am. This happened with an Uber-type driver a few days ago. 

I need to go to the Balizhuang Primary School.
Which stop is that?
The name of the stop is Bei Ying Fen. Does that help?

As intimidating as I may find public transportation, it is twenty times worse in Beijing. Almost nothing is in English. Even if I do find English letters, it is often the English letters for a Chinese word, which helps with about 3.2% of the problem I have having. Quite often, if I have the English phonetic spelling of a Chinese word (in this case, the name of a bus stop) right in front of me, the way it is actually pronounced in Chinese is totally foreign to the American ear. The buses have a speaker which announces the next stop, but it is of no help until I start getting used to the Chinese dialect. I spend every bus ride counting the number of stops and frantically looking at the names of each bus stop we come to. If I get off at the wrong place, I will be lost forever.

Public transportation aside, we are also working in Chinese schools. It is a very unfamiliar system. I went to my new school one day to meet with the head of the English department (who speaks very little English) and get a tour of the school. They gave me a few textbooks and showed me out. The next day, I went in early to prepare in my office and no one came by to greet me. Now, I don't need to be greeted. I just found it odd. I did not speak to a single staff member before walking onto my first class an hour later. The teacher of that class walked out as soon as I arrived and I was on my own. I had five classes of first graders that day and no guidance as to what was expected of me other than "we are on Lesson Six".

This is the lunch that was served in the cafeteria on my first day.

I have learned that the Chinese mindset is that I am considered to be the expert. It even says that on my passport. FOREIGN EXPERT. As the person in the school who speaks the best English, they will not be intruding on my methods or style. In fact, I was told that the other teachers may come to observe occasionally. Not to critique me, but to learn from me and my methods. Talk about pressure.

In the meantime, Red and I are being taken to a sort of English conference this weekend to represent another school where neither of us has worked (Red will work there sometime next week). We really don't know what our function will be other than to be their token white people. Having a first-language English speaker on staff gives a school credibility for their English department. It should be an interesting day. Maybe we'll make some connections as well.

In the meantime, if you would like to send us a care package (I can't find Mt Dew here), send it to this address.

This is our actual address.

We don't know what this means and have no idea how to write it in English for our family stateside, but this is where we live. All we know is that it must be written in English for the American post office to get the process started of getting a letter to China, but then the address must also be in Chinese so the Chinese system knows what to do with it.

I love China.

Wallet I found in a shop in Nanluogu Xiang

Fortune Cookie #11 - Chinese Beauracracy

Sometimes it feels like our move to China is never going to happen. I know we will get there, but the process has been much more frustrating than I had anticipated. This was the first thing I thought of when I saw this fortune.

You will conquer obstacles to achieve success

The obstacles we have encountered mostly involve the mountains of paperwork required to petition the Chinese government to grant us permission to work in their country.

I am in no way an expert on international travel and employment, but I do know that the requirements vary greatly from country to country. In most countries, a foreigner will need a work visa in order to work there. You simply apply for a work visa instead of a tourist visa and you are good to go. However, China is harder to get into than the Playboy mansion. You must have an invitation.

We've had our fingerprints run for criminal background checks. We've sent our resumes to have them translated into Mandarin. They needed our marriage license, our original college degrees, copies of our passports, some new passport-type photos, letters of reference from the places we have worked to ensure the accuracy of our resumes and a health physical.

They have received everything they need from us except for two pieces of paperwork. My TESOL certification and the paperwork from our physicals. These papers have proven to be more troublesome than Ryan Lochte's account from his night out in Rio.

I don't actually have a TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) certificate and there is a reason for this. I shouldn't need one.

I spent two years going to graduate school to get my Master's degree in TESOL. This means I have a Master's degree. That is supposed to be an impressive document. The TESOL certificate can be obtained by attending some weekend classes for a month. It is a much, much, MUCH smaller undertaking. Having a Master's degree trumps having a certificate. No one would ask a doctor to see proof that he has taken a CPR course because he is a doctor.

Now, this may be frustrating, but I understand. Sort of. Things work differently in different countries. Paperwork and regulations vary from place to place and carry different weight. Add a language and cultural barrier into the mix and it can get quite complicated. Since their paperwork says I have to produce a TESOL certificate, if I can't do that, then I have not met their requirements. No amount of explaining (or tears) will change that.

Luckily, I went to the fantastic school Lincoln Christian University. I called them and explained my dilemma. Since I had more than met the requirements of what it takes to get a certificate from them in getting my Master's, they agreed to issue me a certificate. I love my school. I should get it on August 31.

