Commuter Daddy

Cycling my way to good business travel habits

2009-10-19T21:07:00.003-04:00

I've recently been packing my bike in the trunk, along with my omnipresent golf clubs, so that I can sneak in a ride during travel to the corporate office in New York. Turns out I am part of a business-traveler cycling trend, according to the New York Times.

Andy Clarke, president of the League of American Bicyclists, said health, being green and, more recently, economics were among the reasons more people are cycling to work. Many riders are continuing the habit on business trips. “They don’t want to miss a day in the saddle if they can help it,” he said.

(Of course, reading that, I now feel guilty. I'm taking the week off from riding until I can get a stitch removed from my leg. No worries. Nothing major. Just applying an abundance of caution.)

Why bother with packing the bike? Well, the fact that the Heritage Trail is minutes from my hotel makes an outdoor ride infinitely more preferable to the statioanry bike in the exercise room. And the quote above is absolutely true. I love keeping up with my every-other-day ride schedule. Hitting the road two weeks each month can challenge that exercise pattern. Bringing the bike eliminates travel as an anti-fitness excuse.

The mere presence of the bike on the business trip also provides motivation. Bring the bike 300 miles, only to leave it in the trunk? No way. I don't dare sleep in when the bike is with me.

I used to excuse my poor diet and infrequent excerise on business travel. "I am always healthier when I am home," I used to say. Now, I just bring my home habits with me. Voila! No more excuses.

New Office Mate

2009-09-21T10:55:00.001-04:00

New Office Mate
Originally uploaded by spolay

Our new Cairn Terrier puppy, Ruby, has been home barely 24 hours, and already she's taken a liking to the home office.

We tried putting her in her crate this morning so that I could work without worrying about what she was up to, but the background wimpering was not going to fly in either the personal concentration department or as background noise to upcoming conference calls.

At this very moment, she is asleep at my feet, after a prolonged attack on one of my plastic file boxes. Attacking file boxes is exhausting work, after all.

Baseball psychology of a 4-year-old fan mystifies

2009-09-18T19:59:00.009-04:00

Recently, Benjamin, our youngest, has been walking a very fine, diplomatic line with his baseball allegiance.

It started a few weeks ago. At lunch in Albany, a friend asked him which baseball team was his favorite.

"I like the Red Sox... (pause) and I like the Yankees."

I nearly choked on my calamari. Clearly, I was failing as Red Sox father.

It's not been for lack of trying. I recently included Benjamin in a trip to Fenway Park with his two older brothers. We weren't sure he'd have the patience for a 9-inning stint, much less for a typical marathon tilt against the Yankees. Yes, his first Red Sox game was against the Yankees! Surely I was starting him off on the right foot.

It didn't take long for him to get into the spirit of things. When the bleacher creatures took up the usual "Yankees suck!" chant, Benjamin joined right in.

I was conflicted, and quickly convinced him to switch to "Yankees stink!" He proclaimed just that at the top of his lungs several times throughout the rest of the game, to the delight of those around us. Secretly, I was more proud than ashamed. He was starting out his Red Sox fandom just fine.

A mere two weeks later, and that fandom morphed into political correctness in Albany. Worse? It has persisted, with Benjamin announcing periodically when the Red Sox are on TV that he likes them and several other teams, including the Yankees.

Cut to tonight's conversation on the couch during the Red Sox-Orioles game:

"Dad, you know I cheer for the Yankees, too."

I'd had enough. It was time for a heart-to-heart. "Benjamin, I would really like it if you cheered just for the Red Sox."

"Dad, you're family," he replied. "But I can cheer for whoever I want."

I might be failing as a Red Sox father, but how can I fault that sentiment from a 4-year-old?

The good news? A few moments later, his allegiance changed again.

"Here we go, Umpire, here we go!"

