Day 22: I See Your Note & I Raise You A Sheet Pizza

How about another round of applause for Tom's very first guest post!

For those that asked if it was really Tom who wrote the post, I have a few things to say to you:

1) Why would I lie about that?

2) If it was me, pretending to be Tom, the section about how great I was, would have been much, much longer and more detailed.

3) If there are any lingering doubts about the identity of the last post's author, I would encourage you to re-read the portion (approximately 50% of his post) where Tom describes his disgusting lunch with obvious romantic feelings. If you think I am capable of speaking fondly, let alone romantically, about a slice of American Cheese then you are dead to me.

So, it really was him and I am thankful that you all got a little taste of who he is, before he becomes incapacitated from heart disease and other cheesesteak-related health problems. Pray for him, please and thank you.

So, Day 22.

 

We have tried to keep the kids involved in our #AdamsActs, and it is always awesome to hear their suggestions for different acts of kindness we could do. My four year old, London, has notoriously horrible ideas that almost always have to do with chocolate, and somehow she gets the chocolate in the end. Harper's are usually some over the top plan (like to buy a new house/car) and always for Jim, the neighbor who had back surgery. You may recall, during our ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, he challenged Jim.

He did have his first idea that was doable, and not Jim-centric.  He came home with a letter written for our neighbors on the other side of us.  It was adorable, and I will translate it below.

Hello. 

Hello Neighbors, Hope you had a great day! Just wanted to say you're nice and I love when you play football with me. (heart) Harper Next Door

  This goes for both of you.

 Harper brought the letter over to the neighbors, but they were not home. We had tried to bring them an apple crisp a couple days earlier too, but they were not there then either. So, Harper put it in their mailbox and put the little red flag up. I thought it was really cute, but I honestly didn't think about it a second time, until we got this the next day.

They went out and bought Harper an age-appropriate thank you card, and a gift card to get pizza and wings during the next Bills game. Harper practically wept with joy. It was so cool for the kids to see (in such a ridiculously instantaneous way) that when you sew kindness, you reap kindness.  I wish that I could say that they have already learned that lesson, because I am so sweet and pleasant and I always have the good of others right on the forefront of my mind.  But, I would be lying. The truth is, I am the worst. 

I love my neighbors, all of them, I really do.  But before this current set, we had a pretty rough run of neighbors. One potty-mouthed neighbor got so drunk that she peeled out of her driveway, she actually drove her car into her own house, obliterating her new wrap-around porch... if she had gone in the other direction, she would have obliterated me, Marlie and three of her little friends who were all sleeping in a tent in our back yard for Marlie's campout/birthday party. I had a hard time getting close to that one. Still, I acted kindly and I reached out, which you can read about here, but honestly, instead of loving my neighbor, what I really wanted to do, was report her.  

I had neighbors that, during a particularly low point, I remember wanting to hit with a shovel, I can't remember why, but I know for a fact that it was, in no way, an overreaction.  And some of you may remember this post when my elderly neighbor made out with me a little about my Act of Kindness two years ago.

So, you can see that I have tried, that I am still trying.  But, the reality is that I love the neighbors I know, and I am scared to get to know the neighbors I don't know. Maybe it's because we all live so close, but I am always cautious to get enmeshed with new neighbors. So, I am embarrassed to say that Harper did this on his own. Not because of my shining example of kindness... if he was following my example, he'd be pacing around the perimeter with a shovel. He just loves people, and he loves football, and he loves to throw the football with the neighbor.  I love people and I also love keeping a polite distance when I can because otherwise, it just gets messy.  

And as much as I wish I had reminded my children that we are to love our neighbors, even when it gets messy, even if you get enmeshed, even when you get a little frenched by the elderly... in the end, it was my children who reminded me. 

Day 21: All Tom, All the Time. (ATATT - Special Edition)

Disclaimer:  Today’s post will not be witty, deep, or compelling.  You all know that Lara is a beautiful, intelligent, and inspiring woman.  And although I am none of those things, I do get to be married to her and that’s a totally awesome thing to be able to say.  Yeah – this is a cameo.  It’s Tom and this here is a “guest post”.

So I’m not good at this.  If you know me you know I’m a man of few words, and sadly even fewer thoughts.  But I’m still going to give this my best shot.  Lara had a hard day today – nothing catastrophic, but one of those days where, you know… everything just takes longer that it was supposed to, the Salvation Army didn’t have the right shade of blue pants to make a homemade Super Mario costume, there was a lot of driving kids around, and all you want to do is not write about it.  So I’m taking over.  Just for today, though, so don’t start writing in.