The second obstacle has yet to be conquered. We are required to get a health physical. Anyone coming to work in China needs to be of reasonably good health and not be bringing particular communicable diseases into their country. This makes sense. However, getting this physical is not easy. It must be performed at a Chinese Embassy-approved facility and we must bring the proper forms to have filled out by the doctor.

These forms are nowhere to be found on the internet and even our employer in China has no idea where to find them. We also have had no luck in finding out where these embassy-approved facilities are. It's like a real-life Where's Waldo book. After literally hundreds of phone calls to the embassy in Chicago for the last six weeks, we are no closer to the answer than when we started. Plus, once I get all excited about getting naked in front of someone, it just has to happen before I can get a good night sleep.

I know these roadblocks will eventually be overcome and we will end up in China in the end. It has just been a very frustrating process. I'm sticking it out for the endless supply of fried wontons.

Fortune Cookie #10 - Adventure Is Where You Find It

Time just gets away sometimes.

It has been 1,033 days since my last Fortune Cookie post. I've forgotten to write these for a while, but never forgot to keep collecting my fortunes. I will try to get caught up. It may take a while.

Since I have been saving my fortunes and not writing about them right away, they are not in very good condition. However, they are still legible.

Not according the the makers of Pokémon Go

I am a complete believer in the philosophy that "life is what you make of it", but adventure is within? I'm not sure I believe that one. Having an active imagination may be great for helping you pass the time during times of extreme boredom (while doing menial labor, sitting in a doctor's office, looking at a friend's vacation slide show, spending time with your children, etc.), but it is far from an adventure. Adventures in my head are just thoughts about adventure. They are not adventure.

Unless we want to redefine the word, adventure will have to include the venture part of the word.

Whether we are talking about the verb or noun, both definitions involve doing something and the only thing I do within is process food stuffs into an inedible sludge to be expelled the next morning. An extreme meat and cheese day may require much more effort to accomplish the expulsion part, but it is still far from an adventure. Adventure is outside. I don't care what the fortune cookie wizards have to say about it.

To test this theory, we left the apartment last weekend to visit downtown Indianapolis. GenCon was in town and we love to go nerd watching and be jealous that we aren't in costume also. However, before even getting there, the adventure of being outside found us.

The red car is the one I hit.
The girl is only crying because her Pokémon got away.

Due to me gawking at a motorcycle, I rear-ended the car in front of us when the car in front of her stopped suddenly. The sound of metal on metal told me immediately, "YOU ARE IN THE MIDST OF ADVENTURE!"

This sort of thing just doesn't happen when you are sitting at home having an adventure "within". I'm still not even sure that I know what that means. Real adventure is outside beating up your car, talking to police, driving up your insurance rates, giving you seat belt bruises, and traumatizing teen-aged girls in cute little red cars.

Ignore the fortune cookie gypsies. Get outside and have some adventures!

On to Our Next Adventure

It's been about six weeks since my last post and that post was written while Red and I were in Turkey. If you been watching the news, you know that Turkey has had some turmoil recently. Several bombings over the last few months (one happened while we were there), and most recently there was a failed coup to overthrow the government. I swear I had nothing to do with it. I was back in Indiana when everything went down.

Just narrowly missing the economic and military implosion of a Middle East country has given us a renewed sense of adventure and we are ready to leave the Midwest to see what else is out there for us. After a few drinks much consideration, we have decided on our next adventure.

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WE ARE MOVING TO CHINA!!!

 

Less than a week before we left for Turkey, we accepted teaching jobs in Beijing, China and plan to leave Indiana sometime in late September. We would go sooner, but the paperwork and legalities involved with moving and working overseas are very complicated and take some time to arrange. 

Almost exactly two years ago, I completed my Master's degree in TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages). Since then, I have applied for over 100 different positions all over the country and have had no luck. Every college wants someone with at least 5 years experience and every public school requires a degree in education in addition to my current degree. Therefore, unless I just get lucky and find a place that will take me, I just can't seem to find a job in my field.  

When I first moved to Indianapolis almost three years ago, part of my motivation was to be in a bigger city with more language teaching opportunities. I needed to be teaching in a classroom to meet the practicum requirements for my degree and small town Mount Vernon, Illinois just didn't have that. As I was settling into my new Indianapolis apartment, I posted on Facebook about my move and need to find a place to teach in order to graduate. Within hours, I was contacted by a school and offered a job on the spot. This was more than an opportunity to get class credit. It was a real teaching job. Before I even had my degree. But it was in China. 

