eric nuzum dot com

The nut doesn't fall far from the tree

Katie and Mattie
Originally uploaded by ericandkatherine

Like any woman, Katherine has a small list of her mother's traits that drive her completely crazy.

Many of her favorite stories are about the times that Katherine has brought friends home to visit her family. Her mom goes a bit over the top--delicious food rolls out constantly, guests' laundry is done for them, and they are fussed over almost 24/7. It's her mother's way of showing how happy she is to host them and how much their friendship with Katherine means to her.

I think it is sweet (mostly because I am a regular beneficiary of this kindness). It makes Katherine nuts.

I think the real reason it irritates Katherine is mostly because whenever she is home and asks about her mother's wonderful home cooking or needs help with something, Katherine's mother tells her to do it for herself.

Our friend Matt is visiting us this week. While I love him like a brother, he is probably on Katherine's short list of favorite people on the planet. She was heartbroken when he moved to New York two years ago for work. He's currently considering relocating back to DC for a bit for a project and Katherine couldn't be happier.

How does she show it?

This morning Matt woke up to pancakes, eggs, and bacon, all prepared for him by Katherine. Afterwards, she gathered up his laundry and later returned it to him later cleaned and neatly folded. She has a big dinner planned for tonight.

Whenever I point these things out to Katherine, she replies, "I hope you like my mother, because in 30 years you are going to wake up and realize you are married to her."

Things I love about my wife

I can tickle my brain
Originally uploaded by ericandkatherine

• I love the sound of her laughter--nothing makes me happier or feel like everything is alright.
• I love watching her get worked up over something and talking very loudly (which happens often).
• I love the color of her hair.
• I love that she sets goals for us and is insistent that we commit to them.
• I love listening to her talk to her friends and family.
• I love watching her with Lolly.
• I love her sense of style.
• I love when she expresses "our" feelings on a subject we haven't discussed.
• I love the kindness and warmth you see in her eyes.
• I love seeing her be brave.
• I love her talent and looking at something she's created.
• I love that she respects my opinions, yet isn't shy about challenging them.
• I love that she is easily moved to tears.
• I love her pride in her heritage.
• I love that she likes to put little stickers on things to claim them as her own.
• I love introducing her to people.
• I love that she gives me all the freedom I could ever want.
• I love that she's started to listen to public radio (by choice).
• I love her ability to remember things (this would also be on my list of "Things that annoy me about my wife").
• I love her appetite for people and am inspired by her interest in them.
• I love how much she cares about my family and has her own relationships with them.
• I love that she turns to me to help her figure out the right thing to do--and is always willing to help me with the same advice.
• I love the way she looks in a dress.
• I love the attention she gives to details.
• I love that she's let me watch her grow into the woman she is.
• I love that she loves me back and tells me so many times a day.
• I just love her.

(Thanks to my cousin-in-law Tonya for inspiring such a list by writing about my cousin Donnie)

Tale of two Bills

My friend Matt sent me an email last night with two pieces of news from my home town.

The first was the death of William G Fry. I was fortunate enough when I was growing up to have several adults in my life who were "teachers" in the best sense of the word--Mr Fry was one of them. He was the youth director at the Canton Players Guild, which became my home away from home for many years. It wasn't so much that I loved theater as much as I simply loved being there. It was a collection of odd, interesting, and eccentric people--kids and adults. It was one of few places in my life were I felt that I "belonged." Some of those Players Guild weirdos had profound influences on me and who I've become.

Bill Fry was a weird kind of leader or teacher to this group. He was a teacher--as in instructor--in the traditional sense, but he also had a subtle way of giving you lots of freedom and opportunity, having very high expectations and standards, and was great at bringing people together.

I saw him a handful of times as an adult and he was always happy to see me and learn what I was doing with my life. Even though its been a long time since I saw him, I will miss him.

The other news, about a different Bill, concerns a kid I went to high school with. Seems this Bill, Bill Perry, is accused of decapitating his neighbor after some kind of bizarre argument/act of vandalism involving a broken electric meter. It seems Bill has had a quite unusual path since high school. Quoting from the Canton Repository:

The 41-year-old, twice-divorced Perry is an ex-Marine turned hairdresser, who'd spent more than four years in a Florida prison and been arrested at least five times before.

And I thought I'd lived an interesting life since high school. And I mean, who cares about an electric meter? Is that even something that qualifies as a "big deal"?

I have to admit, this is not the first person I've known who has been accused of murder. However, this is my first decapitation, so I guess there is a little bit of "pride" there, for lack of a better term.

Buy this book or I'll shoot this house

About a year ago I was out to lunch with my friend, Chuck, when he asked if I'd read the manuscript for our mutual friend David's new book.

"It's the best thing he's ever written, hands down," I said.

"I was about to say the same thing myself," he replied.

This is noteworthy for two reasons, (a) Chuck and I rarely agree on anything, and (b) for David, who writes for a living, to hit that mark, he had to really be onto something.

He was...and is.