I could count this gesture of “guest posting” as my act of kindness, but since I didn't even know that Lara would need this sweet relief (of which I’ve so gallantly offered), my dad and I had already chipped in with our own #AdamsActs today.  We pretty much saved the world.  We gave away 2 cups of hot chocolate that we got for free and didn’t even want and also threw away 1 plastic grocery bag.

Here’s how it all when down.  My dad and I have been trying to spend more time with each other.  This past year, along with this month, have been potent reminders that you just don’t know, well anything.  I’m not talking about my aforementioned lack of original thoughts.  I’m talking about how we don’t know what our circumstances will be tomorrow.  We don’t know if we’ll be healthy, if we’ll be safe, or if we’ll suddenly be forced to miss someone we love because they’re gone.

So my dad and I have decided to hang out more, eat together, and talk about how life is going.  Today, he stopped by MCC (where I work) for lunch.  We put both generations of our wisdom together and chose a community college’s version of “Philly-style pizza”.  Picture a regular piece of cheese pizza lovingly sprinkled with shreds of Steak-Umm.  Then, and this is what gives it the authentic Philly feel – there’s a Kraft single melted on top to pull it all together.  We felt like we were on South Street.  Then, because I was with my dad we had to chase our heartburn with coffee.  We sat back down at our table with our coffee, when the woman working at the stand yelled, “Your 2 hot chocolates are ready!”  We stopped talking.  “She’s looking right at me.”, he said to me in a low voice, barely moving his lips.  We both froze - like in Jurassic Park when Dr. Ian Malcolm’s only chance of not being eaten by the T-Rex is to remain absolutely motionless.  “Hey, you in the green sweatshirt!  Come get your hot chocolates!” I will say that if he had been on the island of Jurassic Park, his green sweatshirt might have blended in with the large tropical ferns and we would have been spared from the T-Rex barista.  But nope.  We told her we didn’t order them, but she wasn’t having it.  We were taking them.  At this point all of the surrounding tables were watching our little scenario play out and enjoying the show.  So, we decided to give away the hot chocolates as an act of kindness.  We were rejected by the first table.  So, that felt great.  However, another student overheard our offer and said he’d take them.  We handed over the hot chocolate, then told them to smile for the picture.  We explained nothing.  My dad just said, “Smile”, took the picture, then said “Acts of Kindness!” in a really cheerful voice.  It was great.  We considered going back and explaining what just happened, but ultimately resolved to go ahead and keep it awkward forever.

The second act of kindness we bestowed upon the students of MCC was to pick up a plastic grocery bag and throw it out.  This opportunity presented itself after this kid, sitting within arm’s reach of the trash can, reached out and tried to throw it in.  The dude didn’t even ball it up first.  What?  You know how far you can throw an un-balled-up plastic bag?  I’ll tell you.  Approximately 1 inch.  So after the young man’s 1 inch toss didn’t do the job, he watched it slowly float and land beside the trash can.  Then, he just left it there.  Here’s my dad gettin’ the job done.

 

Lara always finishes her posts with an amazing one-liner.  I have to tell you that I’ve been staring at the screen for at least 12 minutes trying to come up with one, but it’s not going to happen.  So, I’m out.

*drops mic

Day 19: Random Acts Of Poor Circulation

My big brother, Adam, was known for making people feel special, like they mattered.  When someone felt small, or invisible, he would take the time to get to know them, have a conversation, reach out. He was the kind of kid who would take the time to walk a mile in someone else's shoes.  And part of honoring his memory and trying to share his legacy with others, would be doing just that.

But, I must warn you... if you are going to walk a mile in another man's shoes, you might wanna steer clear of the guy from Day 19.

Yes, it's true, walking a mile in his proverbial shoes would not be fun.  He was clearly homeless, pushing all his belongings in a shopping cart, and he was not properly dressed for the cold, rainy evening.  So, yes, walking a mile in his life, would be hard, if not miserable. But, I mean, literally, you don't want to get assigned to walking in his actual shoes.  I know you would be very uncomfortable walking in his shoes.  I know this, because I bought them. And they are accidentally, a size 6. 

Sooo... if I had to pick one of the most horrifyingly sad sights, it would be someone on a cold, wet city street with bare feet. I am always cold, and I quit when it's cold, and I hate being cold and being cold hurts my feelings. So when I see someone with their poor, cold grubbies just hanging out in the elements, it physically pains me.  For Day 19, I wanted to buy a decent pair of men's boots that were used (read affordable) but still in very good shape, would be warm and also waterproof.

I went to the thrift shop and found only one good pair of boots.  The whole bottom foot part was rubber and one full piece,  so there was no place for cracks to form or for water/snow to leak in.  I picked them up and looked at the bottom and saw they were a size 9. (Wait for it...)