A friend of mine from college had moved to China after graduating and eventually started an international school in Beijing. It has been quite successful and he has since expanded into more schools and has partnered with many of the local schools there. He was in the need of an English teacher and wanted me to come. I really didn't have any reservations about moving overseas, but I didn't feel that my life was in a place where I could leave the country yet. I had just moved to Indianapolis less than a week before this offer. My daughter had one semester left before graduating high school and I had been dating Red for several months and really felt like this relationship was going somewhere. I couldn't even consider leaving the country at that point. My friend tried to convince me, but it didn't work. I turned him down, but he did check back with me a few months later to see if I would reconsider. I denied him again. He said he would quit calling me about it.

Kirsten's graduation picture

Fast forward to this year and my life has settled in. I married Red and my kids are grown and living their adult lives. However, I still don't work in the field I went to school for and built up all the student loan debt for. In the midst of a conversation about this, Red asked me about my friend in China and if that job offer still stood. I thought about it for a couple of minutes and realized that leaving the country is a workable possibility now and I called him. He was very excited to hear from me and offered a job immediately. After a few minutes of questions about Red, he offered a job to her as well. It was an exciting phone call.

We were leaving for Turkey in a couple of days, so I told him we would start to hammer out the details as soon as we got back into the country. Since then, we have started exchanging paperwork back and forth and selling off our furniture. It's been a whirlwind of activity and a mountain of regulations and paperwork, but this is happening.

I Might Need Another Wife

A few days ago, Red and I returned from our vacation to Turkey. We spent ten days driving around ancient ruins and huge cities while struggling with the language barrier and trying not to get lost since none of the street signs made any sense to us. We ate exotic foods, drove through mountains, overlooked the Aegean Sea, walked the streets of the ancient city of Troy and got to tour many of the places from the part of the world that is considered to be the cradle of civilization. It was a great vacation despite the dozens of people who tried to talk us out of going to this "dangerous" part of the world.

Throughout this fascinating journey, I was repeatedly amazed at how friendly the people there were. They went above and beyond to make sure that we were happy and having a good time. One day, Red and I were trying to cross a busy intersection in downtown Izmir and were waiting on the median for several buses to cross. Before the last one crossed, a man approached to show us a better way. Where we were trying to cross would have left us in the street too long because of a pedestrian gate. He then walked with us for the next 15 blocks, telling us how much he appreciated seeing Americans in his city.

Due to the recent bombings (most of which are on the Syrian border) and the government-issued travel advisory for Americans, most will not venture into Turkey and it is really hurting their tourism money. We heard the same thing from a man selling tour books at the Temple of Artemis and from the proprietor of a rug store. They all wanted to know why Americans are so scared of Turkey.

For me personally, I probably wouldn't have traveled there with the recent warnings if we hadn't already been planning this trip for the last year, but there was no way I was going to cancel after all the effort we had put into this trip. And I am so glad we didn't. We met so many wonderful, smiling people. One day, two kids (about 15 and 12) were really excited to get to talk to Americans. It felt like they were practicing their English, but it was hard to talk because their smiles were so big.

Despite all this friendliness, we did meet one man who struggled to be nice. On our way into the Basilica of St. John in the city of Selçuk, a man approached me to sell me some ancient coins. He claimed to be part of the excavation team there and on Sundays he would sell small artifacts for extra money. He had an ancient Roman coin (w/ the face of Caesar), an Egyptian coin, and a few others. As he was showing me the coins, Red asked if I would display the coins or just end up throwing them in a box. This is a valid question and the man recognized it also. So, re-positioned himself to stand between Red and me hoping to exclude her from the remainder of the conversation.

I wasn't really sure that I wanted the coins, but he was very aware of the fact that he had my interest. He held up one coin and told me what I could sell it for in the States. Red spoke up to ask if he had a Certificate of Authenticity.

"For what?"

"We can't sell it without one."

"Who told you that."

He shot her a dirty look and then started pulling out business cards of people who buy from him in the States. By now, I had decided that I wasn't interested and started to walk away. He yelled, "WAIT! STOP!"

He ran back to his bag and pulled out another coin. "With this coin right here, this one..." and he stuck it in my face. "You could buy a new, younger wife."

I started to laugh, but he persisted.

"When you only have one wife, she will kill you. You don't need her. Buy this coin and get a new one. More wives is easier."

We then excused ourselves from his persistence and tried to stop laughing. We spent the next few hours touring the Citadel and Basilica. However, he was waiting for us when we came back out.

"I waited for you like you asked."

Red snapped at him, "We didn't ask you to wait."

I just kept walking, but Red decided she still wanted to fight about the legitimacy of having a Certificate of Authenticity. Since I was no longer part of this conversation, I stood at the end of the walkway and yelled to her, "Just keep walking."

Once she successfully excused herself, he called out "Would you like to buy some rugs?"

Over her shoulder, she dismissed him by saying "We bought rugs yesterday."

