Pacific Northwest Makes Forbes No. 1

Seattle took the No. 1 spot on Forbes Most Overpriced Places to Live this year, with Portland, OR making a podium finish as well in the No. 3 spot.
NYC was No. 2, but ridiculously overpaying to be a part of society in the world's mecca can be expected, seeing that it's the epicenter of the universe and is where decisions are made that trickle down to the rest of the country. But Seattle and Portland?
Beauty only gets you so far, but in this case it took the Pacific NW all the way to the top, as these cities don't hold nearly the same influence as any of our country's major hubs. Alluring people with pristine forests and green, well, everything, these towns have make quite a mark on America with their lushness and charm.
It was only yesterday that I mentioned to Heather that Seattle would be a fantastic place to visit for a few days in the summer months; 70 degree highs for walking all day, the sun might actually be out, and the city has culture worth enduring, and everything is shiny and green. But the niceness comes at the price of low-gray clouds and colder weather the other 10 months, precipitating most days during the other three seasons.
So, if you would like to visit either of these overpriced places to vacation or live, be sure to do it from mid-July to early September.

Testing Picture Capabilities

What better a picture to post as my first blogging image. Sean Hannity and I chummed it up for a few minutes after the Freedom Festival I spoke about in an earlier post. "He's" A Great American, and I had fun just hanging out with such an influential guy after sneaking into the celebrety after-party, naturally.

...AND They'll Pay You

While I was on the CNNMoney website pulling up the link for The Best Places to Live in 2005 and I stumbled across this article on their mainpage: Six Figure Job: Stunt Driver, and I asked myself if I've totally missed the boat on a career you dream about as a kid.
Now don't get me wrong, consulting and real estate development for the world's largest company has its perks and has well-established and prepared me to be a big-business success, and I'm greatful and don't regret for a moment my career path or opportunities taken to date, but just about every one of us had to have asked the question at some point, "Would I enjoy my life more doing something else?" Life is short.

I know my brother has. Chris just stepped out of a cush, yet over-demanding, asset management job after asking himself that same question. My brothers and I have grown up as thrill-seeking adrenaline junkies, yet unlike some of our friends, we were instilled with a trait that allowed us the ability to (almost (learning from your mistakes is another good trait to have)) always be able to make more calculated risks, even under severe pressure, helping us to achieve a higher level success rate, i.e. making us such good drivers (allow me to blow my own horn here for a moment; I don't do much well).
Having a racing background with my father, we were taught to drive and learned car control/balance and racing dynamics from a very early age, and had my family owned a small country, my brothers and I would have had more opportunity to excersie our skills in ametuer racing growing up, and al-las would have had more of a level playing field towards making a career out of it today.

Chris released himself of the 8-7 (I can't even use 9-5 as an accurate example of desk-job hours worked any more unless I'm referencing government employees) duties and headed to the track. Investing most of his time, and money, into his passion, Chris is giving himself seat-time behind the wheel in just about every avenue of racing possible, and until the money runs out he'll continue to do so in hopes of finding a niche in the industry where he can begin to pay bills.

He's not on a Formula 1 driver's seat or bust mission, but he's trying to weave himself into the fabric of the industry everywhere he can in an attempt to find that first gap to fill, and he'll go from there. This type of venture is a risk, but again, it's a calculated one, driven by passion, so even a failed attempt is one worthy of taking just for the experience alone. There's no tear-jerking happy-ending to Chris's story at this point, but I pray their will be and it's early yet; I'll keep you posted. Even today he and the Goof have been racing at Watkins Glen in NY, acquiring more seat-time and building on their knowledge-base.

I know we've all wanted to chase the dream, but I really can't think of too many people that have taken the 'plunge' if you will. Excuses are FedExed early-morning arrival by the dozen, and the twinkle in your eye gets filled with children, student loans, mortgage payments, etc., which are all valid, but excuses just the same.
At what point in our lives do we make the decision, or get side-tracked in our lives that we're all of a sudden not able to do what would make us most happy. Now again I understand compromise, I'm married (otherwise I'd be flying Apaches in Afghanistan right now instead of blogging to all of you), and other inhibitors keeping us at bay from our utopic ideals of satisfaction, but all of these were choices we've made ourselves.

