It's my blog and I can talk about the fact that I was on two game shows any time I want

If you've read this blog (or its forerunner "They Still Call Me Daddy") for any length of time, you know the only two interesting facts about me are:

1. I have five children, which in itself isn't really "interesting" since there are a lot of families that have five or more kids.
2. I was a contestant on two nationally televised game shows: "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" and "The Price Is Right."

The game show thing is territory we've covered before, I realize. I wrote a whole post about it 3½ years ago.

So if I'm going to bring it up again, I should have something new to say about it.

Which I do not.

What I DO have to offer is video of my appearances on both shows. Is that enough? Does that justify me taking up a few minutes of your valuable time to discuss it again?

No, it does not.

Yet I'm doing it anyway. Why? Because I still think the whole thing is just so COOL, you know?

I don't write about it because I think it's some great achievement or anything. It was dumb luck that I got onto those shows. I write about it because, seriously, how many people do you know who have appeared on two game shows? Not counting me, it has to be zero, right? I'm guessing it is.

To this day, those shows are two of the most remarkable experiences I've had. And it's not going to happen again, given how quickly I am mentally deteriorating. Those two contestant slots are all I'm going to get.

So if you're one of the five or so people whom I've not yet forced to watch these videos, here they are.

First is my "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" appearance, which spanned two shows and aired January 30-31, 2003. I can't seem to embed it here, but you can click that link to watch it. KEY TAKEAWAY: Meredith Vieira touched me a lot.

I should have won more money, but hey, $32K isn't a bad day's work. On to "The Price Is Right." This episode aired on February 16, 2007:

And that's it. I'm done. Really. I will not bring this up again for at LEAST a year. Maybe six months. Four weeks for sure.

OK, I promise I won't mention it tomorrow. Does that work?

Why getting the band back together is rarely a good idea

For a few years in the early 90s, I was in a band.

I use the word "band" in an extremely loose sense, in that there were only two of us: Me and my friend Nate. We called ourselves SRO, which of course is an abbreviation for "Standing Room Only," which in itself is funny in that we never played a single show in which you couldn't find a seat.

All told, we really didn't play that many shows in the first place. Our busiest time was the summer of 1991, when I was a junior at John Carroll University and Nate was a sophomore at Case Western Reserve University. We played something like 8-10 gigs that summer, I think...maybe fewer, I don't know. Like all things, the number tends to inflate as I get older.

I like to think we were an entertaining live band. There were only two of us, so we kept ourselves pretty busy during our shows. Nate is a keyboardist, but seeing as how he only has two hands, he couldn't possibly cover all the parts in our songs by himself. So he always brought his desktop computer to every show (this was before laptops, remember), and the computer would control our bass, drums and other elements as needed.

I, meanwhile, played saxophones, wind synthesizer and miscellaneous kindergarten percussion toys I picked up at various music stores when I had a few extra bucks in my pocket.

A wind synthesizer, for the uninitiated, is an electronic instrument that you play by blowing through a controller, like so:

(NOTE: That's not a picture of me. There are subtle differences between me and the guy shown here, not the least of which, I'm guessing, is talent.)

Anyway, that controller is fingered like a saxophone – so it wasn't a huge adjustment for me – and you can vary the volume and pitch of what you play by blowing harder or softer, and biting on the plastic "reed" in the mouthpiece.

The controller is hooked up to a digital tone generator, allowing the player to sound like just about anything at all, from a tuba to a distorted guitar to a bagpipe. It was always a fun conversation piece.

Most of the songs Nate and I played were originals written by Nate himself. Nate is, was and always will be a genius. Like one of those literal geniuses whose natural insight and intelligence is obvious from the moment you meet him. More than anyone I've ever known, Nate combines a left-brained knowledge of mathematics and mechnical principles with right-brained passion and creativity. The result was some really cool tunes, most of which he cranked out over a three-year period from 1988 through 1991.

We recorded one album. No, really, we did. It was called "Sandlot Tunes," and it included several Nate originals along with a cover of "Linus and Lucy" (the piano song Schroeder plays in the Charlie Brown Christmas special that everyone dances to). I still have the entire 10-song album in my iTunes library.