He retorted, "Mine are better. They can fly."

Three Days Until Turkey

Red and I are hopping on a plane to Turkey in three days and I am ready to run out the door right now. It feels like the day will never get here. For me, this is my first trip out of the country. I lived in Puerto Rico for a short period, but that is technically still in the United States. I did have to take an international flight to get there, but I don't think that counts. This will be my actual real authentic indisputable first time. Red has traveled the world and even lived in three countries outside of the U.S., but this is all new to me.

We are flying out of Chicago instead of Indianapolis (where we live) because it was almost $1,000 cheaper. We're driving to Chicago to leave our car at a friend's house and then are hopping a train and a subway to get us to the airport. So, if we don't die on the subway (first time on a subway also), we should arrive in Ankara, Turkey about 10 p.m. on June 1.

March 13, 2016 - Ankara, Turkey
The city we're initially traveling to
Second car bombing in two weeks

I really don't know what to expect from this trip. This part of the world is radically different from everything here in the States and our government even has issued a travel warning to Americans traveling to Turkey. There's a bit of turmoil happening there right now, but we have discovered that this drastically brings down costs. We're spending a few nights in a resort area right on the Aegean Sea for $50/night. Political turmoil has its advantages!

We plan to visit the sites of several of the churches mentioned in Revelation and visit Troy. We have a lot of driving to do, so we'll have to adjust to their driving laws. That part should be fun. I'm curious how many street signs we will actually be able to read.

On a side note, my doctor has been carefully monitoring my diet for the last month and has not been happy with the way I eat. I really can't say I blame him. He asked me what I will be eating while I'm in Turkey.

"Um...everything."

I mean, seriously? I'm on vacation.

He decided that was fair. I have to start my food diary again as soon as I get back. In the meantime, I will be sure to not only post about all the places we visit each day, but also about the new and exciting foods that we will be eating.

I really do plan to eat everything.

Crooked Swollen Knuckle Sandwich

I've been in a lot of pain lately. It's been going on for a couple of years, but the worst of it has been in the last few months. I started a rather physical job in October and my joints have been killing me ever since. Some days I can't lift one of my arms above my shoulder. Other days, one of my hands will swell and I can't hold on to anything causing me to drop everything I touch at work. I've had some days when I've had to call in sick because I can't walk. Luckily, the job offers plenty of personal leave days.

Until this month, I had maintained my manhood and avoided any doctor. I would just pop some pain pills and try to power through it, but I was missing so many days of work, I was beginning to worry if I could realistically even keep my job. One day, while accompanying my wife to an appointment because I wanted to hear what her doctor said about a test result that had us a little concerned, he talked me into coming to see him the following week. So much for being a man.

At that appointment I told him about my concerns and he ordered a bunch of blood work and wanted me to keep a food diary until I returned to see him two weeks later.

Doctor-requested food diaries suck. Do you know how long it takes to eat a Family Size bag of M&M's when you have to weigh each one?

— Minor Character (@brettminor) May 14, 2016

When I returned for that appointment, he walked into the room looking at my food diary and asked, "Is this real?"

I replied, "Well, yeah. I tried to be completely honest and not deviate just because I was recording everything for you."

He shook his head and said, "You eat like a homeless teenager digging leftovers out of White Castle and Applebee's dumpsters. I don't know how your body is functioning. I mean, according to this, for six days in a row your breakfast was Mt Dew!"

"Yeah. It takes too long to make coffee."

With raised eyebrows, he said, "Two days ago for supper you had a rack of ribs on bread"

 "I took the bones out."

He pointed at the paper, "There are no vegetables on here. For two whole weeks! Not a single vegetable"

I retorted, "Not true. I had vegetables last night. Spinach, sweet potatoes and tomatoes."

He glanced back at the paper and shook his head, "Veggie Straws are NOT vegetables." He then pulled out his own paper and sympathetically said, "Okay, let's try this. You really need to eat more fruits and vegetables, so let's make a list of which ones you like. What vegetables do you like?"

I got excited, "I know this one. Macaroni and cheese!"

He looked at my wife and pleaded, "Can you make sure there's fruits and vegetables in the house and that he eats them?" She agreed.

He said, "Good. Let's move on to your test results."

For the next half hour we went over what was found in my x-rays and my blood work and there was plenty found, but the best part had to do with the results of a particular test. When he pulled this up on his computer, his eyes got wide and he said to his assistant, "Have you ever seen that number that high?" His assistant, whose eyes were even wider just shook his head.

I pretty sure >300 is more than 3

You only need to score over a three to test positive for rheumatoid arthritis and I scored over three hundred. In fact, we don't even know what my actual score is because the charts only go to three hundred. I can actually say that my numbers were literally 'off the charts'.

