Been an interesting few weeks since my last post.

1. My planned trip to Key Largo for diving has been modified.  Instead of heading to Florida, I’m staying in Michigan, but taking most of next week off to do marketing work for my new consultancy — http://www.gillikinconsulting.com.  Will be working with Tony and Rick on some of the details.  I’m quite excited about this.
2. In lieu of the Florida trip, I’ll be going to Las Vegas again with Tony, during the week of Memorial Day.  Tony got us three nights comped at Paris, and I was able to change my flights on Northwest for a grand total of $8, so the major expenses for this trip (flights and lodging) are already paid for.
3. We had a women’s expo at church today.  It was a lot of work, but it seemed to go well.  I shopped out some business cards and got two solid leads for work contracts.  Woo hoo!
4. Had dinner earlier this week with [redacted] — it was great, except we didn’t get to chat about the implications of Hillary Clinton’s candidacy on America’s alleged sexism.
5. I’ve been “put on notice” by the diocese today that the death of one of our retired auxiliary bishops may be imminent — may his final days be blessed.  I was asked to assist with his funeral Mass, coordinating the clergy before the ceremony.  Additionally, I’ve racked up additional time as a master of ceremonies and as a worship coordinator for several upcoming episcopal liturgies.
6. Things have been interesting at the hospital.  I drafted a major proposal regarding the hospital’s ethics committee, which was approved mostly unchanged by a work group and then by the full biomedical ethics committee.  It was apparently well-received by senior leadership.  Time will tell how this will play out, but I’ve already been asked to do some work on transition planning.
7. The executive team of the Quality and Productivity section of the American Statistical Association, of which I am presently privileged to serve as the publications officer-elect, supported my suggestion of having a 90-minute speaker’s panel on the subject of healthcare quality at the next Fall Technical Conference, in Mesa in October.  I am coordinating this, with the conference co-chair.  Interesting professional-development opportunity.

More later.

Be glad and rejoice, mere mortals, for whether you know it or not, we are amidst the Three Weeks of Emilie.

Tony and I began our celebration of America’s Favorite Newlywed with a trek to the East Side last weekend; after a quick eye appointment with Dr. Mr. Emilie, we went to the happy home for an absolutely fabulous home-cooked dinner on the most expensive china this side of Japan.  Followed by board games.  It was a raucus good time, even if Tony was mildly cranky, and Jason quickly succumbed to his fourth — FOURTH!!! — upper-respiratory ailment since Thanskgiving.  Damn kids and their germs.

The frenzied revelry continues this weekend, with a party at the lesbians’ in Kalamazoo.  We’re renting a hotel room in anticipation of not being able to drive back to our respective homes.  Should be fun; Pretty Pretty Queen warned me that “someone special” might find me attractive, and one of the invitees is a young lady I traded personals e-mails with a while back.  God help me.

And … mirable dictu! … we are probably going to have an encore in Southfield in a couple of weeks, when Tony’s new prescription contacts come in.

I’m doing my part.  What are you doing to celebrate All Things Emilie?

Since I’m in a loquacious mood this evening …

One of the struggles I’ve had to deal with after massive weight loss has been balancing my energy, both intake and expenditures.  My endocrine system really hasn’t adjusted well to not having as much to regulate, so it’s been a delicate task to walk the line between chronic lethargy and weight gain.

After reading a pair of great books on running, I switched last week to a “grazing” strategy for eating.  Instead of skipping breakfast, eating a huge lunch, crashing in the afternoon, and then running my way through exhaustion in the evening before eating another large (usually bad) meal, I’m eating more frequently, but less volume and greater diversity.  More complex carbs instead of simple sugars, more fiber instead of oils.

A week in, the strategy is already paying off handsomely.  I had two days last week at work when I was able to get through the entire afternoon without wanting to curl up and die (haha).  This is a good thing.  I have more refining to do.  Gerri suggested that I consider consulting with a registered dietitian, and I think she has a great point.  I might do that.  Proper nutrition is a difficult task in the best of circumstances, and eating well after kicking the obesity habit is even less simple.

Next week promises to be interesting.  I’m planning to unveil Tony’s new Web site to him on Monday evening, in Lansing.  On Tuesday, Rick and I are going to sit down for dinner and coffee to begin, together, to ramp up our freelance writing.  On Thursday, it’s off to prison again — a communion service, and ashes for the beginning of Lent.

I will also mentor a nurse who wrote an article for the Journal of Healthcare Quality — of which, I’m now a member of JHQ’s board of reviewers.  I expect a call this week.

Plus, this is do-or-die week for revamping the Ethics Committee.

Should be interesting.  Perhaps no update for a week or so … I’ll be busy.  🙂

My gentle readers will surely recall the horror-fest that was my experience with Spirit Airlines, with regard to the trip Tony and I took to Las Vegas in October.  I had booked our tickets through Spirit’s Web site, but when the final processing transpired, the reservation system told me the tickets I requested were no longer available at the specified price.  So, I had to repeat the process — only to find out a few minutes later that both transactions had taken, and that I was left with two pairs of tickets for the exact same flights.  Long story short, Spirit refused to do anything but issue travel vouchers, so I successfully had my bank issue a chargeback.