The recording was done in Nate's basement over several days in the hot summer of 1990. Without Nate's technical skills, we never could have made good use of the mixer/recording device we rented for the purpose, and "Sandlot Tunes" never would have come to fruition.

Eventually Nate and I both married and had kids, and we ended up living several hundred miles away from each other. The last time we played together was April 1994. I've often thought it would be fun to get back together and play some of our old stuff, but I realize it probably wouldn't work for several reasons:

• I threw out my Casio digital horn (a contraption similar to the wind synthesizer) several years ago after it stopped working, and a few of our tunes depended on the sound and feel of that instrument.
• I'm not sure Nate still has the 90s-era sequencing software that powered the computer that drove our live performances.
• We're old and rusty.
• You can't go home again.

Re: that last point. Nothing is ever quite as good the second time around as the first, especially when there are two decades of time in between. So it's probably best to just let good memories be good memories.

But hey, if you're ever interested in hearing some homemade early-90s electronic pop tunes, let me know. I can send you the files!

Which is the biggest adjustment: Your first kid? Your second? Your third?

I've heard it said among people with three or more children that having that third child was the hardest leap for them to make.

The argument goes that when you have one or two kids, there is always a parent available to address any child-related crisis that might arise. And that suddenly, with three kids, you're outnumbered. You switch from man-to-man coverage to more of a zone defense.

Which I suppose is true.

But hands down, the biggest jump is going from the state of being childless to the state of parenthood. It's that zero-to-one adjustment that is, by far, the most life-changing.

Right? You parents remember what it was like when you were rookies. Life before the first kid and life after the first kid could not be more different. Everything – and I mean everything – changes.

The speed at which you complete even the most ordinary tasks decreases exponentially. Just going to the grocery store requires an effort akin to climbing Mount Everest when you have a baby in tow. There are endless supplies to take along. Your diaper bag fills up the cart even before you start actually selecting items off the shelves.

The spontaneity that was once a feature of your young, carefree life is gone, seemingly forever. You don't just up and DO stuff. You plan. You figure out whether you need a babysitter. You schedule everything around feedings, diaper changes and naps (yours and the baby's).

One minute you're deciding on the spur of the moment to go and see a movie. The next you're plotting out your life in three-minute increments through the end of next year.

And you know what? It's wonderful.

I'm not kidding, it's awesome.

Yes, yes, it's exhausting and all. And I mean exhausting in every possible way: mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally.

But it's all worth it. Heck, it's MORE than worth it. I cannot describe to you the joy that comes when you're entrusted with raising a small human to adulthood.

It's work, but it's good work, you know? It's satisfying work. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll be willing to donate major organs just for the chance to take a 20-minute afternoon siesta.

And you'll love it. Parenthood is the single most fulfilling and exciting thing I've ever done.

It all starts with that seemingly innocuous jump from zero children to one. It's a big one, but it's a fun one. Don't be afraid.

Our lives should be one long, uninterrupted effort to make sure we don't take each other for granted

Every morning for the last 23-plus years, I have awoken to the blissful knowledge that I am married to my wife.

Whether I'm at home and she's lying next to me in bed, or I'm traveling on business and she's hundreds (or thousands) of miles away, that reality has thankfully not changed.

Some days I am very good at appreciating it. Other days it stays more to the back of my mind. It's there, of course, but it's not at the forefront of my thoughts.

Which is too bad, really. Because I find I'm much better off in terms of my mood, my outlook and my approach to life when I actively consider the things with which I have been blessed.

The greatest of those gifts are the people in our lives, right? Having a roof over your head is nice. Having food to eat is wonderful. Having electric lighting, a comfortable bed and the security of living in a free society are undeniably pleasant things. But it all pales in comparison to the friends and family who sustain us.

You probably agree with that. And, like me, you still probably take those people for granted from time to time.

Or maybe all the time.