Commuter's Breakfast

2009-09-11T09:29:00.001-04:00

commuters breakfast
Originally uploaded by jøhn ƒaher†y phø†øgraphy

I can't take credit for the photo, but I can relate. Many a morning has a toasted and buttered bagel ridden shotgun on a bed of napkins for the first few minutes of my commute.

Bellies bounce

2009-09-06T12:49:00.004-04:00

One in a continuing series of fitness motivations: "Daddy, your belly is bouncy!" Mason said this afternoon, as he was playfully using me as a punching bag.

Next stop, the bicycle. I was going to pass on a ride today. I have parked a tissue box under my nose , thanks to allergies, and I have some projects that need attention.

Clearly, though, the boys have other ideas. It's as if my fitness life has morphed into a Cheerios commercial....

More ammo for my pro-wifi arguments

2009-09-01T21:49:00.006-04:00

Randall Blinn is making my point. In a USA Today story today about wifi charges irking hotel guests, Blinn, a computer consultant in Louisville, says wifi is a primary factor in his hotel booking decisions.

Amen, Mr. Blinn!

According to a USA Today survey of hotel brands, 40 percent of hotels charge for wifi access. I'm flummoxed. Perhaps I simply misunderstand the economics of offering wifi to customers. Is it really a cost that hotels must recapture via daily fees? Doesn't it break down to a virtually cost-free service for the hotels when amortized over the number of guests that would use it if it were offered for free?

(Can you tell I recently finished listening to Chris Anderson's Free: The Future of a Radical Price via audiobook?)

As I've written previously, wifi availability has a direct influence on my commercial decisions, be it coffee shops, airport shuttles, hotels and soon airlines. I've always believed I am not alone among my fellow Commuter Daddies, presumably an attractive demographic among enterprises that cater to business people, traveling or otherwise. Now the USA Today story lends credence to that belief.

I continue to be mystified by how businesses risk customer acquisition and retention opportunities when the chance to do so has such a low up-front cost.

Kids are always trying to grow up too fast

2009-08-19T08:59:00.001-04:00

August 19, 2009 - Photo of the day
Originally uploaded by Times Herald-Record

How can a Commuter Daddy not love this photo?

Kids these days, I tell you....

Airports improving water options

2009-08-17T21:35:00.003-04:00

Hooray for Portland and San Francisco -- and now perhaps Chicago -- airports for going green, balancing reduction in plastic waste and cost of its disposal with TSA's concern about liquids from outside the airport getting into secure areas.

Instead of making travelers dispose of water bottles entirely at the security checkpoints, the Portland International Airport has set up "pouring stations" into which liquid may be dumped so the empty water bottle can be added to carry-on bags and refilled later -- or simply be recycled.

San Francisco's new terminal will have "hydration stations" just past security, and will ponder eliminating availability of full water bottles, instead encouraging concessionaires to sell re-usable cups or bottles.

These are not a new ideas, per se. Since reading an item on Athletic-Minded Traveler in January, I've been toting my empty water bottle -- and an empty travel coffee mug -- through security on my airport-based trips. Plenty of other sites, such as SmarterTravel.com and Business Hacks, had advised similar tactics before that.

These are the first few airports I have seen taking steps to acknowledge the practice, though. The challenge until now, especially for travelers making tight connections, has been locating water fountains at which a traveler can refill a bottle. More visibility in the form of signs -- or even a few more fountains -- will be the third leg of the stool: Convenience for the traveler.

Another pearl of inspriation from the mini trainers

2009-08-14T20:42:00.002-04:00

Was lying on the floor tonight, stretching my back and waiting for Benjamin to return to our game of "I Spy Bingo."

Mason came over to lie down perpendicular to me, using my stomach as a pillow.

"Dad, why is your belly so puffy?"

Good thing I've resumed trips to the gym this week on my off-cycling days.

Entertaining the troops in the home office

2009-08-12T17:28:00.001-04:00

Multitasking
Originally uploaded by spolay

Mason watches USA vs. Mexico on one screen in the big chair while I use a bar stool and the alternate screen to work (and snap a couple of quick pics). You can see Ben's curly hair, too, just behind my shoulder.