Much like you, I've asked myself "What is happy" and have answered in similar fashion that I am happy, dam happy. Happy to be alive, happy as hell to have my wife and my family, my friends, my job, my toys, etc., so again don't get me wrong, I'm one happy SOB. Perhaps thats why we don't go out on a ledge like my brother and risk disrupting what at times can seem like a significant, yet conceivably fragile, happiness (not to say Chris wasn't happy, he's just more willing than most to take the road less travelled).
Why would you rock the boat when everything is 'working' so well? The logical man says no, and goes on living, and it's usually a wise choice because in most cases he can't stomach/afford the rejection, won't risk losing what he currently has, and is ill-prepared to compete with the seasoned dream-career doers.

The question is focused on what gets us there, and the sad truth is that most of us spend exorbanent amounts of time at work than with all these things that bring us joy. Life is short.

What a crazy notion, to love what you do and make it work in your life not run your life. Reading the article , I haven't decided just what plunge I'd like to make, well maybe I have, but I know at the end of the day I want to live life, not work for it. That's not to say that I don't want to work, because I have every intention of busting my hump becoming a success in whatever I do, I just want to make sure I'm factoring life into the the present equation as well as the future one, because the present becomes the past every second and you don't get it back; I hope every moment is a moment I won't regret at the end of the day. Life is short

Another Day in Paradise

For those of you who don't know, Heather and I finally took the hippie highway up to Bainbridge Island (WA), shortening our brisk 70 mile commute to a mere 3 miles of darkness. The 'darkness' is meant on so many levels. Although Bainbridge was ranked the No. 2 Best Place to Live in 2005 by CNN/Money (A NJ town was ranked No. 1, no surprise, ok maybe a little), this darkness I speak of can be found in many that live on the island, the weather, or the island itself.

Whether your a rich pretentious bastard or a dirty angry hippie (there are two kinds of hippies, those that love the world and people, and those that hate what the people have done with 'their' world and resent the people for it; I would be speaking about the latter) , or worse yet a rich dirty pretentious angry hippie bastard, you're right at home on Bainbridge. The island's people have a darkness about them that resonates as they walk by you with their $200 Marmot sandals, $4 good-will jeans, tie-dye-esk hippie shirt complete with Buck Fush button and list of ignorant comments in hand, driving a Volvo or Subaru with the obvious bumpersticker, that hasn't been washed since it left the showroom; miserable-in-denialitis as it's commonly referred to.

The weather makes Seattle look like the Sahara, the island being on the same side of the Sound as the continents only rain forest due west of here. Low-gray clouds occupy most days, and the fact that I can't sleep with my windows open or go for a run in the morning because it's too cold (low 50's this morning) takes the wind out of your sails early.

As for the island itself, in its quaint majesty it's like camping for rich people year round. It's so heavily wooded where we live that Heather and I have to peer out the window straight up to the sky to see if it's a nice day or not, because the tree cover is so dense sunlight, or should I say daylight, is non-existent at window level. Don't get me wrong, the atmosphere is beautiful and serene, but not conducive for sunglasses, shorts and short-sleeves. Don't worry people still where their sandals here in the cold weather, all year, just with white athletic socks...don't get me started. It's currently 11:15am and I'm wearing jeans, a long-sleeve t-shirt, and a fleece vest with sneakers; the nice thing is that I'm appropriately dressed at the office.

Again, go to The Best Places to Live in 2005 to see where you rank. Notables include 2 NJ towns in the top 10, Moorestown (no. 1) and Chatham (no. 9) (next door to where I grew up in Randolph and where Heather lived for a year, and where a lot of my family has always lived), as well as Louisville, CO (no. 5), where Heather and I lived while in college at Boulder. That puts Heather in 3 of the top-10 towns in her short independent existance; can she pick em' or what. Peachtree City, GA (no. 8) is where my uncle Kevin resides, with golfcarts being the predominant source of transportation for residents. Randolph, NJ, my hometown, was a 'contender' in the rankings, putting it in the top-250.

What a Week: The Way Birthday's Were Meant to be Celebrated

I can't even begin to tell you how exuberating/exhausting my week back in NJ over the fourth of July was, but I'll do my best to quickly recap, well recap anyway.