After taking a few minutes to look at the results of several other tests, which all confirmed the same thing, he turned to me and gently said, "I hate to tell you this, but you have rheumatoid arthritis."

I smiled and said, "Okay."

He seemed a little taken back that I was taking it so well, but I pretty much already knew this. It had never been confirmed by a doctor before that day, but I knew. So, his grave declaration didn't get the response he was expecting.

Because my numbers were so high and he was able to locate several nodules in my hands and did see some degenerative damage in the X-rays of my feet, he put me on some pretty powerful drugs immediately to try to get it under control before we start the actual treatment. I don't know what that treatment will be yet, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. If it works, I won't have to cross it in a wheelchair.

I have another appointment in two weeks. For that one, we will go over my food diary again to see if I took his advice and I will be asking what the implications are of having that incredibly high number that seemed to startle him so much. Cross your fingers. I would do it myself, but they just don't move that way any more.

My test results came back and, as I suspected, I have arthritis. If it gets too bad, I'll just start tweeting with my nose.

— Minor Character (@brettminor) May 6, 2016

A to Z Challenge (2016) Reflection

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I survived the A to Z Challenge. I love this challenge, but am so happy to have it behind me. I've done this twice and each time it starts getting difficult once I hit about week 3. I just don't want to write any more.

I feel like I cheated a little bit, because three of my posts for the month were posts that I had previously posted. I just modified them a little for the day and threw them up again. Work got a little crazy and I got a lot tired.

My purpose for doing the challenge this year was to get back into the habit of writing daily. I was very active on my blog three years ago and loved all the connections I made with people, but it has really slacked of in the last few years (including one entire year when I did not post at all). Because of my purpose for participating this time, I approached it differently.

When I did this in 2013, I was interested in reaching a bigger audience and discovering other great blogs out there. My followers almost doubled over the course of that month. I visited over 700 blogs and left meaningful (note: meaningful) comments on each one. This year, I made sure to reconnect with the blogs of the people I used to connect with regularly and I visited a few new ones, but it was probably less than fifty. I just didn't have the time this year and I wasn't really looking for new ones anyway.

Here are some tips for future challengers:

•  Do NOT leave a comment on someone's blog if you have not read the post. Almost every day, someone would leave a comment that said "Good post" or "Dropping by from the A to Z Challenge" followed by a link to their blog. It is insulting. If you are asking me to come read your content, then the least you could do is take a look at mine. If you actually did read my post and then left a generic comment, then you shouldn't be surprised when I didn't come visit. Say something that shows you read the posts. Ask a question, make an additional point, state your opinion, something relevant to what you just read. You will get more visits that way.

• ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS include a link back to your blog in your comment. If I want to visit your blog, I shouldn't have to wade through your blogger profile clicking through the six inactive blogs you still have to find the one you are currently using. I also should not be directed to your Google+ account to then have to search. Learn the HTML code to include in your comment (copy and paste if you have to) to take the reader directly to your blog. You will get more visits that way.

• Last, turn off your CAPTCHA. The A to Z website even asks people to do this, but I am amazed at how many people leave it on. I know it is your blog and you may have it on for a reason, but having to fight with an indecipherable CAPTCHA usually means you will never know I was there. I tried to comment, but got rejected. Turn it off, you will get more return visits that way.

Feel free to ignore any of these tips, but if people visiting your blog has any meaning to you then these will help.

As for the challenge itself, I have no suggestions. It is set up very well. There is plenty of publicity, the rules are explained simply and the site is easy to use. I look forward to next year.

Z is for Zoo Fun

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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When my children were younger, (by younger I mean young enough that they still appreciated their father and hadn't learned how to talk back yet) we would take weekly road trips. I had a job where I worked long hours and didn't see the family much during the week, but I always had weekends off and we liked to spend it on the road. Every Saturday, we would load up the car, head to Huck's to grab some gas station road trip food (mini tacos, egg rolls, sodas, etc.) and hit the road.

Some days, we ended up in a state park. A few times we stumbled onto a small town festival. Other times, we would drive into a big city. Often, we didn't even have a destination in mind when we left the house. We would just pick a direction and start driving. I loved these trips.

One particular Saturday, we decided to head to the zoo. When it comes to zoo trips, we were really lucky. We lived in southern Illinois at the time and the St. Louis Zoo was less than 90 minutes away. This is the zoo I grew up going to and it spoiled me for other zoos. It is ranked as one of the best zoos in the entire country, so I always end up disappointed when I am visiting someone in another part of the country and we end up at a lesser zoo. Our zoo was awesome. Suck it, Cleveland.