This is the epitome of multitasking, eh?

Dear, Coffee Shop Owners: Wi-Fi Influences Purchase Decisions

2009-08-06T09:25:00.003-04:00

Commuter Daddy and my alternate personas are on vacation this week, so if you read this today or tomorrow, you didn't see me type this and can't prove a thing.

While reading the Wall Street Journal this morning over coffee, however, the headline alone lured me from the easy chair to the blogging chair: No More Perks: Coffee Shops Pull the Plug on Laptop Users.

The gist of the story is the growing trend, particularly among independently owned and operated coffee shops, to free up seats by enforcing laptop bans during certain hours.

Amid the economic downturn, there are fewer places in New York to plug in computers. As idle workers fill coffee-shop tables -- nursing a single cup, if that, and surfing the Web for hours -- and as shop owners struggle to stay in business, a decade-old love affair between coffee shops and laptop-wielding customers is fading. In some places, customers just get cold looks, but in a growing number of small coffee shops, firm restrictions on laptop use have been imposed and electric outlets have been locked.

Dear, Coffee Shop Owners, There is no more decisive way to chase away my long-term business than to completely cut off Wi-Fi access. Sincerely, Commuter Daddy.

Three places I frequent most while on the road are Hampton Inn, Panera and Starbucks. All are Wi-Fi-based choices.

Obviously, to avail yourself of the Hampton's Wi-Fi, you have to be staying there and get the secret login code from the front desk. Still, that plus the free breakfast are the linchpin in my purchase decision. Hampton Inn is usually the first and only hotel choice for any overnight trip I am making.

Panera's open Wi-Fi availability not only makes it my first choice for working coffee, lunch and dinner breaks while I am on the road, but it is also my first choice for off-site meetings with both vendors and staff. Panera has received a lot of my business primarily because of their Wi-Fi, and I have become a business connector for Panera, drawing in additional paying customers as a result of my Wi-Fi-based loyalty.

Starbucks is my backup plan, especially now that my Starbucks card affords me 2 hours of free AT&T Wi-Fi access at most of their locations. Hardly a trip goes by that doesn't include at least one Starbucks visit.

The WSJ story notes that so far New York City seems to be the one place where Wi-Fi scheduling or rationing is happening on a large scale. From a Commuter Daddy perspective, that's fine. While I prefer the environs of quirky and comfy independent coffee shops, there's more than 150 Starbucks locations in New York City. I have plenty of alternatives.

Yes, there might be times I linger too long over a single cup of coffee at Wi-Fi-enabled coffee shop. But there are many other times I have returned sans laptop -- sometimes with family, friends or co-workers -- because of the brand loyalty that the Wi-Fi access has nurtured.

Perhaps the city laptop culture is different than the road warrior set, and as such different rules must apply. I have a hard time seeing, though, how restricting a perk that attracts crowds can be a wise long-term business decision.

Warning: Travel-induced tantrums may ensue

2009-07-27T23:24:00.007-04:00

It's truly been a cursed few travel days for the Commuter Daddy.

On Thursday the road home was comprised of 400 miles through six states, which wouldn't have been so out-of-the-ordinary except for the persistent monsoon, rush-hour traffic coming out of New York City, a screaming-toddler serenade at dinner, and construction traffic as I made the turn for the home stretch via Rhode Island. At the end of it all, I had spent 13 hours in the car. I needed a tire iron to pry myself from the driver's seat.

Suffice it to say I did very little driving on Friday or Saturday. In fact, I would have been wise just to walk the whole weekend. A bike ride with Benjamin at the Cape Cod Canal on Saturday did not involve a whole lot of actual riding. I kid you not: We stopped every 25 yards. He was either admiring the passing boats -- and crossing them out in midair, as if he was playing some sort of boat bingo game -- or checking out the cyclists and fishermen across the canal.

