My children take selfies now, and I'm glad.

I texted my wife and asked her to take a few photos of the kids and send them to me.

She taught them to take selfies instead. 

It was a good decision.

Richard Marx is trapped in my head, and I didn't even know it.

My wife decided that the theme of our next Speak Up show at Infinity Music Hall in Hartford would be "Should've Known Better."

We decided this in the car on the way to New York. As she spoke the words aloud, I said, "Isn't there a song called Should've Known Better? 

And there is. It's a Richard Marx song from 1987 - almost 30 years ago.

The song never hit #1 on any billboard chart.
I've never owned a Richard Marx album.
I don't have a song by Richard Marx in my iTunes library.
I was never a Richard Marx fan. 
The song probably hasn't been played on a radio station since 1990.

And yet when Elysha played the song, I knew every single word. 

That song - one I don't partuicularly like by a musician I never particularly enjoyed - has been living in my head for almost three decades, just waiting to come out. 

Even Elysha - a woman who has more music in her head than anyone I have ever known - didn't know the lyrics to this song.

I knew every single word. 

I can't help but wonder what else is living inside my head, waiting for the moment to raise its ugly head. What other song or memory or bit of trivia is still lying dormant, as pristine as the day it was encoded into my biological hard drive, waiting for someone to ask the right question and bring it forth?

The brain is a strange thing. Capable of forgetting something you were told five seconds ago yet also able to retain enormous chunks of information over decades without any effort to maintain the integrity of the data. 

Oh, and I took a look at Richard Marx's other hit songs., I know at least six others by heart. 

Perhaps the man is simply a virus. 

The Name Game

My daughter, Clara, turned seven on Monday. Tomorrow we host a birthday party for friends and family. 

I was telling Clara stories about the day she was born, and this story came to mind, which I wrote about at the time (to Clara) and thought I would share here.

It's a testament to my wife's ability to remain cool under pressure.
______________________________

During labor, many people were in and out of our room. Nurses and doctors surrounded the bed, constantly introducing themselves and stating their positions.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Smith, the attending on tonight.”

“Hello, I’m Doctor Jones. I’ll be administering your epidural.”

“I’m Doctor Andrews. I’m here to turn down your epidural.”

“I’m Doc Simpson. I’m here to look at your vagina.”

Most remarkably, your mom seemed to keep track of all these people amidst all the contractions and pushing. At one point a doctor introduced herself to us, consulted with another doctor, checked in with a couple nurses, and then turned to leave just as your mother began pushing again. But before she did, she took a moment to look up and say goodbye to the doctor, addressing her by her name.

Katherine, our nurse, turned to me and said, “How can she possibly remember all these people’s names?”

A few minutes later, Katherine asked a nurse to arrange for "Petey" to come down to our room. Considering every other person in the room had been introduced either with their title of doctor or by their first name in the case of the two female nurses, the thought of some guy named Pete, who apparently insisted on being called by his first name, coming to the room alarmed your mother.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “Whose Petey?”

“Not Petey, a person,” Katherine explained. “Pediatrics. They’ll need to be here at the delivery.”

Half naked, contracting and pushing, your mother was still on the top of her game.

Three Things I Eat Oddly

Peanut butter and tunafish sandwich

I despise mayonnaise. It's a terrible, evil substance. But as a boy, my mother still fed me tunafish sandwiches, despite my hatred for the mayonnaise typically used on such a sandwich. Without mayonnaise, the tunafish was dry and constantly fell from between the two slices of Wonder bread, making me crazy.

One day I decided to find an alternative for mayonnaise. Something to bind the tunafish to itself and the bread. In the process of experimentation, I heated peanut butter ever so slightly in the microwave and mixed it with the tuna. Not only did it work beautifully in terms of binding the tunafish to the sandwich, but it tasted good, too.

Think I'm crazy?  

A few years ago, one of the stations in my A-Mattzing Race (a race inspired by and designed like The Amazing Race) forced contestants to eat foods that only I enjoy. Peanut butter and tunafish sandwiches was one of these foods. 

Not everyone enjoyed this combination, but two guys liked it so much that they continued to eat these sandwiches well after the race.  

Try it. You might like it.  

Raw potatoes and raw potato skins

As a child, I ate raw potatoes like apples. My mother would wash and peel and send me on my way. 

I still love them to this day. 

I would also stand beside my mom as she peeled the potatoes and eat the raw skins as they came off the slicer. I still love these as well, and it turns out that the skin is the most nutritious part of the potato.

