I didn't think I was addicted to coffee until I realized I was addicted to coffee

I may be taking the word "addiction" too lightly here, in which case I apologize to those suffering or recovering from addictions to truly harmful substances.

It's just that I've only recently come to recognize how much I rely on my morning cup of coffee (not to mention my mid-morning, late-morning and early-afternoon cups of coffee...and sometimes, when it's that kind of day, my mid-afternoon cup of coffee).

If "addiction" isn't the right word, I would say "dependence" is.

When I walk into the office each day, the first thing I do is ensure that my early-arriving co-worker Dave has made a pot of coffee. If he hasn't, I drop everything and get the coffee maker going.

When we go on vacation, the detail in which I take keenest interest is how – and how often – we can get coffee.

My last few jobs, while I didn't ask about it during the interview process, I was always quick to check with a new co-worker on the office coffee situation.

I can get through a day without coffee, but it's not very fun. All day there's a gnawing craving for just one cup of the sweet brown bean liquid. Just one.

I wonder whether it's the coffee I crave or the caffeine that powers it. On days I don't meet my normal coffee quota, I don't feel especially tired. I just get antsy, to the point that I wonder whether caffeine is more of a relaxant for me than a stimulant.

In any event, I don't like being this reliant on any substance. Until I turned 40 years old, I could take or leave coffee. After that point, it was like a switch flipped and it became an indispensable part of my daily diet.

This all worries me so much you won't be surprised to hear I'm headed to the kitchen for a cup of joe. You know, just to calm myself down.

Around the fire pit

 

My sister-in-law Chris managed to take this photo in the dark with a flash on an iPhone camera. I really like the look of it. That's me on the far right talking to my son Jack.

I don't have the numbers to back this up, but it seems to me the popularity of the fire pit as a suburban backyard accessory has risen exponentially in the last, say, 15 to 20 years.

People sometimes build them right into their patios or, as in our case, just dig a hole and ring it with bricks. Either way, it becomes the focal point of almost any warm-weather gathering.

Terry and my niece Shelby built our pit, and while at first I complained about it as yet another thing in the yard I have to mow around, I must admit it has been a welcome addition.

We probably have something like 10 or 12 fires each spring and summer. Maybe it's more, maybe it's less, I don't know. I don't keep an exact count.

But I know that whenever there's a fire and our kids and significant others are available to join us, it's a guaranteed good time.

We sit and talk, most of us with our beverage of choice in hand. And that's all there is to it. You just relax.

I can get a fire started, but not as well as Terry, who is a superior fire starter AND fire feeder. Elissa's boyfriend Mark was an Eagle scout, and while he claims he was terrible at fires during his scouting days, he builds what can only be deemed a top-notch fire, at least by our standards.

My brother-in-law Dave built what is probably the biggest fire ever in our pit simply by piling on more logs.

We still have a sizeable wood pile, thanks to the elimination of 14 or so trees from our backyard a few summers ago. There are still many fires to go before we have to restock it.

I'm not always a "simple pleasures" kind of guy, but the fire pit has made me one in at least one regard.

Though, seriously, I hate having my straight-line momentum interrupted by obstacles when I'm cutting the grass.

This will be fun if you're interested in 14-year-old, real-time blog posts about my appearance on "The Price Is Right"

 

One of the first blogs I ever had was an intentionally short-lived one about my successful attempt to attend a taping of The Price Is Right and be selected as a contestant. I started it in December 2006 and made the last post the following April.

I deleted that blog (which was called something like "My Price Is Right Grand Adventure") years ago but kept a back-up of the content on our home computer.

Recently I came across that file and figured out how to restore the posts. So now, in case you're at all interested, you can see those posts from a decade-and-a-half ago.

If you're accessing this blog on a desktop computer, just look on the right side of your screen where it says "Blog Archive." If you click the arrows to the left of "2006" and "2007," there will be links to all of the posts.

If you're reading on your phone, it's a little trickier but still pretty easy. Scroll to the bottom of the screen and you should see, under the "Home" button, a link that says "View web version." Just click on that and you'll get the desktop view, though it may be a little hard to read (enlarge as needed).

A few things to note about these ancient posts:

• Many of them originally included photos, but those photos no longer exist on the Blogger.com servers, so they won't load. You'll see placeholders for these images but, with one exception, not the pictures themselves. The posts are text-only.
  
  
• To me the really fun and interesting thing is to read the comments under each post, particularly on the actual day of the taping (January 9, 2007). You will see several comments from my sister Judi and my mother-in-law Judy, both of whom sadly have since passed away. It's wonderful to read their words.
  
  
• There are also comments from my daughter Elissa in which she refers to Terry and me as "Mommy" and "Daddy." She is now 27. This seems forever ago.
  
  
• If you are bored and read through all of the posts, you will find there was a level of uncertainty as to whether my brother-in-law Dave and I would even get into the studio, let alone have one of us picked as a contestant. It would have been a shame to go all the way out to L.A. and not even get into the taping. But spoiler alert...we did.