We paused so often that I stopped counting and just started doing long division in my head to estimate how many times we were going to stop. If you're keeping score at home, the estimate was 140 stops on our 2-mile round trip, and I think the actuals finished pretty close to the forecast. That is not hyperbole, though it may have been an allegory -- or perhaps an omen -- for what lay ahead.

Fast forward to Sunday, when the travel carousel resumed. I had planned to take the bus to Logan Airport, as has become my custom for West Coast swings. But it being Sunday on Cape Cod, we could barely get out of our driveway, much less over the canal in time to catch the bus. As we crested the Sagamore Bridge, we saw two Plymouth & Brockton buses already in the commuter lot.

"Let's go to Exit 5," I suggested to Brandy. "We'll get there ahead of them." Did we ever, arriving in Plymouth at 3:20, the same time that the bus was due. A half hour later, when there was still no bus, I called the dispatcher.

"Yeah, we've got two buses doing that run," he said. "They just left Sagamore. They should be there any minute."

Guess we need not have driven to Plymouth!

The good news was I had padded the schedule enough so that I could absorb such a delay. Not so for a fellow traveler, who had marched off in a huff just ahead of that news. His friend, who originally had just been dropping off the traveler at the bus stop, also mumbled something about now having to drive all the way to Boston so the traveler could make his plane. They'd not anticipated that buses originating from Cape Cod on a summer Sunday have to fight the same traffic as the tourists. Note to self: Do not book any summer Sunday departures... certainly never on a Sunday afternoon.

Fast forward to sitting on the plane at the gate in Boston: "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking," said the tired voice on the loudspeaker. "We were just about to pull away from the gate, but air traffic control has declared a ground stop (in Philadelphia) because of weather to the west.... We'll have an update for you in an hour."

That hour came and went. As did another. Then a third. After a couple of calls to the corporate travel agency, it became clear to me that I was going to be competing with lots of other stranded fliers for hotel rooms at and around the Philadelphia International Airport, if we made it there at all.

So Travel Agent Arun got busy. He rebooked my flight for the next morning, secured a hotel room at Embassy Suites at Logan Airport, canceled my hotel room at the Hampton Inn in Burlingame, and delayed my rental car pickup. While I was standing in line to ask where to seek my bag, the gate agent announced that the Philadelphia-bound flight I had just abandoned was canceled. I gained a whole new appreciation for travel agencies right then and there. Arun had accomplished all of that juggling in about 10 minutes, sparing me not only from at least an hour doing it all myself, but also from jockeying against the onslaught of other passengers who were about to attempt the same schedule gymnastics.

What Arun could not have anticipated was that on the flight from Philadelphia to San Francisco the next morning, there was a very cranky infant in the row immediately in front of me, and an even crankier toddler two rows behind me. The silver lining in that scenario is they somehow managed not to be crying at the same time throughout the 5 1/2-hour flight. If they had, it's quite possible I and my fellow passengers would have imploded thanks to those two children depressurizing the cabin by sucking out all of the oxygen simultaneously.

The children also drowned out the snoring of the napper next to me, so I also had that going for me.

Fast forward to Caffino, a Fotomat-like coffee stand just off I-580 in Pleasanton, CA.

(Readers under 35 just collectively asked, "Fotomat?" I just sprouted more gray hairs. It was fast food for photography. You'd drive through at a booth in the middle of a shopping plaza parking lot, and drop off your film, which got sent to a lab, developed, and sent back to the Fotomat franchise a few days later. They then called you to let you know the photos were ready, and you'd drive through and pick them up. Readers under 25 just collectively asked, "Film?")

As I pulled into Caffino's drive-through lane, please remember I had been awake since 2 a.m. PT. I'd been traveling 19 1/2 hours, not including 6 hours of sleep at the Boston hotel. My ears still hadn't completely popped, and were still echoing with the sounds of screaming children. So I may have heard the barista wrong. But near as I could tell, the conversation went something like this:

"Large black coffee, please."