Raw hamburger

As a kid, I ate raw hamburger.

I have no idea why I would ever do this, but as a kid, I liked it.

I haven't tried raw hamburger since I was a boy, but I can't imagine that I would still like it today. Also, it will most assuredly make you sick. I'm apparently lucky not to be dead.

Boy vs. Girl: Episode 12 - The Rachel-less Episode

Episode 12 of Boy vs. Girl features unintentional and accidental recordings of conversations between myself and my ch-host, Rachel Leventhal Weiner, about such issues as when you should get married, the proper level of aggression in a poker player, and whether or not women would ever want a stay-at-home husband. 

Rachel experienced a death in the family and was unavailable for recording, so rather than skipping a week, I put together this shorter, less formal episode. 

You can listen here or subscribe to our podcast in the iTunes store or wherever you get your podcasts. 

A Giants fan enacts a random and nonsensical act of football hatred upon a Patriots fan

I found this in my classroom on Monday morning following the Patriots loss to the Denver Broncos in the AFC Championship game. 

The balloons, the orange soda, and the poorly sprayed silly string on my chair are the work of a New York Giants fan who cares absolutely nothing for the Broncos.

This person also wore Broncos colors to work that day, which left me wondering:

How self-loathing must a person be to embrace the colors of a football team for which he feels no allegiance and would be rooting against in any other circumstance?

How oddly fixated on the football allegiance of others must a person be in order to spend time and money do something that is completely unrelated to his own team?

How disturbingly affectionate must a person feel about the suffering and disappointment of others to engage in this kind of mean-spirited behavior?

Just imagine how psychologically broken a person must be to go through all this effort when his team had been home for more than three weeks after failing to post a winning record in the regular season.  

It's slightly reminiscent of Red Sox fans chanting "Yankees suck!" when their team is playing the Minnesota Twins or the Baltimore Orioles.

If you're directing your chants at a team playing hundreds of miles away while ignoring the opponent in front of you, you have problems.

Perhaps not as unfortunate and odd as the person who filled my room with orange and blue, but close. 

Heart beeps

My three year-old son discovered his mother's heartbeat today.

He calls them "heart beeps."  

Don't you dare correct him. 

Clara Susan: January 26, 2009

I wrote this seven years ago today, upon the birth of my daughter.

Today she celebrates her seventh birthday. Such a big girl.
_______________________________________

Our day began yesterday, at 11:53 PM, when you mother awoke me from twenty minutes of glorious sleep to inform me that her water had broken. In fact, it was still breaking as I awoke. I could hear the splashing from the bed. Despite the hours of birthing class and hundreds of pages that Mommy and I read on pregnancy, we both stared at one another and asked, “What do we do?”

It was at this point that both us fell into an “I told you so” situation. For me, I doubted that your mother was experiencing contractions, since the brutal, possibly hedonist midwife earlier that day had told me that there was “no mistaking contractions.” Since you mom said that she thought it might be contractions, I assumed that she was experiencing cramps and that we should probably not go to the hospital yet.

Your mother, in a bit of a panic, insisted that we go and refused my suggestion to call the doctor first and bring Kaleigh to the Casper’s house before heading off. Less than fifteen minutes later, she was on the phone with the doctor, and for a moment, she was wishing that the Caspers weren’t already on their way to our home.

Oh well. Mommy and Daddy aren’t always perfect.

After loading up the car and waiting for Jane to arrive to pick up Kaleigh, we were off, leaving the house at 12:30.

Seven minutes later, we arrived at the hospital, and I dropped Mommy off in order to park the car. I said, “Don’t wait for me. Just go up.” She replied, “There’ll be no waiting for you” and exited the car. I admit that I secretly hoped that by the time I made it up to the sixth floor, you would be well on your way out.

No such luck.

Mommy was filling out paperwork with a nurse when I arrived in the delivery center, and it was at this time that I finally understood the degree of Mommy’s pain. As she was being asked questions, her responses were not very coherent. Of course, her contractions were coming every three to four minutes, which explains the pain.

After being led to our room, we met Cassie, the first of two nurses who we would come to adore throughout the process. Cassie was with us throughout the evening, making us comfortable and helping us to catch a few hours of sleep. After arriving, we learned that Mommy was almost entirely effaced but not dilated at all. We were shocked. On the way over, we took wagers on how dilated she would be. She said 4 centimeters would make her happy, and I was hoping for 7.

Zero was a disappointment.