I was particularly excited for this trip because my kids were at that magical age. Kirsten was two and Christian was six. They would think the animals were the coolest things in the world to get to see. Plus, it was spring time and we had been looking forward to getting out of the house after the long winter.

Once we got there, we headed to the exhibit I always insist that we visit first. THE PENGUINS! I love penguins. I always have. This practice of seeing the penguins as soon as we get there first started when I was a child and I still do it when I go back to visit. After I see the penguins, I don't care where we go. I am happy.

I couldn't wait to share these magnificent birds with the kids and hurried them into the penguin house. As soon as we got inside, I unstrapped Kirsten from her stroller, put her up on my shoulders and turned around to see this:

Chicka-Chicka-Wa-Waa

"OK, let's see what's happening on the other side of the enclosure."

We moved further down to get away from the happy couple and were met with another public penguin porn performance. However, this time it was more like a penguin orgy. There were at least half a dozen penguin couples getting an early jump on the day…and each other. As much as I love penguins, I decided that maybe we should come back later. I don't allow guests in my bedroom to watch without paying admission and since the St. Louis Zoo is free, this just didn't feel right. Plus, I had my kids with me.

We worked our way up the hill to Big Cat Country to take in the jungle cats. My kids lost interest in the leopard pretty quickly because it just sat there.  The panther couldn't be seen, but the tigers were much more playful.

In the very next enclosure, the lions were up to the same thing. My wife commented that the animals seem to be enjoying the spring time weather as much as we were.

About 20 minutes later, we learned that the monkey house was not the place to be right now either. I will spare you the pictures. They are much more graphic.

We left the zoo after being there less than two hours, but in that time we got to see elephants, buffalo, three different species of bear, antelopes and even snakes getting it on. We decided that in future years, we would wait until later in the season to visit the zoo.

Y is for Yoga

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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I don't do yoga. My wife does yoga. She does all the yoga. The doggy style pose, the missionary position, the sexy lotus. I don't really know the names very well, but she did talk me into doing yoga with her once. It didn't go well. I got bored pretty quickly and the instructor kept expecting me to move (like, over and over again). Not really my thing.

However, I am very happy that she does yoga. She really seems to enjoy it, which makes her happy and I like her to be happy. Plus, she wears tiny outfits to do it and she isn't self-conscious knowing that I am watching. This makes me happy. It's good for all the people involved. I just don't want to actually participate.

Here's a list of other activities I do NOT partake in:

• Aerobics
• Zumba
• Speed walking
• Resistance training 
• Tae-Bo
• P90X
• Spin classes 
• Any sports
• Free weights 
• Failing to SuperSize it
• Crossfit
• Adult coloring books
• Jogging
• Anything requiring a FitBit 
• Sweat to the Oldies 
• Logging out of Twitter
• Eat things not covered in cheese

Now, I don't want to give the impression that I avoid all physical activity. I do get physical when the need arises. Here are some examples:

• Answering the door when the pizza arrives
• Searching for the TV remote
• Charging my phone
• Active listening when my wife speaks
• Covering food in cheese
• Digging to the back of the fridge 
• Numerous daily instances of exaggerated eye rolls

Despite all this activity, I have been experiencing some recent health issues. I even have a doctor's appointment (first one in eight years) later today. It's the same doctor my wife sees and he told her to increase her cardio activity. I already hate him.

X is for Xenodochial

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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I had a difficult time coming up with a word for X, but a quick Google search found a suitable word for me. Xenodochial describes me pretty well. It means 'friendly to strangers'.

I love meeting new people. I can make a temporary friend anywhere. I talk to people while standing in line, sitting in a restaurant, walking down the sidewalk, stuck on a carnival ride, or being anywhere that other people are around. Not standing at a urinal, though. That is an understood No Talking Zone.

I have even been known to walk up to a person eating alone in a restaurant to ask if I can join them. I've met some very interesting people that way. I was even offered a job during one of these encounters. It's almost always worth it.

Very rarely do I make a permanent connection with these people. It is just for conversation and entertainment in the moment. I'm not trying to start a new friendship or actually get involved in someone's life. I know there are benefits to having more friends, but that is just not my interest. I enjoy being friendly to strangers and the more actual friends I make, the less strangers there are to choose from.

W is for Writer

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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Someone once told me that bloggers aren't writers. I'm not sure that that's true. You really can't blog without writing, therefore someone who blogs is a writer. However, any idiot can start a blog and I have seen a few that are barely decipherable. Going outside to play basketball does not necessarily make you a basketball player. Maybe it comes down to whether you get paid for it or not. I really don't know and I'm not going to put that much thought into it, but I do know that I have been writing for a long time and want to be considered to be a writer.

