Posted in Canada, Daddy, disaster, events, family, Food, health, Life, The Urban Daddy, Toronto

Can’t Tell You How Much I Hate Getting Older…


Words cannot describe how much I hate getting older.

The grey hair.

The lack of hair.

The grey arm hairs… Ugh. I’m not even that old. At least I don’t feel that old.

Well, I didn’t feel that old, until this morning. This morning was a big ‘ol dose of reality check for me.

You see, up until a couple of years ago, I played competitive ball hockey in a league, as I had been doing since I was 19-years-old. That makes it around 25-years, give or take a year here and there.

Some years I played on 2 teams, some years 3-teams, and at the time when I met my wife, I was playing 4-nights a week.

Those 4 nights dwindled to 2-times per week, and then to once a week. A torn calf ended my ball hockey play and I haven’t played since. I think about playing again, but at my age, and having gained a “few” pounds paired with the fact that I’m out every evening with the kids at programs, means I just have no time.

Fast forward to November 2018, and I accepted a contact with Intuit Canada, the makers of TurboTax, to be their spokesperson, and blog editor. The job was amazing! The people were amazing. My boss was beyond amazing and the role was so much fun! The only downfall was that I literally sat at my desk for 8-hours a day. I had an hour drive to get there and an hour drive home and there was no time for exercise.

I put on a few more pounds.

I was feeling very uncomfortable.

Walking up the stairs became a chore, and I was winded when I got to the top. I knew it was time to focus back on fitness. When the kids went away to camp, was when I started exercising again. Walking on the treadmill, eventually running on the treadmill and trying to ease my fat ass back into working.

I even agreed to do a fitness class with my wife (something we have never done together) at the fitness studio that she goes to. I did a class called Chiseled. She took a different class.

The class was great, and the instructor was awesome. She was dynamic, engaging, informative and she helped me sort out the exercises and the correct techniques.

Almost 3/4’ers of the way through the circuit, I felt that I was done. Exhausted. Not that I couldn’t lift anymore, but that my heart rate was elevated, and not having had breakfast, I felt nauseous. I just needed a break.

I’ve had this feeling before when I played ball hockey and took time off due to children or injuries. The next game back was usually a tough one.

So I sat down on the chair to catch my breath.

And passed out.

When I awoke, there was a juice box in my mouth, I could hear, but not yet see, the trainer and a participant who happened to be a doctor, checking my pulse, and when I opened my eyes, and started to feel a bit better, I apologized (I’m so Canadian) and said that I over did it.

I finished the juice box, and started to regain my focus when the doctor / participant said, don’t worry, the EMT is here.

My eyes popped wide open.

Umm, you called the ambulance?

Always do, she said.

I was so embarrassed. This has never happened to me before. Ever.  UGH.

The EMT’s checked on me, and we agreed that it would be best if I could, to walk outside so they could run some tests. I walked out on my own power – now feeling almost completely back to normal, and into the ambulance.

The look on my wife’s eyes was something I will never forget. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes spoke volumes. Then she said to me, “When I said to you don’t die in the class, I was joking.”

I explained that I overdid it and having not eaten, my blood sugar must have bottomed out.

In the ambulance, they checked my blood sugar, my heart, my blood pressure, and all we fantastic.

I was totally back to normal.

I signed some papers, agreed to go visit my family doctor soon for a physical, and I ate a whole lot of humble pie.

We got into the car, drove home, and all I kept thinking was that I’m not that 20-year-old kid anymore who could play 4 games a week. I’m older, heavier, and man, do I hate getting old.

So how was your Monday?

 

Posted in Daddy, events, family, health, Life, Parenting, The Urban Daddy

Happy Birthday to The Urban Daddy Dinosaur


So today is my birthday.  I’m not normally a fan of birthdays – something about getting older, and all the unnecessary attention that it brings – but I had to share a conversation that I had with my son.

Him: “Happy birthday Dad.  What do you want for your birthday?”

Me: “Nothing, thank you.  Just lots of hugs.”

Him: “Okay.  That’s easy.  What are you going to do differently this year?”

Me: “Ummm…. I’m going to lose a pound of weight for every year old that I am.”

Him: “Won’t it be difficult trying to lose 150 pounds?”

Posted in The Urban Daddy, urbandaddyblog

Remember Those Two Old Grumpy Men From The Muppet Show?


Do you remember those 2 grump old men from The Muppet Show?  The critics?

Well, I’m waiting for a client at The Second Cup and they are here!  2 old grumpy men sitting in the back of this coffee shop criticising everyone and everything.  They even called a third grumpy old man into their party but after telling him to go buy a Tim Horton’s coffee and bring that into the café.