Thankfully, our humanitarian doctor, who doesn’t believe that women should ever suffer through childbirth, offered to administer the epidural immediately, even though birthing class instructors informed us that it would not be done before 4 centimeters. This was the first of what we discovered to be several false statements made by birthing class instructors, including their assertion that the hospital had no Wi-Fi, which I am using at this moment.

I left the room for the epidural (though Cassie said I could stay, which my birthing instructor said would never happen), and even though Mommy hasn’t said much about it, it seemed to go well. The anesthesiologist was a bit of a jerk, but otherwise, the needle, the meds, and all the horrifying aspects of this procedure went off without a hitch. Mommy was terrified during this process, possibly more than any other time in her life, but she held up like a trooper.

With the epidural on board, the pain vanished, the lights were turned off, and Mommy and I managed to sleep for a couple fitful hours. The chair that I attempted to sleep in was a device that harkened back to the Spanish Inquisition in terms of its torture on my neck and back, but later I found the wisdom to open it into a bed and sleep soundly for an hour or two. We slept from about 2:00-4:00, when Cassie checked Mommy again and found her fully effaced and 4 centimeters dilated. Lights went out again until 6:00, when Cassie checked and found Mommy fully dilated.

Hooray. I expected a baby before breakfast and said as much.

She began pushing at 6:30, but in the midst of a shift change, in which Cassie left us and Catherine took over, it was decided to allow you to drop some more on your own before resuming to push.

When Catherine first appeared, we didn’t know who she was, but being the woman she is, your mother immediately requested her name and rank, and we learned that Cassie was leaving us. Cassie was wonderful; an easy going, friendly, and warm woman with three young kids of her own who was perfect for helping us to rest and relax during the night. Catherine was warm and friendly as well, but she was also a bit of a drill sergeant, specific and demanding in her orders, and it was just what your Mommy needed when she began pushing again around 8:00. This was the hardest time for your mother. She pushed consistently from 8:00 until 11:30, but because of the placement of your mother’s pubic bone and the angle of your head, you simply would not come out. The vacuum was attempted briefly, but at last, it was determined that a c-section would need to be done.

A few interesting notes from the pushing:

Several times, Catherine encouraged Mommy to find some anger with which to help push. “Get mad,” she would say. “Find something to be angry about.” Your mother continually asserted that she had nothing in her life with which to be angry. Finally, Catherine acknowledged that she was dealing with the sweetest person on the planet.

Your mother never yelled at me and never uttered a single word of profanity during the entire process.

Throughout the pushing, I was receiving and sending texts to your grandmother, Justine, and Cindy, who were all dying to find out what was going on. I also managed to update my Facebook and Twitter accounts throughout the morning.

When the vacuum was brought into play, the room filled with about eight doctors and nurses. At one point, a nurse asked me to hold your mom’s leg, which I had been doing all morning. Catherine said, “Not him. He doesn’t get off of that stool.”  Though I didn’t feel queasy or weak in the knees, she saw something in me that indicated otherwise. Later I was sent out of the room to “drink some juice.”

When the decision was made to extract you via c-section, things got fast and furious and I left your mom for the first time today in order to don a pair of scrubs while she was rolled into the operating room and prepped. It was at this time that I was forced to remove my Superman tee-shirt, which had been specifically chosen for the event. I wanted your first glimpses of me to be reminiscent of the man of steel.

The best laid plans of mice and men.

When I entered the OR, the doctors were already working on your mother, and I inadvertently caught a view of her before I was ushered to a stool behind the screen and told not to move. Yikes!

Sitting beside your mom’s head and three anesthesiologists who were busy at work injecting Mommy with more medicine than I could have ever imagined, I listened and waited with her. It took about fifteen minutes before I heard your first cries and one of the doctors leaned over the screen and said, “Here it comes. Do you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Yes,” we said in unison.

“It looks like… a girl,” he said, and immediately thereafter, the docs behind the screen began asserting the same. We began crying while we listened to your cry and caught our first glimpses of you as a nurse was preparing to weigh you. A couple minutes later, after managing a 9/9 on your apgar scores, you were handed to me, the first time I have ever held an infant without the protection of a sofa and many cushions.

You were simply beautiful.

Because of the position that Mommy was still in, she wasn’t able to see you well until Catherine finally took you from my nervous arms, flipped you upside down like a football, and held your face to hers.

I’ll never forget this moment.

Your mom was forced to remain on the table, arms outstretched and pinned, for more than an hour while the doctors stitched her up. She began to go a little stir crazy for a while, unable to move and shivering uncontrollably, and we tried to calm her by massaging her shoulders and rubbing her arms.