This was such a great find that I had to post about it, even though you could argue that I talk about my game show appearances entirely too much.

That's "appearances," plural. Because I've been on two game shows. Did I mention that? I did?

Sorry, it won't come up again (at least not in the next two weeks, I promise).

Do you like your first name? I'm always surprised by the number of people who don't.

I have always liked that I'm named Scott. It's a good, solid guy's name, as far as I'm concerned. Not too popular (it was a top 20 name in the 1970s, but never ranked high on the list before or since) and not too, shall we say, exotic.

My middle name is Patrick, which I also like. I wouldn't mind it as a first name, though I would insist people call me "Patrick" and not "Pat." Big difference.

It's interesting to me the number of people who don't like their first names or who, at best, are apathetic about it. When I learn that about someone, I always ask what they would change their name to if they could, and in most cases they have a very quick answer, like they've given this a lot of thought.

Legally speaking, of course, there's little standing in the way of them changing their names to something they like better, but the hassle usually far outweighs any benefit from being able to sign a check as "Ace X. Studburger," or whatever.

I've posted on this blog the list of names I wouldn't mind having, if for any reason I was forced to change my name. If you don't feel like clicking on that link (and really, who could blame you?), my five approved alternative names are Bruce, Tim, Dave, Hank, and Kai.

"Hank" and "Kai" are surprise entries, no doubt, but I would be fine with either.

As I also explain in that post from 2013, my dad wanted to name me "D.J.," though it wouldn't have stood for anything. Just "D.J." Mom overruled him, however, and "Scott" it was.

Incidentally, "Patrick" apparently came from a guy with whom my dad used to drink down at the Hob Nob. I don't think I ever met him, but as a rule, the drunks at the Hob Nob were all pretty nice people, so I'm sure he was lovely.

When your resumé is longer than your arm

If you visit my LinkedIn profile (which you're welcome to do if you're desperately bored and lack a viable alternative activity), you will find the "Experience" section there to be rather lengthy.

Part of this stems from the simple fact that I have been in the full-time workforce for nearly 30 years, and one is bound to rack up some experience in that time.

More to the point, though, I've worked for eight different organizations since 1991, and held more than one position within a few of them.

While this is not uncommon in today's economy, I've always been deathly afraid of being labeled a "job hopper," which I most certainly do not consider myself to be.

The sole reason I have had so many different jobs in my career is a very practical one: Since the mid-90s, I've been the sole source of income for my family of seven people. When you are in that role, as much as you want to count "professional growth" as a driver for seeking a new job, your primary motivation is a larger paycheck.

It's as simple as that. Until recently, I've always sought out higher salaries in order to provide for my wife and children. Now, with two of the kids out of the house and two more within a few years of following suit, income is not the catalyst it once was.

Don't get me wrong, I want to save up as much for retirement as I can. But for the first time in my career, I have no need to constantly calculate the next big career move.

Every day I report to work at Vitamix sets a new record for me in terms of time spent with one company. I have happily served as the organization's Director of Communications since May 13, 2013, which means I'm at 7½ years and counting.

If I have my way, I will work there another 15 years or more.

I recognize, however, that it's not entirely up to me. The company has a lofty purpose and corporate mission it seeks to fulfill, and if I'm not constantly contributing fresh ideas toward achieving strategic goals and objectives, I will be shown the door.

This sort of involuntary separation has happened once in my career, and the trauma of it is still fresh. "Trauma" may seem like an overblown word choice, but I don't know how else to describe it. Losing your job unexpectedly is a tough thing for anyone to deal with, and I never, ever want to go through it again.

In any event, I have great admiration for people like my brother-in-law Dave, who has worked for the Swagelok Company here in suburban Cleveland for 31 years. Those who have the skill and tenacity to stick with a single organization that long are to be commended, as far as I'm concerned.

Seriously, if I'm so blessed as to get to 10 years with Vitamix, I think it will be cause for a national celebration. Check with me in the spring of 2023. If I'm still there, it will be green smoothies for everyone!

Five first names I wouldn't mind having

I like my first name. Always have. But if I had to change it, here are five alternatives I wouldn't mind:

(1) BRUCE: Seems like a solid, manly name. Maybe because it reminds me of Brut aftershave, a bottle of which could often be found in our house when I was growing up in the 70s. The bottle was green plastic, which probably spoke to the quality of the product inside, but I thought it smelled nice. And some bottles of Brut came with a cool silver medallion. I would wear the Brut medallion today if given the chance.

(2) TIM: Tims are good people. You don't run across a lot of annoying Tims. And if you do, they're most likely a "Timothy." Big difference. (NOTE: In no way am I implying that guys named "Timothy" are necessarily annoying. Just some of them. If you're named Timothy and you're reading this blog, you're probably not annoying.)

