've been to sporting events with lousy seats, with no seats, with good seats, and with very rich seats. Let me tell you rich is better.

Thanks to my day job, I was invited to take up residence in a suite for the Sabres vs. Sharks game on February 13th. It's a beautiful thing. Not being the tiniest of guys, I can shoehorn myself into the 100s just fine, but the suites are a whole new world. Space, views, comfy chairs, oh, my. I took my 11 year old son who took to this level of exclusivity without a trouble. We were the first to arrive and the hostess came down to announce herself and there is something in the way my boy said "Dad, we have our own waitress?" that still makes me laugh.

We've all been at something where a great view is ruined by a beer-swilling popcorn spilling wooly mammoth who sits down right in front of you.

After a brisk walk across the windiest place on the planet, the street in front of the Arena, we "moved on up."











It was a fine evening, and did wonders for my disposition and my youthful sidekick who had a long week, too

I'm at a loss to explain what was going on with my hair at that moment but we were getting spoiled, something everybody should get once in awhile, so who cares.





Yes, sure, part of the fun is that it was on somebody else's dime. It does remind you of that episode of Seinfeld where Jerry is flying first class and the attendent asks if he wants more of anything, and the only true answer is more of everything.

Food prepped with a little more care, hostess who makes a special point to tell me where the Molson Canadian is, unencumbered view, great company, and a win.

We could wave off our balcony to the unfortunate masses, but I figured a picture was a much more quiet, dignified way of gloating



Good times.

Journeyed out to my folks house on Sunday night for the Super Bowl and birthday dinner for myself. My elder sister has been living there basically sitting shiva for her former life in NYC. She's been there since the first of November and is still waiting for a miracle to be delivered unto her, which in this economy ain't happening. So, she has been delving into a project here or there, turns out my birthday dinner has been one. I wish I knew what to do, but when the three of them decided that none of us need cake, my inner 12 year old wanted to yell, "But I would like some." Instead, I shut up and ate my strawberries and watched Pete Townshend at halftime.

At work, they've had a tradition of birthday lunches which forever getting tweaked and people were peeved that I was the only February birthday and there were four in June. This discussion happened last thursday and it made me dread monday as we sat in Kostas with at least three out of the nine people muttering about the birthday stuff and two guys who said the hell with it. My colonoscopy was more entertaining. One of my great colleagues made cake so I blotted out the idiocy for a few. Things picked up when I made it to my former house for a really nice dinner with my kids and their mom. We were able to laugh a lot. Told my boss that given how people are behaving, I'm taking the day off next year to avoid the b.s. If I wanted a stress laden day, I can always go to my folks house.

One of my dad's contacts at Roswell gave him seats for Tuesday night's Sabres game, which was fun. We repaired to Fat Bob's for a quick dinner before and spent most of the time vented about the shadow that my sister is casting over their house.

Went to my church board meeting and got yelled at by a factually challenged old codger, so that was fun.

Went out a little bit ago to run errands for an event we have tonight and on the way to my second stop, the car in front of me has its reverse lights on and the driver is lost in conversation. We're close enough to my Tops stop on Maple so I snuck in the driveway, just as the light changed and she barrels into the guy who was behind me. I picked up my stuff rather shakily and check to make sure that guy isn't looking for me and head back down Transit, where I get into the traffic jam caused by the 3407 walkers. It was worth the 75 cents on the thruway to get back into the city where it is safe.

Got tickets for the suites for tomorrow nights Sabres game. Beer should flow, especially on their tab. Guess I no longer sound like a grumpy old man, since I'm now closer to being one.

(e:Drew) got me thinking. He'll learn

You got to have faith.

In what exactly, that is not always clear. One of the Buddhas of my youth posited that "Blind faith in anything can you killed." A little extreme, but I think he has a point. We need to ask questions and allow for the fact that we aren't always right. What works for you should be respected, but might not work for me, and that should be okay.

I go to a church semi-regularly that professes to be all-welcoming, but I've seen incidents that we are essentially as full of shit as any other faith based gathering. I still kick myself over not stepping up for this young woman who was sitting with her baby. The baby was cooing and charming the pants out of pretty much everybody in the section except for these two old bitties who harped on "there's a quite room for babies..." to the point where the woman and her child understandable left. Drives me nuts. Church elders kvetch about the teens not immediately diving into the church community once they are out of high school. One of the really bright young women at the church gave a sermon recently about how she needed to look or looks for God in people. I thought that was incredibly apt, as there really isn't any other place within which to look. You want to see something tangible. It's sometimes hard to take written word as gospel (pun entirely intended). A former employer wrote of how it is possible to be good, live a good life without cowtowing to a particular diety, and I do think he's correct in that regard.

George Carlin used to do a great bit about "how the invisible man in the sky that I believe in can kick the ass of the invisible man that you believe in."

Faith is a personal thing. What is good for you is naturally going to be different for me. Both those goods have merit. But you don't always get to those ends by the ritual sunday morning gatherings, sometimes I've gotten more from the hour long mental holiday than by what has been presented to me.

But that doesn't define me and your faith doesn't define you. By the same token, none of them should determine well, anything for anybody, outside of those gatherings. I guess that is a little redundant, but I guess this has it's roots in my reading opinions about the ongoing Gay marriage debate and inevitably the columnists against would invariably exclaim "the church recognizes..." Well, for many reasons, it's a good thing there is more than one church.

We first started taking our kids to the church as more of a community thing, so they can see what is out there and eventually drawn their own conclusions. I'm pretty sure that was the same rationale my folks applied to me and my siblings.

So, I'm not entirely sure where I stand other than to believe anything is possible. As Robin Williams said some years ago, "You know God must have a sense of humor, look at a platypus!"

My phone is getting smarter after work - yay Iphone hood, but it will be a bit before I'm up for the Ipad, unlike our friend below.

Sure, it stunk getting into work this morning, then I got the reminder about this lovely storm from somebody who had the termerity to not be alive when it hit. 33 years ago today, I got a whiff of capitalism. Neighbors went to Florida two days before and hired me to shovel their driveway while they were away, figuring they'd pay me for a couple of passes. Then the Blizzard of '77 hit. Without sounding too old man like (since I know most of you weren't here yet), that was a storm. Can you say eight trips?? My best childhood chum and I went on a record purchasing bender at National Record Mart with our proceeds.



Till that storm, helping my dad with the snow removal largely consisted of staying out of the way while he ran our behemoth of a snow blower. Mom would say "perhaps you should help your dad." I could sincerely reply "I am" while watching tv. This made sense as the snowblower was a big one and the last thing you needed while running it was somebody else "helping" at one end of the driveway.

This was mammoth snow and the blowing made things impressive until you had to move them. My childhood had such an odd shape that a roughly eight foot wall formed outside the back door, but left enough of a canal to the garage that we could make it to the garage to access our "Battery of snow-fighting equipment."

The winds made it a multiple day chore, but by the time the worst was over, I was an ace snowblower pilot and using that on those Florida bound neighbors, who are still stuck listening to everybody else's Blizzard tales.

My longtime partner and crime used the almost two weeks off from school on some arctic architectural pursuits, constructing a snow fort still legendary in its expanse, two floors, complete with slide to get from the balcony level down to the mezzanine.

Even the neighborhood bully was impressed