Eventually the surgery ended, and you were finally handed to Mommy. The two of you were rolled into Recovery while I had the pleasure of telling your grandparents, Aunty Emily, and soon-to-be Uncle Michael all about you. There were many tears. Your grandfather laughed, your grandmother cried, and in keeping with her character, Emily was indignant over her inability to see you and her sister immediately.

She’s one demanding babe.

It’s almost 9:00 PM, and we are now sitting in our room, resting and chatting. You are asleep and have been for the past few hours. I must leave soon in order to go home so that I can teach tomorrow and use my time off when you and your mom are at home. My students will be thrilled to see your photos and hear all about you.

For your mother, the three plus hours of pushing were her greatest challenge of the day. For me, the greatest challenge will be leaving this room tonight and not taking you with me. I want nothing more than to hold you in my arms for the next week.

We love you so much, little one. Welcome to the world.

Professional Best Man (and the amazing things that have happened since I first proposed this job)

Five years ago I proposed a new job idea:

Professional best man.

It remains a role that I am waiting to fill. Let me explain.

Although I meet many outstanding best men in my role as a DJ, I also meet many who are too nervous to deliver the toast, too drunk to assist a groom in need, and too disinterested in the role to be of any use.

Besides, why burden your best friend with this role if all he wants to do is have a good time at the wedding as well?

Instead, hire me. Your professional best man.

What, you may ask, are my qualifications for such a job?

They are, admittedly, quite extensive:

• I’ve attended more than 500 weddings as a DJ, guest, groom, member of the bridal party, and best man, so there is little that I have not seen. As a result, I will be ready and able to assist in almost every unexpected or unusual circumstance.

• My experience and expertise will allow me to ensure that the DJ, photographer, caterer and other professional staff are doing their jobs to the best of their ability and serving the bride and groom to my exceedingly exacting standards.

• I have extensive experience in dealing with in-laws, drunken guests, angry girlfriends, belligerent uncles, and any other potentially disruptive wedding attendee and am adept at deflecting these distractions away from the bride and groom.

• I can deliver an outstanding toast. I am often instructing tragically unprepared best men on what to say just minutes before their toasts and making them sound quite good.

• I am a skilled party planner and will give you the bachelor’s party of your dreams while also ensuring that you do nothing that you will regret the next day.

• I possess a wide range of interests and am skilled at ingratiating myself to a wide range of people. I can do jock and nerd equally well and rarely meet someone who I cannot find common ground. We may not be best friends after your wedding, but for the duration of our nuptials, I will be surprisingly likable and chameleon-like in my ability to blend in with your group of friends. And who knows? One of my best friends is a former client. It could happen for you, too.

And what if you want to hire a professional best man but have a friend who also wants the job and would be upset to learn that you went with a professional?

No problem. Simply have two best men.

One who will get drunk during the cocktail hour, hit on one of the bridesmaids during photos, deliver a humorless speech, and forget to end it with an actual toast.

The other will not drink at your wedding except when capping off an amusing and heartfelt toast, will keep your best interests in mind at all times, and is skilled and experienced enough to ensure that everything goes smoothly on your wedding day.

Don’t you deserve another friend on your wedding day?

A friend absent of personal needs and petty grievances on your big day.

A friend who will guide you through and past every awkward, annoying, unfortunate, and potentially disastrous moment of your wedding.

Don’t you deserve the services of a professional on your wedding day?

A professional best man.
_______________________

Since I proposed this idea back in 2011, a number of surprising things have happened:

1. Three grooms have attempted to hire me. Two lived in California and one lived in the UK, and their wedding dates dd not align to my schedule, so I had to decline.

2. One groom hired me, explaining that he was marrying a woman whose culture demanded that the best man be an unmarried, never-before-married friend, and he had no one in his life who met these qualifications. I explained that I did not meet the qualifications, either, but he didn't care. He planned to lie to his fiancee and tell her that I was a lifelong bachelor. My wife wasn't pleased, but I agreed. After hiring me and planning for six months, he backed out without explanation.

3. A bride strongly considered hiring me for her husband, who is "a great guy" but lacks any real close friends. Ultimately she decided that it might hurt her fiancee's feelings to hire me and opted not to.

4. At least three television producers - two reality show producers and one documentarian - have contacted me about appearing in their television shows. We explored the possibility in all three instances, but nothing came of it.

