Roma...or Imposter!

As you all know, Roma goes to doggie day care a couple times a week.  The past few weeks she's gone to Rover Oaks...  The previous two times I'd heard about Roma's new play buddy, Isabelle (aka Izzy).  I even saw her once and thought, wow she's cute...but I really didn't look too hard.  On Tuesday I had heard they played ALL day nonstop and was informed that Izzy was actually a foster.  They had pegged us as good adoptive parents considering she was Roma's best dog friend.

On Friday, when I was picking her up I thought wow, she looks tired...and she came running over.  But something wasn't right, her tail was straight.  Yup, that was Izzy!  And then Roma was jumping below my feet and I laughed.  They look so alike!  I had heard that the two cry for each other, and only each other, when they get separated.  Surely enough, when I took Roma on her leash and led her outside, Izzy was on the other side...scratching at the door and whining.

For now, we can't adopt another dog.  Kitty is still becoming acclimated with Roma...we don't need to add another dog that looks nearly the same...we'll give kitty a heart attack!  Anyways, here's a quick photo of Izzy that I snapped.

Izzy

Funny thing, I sent it to Deb and even on a quick glance from her, her response was "Roma looks tired."  Yup...we have an imposter!!

"Do you have any grandkids?"

I'm not sure how I didn't blog this funny story a few weeks ago.  It was during my week of "uh ohs."  As you can read in one of my previous posts here.

An excerpt from that post:
I had a third inspection last week and it was another church. I joked to my boss, "wonder what I'm going to do tomorrow (at the inspection)?" His response, "perhaps you should pray..."

So while at the inspection the representative for the church was playing with his grandson.  It was cute, he was having a good time.  I think the kid said something that made me chuckle...

The grandfather looks over and smiles, and asks, "do you have any grandkids?"

I kind of looked perplexed and countered, "you mean kids?"

He boldly responded, "no, grandkids."

I was a little more perplexed and realized he was serious.  I simply said, "no."

Wow, I thought.  First thing I thought of was the events that happened on the city walls while in Dubrovnik, Croatia during our honeymoon.  There was this kid and he was hilarious.  He was eavesdropping to a conversation Deb and I were having with our new friends Bob and Lisa (while drinking and sharing hilarious stories)... "How do you get stung by a dead bee?"  That's an entirely different can of worms, but all of it lead to Bob asking the kid to guess how old I was.

He looked at me....long pause, then said, "late............................40s." 

It was, and is, still a classic line I get ribbed for.  Later in the cruise we saw the kids dad, who yelled over, "hey it's grandpa," pointing at me.

Not sure how twice in the past 10 months I've been called a grandpa...I mean, I'm 28!  I'd have to have had a kid at 14, and my kid would have had to have had a kid at 14.  Well, I guess when I put it that way, it's not impossible, but really, it's quite unlikely!!

Bigfoot! Nope, just "big" clumsy feet! What a week at work...

Last week was an interesting week for me.  It was my second week back post-vacation, and I was finally getting my rhythm back, that is until my first blunder on Wednesday...

Granted, the photo doesn't really show it, I tracked mud into a church I was inspecting.  Not a big deal, I know, but a mess I was on the hook for.  I made the call to the office and all would be taken care of.  I'd heard of stories of damages caused during our inspections...this was minor.  One of my colleagues told me a story about when he stepped through a roof, and another about my boss falling through a roof (and narrowly escaping a 20 foot fall).  They said, "don't worry, if you haven't yet, you'll step through a roof."  My response was simply, "that's okay, I'll pass!"  

I passed...but, less than 24 hours actually passed when it happened.  While up in an attic, I lost my balance momentarily on a loose board, and my right foot went crashing through the ceiling...fell down to my hip.

The damages were relatively minor...not the end of the world.  I knocked through a piece of sheetrock and some insulation came down.  My ego was a little bruised.  I got back on the phone to my secretary and was like "you're not going to believe it..."

A few days later, I couple bruises did in fact show up...on my knee and hip.

I'm going to bank on this being the worst that's going to happen.  I had a third inspection last week and it was another church.  I joked to my boss, "wonder what I'm going to do tomorrow (at the inspection)?"  His response, "perhaps you should pray..."  

What a week at work.  (On a side note, I'm loving my new job.  It's been 6 months already and I couldn't be happier.)

Road trip game, "Yellow Car!!"