I have a long list of folks whose presence in my life is uplifting. I benefit from my connection to them. They nourish me spiritually, mentally and almost any other positive "-lly" word you care to name.

But no one does it for me more than my wife.

She is the single most amazing person I know. She is kind, loving, funny, smart, pretty, caring and a joy to be around. And through the strange life lottery that determines our day-to-day circumstances, I get to be with her all the time.

That's pretty cool.

So cool that I should be down on my knees every day thanking God for her. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I forget to.

Too often we most appreciate the people in our lives when we no longer have them. That's just how we tend to be.

But it's not how we have to be.

Go appreciate the people you love. You can do it inwardly, through prayer or silent thanks, but you'll get more out of it if you tell them outwardly that you love and appreciate them.

And that you promise to try and not take them for granted.

They'll be better off knowing how you feel about them. And you'll feel better for having told them.

Trust me.

Do you remember what you were like when you were 15?

Ask me to select an age at which I was at the height of my youthful stupidity, immaturity and overall confusion, and I'll readily tell you it was 15.

The 15-year-old me is really the only version of myself I don't like.

I was, at that time, lacking in focus on what was important and how I should be applying myself in school. My grades weren't bad, but they weren't nearly as good as they would later be when I started dating Terry and she made me shape up a bit.

I wasn't living up to my potential. Which maybe isn't surprising because, by my estimate, maybe 3% of 15-year-old boys do live up to their potential.

All of this is by way of introduction to the fact that today is my daughter Melanie's 15th birthday. And she seems WAY more together than I remember being at that age.

Part of it is that she's a girl. I hate to say it, but a lot of guys don't really figure things out until they're, say, 40. Girls get it together way earlier.

Or at least it seems that way to me. Melanie is smart, talented, funny, pretty, etc. All of those things we as a society tend to value in our young people...and in people in general, I guess.

She's in her first year of high school, and while she probably feels anything but organized, it seems to me that she's handling the experience beautifully.

For several years until Jack came along, Melanie was the baby of our family. I just always thought of her as "Little Mel." Or "Shmoo," which was something we called her from the time she was a baby.

Even after Jack was born, I still thought of her as little. And for a long time she was. Then, about two years ago, she suddenly got old. I don't know exactly how or when it happened, but one day I looked up and she was extremely into teenager-hood. Boom, just like that.

I'm still reeling.

Anyway, she is becoming the kind of young woman who makes parents proud, and I'm so happy we'll have her at home for a few more years before she moves off into the wide world to experience whatever life has in store for her.

Happy 15th birthday to you, Little Mel. Take comfort in the fact that you're a thousand times better off now than your father was at this age.

The world's greatest breakfast cereals - One man's (very well-informed) opinion

(NOTE: This is our monthly "Blog Rerun," in which I resurrect a post from the history of this blog that I like, for whatever reason. This one originally ran on February 17, 2012.)

My former News-Herald colleague Marty Gitlin recently co-authored and published "The Great American Cereal Book: How Breakfast Got Its Crunch." (You can buy a copy on Amazon, if you're interested.) Marty had talked about writing this book for years, and he finally did it.

I haven't yet read it, but I can personally guarantee that it's one of the greatest books in the history of the universe because it deals with one of the greatest food products in the history of the universe: cereal.

I consider myself something of an expert on cereal. Over my 42 years on this planet, I've just about tried 'em all, from King Vitamin and Quisp to Alpha-Bits and Cap'n Crunch. And you know what? They're all good. Seriously, I've never had a cereal I didn't like...and I include Grape Nuts and Fiber One in that statement.

Did you ever eat a bowl of Grape Nuts? Awesome taste, but they have the texture of scrap metal. Seriously, one serving of Grape Nuts has the potential to rip the inside of your mouth to shreds. But like I said, awesome taste, so the pain is worth it.

Still, Grape Nuts don't make my Top 5 All-Time List of the Best Cereals. Only the elite of the cereal world qualify for inclusion on my list, which is widely recognized as the definitive ranking by cereal connoisseurs the world over (NOTE: That's in no way true, but I thought it would sound good.)