"24-ounce coffee?"

"Huh? Yeah, if that's the large. Black, please. Hot coffee."

"So how are you today? Heading to work?"

"Huh? Oh, well, sort of. I just flew in from the East Coast. Hence, the need for coffee."

"Ah. Well, here you go. Do you need a straw?"

I must have given him a very strange look, because he asked again, only causing me to give him a double dose of the strange look. A straw for hot coffee? It did not compute. Did I look so road weary that I looked like I needed a straw? My brain waves flatlined right then and there.

"Um, no. Thanks. No straw."

"OK, well, come again."

It's a good thing there's a vacation on the other side of this trip. Baristas and babies everywhere can still have hope that I won't blow a gasket in their midst.

Hot air balloon over Middletown

2009-07-21T10:15:00.001-04:00

Hot air balloon over Middletown
Originally uploaded by spolay

Seeing this hot air balloon last night behind the Galleria Mall in Middletown, NY, was a little incongruous. The mall is at the edge of the massive commercial district on Route 211. At the time I wondered if the balloon was descending into a wide open field somewhere yonder in Campbell Hall, or whether it might be landing in a nearby parking lot.

From time to time on my regular drives between Cape Cod and New York I see some early-morning groupings of hot air balloons in central Connecticut, but this was the first time I had seen one in Orange County.

A little research this morning, though, shows it's not terribly uncommon. A quick check of recordonline.com shows a few stories over the years about hot air balloon appearances in the area, including this surprise landing last year in front of the Orange County Sheriff's office.

It was from that story that I learned about Fantasy Balloon Flights, based in Middletown. Mystery solved! The balloon wasn't so out of place after all.

Turns out Fantasy Balloon Flights has been featured on Orange County Choppers television show, among other appearances.

More fitness inspiration from the kids

2009-07-18T12:06:00.007-04:00

Earlier this week on a day I was taking a break from my regular bike ride, I opted for a home workout. While doing pushups in our newly reclaimed family room, I heard a voice coming from the kitchen.

"Dad, your butt looks like a peach!"

I busted out laughing, collapsing to the floor in mid-pushup. Of course, I had to ask Benjamin to repeat what he had said.

"I said your butt looks like a peach!"

I took it as a compliment, especially given Benjamin's last fitness observation back in January, or Mason's most recent proclamation that I look better clothed than naked. Better that he thinks my butt looks like a peach than a marshmallow.

(Photo courtesy of Nancy Lehrer.)

School's out, right?

2009-07-07T20:50:00.001-04:00

Either Walmart in Fishkill, NY, is way too early with back-to-school marketing, or parking lot sign update is long overdue
---------------------------
Sent using BlackBerry

The children have become the trainers

2009-07-05T09:49:00.004-04:00

While I was standing at the kitchen sink this morning, washing the last of the breakfast dishes, Mason came over and punched me in the butt a few times. Lately, I have become the heavy bag for our two youngest boys.

Mason followed up his jabs by sticking his head under the back of my shirt. After I told him to shoo, he withdrew his head, and announced, "Daddy, you look better not naked."

"You mean I look better with my clothes on?" I asked, to make sure I had heard him correctly.

"Yeah," was Mason's one-word reply.

"That's it. I'm going for a bike ride."

"I am a rubber chicken!"

2009-06-19T08:12:00.003-04:00

Summer vacation is barely 24 hours old, and already the soundtrack is in full swing.

The scene: Brandy and I are nursing our coffee, while Benjamin is eating his breakfast at the butcher block table in the middle of the kitchen. Only Benjamin is not eating. He's singing, dancing, and leaning on the bar stool so it is tipped precariously, millimeters away from falling over and crushing his toes. Sam is playing Pokemon on the Nintendo DS, while Mason is bouncing off the walls and furniture.

Brandy looks over at me, and mouths to me, "Take me with you."

I give her a hug, and whisper, "So you'd like to come with me to a boring luncheon, and eat rubber chicken?"