This morning, something got me thinking about the car game, "Yellow Car!" I was driving into work and saw a Toyota FJ Cruiser and it hit me...this car was the EXACT same color as a yellow car I once called out during the game. Debbie and I disagreed and it was left off my tally. We'll come back to this...

Upon further thought, I wasn't too sure if there really was a real car game called "Yellow Car!" so I googled it. Turns out there is a website specific for the game and rules! CLICK FOR LINK TO OFFICIAL RULES
Well, this is NOT the game that we play in the car...you punch someone when you see a yellow car...ha! I'm not sure how this would work in a car with Debbie, her sisters, and her dad! I would NOT be very welcome with my in-laws. :-)

Anyways, we don't play it this way, obviously. I first played the game in October 2008 when Debbie and I went out to Colorado for a family visit. Debbie's little sister, Madison, explained the game to me.

• When you see a yellow car, yell "yellow car."
• Taxi's and school buses, for instance don't count.
• You get one point for each yellow car, and you lose one if you are wrong.

That's the simple way. On one day this Christmas while we were in Colorado, we played during our drive out to the tubing hill in the mountains. It got intense! Rules were changed, teams were formed, and it came down to a TIE at the end. There was a disputed call and a subsequent investigation. The investigation, you might ask, well we pulled off the road and drove through the parking lot and found the car. This car is STILL in question. The game later ended at a tie, no joke! That was one of the most fun games we have played to date.

So back to the story behind this blog post, back in January we were driving up to Fort Worth to see Deb's sister, Christine, when the "in question" FJ Cruiser was spotted. It was disputed, like I was saying earlier. "Who paints an FJ Cruiser light yellow?" "That was more tan than yellow?" And so on. Funny thing is neither of us could find the color online. This was more concrete evidence for Deb's argument...I was left without any sort of backing...until today.(It was and IS all in good fun, by the way.) Well I snapped this photo this morning in the car:


Is this the same FJ Cruiser? Is it actually yellow? We don't need the show, The Marriage Ref, to decide whether this is a yellow car or not...but what do you all think?

Oh and if you have never played before, give it a shot...it is a load of fun and very addictive...even when you find yourself alone in the car and see one, you may not shout it, but you definitely find yourself thinking or saying, "Yellow Car!"

Mrs Catholic, Cataract, Cadillac...no, it's Kadlec!

Those are names Ms. Debbie will soon be called.

When we picked up her wedding ring this week (this time they got it spot on perfect!) the lady says, "what will your new last name be?"

I answered, "Kadlec"

She says, "Catholic?"

Ugh, "No, Kad-lick," as dumbed down as I can.

She responds, "Cath-o-lick."

At this point it doesn't matter, "Yes, Catholic."

I looked over at Debbie and she said, with the straightest and blankest of expressions, "...and so it begins."

It was funny and so true. Even when I get calls from people I don't know they always say Cadillac, like the car, and Cataract (that's to you Owen!!!).

A little over 10 days to go and we'll have a new Catholic or Cataract or Cadillac...correction, Kadlec, in the family!

"Bleh" for being sick...NO, it's NOT swine flu!

Well this week has been a long week. With all the wedding plans requiring attention, calls to be made, follow ups, dance lessons....oh and that thing called "work" still being a necessity, Deb and I are exhausted. So what better way to help aide in my exhaustion than getting sick? Right?

Tuesday I woke up with an awful sore throat, congestion, and those aches and pains associated with the flu. As the day went on, I felt better, eventually capping the day off with our dance lessons. Wednesday I felt significantly better, but by the end of the day all those early morning Tuesday symptoms had crept back. That night I went through my emails and online sites for swine flu info, just in case. Scary stuff for toddlers and babies, especially with how to detect it and stuff. Yikes! in any case, I was in the clear and definitely felt as though I was just sick with a cold, not swine flu or the seasonal flu. No fever, etc. Anyways Thursday was great because I had to get to the office early and prep for a site visit to the Shell Refinery here in Houston. Who needs to inhale Vick's when they can go to a refinery and inhale methane and all the other conglomerates of fumes? By the end of my site visit I was exhausted and ill. It's the double edged sword because if you say "I'm to sick to come in," you'll get those questionable looks. However, when you do come in, you get the comments like, "oh why are you here, don't hurt yourself." It's truly a no win situation.

Best conversation of the day went like this:

He says, "Well, Michael Jordan played with a 102 degree fever."