This week I am starting on my first book. I have spent the last couple of months going over the story, jotting down major plot points, coming up with characters, and even talking to a few published authors for some pointers. I believe I am ready to start the writing and am excited to get going.

My writing style has generally been humorous and that is the direction I plan to go with this book. It will be a horror-humor conglomeration that, hopefully, will not have words like conglomeration in it. That's such an ugly sounding word. Don't say it out loud. Trust me.

As I progress I may write some about the process, but haven't decided yet. I might just want to unleash the finished product on the world. We'll see. Wish me luck and feel free to start pre-ordering.

V is for Virility

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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Last night, after work, I was plopped in front of my television, enjoying some Hot Pockets and sweet tea, but was mostly focused on my Kindle. Despite my attention to the various games I had to choose from, something said on the television caught my ear.

Please keep in mind, this will only be a loose paraphrase of what was said, since I wasn't really paying attention. It was just the last line that made me say, "WHAT?!?"

A commercial was playing for a men's sexual health clinic in St. Louis. The ad focused primarily on erectile dysfunction. It stated all the usual things these commercials always claim.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"It happens to every man at one point or another."

"It doesn't mean you aren't a man."

I didn't catch it all, but near the end it said something to the effect of this, "Maybe you have tried Viagra or Cialis and they weren't effective. Therefore, you may be skeptical about what we can do for you. To address your concerns, you can try our system in our office before paying a penny to see if it works."

This is the part where I looked up and said, "WHAT?!?"

Try it out in the office? What exactly does that mean? Had I been paying attention, I would have called their number just to get the answer to this question. I can see so many possible scenarios.

What exactly is the nature of their treatment and what does it mean to "try it out in the office"? If it involves another person to really try it out, do they provide the person or do you have to bring one from home?

Do they provide a private room after giving you the treatment or must the results be observed by a trained medical professional?

Do they lay you naked on a table, give you the treatment, and the medical staff stands around you with measuring tape to monitor and record the results?

Or is it more discreet? Maybe they give you a pill and stand you in a corner, so you can give a thumbs up to indicate when you are up.

I have so many questions. One day, I may be in need of these services and I just want to be prepared.

I also want to know if Obamacare will cover this.

U is for Unfashionable

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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I have absolutely ZERO fashion sense. I don't know what goes with what, what colors are to be worn during which seasons, what 'business casual' means, or why there are rules about when you can and cannot wear white. I just wear what I want to wear when I want to wear it and don't really care what anyone else thinks about it.

If you haven't already guessed, this trait (or non-trait) doesn't bother me in the least. I have been given a hard time about my clothing choices my entire life and they haven't really changed any. However, I do want to make clear that I am not a slob. I just don't have any desire to dress up or have any 'flair'. I am a jeans and a t-shirt kind of guy. I've not been able to test this theory, but I am of the belief that if I ever become rich I will still be a jeans and t-shirt guy. I'll just have a thicker wallet.

A few years ago, I was told by a co-worker that I would probably get more interest from the ladies if I dressed better. I scoffed and explained to him that any woman who would not want to date me based on my clothing choices is not a woman I would want to date. He then said I would never get a quality woman. However, I believe we had very different definitions of what 'quality woman' meant. I base this observation mainly on the 'quality' of his last two women. No thank you.

My wardrobe is a reflection of who I am. I'm laid-back, easy-going, and low-stress. I take care of myself, but don't go out of my way to put on appearances. I'm not trying to impress anyone. A woman who recognized that and would be happy with it is the type of woman I wanted. Clothing should not be part of the consideration.

Eventually, I met her and two years later we were married.

In jeans and a t-shirt, even on my wedding day,
but it was a nice t-shirt.
The light sabers were for a totally different reason.

Now, she is a quality woman.

T is for Traveling Entertainment

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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Before moving to Indianapolis, I had a job as a courier (which is just a fancy word for deliveryman). I mostly delivered office supplies, but I had a few contracts that involved me delivering blood for the Red Cross and the occasional biopsy sample for a medical firm. The office supplies were always delivered around town, but when I had medical deliveries, I was on the road for a while.

He quit talking to me for some reason.

I usually had to deliver to St. Louis (90 miles from my house), but I didn't always make the pick-up in my hometown. Sometimes, I had to drive for a few hours to even get the product. These trips varied from 180 to 450 miles round trip. In addition to these trips being long, they were always done in the evenings after I had already gotten off my regular route. For this reason, I was usually tired before I even started the trip and often needed help staying awake. And as much as I love caffeine and its glorious side effects, there is only so much coffee and Mt Dew a person can drink before it begins to revolt against your system.