She nods emphatically, while Benjamin, overhearing my rubber chicken comment, decides to change the lyrics to his homegrown song.

"I am a rubber a chicken!" he sings at the top of his lungs. "I am a rubber chicken!"

Ah, the soundtrack of summer, home-office life....

Ride naked? Seriously?

2009-06-17T23:13:00.002-04:00

Let the record show that I will not be riding naked this coming Saturday. While I grant that you, dear reader, will be the better for my modesty, trust me when I say that it's really going to be me that benefits more greatly.

Why even ponder such a thing? Riding naked was furthest from my mind until I spied that a large number of cyclists had embarked on a symbolic, naked protest ride in Vermont last weekend. Come to find out that this is not an isolated Vermont incident: 70 cities in 20 countries, according to the WNBR Web site (NSFW).

World Naked Bike Ride's site proclaims, "We face automobile traffic with our naked bodies as the best way of defending our dignity and exposing the unique dangers faced by cyclists and pedestrians as well as the negative consequences we all face due to dependence on oil, and other forms of non-renewable engergy (sic)."

Amen, World Naked Bike Riders -- all except the naked part. Seriously? Riding naked? I'm uncomfortable in padded bike shorts. There is no way I am getting in the saddle in my birthday suit. I don't care how good the cause, or how aligned with my beliefs.

And let's dissect the mission statement: Defending our dignity? My dignity is barely preserved behind a winter coat, much less in spandex or stepping outside of my clothing. Exposing the unique dangers faced by cyclists? I'm as much a cycling nut as the next enthusiast, but isn't riding naked presenting equal danger to those around the riders? What about all of those cars swerving while rubbernecking at the pantless peloton? Never mind all the pulled neck muscles of the innocent bystanders.

I'll just be happy to finish my 37.5 miles on Saturday without the paramedics cutting my clothes off. Any nudity on my part will not be voluntarily accomplished in public.

Tales from the cycling trail: Dollars from heaven

2009-05-17T22:07:00.011-04:00

I've recently been trying to extend my cycling mileage, increasing from what had been a heavy dose of half-hour 8-mile rides to the Sagamore Bridge into 17-mile rides to the Cape Cod Canal Railroad Bridge and back.

The main inspiration -- aside from my aforementioned goal to ride 1,000 miles this year -- is training for an upcoming fund-raising ride: The Coast of Hope ride in Ipswich, which this year is part of the festivities for that town's 375th anniversary celebration. I and a couple of other cycling dads decided a fine way to spend part of Father's Day weekend would be to spend a couple of hours riding 37.5 miles, and then gather of our families afterward for a cookout.

I am looking forward to it, as it will be the first group ride in which I have participated. For most of my cycling life (and that extends back to pre-high school days), I've ridden solo or with one other partner.

Of course, the last thing I want to have happen on June 20th is to get to mile 17 and have my body decide it is done. So today I ventured beyond the Cape Cod Canal path, and headed for Cataumet.

View Larger Map

It was on a whim that I decided to push beyond my normal bike-path ride today. The first inspiration was the realization that I was only a month away from the upcoming ride. The second was the good-natured, unintentional challenge tossed out by another cycling friend who pointed out I was only riding on relatively flat land lately. His comment was burning in the back of my brain. He was right. I needed more hills in my cycling diet.

Despite the weather -- spitting rain and a crosswind across the canal -- I was not faring too badly as I neared the Bourne Bridge. I felt energetic, and my asthma was at bay thanks to the nearly 60-degree-and-rising temperatures and my relatively steady pace. I decided I could get no colder and no wetter, so why not?

Well, I was wrong about the wetter part. The rain picked up its pace almost as soon as I hit Shore Road, but it wasn't bothering me nearly as much as I thought it might. I just kept pedaling, with no real goal in terms of mileage or time. Shore Road intersected with County Road, and County Road intersected with Route 28A, and it was at that point I decided I better turn around and head for home. I had forgotten my phone, so not only had I not told the family that I was going to stay out beyond my recent pattern of 17 miles in just over an hour, but I also could not immediately call for help should I tire out.