So here, then, is my list of the greatest cereals, in reverse order. If you're an American of my generation, you'll probably disagree somewhat with this list, which is OK. You're entitled to be wrong...

(5) FROSTED FLAKES
There was this horrible period during the 1980s when many of my favorite childhood cereals decided it would be wise, from a marketing perspective, to drop the word "Sugar" from their names. When I was growing up, every cereal that was worth eating had the word "Sugar" in its name: Super Sugar Smacks, Sugar Crisp, Sugar Puffs, etc. And then of course there were Sugar Frosted Flakes. As Tony the Tiger told us, they're GRRRRRRRREAT! And they had sugar on them. Deal with it. Why did we suddenly decide to fool ourselves by dropping the sugar-themed names? Do you think the cereals themselves were any different? That the sugar suddenly disappeared and was replaced by wheat germ? We may have been hyperactive from our constant intake of corn syrup-based products, but we weren't dumb.

(4) LIFE CEREAL
You can't keep a box of Life in our house very long. Between me and the kids, it will be eaten in a matter of hours. Life Cereal is pure happiness packed into tiny squares. The commercial with that Mikey kid didn't hurt, either. One time (this is true) my parents went out of town for Easter weekend and left me home alone. I was 15 years old. Rather than stocking the fridge with food or giving me money to feed myself, my mom simply bought two grocery bags full of cereal – including a big box of Life – and put them out. I ripped through all but two boxes by Monday morning. I kid you not. That was one of the greatest weekends of my life.

(3) FROOT LOOPS
Let's be clear on the spelling here: It's F-R-O-O-T. If you thought they were F-R-U-I-T Loops, then you don't deserve to eat these tiny ringlets of delight. One of the pleasures of cereal is drinking the milk that's left in the bowl when the cereal itself is gone. A lot of people will tell you that the chocolatey goodness left in the wake of Cocoa Puffs is the best post-cereal milk. Don't believe them. Try some Froot Loop-flavored milk and then make up your mind.

(2) FROSTED MINI-WHEATS
When I was growing up, my mom would often fix me a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats by breaking each Mini-Wheat into two pieces. I never questioned this practice until I had a bowl of pure, unbroken Mini-Wheats. I can't explain why, but keeping the Mini-Wheats intact enhances the flavor potential exponentially. (I realize that makes no sense. Just go with it.) The problem with Frosted Mini-Wheats is that I can easily – EASILY – eat a whole box in one sitting if I'm not careful. If Life Cereal goes fast in our house, then Frosted Mini-Wheats disappear almost instantly. And it's always my fault.

(1) RAISIN BRAN
I know Raisin Bran is on almost nobody's list of top cereals, but it is a clear-cut #1 on mine. To say I love Raisin Bran is to engage in gross understatement. I get almost teary-eyed with joy whenever Terry buys a box. And to be specific, I'm talking about two-scoops-of-raisins-in-every-box Kellogg's Raisin Bran, not that Post or (worse yet) generic stuff. It has to be Kellogg's. The raisins are plump and plentiful, and the bran flakes are crisp and flavorful. But like anything awesome, you can have too much of a good thing. Bran and raisins both have certain, um, bowel-related effects that can be nasty. When I was younger, this wasn't a problem. Now that I'm in my 40s, I can't have more than one bowl at a time. That's just the way it is. If I go for that second bowl, horrible things happen, my friends. Things of which it's not polite to speak in any sort of mixed company. Let's just leave it at that.

Getting back to youth sports coaching and why anyone would do it in the first place

I am, for the first time in more than two years, a youth soccer coach.

"Coach" used to be one of the ways I identified myself. Between 1999 and 2013, I coached a long string of youth t-ball/baseball and soccer teams, and also ran our local soccer club as league president for a couple of seasons.

During that time, my life was a blur of game and practice schedules, post-game snacks, making out lineups, etc. Coaches at the youth level have to coach their actual sports, of course, but they also must play the role of administrator, organizer, psychologist (to kids AND parents) and ball pumper.