When I got home and showed Tom the boots, he remarked that they looked really small, and I agreed that 9 is on the smaller size for most men's shoes, but that they were the only good pair, and they weren't that cheap, even at a thrift store... so, we would just have to find a guy with not-huge feet.

Then, I packed up some dinner to share with someone, including homemade white chicken chili, jalapeno cornbread,  fruit and some chocolate. (The chocolate was London's  demand  suggestion.)

We loaded all the kids in the car and set off to find someone who met the following criteria:

1) Must be homeless.

2) Feet must be smaller than average.

3) Feet must be exposed to the elements.

Well, if you found this criteria to be quite specific, you won't believe how narrow our pool of recipients became when I looked at the inside tag and saw that they accidentally printed the size 9 upside down.

 

NO they didn't. That's a 6.  I bought a pair of doll shoes for a homeless man. 

Operation Shoe the Shoeless, Criteria 2.0:

1) Must be homeless.

2) Must be the petite-est man alive.

3) Must be willing/able to curl his tiny feet up and stuff them into these child-size boots. 

And now I had to find the match to that absurd new criteria, in a city full of people who, apparently, are always committed to wearing shoes because I couldn't find anyone with their toes just out and about. And I certainly didn't see any grown men walking atop dainty, feminine feet which had been bound since birth to prevent normal growth.  

I did find a reeeeeally short fella who did not have good shoes, and figured this would be the closest possible match. I approached, introduced myself and said "I happen to have a decent pair of warm, winter boots, but they are quite small, like a men's size 6... you wouldn't happen to want or need those would you?"

His response?  "Oh yeah, sure, that's just my size!"

No. No, sir, it's not.

Still, he heartily accepted the minuscule boots, which I am certain are going to be ill-fitting, and thanked me multiple times as if I had given him, I don't know, something saaaay... useful and adult-sized. It was kind of a fail moment for me, but he seemed to truly believe that these boots would fit him, and I hope they do.  I hope that when he sat down at night, and slipped his delicate little toddler feet into Polly Pocket's boots, that it was a Cinderella moment. No jamming or tugging or forceful shoving, no step-sisters screeching "Then I'll make it fit!" Instead, just a quiet, magical moment where the he and the grand duke exchange a knowing glance as his foot slips effortlessly into the tiniest boots ever made. And when that moment takes place, I hope he feels loved, and I hope he feels like he matters.  I hope, for that moment, he does not feel invisible. And even though his feet are just a precious baby whisper at the bottom of each leg, I hope that feeling seen meant he did not feel small.  

These are the boot

Day 18: Mustache Madness

Day 18 was a date nigt.

This does not happen super often. We have an awesome community of people who love us and are willing to help with babysitting, but the reality is that we need to save our willing friends and family for things like parent-teacher conferences, or mandatory meetings that we both have to attend, or  emotional problems emergencies that aren't my fault. The other reality is that we have chosen to just blow right past the average/reasonable family size and make it impossible to do things like "swap kids with friends so we can take turns going on dates."  

A) Nobody wants to swap their two kids for our five. 

or

B) The people who wouldn't feel like they are getting the raw end of the deal, are people who think being a family of seven is normal, and I don't trust those crazies.

So, a date night is kind of a big deal.  We decided to incorporate our #AdamsActs into our date.  A couple next to us overheard us order a really good dessert, and the guy joked that we would have to let them know how it was. Well, sir, it was very good.  Like, so good, that one might get excited and hit said guy in the arm to tell him how good it was. How embarrassing for one, should one love dessert enough to forget about appropriate social boundaries, like not hitting, or, like not touching strangers during their date, or, like not touching strangers ever.  Once  my  Tom's dessert haze lifted, we decided that we should order that same dessert and have it sent to that couple's table. In part to be kind, and in part to make him forget  that  I struck him  about the stresses of everyday life.

So, we had dessert ordered and paid for and we left a note for them to enjoy the dessert and to follow along for the month if they'd like. I also wanted to leave a "Sensational Mustache Message" for our waiter, who had clearly taken the sweet, sweet time necessary to have waxed his mustache tips, and put them in curlers before his shift. Tom felt that doling out mustache awards would not be deemed an acceptable act of kindness, but this comes from that guy down there, who sat down to dinner with a bald face and grew that amount of facial hair before our drinks had even arrived.  He grows a full - lumberjack edition - beard overnight... so he can't really appreciate how hard it is for some  less Italian  men to grow such a fine, curly moustachio. 