About 8 years ago, shortly after I met David, he gave me a few chapters of a book that he'd started writing about his house, a six-bedroom mansion in Akron, Ohio that he and his wife saved from the wrecking ball and have been rehabbing over the past 12 plus years. He'd been working on chapters on and off for awhile, but had set it aside to work on other projects. He wasn't particularly convinced that anyone would find it interesting.

To know David is to know his house. Basically because hanging out with him often means hanging out at his house, hearing plans and stories of his work on the place, watching it change and morph over time, or sitting around drinking beer while he worked (I have been particularly talented at this last idea).

After several years of prodding from everyone who knew him, he dusted off those chapters and set to work. This week, the rest of the world can enjoy it now, too.

And the world seems to find it interesting, with lots of people gravitating towards it. It is very exciting. For years I've told friends about David, his house, and all the crazy shit he's been through saving it from extinction. Now, instead, I can just hand them a copy of the book and save myself the effort.

Here is some more info on the book and here is a link to buy the damn thing.

And here is a video from the CBS Early Show, which includes lots of before and after footage of the house:

Powerful

  nap time 
  Originally uploaded by ericandkatherine.

I haven't written much lately, here or anywhere, because I've been sick. I thought it was allergies, then I thought it was a cold, then I thought it was pneumonia, then I thought I was going to die.

It turns out I had a whopper case of bronchitis. Much to the chagrin of many, I'm sure, I will survive.

I was at home Monday coughing out little chucklets of my lungs and Katherine was home too (feeling a little under the weather herself). We were all set up for our sick day, then the power went out.

Then it came back on. And went off. And came on. And went off again.

I stopped counting after the fourth time. I stopped resetting all the clocks and counters a few after that.

The power was out all through our neighborhood because of some terrible storms over the weekend bringing high winds and inches and inches of rain. I optimistically called the electric company, where a recording told us to hang tight until 7pm.

So we sat there: no telephone, no TV, no computers, no...anything we like to do. So we had to entertain each other. (Not in that way, perv-o, we were sick). We talked and napped and read and made each other laugh. The animals piled onto the couch as well and we all just hung out.

I was actually a bit disappointed when the power came back on. We'd just busted out the candles, convinced the power company would never hit their deadline.

The next morning Katherine and I both admitted that we'd had a really good time. No distractions, no interruptions. All we had was each other. When you are in a marriage or long-term relationship, you occasionally wonder, in the back of your mind, if this person actually likes you--or if they are just used to you. Every once in awhile it's nice to have some fresh evidence that you are there on purpose.

I joked that we should turn the power off for a period of time every weekend. Actually, I wasn't joking at all.

My 12-year-old nephew's band

  eric and dylan 
  Originally uploaded by ericandkatherine.

Actually, my nephew is 11, but his birthday is only a few weeks away, which means he will INSIST that he is 12.

So, anyhow, the rock band.

Dylan has been interested in the drums since he was an infant. He would also want to play the drums when his father's bands would practice. His Mom just sent around a note that they'd been picked to play at an event in Boulder (where they live) and it includes a link to a song they recorded. Here is a link to their song.

It doesn't matter how many times I listen to it, when the singer kicks in, I smile.

The rogue chaplain

The Preacher
Originally uploaded by _xtian.

Time doesn't exist in hospitals. You sit there for hours and only five minutes have past. Then you blink your eyes and half a day is gone.

With this weird sense of momentum, almost any excitement is quickly swept up and become BIG excitement. This was the case with the rogue chaplain.

My poor mother has been stuck in the hosptial for almost two weeks (she's getting better, thank you). While she is laying in bed trying to get her mind off her pain last Saturday, this ancient man walks in and introduces himself as the hospital chaplain. Now, this was a different dude than the one that had introduced himself as the chaplain the day before, but Mom felt like she might be dealing with the weekend 2nd string.

So, anyhow, the chaplain sits down with my mother, and pretty quickly gets down to business.

"Have you been saved?" he asked.

"Pardon me?" she replied.

"Have you been washed clean with the blood of the lamb?" he responds.

Then the chaplain flips into full brimstone mode on my mom...who is laying in a hosptial bed...her mind on many things other than lamb's blood.

But the chaplain doesn't let up. Telling my mother that she needs to be saved.

So a few days later she tells this story to the original weekday chaplain, who tells my mother that this guy has been sneaking into the hospital, unsanctioned, trying to save souls--for years.

"We've just never been able to catch him," the actual chaplain told my mom. Mom, being on some very serious meds, couldn't remember the guy's name.

"They've got a rogue chaplain here!" I exclaimed as Mom recounted the story to me.

So skip to the following Saturday. Mom's still in the hospital. I'm visiting her. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom when I see this old guy milling around in the hallway. I think nothing of it. Hospitals are filled with old people loitering around. I was washing my hands a few minutes later when I realized he was wearing a red-lined chaplain's name tag.

"That's the rogue chaplain!" I said out loud to the empty bathroom--and ran down the hall to Mom's room.