Good Lord, I pumped up so many soccer balls in that decade-plus. With tiny little handheld pumps that require 5 minutes of hard exertion in order to blow up one size 4 soccer ball. How is it that we as a society are incapable of designing a soccer ball that will hold air for an entire season? Why do they all go flat? Why?

Anyway, through it all, despite the occasional hassles and inevitable calendar conflicts, I loved coaching kids. Just loved it. You build a special bond with them, and even years later when they're in high school they'll see you, wave and say, "Hi Coach!" Such a cool thing.

Then, in 2013, I had to step aside from the coaching ranks because there just weren't enough hours in the day. My then-new job at Vitamix was demanding in terms of time and travel, and I just couldn't swing regular attendance at practices and games from August through October (and then again in April and May) for another season while still surviving at work.

But now I'm back coaching my son Jack's U10 soccer team. We're well into the season and I'm excited about it. I love coming to the field and helping the kids have fun and become better soccer players. Win or lose, I love the post-game team talks. I love congratulating them on a job well done as much as I love trying to lift their spirits when things don't go so well.

Because that's why coaches do it, of course. Not because they're looking for any sort of recognition or monetary reward. You won't find either of those things at the rec soccer level anyway. It's for the equally selfish reason that it's fun. It's just fun. I get as much out of it (or more) than the kids do.

Like good teachers, good coaches stick with you for a lifetime. You remember them. You remember what they taught you. You remember catchphrases they used. You remember how happy you were when you made them proud, and you remember how crushed you were when you disappointed them.

Which is an awfully big responsibility for any coach to take on, I realize. And I don't want to be presumptuous and assume I'm making some huge difference in these kids' lives.

But even if you just teach them a little bit about responsibility, teamwork and all those gee-whiz concepts we attach to team sports because we want them to have redeeming social value, then you've done OK – both by the kids and by yourself.

And that alone is reason enough to hang a whistle around your neck and volunteer to help out. Assistant coaches are always welcome if you don't want the responsibility of being a head coach, and you don't necessarily have to understand the sport all that well. Just be willing to organize, teach and set a good example, and you're more than halfway there.

Surprises and head-scratchers from "The 50 Healthiest Foods of All Time"

Earlier this year, the folks at TIME magazine compiled a list of what they called "The 50 Healthiest Foods of All Time."

(NOTE: You see how the title of the article is in orange type above? That means I've conveniently provided a link to it for you. That's probably obvious to some people, but one of my concerns about the templated design I've selected for this blog is the fact that links, rather than being underlined, are just presented in orange type. And sometimes I wonder whether people realize that orange = hyperlink. Am I underestimating readers' intelligence here?)

Anyway, as I said, "The 50 Healthiest Foods of All Time." It's an interesting list, and most of the entries are predictable, at least to me. Some come as a surprise, though. And others are going to challenge the palettes of American eaters who are accustomed to the fat- and calorie-filled Standard Western Diet.

Half the items on the list are fruits or vegetables, as you might imagine. Bananas, blueberries, oranges, cauliflower and spinach are all "Yeah, duh" selections. But pomegranates are also on there. While not necessarily surprising, they're not a fruit that people in this country widely eat. A lot of grocery stores probably don't even have them.

On the veggie side, fennel made the list. I like fennel, mind you, and a couple of months ago I even made fennel chicken for dinner. It's just that it never would have entered my mind as a candidate. TIME calls it a "vitamin cocktail" with plenty of antioxidants and "a unique mix of phytonutrients." Who knew? Not me.

Among the four types of fish they recommend you regularly eat, salmon and tuna are no-brainers. But you know what the other two are? Anchovies and sardines. I'm not a regular consumer of either, and I had no idea they could be considered healthy, but I'll give them both a try now.