Day 16/17: Beauties and the Sweets

My favorite #AdamsActs are the ones where people have big reactions to small kindnesses.  Day 16 was definitely one of those days.

We handed out candy bars with little notes on them.  Once again, I had plans for how it would all go down.  And in keeping with the theme of my whole life, nothing went as I anticipated.

I envisioned bringing treats to a bunch of guys working road construction, and it would make them feel appreciated, and loved and encouraged, and then they would finish the roads faster.  For those of you who live anywhere besides upstate NY, you may not understand.  But, Rochester has two seasons... Winter/Dry Nasal Cavities - 9 months out of the year.  Construction/Humidity/Mosquitos - the other 3 months.

It's basically paradise. 

So, you can imagine my surprise when I couldn't find a single road construction worker. I can't express the melancholy I experienced when I realized that my clever construction-oriented pun would likely go to waste.  

When we couldn't find a construction crew, we changed plans. By that I mean that I made the kids hand them out to strangers. 

Annalee (left) was okay with it, Marlie (right) was not so sure.  The first recipient was just getting off of work and seemed really happy with the unexpected gift, then totally zoned out and stared at me for a long time. We finally realized that we knew each other.  This woman had been my very first client in Rochester.  When I was first starting my little business, I met a hairstylist named Wendy who, for some reason, really believed in me. She bought a ton of my stuff, she encouraged me, she took me to different salons and shops to meet other small business owners who might be interested in carrying my products.  She introduced me to some really important connections, and that led to my first account at a local store, and also the confidence to keep going with my fake business!  I was able to thank her again, and tell my girls about how Wendy had shown me such kindness when I really needed it.  It was actually a cool, full-circle moment for me.  

The second recipient was a guy who seemed totally normal, until we gave him the candy bar.  He looked at us in a bit of shock, and said "Oh my goodness REALLY!?" then held out the candy bar in front of his own face and proceeded to hunch and sway with relief, the way someone would if they were on day 30 in the dessert and could finally see a watering hole up ahead. I guess that guy really needed a Hershey bar. It got, even Marlie, pumped up for the next giveaway. 

Fortunately, most of the messages applied to anyone working.  We decided to go through the Tim Horton's drive through, not order anything, and just give the candy bars to whoever was taking orders.  I forgot that they take your order first, and then you drive up to the window... so we just blew past the voice on the intercom and pulled up as close to the car in front of us and waited our turn.  I did not want to try to explain to the person over the speaker that we didn't want something "to go" but that we had something "to stay" because they would have thought it was a bomb. 

When we got to the window, I explained briefly what we were doing and why, and told her that she deserved a little something and could pass one along to whoever was working hard too.  She said "Ohhh, you're making me feel so special!" I asked if she wanted her picture taken for the blog and she held this adorable pose for a ridiculously long time because I couldn't get my camera to open.  She was a good sport, I was sweating profusely, but we got the picture and I think it made her night. It definitely made mine.

Now... what to do with that very specific rhyme "You deserve a treat, for fixing our street!" when you cannot actually locate someone who is currently fixing the street???  We considered giving it to a police officer since they, too, fix up our streets, in their own way.  But, similar to the construction workers, the police apparently leave the streets of Rochester to their own devices at night.  So, we found a manhole under repair and threw a candy bar on one of those huge, orange barrels  that I one time hit with my car on accident. 

I'm sure a raccoon found it ten minutes later and was really blessed.

For Day 17, I put to use that small business I mentioned earlier. Basically I upcycle fabric/jewelry/buttons/andwhateverchotchkyicanfind and make unique accessories.  I mostly do headbands, bridal headpieces, and a lot of costuming for dance/theatre productions.  I absolutely love doing it, and it pays huge money.  Okay, that is a lie, but I do love doing it!  

I decided to gift some of my creations.  I put together a variety of styles (sort of like these) for my friend Nancy and her two little girls. 

We were having dinner there, and I brought a bunch of headbands for her to choose from.  Nancy's five year old was apparently very excited and enjoyed going through the different styles, and the baby could care less because she is only 4 months old.  But, she looked adorable... as you can see here:

My last #AdamsActs for Day 17 was to finish up a Halloween piece for my step-mom, Jean. Her Frozen-themed costume was, admittedly, a little understated.

Really Grandma Neen, that's the best ya got?

So, we needed to jazz it up... I decided that she needed something epic. I almost made her a tutu, but, thought better of it and decided on this instead...

That should snazz up a t-shirt, no?

So there you have Day 17.  Every little girl needs to feel beautiful with hairbows, and while it may not seem like an act of kindness to make one's step-mother a huge ice queen tiara, I swear it was by her request and was made with nothing but love and kindness in mind.