5. When The Wedding Ringer, a film about a professional best man, came out in 2015, the actor and star of the film, Kevin Hart, contacted me, crediting me with coming up with the idea first.

I await the next step in this journey to make this job a reality. At least once.

Whitesboro: You will not believe that this situation exists.

Yes, there is a town in New York called Whitesboro.

And yes, the seal of the town features a crude cartoon drawing of a white man throttling a Native American.

And yes, the town - at least for a time - resisted changing their seal.  

You can't make this up.

Football hurts me. Serious injuries. Still, who wants to play tackle football with me?

With the exception of an annual teacher-versus-student annual flag football game, I have played football exactly twice in five years despite my desire to play much more often.

What I really want is to play tackle football, but as a man in his forties with friends about my age or older, this has been impossible to do. Even the handful of millennials who I count as friends do not want to play tackle football with me (which should come as no surprise).

Though I would play tackle football in a heartbeat if asked, perhaps my inability to find such a game has been a blessing. 

Almost five years ago I played a flag football game with friends that led to a collision between my head and my friend's torso. I don't actually remember the collision and was likely concussed (but after a few minutes continued to play), and my friend was X-rayed three days later and discovered that he had two broken ribs. 

In October, I played a game of two-on-two touch football. On the first play from scrimmage, I dove for a sideline pass and hurt my shoulder. It was hurt ever since. Two weeks ago, I began physical therapy on what may be a torn rotator cuff.

I love football, but perhaps football doesn't love me. 

Or maybe I should stop playing the game as if a Super Bowl title is on the line. 

Either way, I'm still looking to play. Two hand touch, flag, or tackle. Whatever I can find.

But tackle would be great. 

Wonder Woman's invisible jet is stupid.

The new Wonder Woman film is more than a year away, but a "trailer" was released last week showing the first glimpses of the film.

It got me thinking about Wonder Woman's invisible jet.

I hope the filmmakers abandon this ridiculous concept in this new iteration. While I certainly see the value of an invisible mode of transport, I cannot understand the value of an invisible jet that does not also make the passengers and their belongings invisible as well.

What is more noticeable?

A jet flying through the sky at 33,000 feet or a half-naked Amazonian princess with golden wrist band and a lasso flying by in an oddly seated position?

Boy vs. Girl: Episode 11 - New Year's Resolutions, Driving, and I WAS GROPED ON THE POLAR EXPRESS!

Episode 11 of Boy vs. Girl features a discussion of New Year's Resolutions (and Rachel's ridiculous resolution), the question over whether men or women are better drivers, and the story about how I was groped by a woman as I was disembarking the polar express, about ten feet from Santa Claus. 

You can listen here or subscribe to our podcast in the iTunes store or wherever you get your podcasts. 

Losing can be so entertaining when it's not you.

I'm not a fan of Jeopardy. Listening to other people answer trivia questions has never appealed to me, but if games of Jeopardy ended like this more often, I might start watching. 

I love this. The dismissive way that Alex Trebek responds to the contestants is brilliant. I love it so much that I've watched it three times already. 

I'm not sure what this says about me, but it can't be good.

A washing machine, a trampoline, a brick, and a little bit of joy

Who would've thought that three things could come together and produce such amusement?

What is sexy? (according to Jerry Seinfeld and me)

“Any reduction of artifice is appealing.”

— Jerry Seinfeld

I know it's Seinfeld, and he's not exactly the arbiter of sexy, but I couldn't agree more. 

My wife is as beautiful at the moment she wakes in the morning, bleary-eyed and pajama-clad, as she is when she's dressed for a night on the town. 

In fact, I think she's most beautiful when wearing a headband, jeans, a tee shirt, and sneakers. 

Seinfeld also says, "The need to always look sexy is not sexy. The need to always look good is not good. A lot of things are sexy."

Yes. That, too. Big time. 

Butchers and doctors should not look alike.

Am I the only one who thinks it odd (and deeply disconcerting) that doctors and butchers dress so similarly for work?

The "I told you so" calendar. Armed and ready for 2035. I can't recommend it highly enough.

For those of you who are unaware, I maintain an "I told you so" calendar as one of my many Google calendars. I can't recommend it more highly. 

Let me explain. 

It has long frustrated me that people are capable of making ridiculous claims about the future with little or no fear that those claims will ever come back to bite them. Make some nonsense assertion about the stock market over the next two years or predict the next President with absolute certainty, and typically, by the time these predicted moments actually arrive, the comment has been forgotten and the inaccuracy remains unacknowledged forever.