I regained momentum just beyond the Beach Plum Bakery, and was looking down, which I had been doing throughout most of the ride to shield my eyes from the rain. All of a sudden, a $5 bill flashed through my vision. What the...!? I almost kept going, but really, how many times does one find a $5 bill lying by the side of the road? So I stopped, turned around, and retrieved it, all the while thinking it must be some sort of cosmic reward for pushing myself today.

With the $5 bill stuffed in my pocket, I resumed the ride up County Road. A couple hundred yards later, I suddenly saw a $10 bill lying by the side of road. What the...?! The brain kicked into overdrive.

"Seriously?! A $5 AND a $10 lying by the side of the road, waiting for me to discover them? How does that happen? Had a runner let them slip out of his or her sock? Had someone left their change on the roof of his or her car, and the money had just flown off when the wind from the moving vehicle dried them out and unstuck them from car?"

I stopped the bike, left it by a telephone pole, and walked back to the $10 bill. I started looking around for a hidden camera. Maybe this was a test? I put the $10 bill in my pocket, and waited for an ABC crew shooting "What Would You Do?" to show up and start interrogating me.

Nothing. Not even a car passed.

As I resumed my ride, it was clear to me that the $15 were in my path for a reason, so I decided right there on County Road that I was going to use the money to kick off my fund-raising effort for the Coast of Hope ride. Riders who register do so by also agreeing to raise $125 for Bright Happy Power, a charitable foundation inspired by the life of 9-year-old leukemia patient Jessie Doktor, who died in 2007 from complications caused by a bone-marrow transplant.

Should you wish to match or exceed the $15 I found today to help sponsor my Father's Day weekend ride while raising money for Bright Happy Power, please click the button below to donate via PayPal.

I will compile all of the electronic donations, and write a single check to Bright Happy Power on the day of the ride.

Or if you'd prefer a less electronic method, please send checks made out directly to Bright Happy Power to Sean Polay, 176 Route 6A, Sandwich, MA, and I will hand them in on the day of the ride.

A third choice is just to head right over to the site, and check out the wish list of items needed for care packages for children with cancer. You're welcome to donate to the group directly, especially if you are reading this after Father's Day.

I am guessing at this point you are wondering: "Sean, why are you raising money for Bright Happy Power?"

Several years ago, I helped a friend coach his kids in Little League, and one of them had to stop playing after a year because of his own battle with cancer. He won that battle, thankfully, but obviously many children are not nearly as fortunate.

I've been reminded of that experience frequently over the years, both when I helped coach Sam's Little League team a few years ago and now this year as I help coach Mason's team.

Mason, who turned 8 today, is only a year younger than my friend's son was when I helped coach him.

Our boys have been blessed with good health thus far. We're fortunate for that and so many other reasons, and try not to take any of our good fortune for granted. Ever. May Sam, Mason and Benjamin continue to be in good health, and never need the help of an organization like Bright Happy Power. We celebrate our good fortune by donating to Bright Happy Power, and simultaneously hope to make some small difference for children who quite literally are fighting for their lives.

Bright Happy Power's mission is to place hope, happiness and empowerment into the hands and lives of children and families facing life-threatening and catastrophic challenges. It's an honor to contribute to that hope and empowerment. Join me if you can. No amount is too small.

I'm a sucker for commuter weddings

2009-05-17T20:07:00.000-04:00

How can a Commuter Daddy not be enamored with a love story that started on the commuter rail?

Add in that the bride nicknamed the groom "Bike Man," plus that facts that he's a musician and a geek, well, let's just say this musical, geeky, cycling Commuter Daddy is cheering Scott Miller on to happily ever after.