Well, this morning I booked my tickets to Miami through Northwest (my primary airline, now that I’m racking up frequent-flyer miles through travel and a rewards ATM/debit card).  This afternoon, as I reviewed the confirmation e-mail, I realized that I screwed up; I set my return date one week later than I intended.  So, I used Northwest’s Web site to re-book my MIA-GRR leg; the ticket was the same price, and there were no fees attached, so the change ended up costing me $0, with no additional hassle to boot.

Kudos to NWA for getting this one right.

Incidentally, I checked all the discount-travel sites; the cheapest fare was through Northwest’s own Web site.

Today, I successfully tested for green belt.  I was the most senior adult at the ceremony — which felt strange.  So, since we had an odd number of juniors testing, I was pulled to work with some of them, including for free-form sparring. 

It was merely one year ago that I joined East West Karate, and now I am beginning the “second half” — the more intense part — of the kyu ranks (green belt falls right in the middle of the white-yellow-orange-green-blue-purple-brown sequence leading to black).  It occurred to me that this week, a few interesting things have happened at the dojo.  On Tuesday, I went to sparring and ended up being in the ring for a full 35 minutes, facing off against five consecutive opponents.  And I held my own well enough.  On Friday, I assisted the sensei who was leading the kids class, much to her gratitude.  And during today’s test, some of the loudest applause came when I squared off against a fellow student during the sparring segment — we were fairly intense, and the assembled spectators were suitably awed.

Which, in its own way, seems curious.  I still don’t generally think of myself as an athlete; my self-perception is still, in a lot of ways, rooted in the body of “fat Jason.”  That I’d receive serious applause for karate sparring reinforces just how far I’ve come in the last few years.  No longer too winded to climb the stairs at work, I now run a 10-K, 3-4 days per week.  I do karate, escrima, and yoga.  I’m confirmed for scuba training in March, and I’m going to do the River Bank Run in May.  Not to mention skydiving over the summer.  I’m like my own little version of the X Games, hahaha.  And none of it would I have foreseen just three years ago — whoda thunk it, that I’d one day turn into the kind of person that I had always admired but believed I could never become?

On Thursday, I brought Rick to the dojo so he could see the karate and escrima classes.  He was quite interested, and Kathy the billing goddess even provided him with a coupon for a free month, which should satisfy Rick’s inherent cheapness.  Whether he’ll sign up, though, remains to be seen.

I recently read Running for Mortals, by John Bingham and Jenny Hadfield.  There was a powerful statement in the book from Bingham:  After he completed his very first marathon, having spent the opening 40-odd years of his life as a fat smoker, he noted in his journal that the miracle wasn’t that he finished — the miracle was that he had the courage to start.  The courage to overcome the self-doubt, the self-loathing, the lack of confidence, the challenge of the raw physicality of training.

Looking back, I can feel the power of that sentiment.  My own miracle wasn’t that I successfully earned a green belt; the miracle was that I had the courage to step foot in the dojo or the gym, or to run the Kentwood sidewalks, for the very first time. 

I hope Rick will have the courage to call the Shihan and arrange for his introductory classes soon.

Picture it.  Your friendly blogger has received word from the lovely and gracious Vonnie that the Ireland trip is officially on.  Woo hoo!  So, I had to acquire a passport.  Easy, right?  Well, let’s just say that I’ve been having the same luck with the bureaucracy as my friend Duane.

First, I complete the required DS-11 and order a certified copy of my birth certificate from the State of Michigan.  Easy enough.  Then, I go to the Grand Rapids main post office for their monthly “passport fair.”  You know — the time when they have extra people to help process applications.  Except that the clerks who are authorized to accept passport applications are wise to this latest USPS scam, so a majority called in “sick,” resulting in long lines and cranky citizens.

For a full 90 minutes, I waited patiently in line for my turn.  And then — success!  I actually had face time with a postal clerk.  Who refused my application.

See, in 1986 my mother’s second husband adopted me and my brother.  As is required by federal law, I disclosed my actual birth name on my passport application.  The clerk told me that, contra the State Department instructions, I needed to substantiate the name change with a certified court order.

Mirabile dictu, it turns out that I actually did have a copy of the original, certified order of adoption, nestled deep in the recesses of my filing cabinet.  So, I grabbed this document — and everything else in my “identification” folder — and trudged back to the post office on Thursday morning.

Guess what?  In 1986, the court clerk who prepared the order of adoption never — not once! — referenced my birth name in the order of adoption and order of name change.  So, technically, there exists no legal document that actually explains how the original Jason became the current Jason.

After debate and discussion among the postal clerks, which incidentally featured them yelling private details of my application across the lobby, they decided to accept my paperwork but warned me that “Chicago” might reject it.