It places unfair and unearned power in the moment while not accounting for longterm results. 

Politicians do this all the time. It's why so many of them suck. They make ridiculous prognostications and impossible promises, knowing full well that they will rarely be held accountable. 

Not any more.

With the use of the "I told you so" calendar, ridiculous, baseless, mindless claims can be fact- checked when the moment arrives, and the perpetrators of this nonsense can finally feel the sting of being held accountable for their deception and stupidity. No longer will people spout off about the future with impunity. I am now armed and ready to call them to the carpet when when the time is right.

This may seem petty to you, but as a person who takes argumentation and debate seriously, there is nothing more frustrating than someone predicting an improbable and wholly unsupported future as an integral part of their argument without some form of future recourse.   

I also think that the four best words in the English language are “I told you so.” People scoff at the assertion, but I have yet to hear four words that are better.

My "I told you so" calendar is littered with items:

• Unlikely sports predictions made by irrational fans of opposing teams
• Assertions related to parenting that I can't wait to prove wrong
• Political forecasts that will undoubtedly never happen
• Job-related predictions that are made with little foresight or perspective

And when these things don't happen, I will be there, anxiously waiting to say, "I told you so."

My favorite item to come to fruition thus far was the assertion of three different friends that one or more of my children would end up sleeping in my bed for more than the occasional middle-of-the-night nightmare. These are friends who had children in their bed for years - a practice I have always found inexplicable and inadvisable - but these friends assured me that regardless of my belief, it was also unavoidable. 

On my daughter's third birthday, I called these three friends and informed them that my daughter had never spent the night sleeping in our bed.

When my son turned three, I called them again, informing them that my son had spent a total of two nights in our bed, both times as a result of illness.

"I told you so," I said. And it felt so good.

Last week I added an item to the "I told you so" calendar" for 2035, surpassing the entry about my father-in-law's prediction that the NFL will cease to exist by 2030. While one of my students was stating her hypothesis about what type of person dreams more for her upcoming science fair project, she said that "little kids" probably dream more since "your life is practically over when you're 30."

I pushed back on the idea that life was essentially over at 30, but she held fast to this belief. 

I'll be contacting this young lady in March of 2035 - on her 30th birthday - to inquire about the state of her life and to utter those four perfect words:

I told you so. 

I can't wait. 

BCE and CE

When writing the date, I've started adding the abbreviation CE after the year

CE stands for Common Era. It's the non-religious version of AD. 

January 16, 2016 CE
01.16.2015 CE
16-Jan-2016 CE

I can't tell you how much fun this has been. It confuses people. Makes them a little crazy. Upsets the apple cart. Causes their two eyebrows to scrunch together as one. 

It's often the little things that can be the most amusing.

Finalized New Year's resolutions for 2016 (including three new goals)

I posted my 2016 goals on January 1, but I always allow myself two weeks to make additions based upon the feedback from readers and friends as well as thoughts of my own. 

As a result, I'm adding three items to this year's list. They are:

Launch a storytelling project that I will otherwise remain vague about here but will become a primary focus of 2016. 

Details regarding this project will be announced when appropriate. Suffice it to say it will be one of my most exciting and challenging endeavors of 2016.   

Collaborate with a former colleague on an educational book.

The book is already written but needs a revised direction. I also find it exceedingly productive to collaborate with people when the collaboration represents an enormous percentage of their creative output and a much smaller percentage of my own. This allows me to participate in the process creatively while benefiting from the enthusiasm and drive of my collaborator.   

Do not speak negatively about another person's physical appearance except when done in jest with my closest friends. 

When my friend tells me that I have T-Rex arms (which I do not), I can fire back with comments about his height. When a friend comments on my thinning hair line, I can point out his expanding waist line. These are comments made without malice.

But when I see someone I don't know or don't know well who appears out of the ordinary - oddly dressed, obese, or otherwise appearing out of the ordinary - I will refrain from saying anything negatively about the person to anyone at anytime - then or later. Simply put, my goal is to cease all negative comments related to appearance unless these comments are made in jest with friends. 

Ideally, I would like to avoid these thoughts, too, and will try my best, but it's hard (and perhaps impossible) to not think something. But not saying something is within all of our capabilities.  

I recently wrote about this goal for The Huffington Post.

Below is my complete set of goals for 2016.
______________________________

PERSONAL HEALTH

1. Don’t die.

Recommended by a friend years ago. Still valid today and deserving of the first spot on the list.