Day one. Heather and I were greeted by an east-coast-classic as we stepped off the plane Saturday morning, Dunkin Donuts, hand delivered to the terminal by mom and my sister Carissa. Indulging in coffee far better than any $4.00 latte and a doughnut that no granola-head could turn down, this was the power-breakfast symbolizing just how fantastic my trip would be.
We rushed home where preparations were already underway for the Heritage Olympics, a neighborhood spectacle involving a collaboration of strengths: mental, physical, and liver. The all day event naturally rolled into the late evening and Trey wins the award for...Lets not even go there, lets just say that he had a nice permanent-marker drawing of a window and some other features sketched on him, next to Kelly (but not like that you sicko's; he's married). I hosed off Kelly Snell's dinner (pizza of course) from the driveway to end the night.

My birthday was celebrated with cake, candles, and singing under fireworks; ONE.

Time for rest? I didn't think so. The next morning we awoke early to enjoy Taylor Ham, egg and cheese sandwiches on a hard roll (obviously) and the orange juice never tasted so good. A slew of "Olympic athletes" found themselves on one of 7 couches in the house, and a reconvening on the deck over breakfast found Cara (the neighborhood "bully") back in the saddle with Bud Light, a handle of Baileys, and a few small children (can't guarantee the attendance of the children however); what a trooper.

Off we went soon after to what was supposed to be a relaxing one-night excursion down the shore (that's a trip to the NJ beach/ocean for all you out-of-staters). Hot, but not hung-over, we spend the next 2 hours in the beautiful sunshine admiring shoulder-riders and cell-phone towers as we crawled along the Garden State Parkway, wondering how much further ahead we'd have been had we abandoned the car and skipped down the highway. Needless to see we aborted our trip after gaining 25 miles in two hours. The Shore would have to wait.

We returned to Randolph and spent much or our remaining day poolside at Lupo's (where my brother Danny had resuscitated a 5 year old drowning victim back from dead weeks earlier after hearing the call go out on his radio from across the street) with the familiar crowd and beverages, finishing at Jay's lakefront with Trey's successful attempt to out-do most professional fireworks' displays. We flipped 'cup' late into the night. I believe it was this night that was capped off with 'bully-induced' dip in the Herold hot-tub (almost a Lupo dip, but the bully and her counterpart "Blue" were talked down).

My birthday was celebrated with cake, candles, and singing under fireworks; TWO.

Day three saw running errands, seeing people, Barry's ball-throwing contests at the pool, looking at a home where Danny saved a fellow firefighter from falling through the second floor earlier that day at the 4am hour (all the usual), followed by another trip across the street to Club Lupo poolside. Club Lupo again turned into tournment flipping at Arthur TrexDeck Bar. Spotlight Campo women Nina and Cara for their valiant participation on work nights, and for shaking off injury and staying in the game well beyond curfew.

Tuesday glimpsed at reality a bit (I was beginning to wonder) with a Babyak meeting of the financial minds, and a portion of that day was spent prepping for our tenative Adirondack mountains trip, which included a hit-and-run accident on Goof's brand new truck and the most shady Marina business, even by NJ standards, in Jefferson. Chris, Goof, and I ended up hoisting a wave-runner into the truck-bed at 11pm under moonlight, and a 4am planned departure time. But wait! What's this? The 8 of us have to pile into Goof's new truck and go to the bars in Morristown? The question seemingly always got asked not 'why', but 'why not', so off we went until closing time and I held my own armwrestling a large Defensive End home from school. People were dumbfounded.

Goof arose after repeated calls at the crack of 9am, right on time, and we were off and running by 11. Lake George brought overcast and sun, warm water, cheap dining with 'townies', bunk house sleeping, Emily, Turtle Rock, water skiing and wave runner problems. Words can't describe the tranquilly all these things bring over someone and it's as time-honored a tradition for me as you could ever imagine. One night was all we had in us so back we ventured Thursday night.

In case you've been keeping track, sleep hasn't made the top-ten list of things to accomplish while on vacation, so tired was an understatement, but an un-received one. At this point waking up at daybreak seemed common and comfortable, much like any boot-camp, and so Friday morning arose untested and mounted our trip to Great Adventure (Six Flags for the out-of-staters) for the Freedom Festival (with a stop at Alfa Bagel of course), a day-long raising of support for the families of fallen soldiers, raising money for those soldiers' children to attend college free of charge. The likes of Sean Hannity, Col. Oliver North, Leanne Rimes, etc. built support for the event. Sean hosted his radio show live from the park, Oli signed books with other celebs, and Leanne and others threw a fantastic show to cap the night.