(3) DAVE: The Tim Rule applies here, too. I have good associations with the name Dave. Like Dave Matthews, for instance. Seems like a good guy. Someone you'd want to hang out with. Or my brother-in-law Dave. He's a good guy. Or former Cleveland Indians manager Dave Garcia, who according to Wikipedia is 92 years old and still going strong. Apparently Daves live a long time, which is a plus.

(4) HANK: A dark horse candidate. I used to associate Hanks with people missing most of their teeth. But then the TV show "Royal Pains" came along, and now I think Hank is kind of hip. Still, it's hard to separate "Hank" from Hank Williams, and it remains my go-to generic hick name. But it's still an up-and-comer. (By the way, have you noticed so far that all of these are short, one-syllable names? So is "Scott." I'm just lazy enough to want a first name that doesn't require a great deal of effort when writing it out. Let's see if #5 bucks the trend...)

(5) KAI: Not only did we stick with the one-syllable pattern, we actually went back to the three-letter first name. "Kai" is a cool name. It's actually a relatively common name in several different cultures, most notably in Finland. I associate "Kai" with Kai Haaskivi, a Finn who played professional indoor soccer here in Cleveland back in the 80s and early 90s. "Kai" also means "probably" in Finnish, which is fitting because I would "probably" be the coolest person on the planet if my name was Kai.

HONORABLE MENTION - D.J.: My dad wanted to name me D.J. As he explained it, it wouldn't have stood for anything. Just the letters "D" and "J." I think I would have liked that, but he was overruled by my mom. And as we've mentioned before, the pregnant woman always gets veto power over name suggestions. It's OK, Mom. I really do like Scott...

Ten random thoughts on a Wednesday

(1) A while back, I made mention of my fascination with the Duggar family of "19 Kids and Counting" fame. Or is it 20? I don't know. Anyway, the point is, there's a new kid on the huge family TV block: The Bates. Their show, which is on TLC just like the Duggars, is called "The Bates Family: Baby Makes 19." I caught part of an episode recently and actually liked it (and them). But do they meet the basic criteria for reality TV families with lots of kids? Well, let's see: Are they white? Check. Do they live in the South? Check. Are they very religious? Check. Do they give their kids names that all begin with the same letter? BUZZ! Ohhhhh no, I'm sorry. Your family is very Duggar-like, but Jim Bob and Michelle still reign over this particular corner of the TV universe.

(2) On the subject of lunch meat: Am I the only person in the universe who likes Dutch loaf? It seems like I am. And if I am, why do they still make it? I appreciate the effort, but we hardly ever buy it, so really fellas, maybe you should concentrate on some other processed, food-like item. I'm not worth the effort.

(3) I would give almost anything right now to see an episode of the old "Hollywood Squares." I'm talking 70s-era "Hollywood Squares" hosted by Peter Marshall with Paul Lynde in the center square. That was good TV.

(4) I can't believe our telephones used to have cords. Remember that? You would answer the phone in the kitchen and you actually had to carry on your conversation in the kitchen because the cord would only go so far. If you had one of those fancy extended cords, you might be able to make it into the living room, but that was about it. Cordless phones are one of the most underrated inventions of the last half century.

(5) This is true: When I was little – like 5 or 6 years old – I learned all of the U.S. presidents in order. We had the 1964 edition of the World Book Encyclopedia, and I read the article on "Presidents" so many times that the pages eventually became ripped and dog-eared. My dad thought this was hilarious and would have me recite the presidents to anyone who cared to listen. What a freak I was. Anyway, I must have displayed this talent in school at some point, because one time Mrs. Potts put up a timeline of presidents on her classroom wall, and she invited me to come in and look at it. She wasn't even my teacher. I had no idea what my reaction was supposed to be. So I stared at it for awhile, said something to the effect that I liked it, then returned to my own 2nd-grade class. What exactly were they expecting from me? This is still baffling.

(6) I've been going around telling people that my 13-year-old son Jared is 6 feet tall. It turns out I'm a liar. Jared recently contracted strep throat and had to see the doctor, and they officially measured him at 5 feet, 11 3/4 inches. This makes me feel infinitely better about my 5-foot, 9 3/4-inch self.

(7) Speaking of my strange body, I know I've whined to you before about my freakishly small hands, but now it's getting out of control. My 11-year-old daughter Melanie's fingers are longer than mine. I'm a 42-year-old man, for Pete's sake. What is wrong with me?

(8) Rush is one of those bands I'm supposed to like, as a rock/pop music fan, but I just don't. I feel bad about this, but there's nothing I can do about it.

(9) About a month ago, I came out of my office and was walking to my car when I was approached by a young man in a wheelchair. He asked me for some spare change. I told him I didn't have any, which was 100% true. I usually don't carry cash (though I should). He said that's OK and shook my hand. But instead of releasing my hand, he then put it up to his lips and kissed it. Really. I'm generally not a germaphobe, but believe me when I tell you that I advanced directly to the nearest bottle of Purell with all due haste.

(10) I have never – really, never – met a girl named Vicky whom I didn't like. Same thing with guys named Dave.