My response, "I'm not Michael Jordan. I don't get paid millions."

His response, "he didn't do it for the money."

My response, "yeah, but I'm not playing on the 1995 Chicago Bulls. I work for Halcrow."

I mean, come on people. I'm pale (not just my normal paleness, a little more extreme), I'm talking with a scratchy and hoarse voice, walking around like a little old man, my eyes rolling around, my thought process not quite there, and probably looking quite disheveled, why make comparisons to me visiting a project site to Michael Jordan's honorable play? Oye, you just can't win!

At the end of the day I was exhausted and came home. And today I spent at home trying to get better. As of now, I'm feeling better...and really, it's better that I'm sick this week then in three from now!

I mean, who would want to congratulate the groom at his wedding if you appeared to be a swine flu carrier? :-)

And one last time, I don't have it...with the fear in America right now, you have to assume every sick person has it!

Learning Polish...well, not really.

Around the office, I have been dubbed "Polska." (Thanks Ruwaida & Luis!) Of course this is because I am a Pollack. Anyways, it was only a matter of time until the question was raised, "how do you say 'hello' in Polish?" This of course is "witaj." (Duh, everyone knows it's "witaj.") So at work it's now, "witaj polska."
This prompted me to use a great Google tool, "Google Translate." CLICK HERE to try it for yourself, it can be entertaining...

Some of the things I translated for office use:
Hello = witaj
Thanks = dzięki
Bye = cześć
Stupid = głupi
I’m an engineer = Jestem inżynierem
Our project manager is not competent = nasz kierownik projektu nie jest właściwy

If only I could rattle off something in Polish and not sound like a complete tool, I totally would use the last one. Odds are he wouldn't understand...but with my luck, he totally would!

Looks like I'm ready for our trip to Poland...although it's not anytime soon!

Happy 8th Gracie Lou!

Tomorrow, Gracie Lou turns 8!


Gracie is my pug that lives with my parents, or as they call themselves, her "adoptive parents." My mom always sends me these funny pug articles, clippings, etc...and yesterday we received a box with all sorts of goodies (including Debbie's birthday presents...hint, hint...her bday is MONDAY!) Anyways, back to Gracie...and pugs in general. So check out this clipping she sent (I cropped it out to only the pug)...


Notice anything? Okay...how about another crop and flip:


Ha! Nearly 60 pound pug! Hahaha.. Anyways this is for all those who think Gracie (and Robo for that matter) are a little chunky! They are a mere fraction of this!

On another note, "The Proposal" comes out in the movies tomorrow. Fitting for Gracie's birthday, considering she was named after a Sandra Bullock character. (Not sure if I should admit that...but oh well!)

Yes...this was a brainless post...but I thought I'd share anyways!

Some things can only happen to me...why?!

Now, I must preface today's incident with one that happened over four years ago...

It was March 2005, and Debbie and I were somewhere between the Caymans and Roatan on the MSC Opera. I had just hit the gym and was en route back to our cabin. As I was stepping out of the elevator I dropped my cabin key with it somehow finding the gap between the car and the floor. Down the elevator shaft it went. I don't need to go down the embrassing story of going to the lobby and explaining why I needed a new key!

Back to today now...I was washing my car in our car care center within our complex. It was quite dirty and I was nearly done drying it. I had just made my way into wiping down the inner door jams when it happened. I opened the passenger door and down they went, through the manhole grating, and into the water sogged basin. What? My car keys! Difference here is that I couldn't go to the lobby and say "hello, I just dropped my keys through a manhole, can I have a new set?" I am soooo fortunate the Debbie left her car keys here in Texas this weekend. (She's in Florida visiting friends and family...trying to avoid bringing the swine flu back from Disney.) I jogged home and found her set and en route back to my car I was able to flag down a maintenance guy. He came with a 3-ft bar with a hook...didn't touch the bottom of the basin. Then with a 5-ft pole with a magnet on the end...didn't touch the bottom again! Then he decided to bring a hammer and he was able to pry the manhole grate off. He reached into the manhole and was able to hit the bottom, maybe 6 feet or so down, with his magnet & pole. When he pulled it up with my keys stuck to the magnet I was so fortunate and lucky!

So, how do these things happen to me? I really just don't know how to explain it...I am just "special" I guess. Debbie's reaction was on those lines. Kind of like a mom and a 6-year old when they just lost something. Dammit.