Apparently, it is illegal to talk on the phone while driving and my Candy Crush scores tend to suffer when I can't give the game my full attention, so I am always looking for ways to pass the time. On road trips, this is not an issue because I can pull over at any time to look at anything that catches my eye. When making deliveries, I was on a schedule. It didn't take me long to learn that texting passed the time fairly quickly.

NOTE: My phone is voice activated and the texts are read to me over my stereo system. So, I am not looking at my phone. My eyes are on the road. Sometimes I drive with my feet to entertain myself, but I am always looking at the road.

Recently, while going through my phone, I found one of those texting conversations. It was getting late and I needed someone to talk to. So, I shot a text to my brother Kyle. It turned out he was on the road also and even had other people in the vehicle with him, but I was not deterred. Despite the fact that he didn't stay in the conversation for very long, I tried to keep it going since I had an audience.

That conversation is included on the right.

→→→→

I didn't feel bad about it. Kyle has a long history of trying to tie up people's time on the phone. Back in the 80's when answering machines still used miniature cassette tapes, Kyle would talk long enough to use up the entire tape. If the machine had a 30-second cutoff, he would just keep calling back until it was used up. He still does this today, but in today's digital world, there is an almost unlimited amount of time. I have received many voice mail messages from him that lasted longer than the Lord of the Rings trilogy (extended versions).

Now that I don't have that job anymore, I have to find new ways to be annoying. 

Kyle's actually pretty good
at being annoying himself.

S is for Snoopy

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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We had lots of pets growing up, but the one that has always stood out above the others was a beagle-rat terrier mix named Snoopy. Snoopy was the runt of the litter from one of our neighbors' dogs. He never had any special training, but was the best dog we ever had.

Every young boy wants a dog that will play fetch. Snoopy played half a game of fetch. If one of us threw a stick, he would run after it and bring it back to set right at our feet. That's where the proper game of fetch ended. As soon as we would reach for it, he would grab it again and move it a few feet away, setting it down once again, just daring us to try for it. He would never let us have the stick again. The game continued until we got tired of chasing him.

During the winter months, he was allowed to stay in the house. However, like many animals, he wanted to eat food that was not for him. Cats will not gorge themselves the way that a dog will and often left food in their bowl. Obviously, Snoopy would get in trouble if he ate the cat's food, but it didn't keep him from trying.

Because the cat's food was on the hard floor of the kitchen, we could hear the dog when he walked across the floor. His nails would click on the linoleum. The living room was right next to the kitchen, so we would look in the kitchen when we heard his nails and would catch him headed toward their food. Soon, he figured out that it was the noise giving him away.

My mother walked into the kitchen once and caught Snoopy slowly walking across the floor, lifting each foot slowly and gently putting it back down. He lifted each foot extra high. It was the canine version of tip-toeing. We had to start putting the cat food up high enough that they could jump to it, but Snoopy could not reach it.

R is for Remembering

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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I got a little behind this week and could write today's post ahead of time like I have all the other posts. Therefore, I have the opportunity to change what I was going to write about. R is now for remembering.

Prince died today.

I walked into the break room at work to this on the tv screen. At first glance, I thought it said the Prince of Death had come to Minnesota. That would be scary, but then I saw that they were talking about the death of Prince.

Now, I am not one of those people who gets all teary-eyed over the death of a celebrity. I never knew him. I wouldn't even say I was a big fan, but I did like his music and it was all over the place in my teenage years. I found his songs bouncing around in my head for the rest of the work day.

I guess I am feeling a bit nostalgic. I wish the best for his family in this time of mourning and I think I'm going to go watch Purple Rain.

Q is for Quilt

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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For a good portion of my life, my grandmother lived right in our backyard. Not literally in the back yard. I mean, she had a house back there. My mother's mother (Mary Jane) lived behind us when I was very young until I was about 8 or 9.

In my teen years, my father's mother (Margaret) lived behind us. I have many memories of being able to walk out of the house and be in one of their homes within seconds. It's great to have grandparents so close.

Grandma Margaret was a quilter. Most of the time, when you walked into her house, she would be working on a quilt. I have no idea how many she made, but those quilts are everywhere. Every family member has several of her quilts. Looking around, I have four in this room right now.

Quilting is not something I have ever particularly cared about, but I was always very interested in Grandma's quilts. I can remember many times upon walking into her house, she would want to show me her latest pattern. She would be trying something new and wanted to show it off. The only pattern name I can remember today is the log cabin pattern, but I used to know several more.

She's been gone four or five years now, but I always think of her every time I see one of her quilts. I have several, so I see them often. Hopefully, they will last forever.