Which raises an interesting point.  If “Chicago” decides against granting me a passport, what are my options?  Re-filing the DS-11 without noting my original birth name may well earn me a felony charge.  But the alternative is to head back to the county courthouse in Grand Haven and ask for an order amending a 22-year-old order in what is, probably, a sealed case.

The ultimate irony is that my own government might not grant me a passport on the grounds that I can’t establish my identity.  In which case, I might stop paying taxes, and when the IRS comes with a garnishment order, I can ask them to prove that I’m the taxpayer who’s delinquent.  Argh.

I’ve been asked to describe the “perfect woman” — at least, for me. Here goes … if any of my gentle readers match this profile, feel free to drop me a line!

[EDIT, 11 June 2008 — Modifying to include characteristics of men, as well.  No point for a bisexual to discriminate against the guys.]

• Aged roughly 21-35 and located in the Grand Rapids metro area. Sorry; it’s just too difficult to maintain a normal relationship with someone who lives far away, and potential relationship partners who are past their mid-30s tend to have a very different set of needs that aren’t necessarily compatible with my life goals.
• In excellent physical health. Yes, that means not overweight, no matter how much the person says that he or she wants to get healthy “at some point.” It’d be great to have someone to run with, or who would join me at the dojo or yoga studio or on a dive. But as long as there’s reasonable slenderness and an absence of chronic disease, we’re good. Bonus points for being up to training for an adventure race!
• Educated, culturally sophisticated, and insanely curious about the world. That means … discussion. Openness to learning and culture. Ethnic restaurants, museums, visits to the symphony. Foreign travel. Sailing around the world in 800 days. That sort of thing. People think I’m joking when I say that I want to sail to Antarctica and have lunch on the beach, but I’m not. The prospect of seeing the big blue marble in all its glory, unmediated, should appeal to my perfect partner, and he or she should be equally eager to tour the Louvre as to kayak up a poorly charted tributary of the Amazon or to hike across the Outback.
• Emotionally stable. Honestly — women with some sort of latent emotional trauma, deep-seated trust/bonding issues, or psychological disorder … should move along slowly. As should gay men who act like circuit boys in WeHo (if you merely look like them, though … ).  My darling should be OK about beginning to share lives: meeting friends/family, doing things without having to plan and negotiate everything, touching … you get the picture. Dating is not an interview process, and there needs to be an openness to letting a relationship develop over time without finding nit-picky reasons to part company, while nevertheless still moving forward as a committed couple. The right person will know the truth behind the aphorism that the perfect shouldn’t be the enemy of the good, and understand that “instant chemistry” or “love at first sight” are experiences usually confined to romance novels and specials on the Lifetime channel.
• Socially confident. A person who is well-grounded is more attractive than the person who is too reclusive, or who has so little self-esteem that he or she pushes to the front of every group.
• Great sense of humor. I tend to have a pun-centric, dry wit, often filled with obscure cultural or intellectual references. Also, it’s been my family custom to express affection through good-natured ribbing and wild sarcasm. Pardon the understatement, but it’d be enormously helpful for the perfect partner to accept humor as humor without reading hidden meanings into a casual joke or editorial aside. Sometimes, a joke is just a joke.
• No kids. I used to think I would be OK with pre-existing kids. If there’s one or two, I think I probably am — but there needs to be the very real possibility of more. I have absolutely no desire to raise another man’s offspring without adding some of my own to the mix.  That said, I’m OK with never having kids, too.
• Single. Divorced is OK; “gonna get divorced soon” is not — it’s just dishonest.  As is turning to me to be the rebound guy. 
• Open to dating a Catholic. I’m quite happy with my faith life, and I’m not going to convert to some obscure, uber-strict protestant sect to appease someone’s bigoted father. Believe it or not, I’ve had exactly that idea pitched in some form no fewer than three times over the last two years. I’m a practicing Catholic, and if I have kids, I intend for my children to be baptized into and to practice the Catholic faith. Not negotiable. That said, the perfect partner need not be Catholic; he or she merely needs to be OK with my own religious practice. And no, I don’t try to convert people — so atheists, agnostics, and others who act in good faith are certainly welcome.
• Ambitious. I’m not eager to settle down with a used minivan in the suburbs, living in a condo and working middle management until retirement. Fundamentally, I refuse to bow my head in humble submission to the mediocrity of the average American life. My special person should likewise demand excellence and achievement, even if doing so involves personal risk and a deviation from the path of security advocated by friends and family.
• Flexible.  I’m not assertive when it comes to mere preference.  When I say, “I don’t care,” when asked about where I want to eat, I actually mean it.  I don’t care.  When I do care, I’ll say so.  Accordingly, a person who is flexible and can deal with a laid-back person who doesn’t get too attached to his own preferences — and who can actually verbalize an opinion or preference of her own every now and then — is helpful.

Unrealistic? I’m not sure. But it is what it is, and I suppose I’d rather die alone as an old man, than to resent a compromise choice for life partner at the sunset of my days on this earth.