Sure enough, there he was--sitting at the foot of my Mom's bed, looking something up in his King James Bible.

Mom and I started to chat him up and ask him questions. Turns out he was just an old missionary who had been coming on Saturdays for years. He was brought on by a previous chaplain and had just never gotten around to introducing himself to any of the predecessors. He was just doing his thing. Sure, it was a little heavy-handed, but he actually thought he was doing some good.

I have to admit--I kinda wish we'd never ran into him the second time. Like most things in life, the reality of the situation is not nearly as exciting or entertaining as the mystery.

Notes from the road, Ohio edition

I flew in and out of Ohio in about 20 hours to attend a live taping of a radio show in the lovely little town of Athens. Three things:

1) Since today is Ohio's primary, there were a lot of candidate road signs. In between the hundreds of Obama and Hillary signs, I'd occasionally notice "Pancake for Commissioner" signs. Being an enthusiastic supporter of pancakes, I thought to myself that I'd vote for just about anyone named Pancake.

Turns out that might not be a good idea, as this particular candidate Pancake has garnered a national reputation as "one of the most ridiculous candidates ever" as mentioned in an article in the Athens Messenger.

2) The guys I was visiting weren't from Athens proper, but from West Virginia. Backstage after the show, one of the fellas walks in with a mason jar hanging out of his pocket containing authentic West Virginia moonshine. Being good country boys, he twists off the lid and passes it around. Now, if you are doing business with West Virginia boys, you don't turn down a hit of 'shine. So I drank some.

Good lord.

After I was able to start breathing again, I asked the guy if he brewed it himself.

"Nope," he replied.

One of his friends looked at me and shook his head, as if you say 'you really don't want to know where it comes from.'

3) I really don't like hippies very much. Since leaving Ohio several years ago, they've kinda been off my radar. However, being back in an Ohio college town, I re-realized how annoying they are.

Cue ball

  Bald Headed Lena 
  Originally uploaded by Saffanna.

My friend Carrie, known to readers as my friend who really likes The Killers song "Read My Mind," gets her hair cut once a year. For a girl, this is not unusual.

It's haircut time, and Carrie made the mistake of talking big about her taste for adventure. Of course, she never expected anyone to take her seriously.

So my friend Joe sent out the following email:

It's time for Carrie's annual haircut, and she claims she'll shave her head for $500 - who's willing to pitch in for this entertainment, and how much?

Joe has already raised $230...within six minutes of sending the email. Clearing the rest shouldn't be a problem.

Me thinks Carrie should buy a nice hat to cover her soon-to-be-shiny head.

UPDATE: In the 50 minutes since the email was first sent, we are now up to $420.

UPDATE UPDATE: In less than 70 minutes, the entire $500 was pledged. It's nice to know that Jerry's Kids continue to die from horrible diseases, but my friends can come up with $500 on a whim to call someone's bluff.

During the course of the 58 emails exchanged on the subject today (I'm not kidding), Joe offered to shave his own head for $1,000. I offered to shave all my body hair, pin Joe down, shave his head, then glue my shaved body hair to his newly-bald head--all for $1500. For an extra $100, I offered to eat a live mouse. Carrie balked at the cash and the incident was over.

Rejuvenique me

Each Christmas my friends here in DC exchange regular gifts...as well as disappointment gifts. It's kind of a mixture of a white elephant exchange along with, well, most of the gifts you receive during the holidays. The only difference between our exchange and what Aunt Bertha buys you is that our gifts to each other are supposed to be terrible, offensive, and completely purposeless and unuseable: A coffee mug with anonymous child's picture on it, a $4 "touch screen organizer," massive tins of popcorn, clothes that don't fit, sample packs of KY jelly...you name it. Exchanging disappointment gifts is the highlight of our Christmas celebration.

This year, Katherine contributed the most awesome disappointment gift ever. It was stolen several times during the gift exchange. It is a beauty product called Rejuvenique--the electric facial mask. Katherine was originally drawn to it because of the Linda Evans endorsement (wtf?) and deep discounted price ($9.99--but originally $160!!) Here is how Rejuvenique bills itself:

Rejuvenique is the patented beauty system designed to help improve the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles. An initial use period of 90 days is recommended for Rejuvenique, followed by regular weekly maintenance sessions. The Rejuvenique mask features 24k gold plated sensors, which circulate sensations over the face. The Rejuvenique system is based on an interpretation of the theories of accupressure.

Includes rejuvenique mask with: 

• 26 gold plated contact points
• adjustable - washable velcro headband
• control hand set
• cable connector
• 9 volt battery
• owners manual
• Rejuvenique VHS video instructions
• and a tube of contact toning gel

Awesome.

So, several of us tried it out. It was absolute torture. Pain, then more pain. Instead of trying it myself, I ran the video camera--here is what happened (give it a minute--it's worth the wait):

I also found a YouTube video of the original Rejuvenique infommercial if you are interested in inflicting hurt on your own friends.