Did I mention it rained? It poured. Which was all the better for someone like me whose now 25 going on 15, because ride-lines were non-existent and only the die-hards weathered the storm. Coasters were ridden 10-times without de-boarding and people pointed and stared as Chris, Jeffrey and I rode the Log Flume water rides, finally making our feet as wet as the rest of us. Sneaking into the after-party and being protected by security with the rest of the untouchables only helped establish that Friday as a day not soon to be forgotten.

It couldn't get any better, but it did.

Just another crack of dawn day on Saturday, only this time it was to travel back to the south side of Jersey to the racetrack for an SCCA racing event, and my first experience with this caliber of autocross racing. This was the real deal with scoring, sponsorship, and season-long national titles on the line, and Chris and Greg have been devoting months of time and money (and part of Goof's face) towards being competitive.
I loved the adrenaline but hated the guilt of spending my second-to-last day on the track instead of at home with everyone. Sae-la-vee, I was excited. I took 2nd Place in-class and Chris and Greg took 3rd and 4th respectively in their faster-cars class. It was a great day of racing for the boys from Randolph, NJ and we won't soon be off peoples' radar and forums. How'd they do that will be wondered for quite some time, but really it's an easy answer: Dad, Integras, Hockinheim.

Rain cut the day short, and it was one of God's finest hours, as the boys had no intention of leaving early. We Jumped back on the Parkway and I pulled up to the house for the surprise of my life.

Being completely oblivious to the astronomical amount of cars halfway down Edgewood Terrace, chalking it up to yet another party in the neighborhood, as that's what this neighborhood does better that anything else, I calmly pulled past the cars and up the driveway. What I saw next was stunning. All tucked away behind the house were over 100 constituents well into a surprise birthday party; my surprise birthday party!

I was completely overwhelmed and it didn't even click that all these people were here for me right away. Friends up from Kentucky, families I hadn't seen in years, cousins with totally new dispositions in life since the last time I saw them, all there to surprise me on my 25th. I can't say I didn't stand in awe fighting back tears for a moment in the driveway with everyone yelling surprise, but I didn't really now how else to react to such an onslaught of love and kindness. I made my way towards the already-well-served mob and began the hugging and hellos. After an hour I still hadn't gotten to everyone. Just the same I hopped in the catered buffet line that the servers had laid out and began indulging. About that time the DJ started his routine and the full bar and two kegs started showing their legs.

Thanks to all of you who were able to make it out, making that day so special. It was an honor to have you celebrate with me and you'll never know how much it was appreciated.

Naturally day grew into night, the party started loosening up both in numbers and neckties, and dancing took center-stage, while others flipped cup, played pool, chatted, streaked, got drawn on, Beirut (pong), etc, etc, etc. 4am shut this party down and couch-space was maximized.

My birthday was celebrated with cake, candles, and singing under fireworks; THREE.

Hoping that Sunday, the day of my departure, would never come, the early morning (relatively speaking of course at 9 or 10am) saw tired eyes and awkward moments for some, but as we sat down to bagels (as if anything else would suffice) under the umbrella of a beautiful sun, I couldn't help but recollect the serenity of my time in NJ, in Randolph, with family (friends being just that), and it made me happy to have done so much all week.

No trip is over without a football game, so we quickly rounded up the troops and headed to Freedom Park for an Arthur's vs. game against arch-rival competitor Sassaman and co., and as always (both times we've played Arthur's vs.), we were victorious. Spotlight Heather as she continues to keep her reputation as Secret Weapon, this time pulling in some great catches, but especially for running down Barling at full-speed with the full-sprawl dive for the heels that I can assure you no one else on that field would have done (except maybe Jeffrey), saving the touchdown. We finished the afternoon by accomplishing the one task my mother had asked of us boys when I first arrived (and actually well before my arrival, but whose counting), by splitting the last of the wood from our downed tree. Billy and Jeffrey threw their backs out supporting the cause. A quick dip in the, where else, Lupo pool, persued, and it was off to a quick pack and fantastic Italian dish (as if you didn't already know that) before scrambling to the car, scrambling threw the airport, and wondering if our luggage would greet us at Baggage Claim. Would I have it any other way?