2. Lose 20 pounds.

Since my first weight goal in 2010, I have lost a total of 53 pounds. Another 20 is ambitious, but it would get me down to my high school weight, and I’m willing to try to make that happen.

3. Do at least 100 push-ups and 100 sit-ups five days a week.

I’ve accomplished this goal for three years in a row, but it’s not exactly automatic, so it remains on the list.

4. Practice yoga at least three days a week.

This is a modification of last year's five times a week goal. 

WRITING CAREER

5. Complete my fifth novel before the end of February.

The due date is February 28, so I'd better have it finished by then!

6. Complete my sixth novel.

I have two novels that are more than halfway finished. One of these will likely become my sixth novel. I hope. 

7. Write a middle grade novel.

An editor who passed on my picture books believes that I have the sensibility and humor to write a middle grade novel. I'm going to give it a shot.

8. Write at least three new picture books. 

My first three picture books are finished and in the hands of my agent. I have ideas for many more and an excellent test audience of fifth graders. I plan to bring three of these ideas to fruition in 2016.

9. Complete a book proposal for a book on storytelling.

The book is outlined, and most of the proposal is written. I need to write two sample chapters to complete the proposal. 

10. Write a new screenplay

This is a failed goal from 2015 that I plan to complete this year. I have a film agent who believes in my ability to write movies and is willing to read my screenplays, so it's stupid not to be writing them. 

11. Write a musical for a summer camp

For the last two years, I have written musicals for a local summer camp with my composer and lyricist, Andy Mayo. One of those musicals is now being produced by a children's theater company and will go on tour in the spring. 

In 2016, I plan to write another musical for the camp. 

Andy wants us to write another adult musical as well. In 2012 we wrote and produced a rock opera called The Clowns at a local theater and have been trying to get it into festivals or other theaters ever since. I'm not ready to commit to that goal, though the story for that musical is firmly set in my mind. 

12. Publish at least one Op-Ed in The New York Times.

I published two pieces in the Hartford Courant in 2015. I'd like to get my first piece into The New York Times in 2016. This goal violates my policy of setting goals that do not depend on the preferences of other people, but simply writing a piece for the Times is not enough of an accomplishment in this case. I need to get a piece published. 

My real goal is to land another column in a magazine, newspaper, or online publication this year, but I’m keeping this goal more reasonable.

13. Publish an article in an educational journal.

My Superintendent and I plan to write a piece about educational leadership based on work that we have done. I intend on getting it published at a journal in 2016.

14. Submit one or more short stories to at least three publishing outlets.

A failed goal in 2015 that I am re-committing myself to again. 

15. Select three behaviors that I am opposed to and adopt them for one week, then write about my experiences on the blog.

A failed goal in 2015 that I am re-committing myself to again. 

16. Increase my author newsletter subscriber base to 1,000.

I just crossed over the 900 subscriber mark. Getting to 1,000 should not be difficult. The real goal is to begin to tailor my newsletter to reader preference so more people will want to read.

17. Collaborate with a former colleague on an educational book.

The book is already written but needs a revised direction. I also find it exceedingly productive to collaborate with people when the collaboration represents an enormous percentage of their creative output and a much smaller percentage of my own. This allows me to participate in the process creatively while benefiting from the enthusiasm and drive of my collaborator.   

STORYTELLING

18. Produce a total of 12 Speak Up storytelling events.

We produced eight shows in 2014 and 12 shows in 2015, so 12 shows in 2016 is a more than reasonable goal.

19. Deliver a TED Talk.

I’ve had some bad luck in terms of TED Talks over the past three years.

I did a TED Talk at the AT&T Conference Center in 2013 that went extremely well, but technical difficulties made the audio on the recording almost indiscernible. I hope to reproduce the talk at another TED event someday. 

I did a TED Talk at Western Connecticut State University in 2013 that went flawlessly, but the college students who hosted the conference never posted the recording online.

I did a TED Talk in April of 2014 in Somerville, Massachusetts that also went well, but my 15 minute talk was accidentally put on a nine minute timer, which forced me to dump sections of my talk on the fly and speak faster than I would’ve liked. The talk was good, but it was not exactly what I had planned. I can see myself not fully engaging with the audience because of the need to mentally track time. There was room for improvement.

I did a TED Talk at Boston University in April of 2015. The recording started almost two minutes into my talk, and one of the cameras failed. The actual talk went well but the recording is useless. Again, I'd like to repeat this talk at some point for TED. 