Other surprises and "Huh?" moments from me as I reviewed the list:

• Dark meat on poultry. Conventional wisdom holds that you should stick to white meat when it comes to chicken, turkey, etc. And the white meat is good for you. But apparently the dark meat is higher in B vitamin content and contains a hormone that contributes to feeling full (presumably thus making you eat less).
• Kamut. I didn't even know what kamut was and had to look it up. It's a grain that looks a lot like long-grain brown rice but has a more buttery/sweet/nutty flavor. Yeah, again, who knew?
• Eggs. Depending on the day of the week, nutritionists either tell us that eggs will kill us or that they're the best thing God created, nutrition-wise. It's Monday, so apparently Monday is an "eggs are great" day.
• Kefir. Aaaaaand again, I didn't know what this was. It's a fermented milk drink that supports immunity, helps lactose intolerance, builds bone density, and presumably fights crime and saves the whales, too. Sometimes when my family leaves a gallon of skim in our fridge for too long, we create our own fermented milk drink...
• Rooibos Tea. Do I even have to mention that this was the first time I had ever heard of rooibos tea? But yeah, this is apparently the tea you should be drinking if you want to fend off a wide range of chronic/degenerative diseases. It's a red tea. I think that's cool.

Most people have a 9-11 story...

Fourteen years ago today was one of the strangest 24-hour periods I've ever experienced.

It was the day of the September 11th terrorist attacks, of course, and it was one of the few times in life when virtually nothing that happened would have surprised me.

I was working at the Cleveland Clinic Children's Hospital for Rehabilitation, and the first inkling my office-mate Heidi and I had that something might be wrong was when a nurse came running down the hall saying, "They bombed the Pentagon!"

That wasn't quite true, but close enough. First came news of the World Trade Center being hit, then being hit again, then a tower collapsing, then the other tower following suit. Then reports of a plane crashing into the Pentagon, which I recall it took a while to confirm.

Then came rumors that a plane may be headed for Cleveland. In truth, the plane flew over Cleveland and eventually crashed in a field in Pennsylvania.

If you didn't experience it, you have to understand how all of these events happened one on top of the other. Bad news followed by bad news.

After a short time, we would have believed almost anything.

Offices in Downtown Cleveland closed in case the city really was being targeted (no one knew for sure), and I think they eventually shut down our hospital, too.

Rumors were that the price of gas might triple or worse, so my family and I waited in a long line at a local Shell station that evening to get gas in our minivan before the jump, which never actually occurred.

The entire U.S. air traffic system was shut down. No one could fly in and out of anywhere for a few days.

That night we attended a prayer service at our church. There was a lot of emotion, but also a stoic courage in the eyes of fellow believers that I'll never forget. Jesus could have returned to earth and I wouldn't have been shocked.

Eventually life returned to something resembling normal, though it seemed to take weeks and weeks, and the world hasn't been quite the same to me since.

It was, I suppose, my generation's "Where Were You When JFK Was Shot?" moment.

I would be interested to hear your memories of that day, either in the blog comments below, on Facebook, or through a Twitter response. Even 14 years later, I think there's some a degree of healing when we share our individual experiences.

Having kids who can drive is great! And it's also not!

Three of my children are licensed by the State of Ohio to operate a motor vehicle, and #4 can get her temps in a little more than six months.

There are pros and cons to this.

From a parent's perspective, the "pros" center on convenience. No more taxiing the kids around. If they have soccer practice, fine. Grab the keys and drive yourself. Want to go to the mall? Excellent. I'll just stay here. Enjoy yourself.

And if they manage to save up enough cash to buy their own car, as two of mine have done and the third is on the verge of doing? Jackpot. They can drive themselves AND you still have a car available should you need it.

As for the "cons," well, I'm not sure I even need to list them. Unleashing your child on public roads, even if they've gone through driver's education and have completed the required hours of practice, is a nerve-wracking thing. You know how stupid and reckless other drivers are, and now you're telling your kid to go out there and take his/her chances with them.

So I'm eternally torn. Life is easier for Terry and me in that we've recouped all the hours we used to spend driving our children and their friends around town. But the worry is ever-present. As are the car insurance bills.

Yeah, insurance. Insanely expensive. It's reasonable to expect your child to pitch in, but there's no way even my kids who have jobs could foot the bill on their own.