So after an hour of chiding and complaining – especially once a poor woman left the key in the washroom – they told every single woman who went to the washroom after wards, “don’t forget the key”, and “wash your hands”, they then opened a discussion into the meaning of superficial… Shocking!

On the way out they poked fun at a woman drinking her tea who had her own yoghurt by saying quite loudly, “Next time I’m here I’m going to order that yoghurt” and all the while they never ordered anything, they just took up space.

For those of you who don’t know these characters, their names are Statler and Waldorf, and they are known for their cantankerous opinions and mutual penchant for heckling.

Apparently the two hecklers were friends with Fozzie’s mother, Emily Bear.

Who knew?

Posted in urbandaddyblog

Man, I Feel Old… Or Uncool… Or Both


What the heck is a “dab”?

Seriously…

Where did it start and why are kids “dabbing” all the time…

When I was young, me and my pet dinosaur never dabbed… We were too busy walking 20km to and from school in 10 feet of snow, uphill both ways, with shoes which had holes in them because we used to actually go outside and run around when we had a free moment.

We didn’t dab!!!

The world is not a better / safer place from the Dab!

Unless I can dab while karate chopping someone with my lead dabbing arm…

Ugh.

Whatever!

This fad will go the way of the Bell Bottom jeans, the Beehive hairdo and the Macarena, right!

Posted in Being Jewish in Toronto, Life

Monday, Tuesday, Happy Days. Wednesday, Thursday, Happy Days…


 
the character Fonzie from the sitcom Happy Day...
Image via Wikipedia

Man, I’m old.

I’m 40, I still have my pregnancy weight and my hair, or what’s left of it, makes me look even older.  Fortunately, I’m immature so it makes me feel young, right?

Today, however, I felt old. Painfully old.

You see, after a long complicated call with the government, there was a consensus between me and “the man” so when I hung up the phone, one of my staff members looked at, somewhat nervous until until I gave him two thumbs up and said, “Ayyyyyyyy”.

He cocked his eyebrow and looked at me very puzzled.

Happy Days
Image via Wikipedia

Still holding up my thumbs I realized this poor young man, not born in Canada, may not know who the Fonz was.  Neither would he know that his “real” name was Arthur Fonzerilli who was by far the coolest character on TV when I was growing up.  Yes, Happy Days, started in 1973 when I was 2, but I remember watching the shows and finding the Fonz cool well before Scott Baio joined the cast.

Fonzie snapped his fingers and girls arrived, he banged his fist on the jukebox and it played and his offce was the boys bathroom of the local diner – Al’s Diner, no less.  Fonzie couldn’t saw “sorry” and he always bailed out his buddy, Richie.  He wore that black leather jacket and was very cool.

He was just plain cool.

But as I tried to explain, I looked out to my team and looking back at me was a bunch of blank faces.  So I asked them all.  Did any of them know who the Fonz was?  Nope.

None of them knew that the Fonz’s leather jacket was in the Smithsonian Institute on display.  The knew very little about this show.  Not just my team now, but most of the staff on the floor.  WTF?!?

So I gave them homework…  Look up the significance of “Ayyyyyy” and tell me the name of the diner and the name of the lodge that Mr. Cunningham belonged to.  As a bonus, what was the real first name on the show of “Potsie” Webber, who was Richie (Ron Howard’s) friend along with Ralph the Malph.

Ahh, what a show.  I bet no one will get those right…  Kids these days, I tell ya!

So I was not able to tell my Henry Winkler story about meeting him at the UJA event in Toronto many years ago.  It turned out that he was a guest speaker and before his speech, my wife had gone to the bathroom, and Henry was preparing to go out and they bumped into each other and started talking.  She had told me that when she returned and after the event she asked me if I wanted to meeting Henry.

Hell yeah, I thought.  Meet the Fonz!  Sign me up.

After the event had ended, we walked out of the venue and there in the middle of the foyer was the Fonz himself surrounded by what appeared to be 250 people trying to get his attention.  I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get to meet him and seeing this, my wife turned into a super hero.  The events that unfolded after, I will never forget.

She started to make her way through the crowd, holding my hand and pulling me along with her until she was a good ten feet from Henry.

“Henry!” She yelled.

Turning, he yelled back to her “Urban daddy’s wife” and with that the people parted and she approached him with me.  Time seemed to stand still as we had a brief chat, a handshake and if memory serves me correctly, he gave her a hug.

People were looking at us, or really at her – who was she that he knew her name…

But I couldn’t tell this story… I wanted to… But no one knew who the Fonz was.  It would be lost on them.

Maybe after tomorrow if they’ve all done their homework and watched an episode or two online.

Although I mocked them all afternoon, I, unlike the Fonz, can say I’m sorry.