Driving under the influence of cereal

2009-05-14T17:56:00.000-04:00

I've seen some strange things out there on the roads: Shaving and driving, applying makeup and driving, reading and driving, texting and driving, dancing and driving, nose picking and driving....

But if I were to see someone eating cereal and driving, I think I might just call it quits right there. Pull over to the breakdown lane, and call it a day.

Guess it's a good thing I did not witness this erratic driver in Needham earlier this week, according to the Needham Times.

While checking the status of the man’s license, police discovered the license had expired. And while doing an inventory of the car, police spotted a bowl of milk with cereal, which was still cold. The suspect reportedly told police he was hungry and was eating the cereal.

The story is missing a key ingredient, however (as was the Globe's version). What kind of cereal?

I have to suspect it wasn't Lucky Charms.

The driver is probably lucky it wasn't Cheerios, though, or we could be talking a felony, now that the FDA has warned General Mills that the marketing might classify the product as a drug.

Seen on the commute: Triple threat

2009-05-10T19:36:00.002-04:00

Bumper sticker seen on minivan on Mother's Day: "Mom of triplets / May nap at stoplights"

Toilet humor truth

2009-05-03T10:47:00.005-04:00

A while back I joked about how airlines were missing some fee opportunities, including putting a coin slot on the restroom.

You know the old saying that most things said in jest have a kernel of truth? I bring you Irish airline Ryanair, which back in March was reportedly considering a more modern twist: Swiping a credit card to gain entry to the loo.

George Hobica from airfarewatchdog.com told Matt Phillips of the Wall Street Journal that paying for bathroom use is more common in Europe, so there may not be as much outrage overseas over the proposal.

Though the bathroom fee has not been implemented, it's not off the table. As recently as a week ago, Ryanair's Stephen McNamara wrote in a point-counterpoint piece implied that everything beyond the price of the seat remains in play.

Our commitment to cutting fares has even led us to consider asking passengers to pay for using the toilet. While we have no current plans to introduce such a charge, it shows our commitment to ensuring that we keep our seat costs low by asking passengers to pay for optional services.

Optional? Wonder if security would let me bring a catheter in my carry-on?

Cooking in the cubicle

2009-05-02T09:29:00.005-04:00

First, there was Cooking in the Car. Now, we bring you Cubicle Cooking: Chicken Pesto Pasta (MacGyver Style)

I've seen a lot of office coffee makers over the years, including my personal one that we had in production pod back in my projo.com days. I'm not sure I would have wanted to cook a chicken breast on its burner, much less eat it -- which probably explains why we went out for coffee more often than not.

Still I admire the ingenuity and potentially increased productivity highlighted in Mark Levine's post (with a tip o' the chef hat to Jack Lail for calling my attention to it on Digg). And when Google is not your employer, you have to make do with the tools you've got.

Plus, who knew that National Cubicle Day (or perhaps Veal-Fattening Pen Day?) and Space Day were in the same week? Coincidence? I think not!

Should your cubicle cooking experiment fail, or should you need an insurance policy against the coffee maker's bacteria buildup, you could always follow the example of Cubicle Drunkeys:

And really, why wait for National Cubicle Day to celebrate the 3-walled life? Any of these gadgets and toys are bound to make your space a destination for your co-workers, and the social epicenter of the office. Don't forget to accessorize your cubicle, too.

Luckily, though my home office is in an alcove -- the scientific term for cubicle -- I don't have to resort to the coffee maker for preparing chicken. The kitchen is in the adjacent room. Besides, the coffee maker has been toast since our electrical incidents a few weeks ago, and we're back to using the French press, which does not make a very good grill.

Conversations from Vacation: Get to work

2009-04-20T08:02:00.004-04:00

It's school vacation week here in Massachusetts, and that can only mean one thing: Time for another installment of Conversations from Vacation.

Mason: Where are you going?

Me: Downstairs. Even though you guys are on vacation, I have some work to do this week.

Benjamin: Well, go downstairs and get to work then.

And so the week begins....