Then there's gas, repairs, license and tag fees, etc.

The verdict? Driving kids = convenient, but driving kids also = worry and expense. It's up to each parent to figure out which one outweighs the other.

I wish I had an answer for you.

It's Labor Day and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do

There are plenty of holidays that we as Americans should properly observe but don't.

I mean, we take full advantage of the ones that offer a day off from work, but as a people we don't do a good job of reflecting on the reasons for those holidays. Memorial Day is one example. Flag Day is another. Veterans Day is yet another.

And I suppose that today's holiday, Labor Day, is another. Except that for those other holidays I mentioned, I at least know what's being celebrated and what I should think about/pay tribute to in order to get the full intended effect.

But Labor Day? It's a celebration of the American labor movement and, presumably, American workers themselves. In a sense, every one of us is an American worker, so do I just go around shaking the hands of every person I meet and thanking them for, uh, working?

I don't know what I should be doing today so that, by the time I go to bed tonight, I can say, "Yes, I celebrated Labor Day today. I celebrated the bejeebers out of it."

So I'll just...work, I guess. Work around the house, I mean. Then I'll celebrate my own working achievements with a glass of wine or something.

That's as close to labor as I'm going to get today, folks.

How long do you want your parents to live?

I know, that's a horrible question even to ask. "Forever," is the correct answer, of course, and I get it.

But realistically speaking, is there a point at which we may be better off just, well, not being around anymore? The point where the difficulties of everyday living outweigh the benefits?

I suggest there is, and it's obviously different for everyone. Somewhere along the way, it gets too painful to move and breathe, and no amount of medicine can fix it. That's the time when you just hope you can gracefully exit stage left and be on your way to the next great adventure.

I bring this up because this Sunday would have been my dad's 86th birthday, and I have to tell you, there was no way that man was going to make it to 86. Or if he did, there's no way he was going to do it comfortably.

Dad tried to take care of himself somewhat in his later years, but decades of smoking, drinking and questionable dietary practices were inevitably going to take their toll. In fact, they did take a toll when a heart attack whisked him away at age 70.

As I mentioned to a work colleague recently, we're all ultimately "terminal." It's just that some of us will get to the end faster than others.

All I'm looking for is to have as many years as possible of relative good health and pain-free living. Then, when it's my time to go, I'd like the decline to be quick and easy.

None of us has full control over whether that happens, but we do have at least some influence through the way we choose to live. Exercise, stress management, a good diet, maintaining social relationships, always having something fun to do. These are key elements of a long and happy existence.

Just so long as you recognize that this life has an unavoidable expiration date, as do your parents' lives, and that you can make the years prior to that expiration date happy ones, then you're doing this whole "life" thing correctly.

10 more words I really should try to use more often in my daily conversation

A couple of years ago I posted a list of 10 words I wanted to start using because they were just so awesome. Here are 10 more:

1. Gallimaufry (A mixture of really different things..."Terry and I attended the Grateful Dead concert, and I was surprised to see such a gallimaufry of people.")

2. Oolet (A barn owl)

3. Foofaraw (Frills, fancy extras)

4. Quincunx (This word is almost too great for its own good. It's an arrangement of five items where you have four in the corners and one in the middle. Think of what you see when you roll a 5 on a die. That's a quincunx pattern.)

5. Irpe (Refers to a smirk or, sometimes, a way of twisting your body. "Get that irpe off your face, young man!")

6. Tintinnabulation (Tinkling, though not in the urinary sense)

7. Palimpsest (It's a manuscript or essay written over an earlier version. This word makes me slightly uneasy and I'm not sure why.)

8. Dewlap (A great word referring to a turkey's waddle – that flap of skin on their necks – but I wonder why we need it when "waddle" is itself already an outstanding word.)

9. Zazzy (Flashy or stylish. "That Jim Bob is just so zazzy!")

10. Xanthocyanopsy (A kind of color blindness in which a person can only distinguish blue and yellow. I can't imagine a time when this will come in handy, but if it ever does, I'm ready.)