I did a TED Talk in November of 2015 in the Berkshires that went very well. The recordings is excellent. I inexplicably pronounce the word "better" as "batter" near the end, but otherwise, it's a solid talk. Perhaps my luck is finally turning around.  

I hope to successfully pitch myself to at least one TED conference in 2016. 

20. Attend at least 15 Moth events with the intention of telling a story.

I attended 27 Moth events in 2015, so this number is more than reasonable.

21. Win at least three Moth StorySLAMs.

I won one slam in 2011.
I won two slams in 2012.
I won seven slams in 2013.
I won five slams in 2014. 
I won three slams in 2015.

Three may seem like an ambitious number for 2016, but since 2011, I've competed in 42 Moth StorySLAMs and won 20 (a 48% win rate). If I compete in at least 10 StorySLAMs in 2016, I should be able to win at least three. 

Right? (he said hopefully)

22. Win a Moth GrandSLAM.

I won one GrandSLAM in 2014.
I won two GrandSLAMs in 2015. 

Winning one in 2016 is not an unreasonable goal.  

23. Launch at least one new podcast.

I have several podcast ideas, but the next one will be a podcast on writing and storytelling. Originally, the podcast was going to be called Author Outloud, but the name will likely change to something related to storytelling on the page and on the stage.

Elysha will be co-hosting this podcast.  

24. Launch a storytelling project that I will otherwise remain vague about here but will become a primary focus of 2016. 

Details regarding this project will be announced when appropriate. Suffice it to say it will be one of my most exciting and challenging endeavors of 2016.   

NEW PROJECTS

25. Host at least one Shakespeare Circle.

A failed goal in 2015 that I am re-committing myself to again. 

I intend on hosting an evening of Shakespeare. Friends will join us around the table to read a Shakespearean play aloud, with each person assuming a different role. I already have a group of people who have agreed to attend.

26. Learn to cook three good meals for my wife.

A failed goal from 2015. The only meal that I am capable of cooking for Elysha at this time is macaroni and cheese and hot dogs, which is amazing but not very impressive. I want to be able to cook three meals for her that she loves by the end of the year.

27. Plan a 25 year reunion of the Heavy Metal Playhouse.

My friend, Bengi, and I lived in a home that became known as the Heavy Metal Playhouse from 1989-1993. It was four of the best years of my life. Enormous parties, the closest of friendships, and the wildness of youth left an indelible mark on me. While I stay in touch with many of my friends from those days, I have not seen many of them in a long time. We have attempted to plan a reunion in the past without success. This year I would like to make this happen.

MISCELLANEOUS

28. Replace the 12 ancient, energy-inefficient windows in our home with new windows that will keep the cold out and actually open in the warmer months.

A failed goal from 2012 that I am reviving because these windows are making me crazy.   

29. Optimize our television for a streaming service. 

After failing to replace our rear projection television for almost 14 years, we have fallen seriously behind in terms of streaming content services. Our goal is to optimize our television viewing in 2016 by cutting the cord and installing a system that subscribes to the streaming services that best fit our needs while maintaining the content that we already enjoy. 

In truth, we barely watch any television, so this shouldn't be hard.

30. Set a new personal best in golf.

My lowest score for nine holes is a 45, and my lowest score for 18 holes is 95. I’d like to improve on either score in 2015.

31. Play poker at least six times in 2016.

I love poker. I paid for our honeymoon with profits from poker. I made a mortgage payment in 2012 with poker profits. I am a good poker player who did not play at all in 2015 because of the time shifted to writing and storytelling. While I don't regret this shift, I miss poker a great deal and need to bring it back into my life. Six games is not an unreasonable goal.   

32. Do not speak negatively about another person's physical appearance except when done in jest with my closest friends. 

When my friend tells me that I have T-Rex arms (which I do not), I can fire back with comments about his height. When a friend comments on my thinning hair line, I can point out his expanding waist line. These are comments made without malice.

But when I see someone I don't know or don't know well who appears out of the ordinary - oddly dressed, obese, or otherwise appearing out of the ordinary - I will refrain from saying anything negatively about the person to anyone at anytime - then or later. Simply put, my goal is to cease all negative comments related to appearance unless these comments are made in jest with friends. 

Ideally, I would like to avoid these thoughts, too, and will try my best, but it's hard (and perhaps impossible) to not think something. But not saying something is within all of our capabilities.  

I recently wrote about this goal for The Huffington Post.

33. Post my progress in terms of these resolutions on this blog on the first day of every month.