Birthdays, vaporizers, power tripping, Seahawks

• Today is Amanda's 35th birthday. She went shopping this afternoon, by herself, with a giftcard from her boys. I wonder what she liked better: the clothes or the peace and quiet.

• Ever since voters legalized marijuana last year, I have noticed people puffing vaporizers everywhere in public. Everywhere. It's hard to tell if they're puffing tobacco or weed, but vaporizing is apparently the latest trend in smoking, according to media reports. I see people puffing while driving, crossing the street, waiting at the bus stop, sitting at the game and walking into Target. Whatever happened to puffing in private? I remember back in the day when we would ...

• Stop power tripping! This means you.

• Seahawks fever is contagious. The region's team is the best in the NFL and is the early Super Bowl favorite. I still love the Colts, and still pay attention to the Bears, but I root for the home team. I look back at our time in Arizona, when we lived a few blocks from Sun Devil Stadium, former home of the Arizona Cardinals. Because everyone in Arizona is from somewhere else, they bring their team allegiances to the Valley. We went to one Packers-Cardinals game, and the stadium was packed with cheeseheads and Brett Favre jerseys. It might as well have been a Packers home game. Also, Brett Favre rules. I think he played that game with a broken neck.

Fiction by the seat of my pants

I am making the final edits for my first novel, "Walter's Searchlight." It is a tale about education, race, politics, sex, drugs and parenthood, all told through the eyes of a homeless father who loves his daughter. I plan to self-publish this fall.

Let's rewind to May 2012. I was returning from my grandfather's funeral in Ohio when I heard that Walter Backstrom died. Few people in my life have fascinated me as much as Walter, who wrote a column for my current newspaper.

Anyone who knew the guy knew there was no such thing as a little bit of Walter. He was as volatile as he was brilliant. He was a scholar, a saint and a sinner.

The book is not about Walter, per se, but attempts to capture the essence of what a human like Walter is all about. It is neither a biography nor a roman-a-clef, nor is it a memoir. Just a story that needed to be told without any intention of making money - and those are the best kinds of stories to tell.

I plunged into this project without any fiction writing experience beyond a few silly newspaper columns. The process has been liberating, but also difficult and lonely work. Sometimes it felt like swimming into a dark ocean with only my instincts as a compass.

I have invested hundreds of hours into this project. I hope people read it.

Soccer dad

My 7-year-old son plays in a youth soccer league. I love to watch him play. I love to cheer from the sidelines. Sometimes I think the games are for the parents, not the kids.

When it comes to sportsmanship, kids set the best example. A couple of weeks ago, one of the boys on William's team was feeling winded and queasy. As the boys ran laps around the field, the coach yelled, "Last one to finish needs to run an extra lap."

The ill boy lagged behind the rest, frustrated and on the brink of tears. Another boy noticed, deliberately slowed down and took over last place. That boy ended up running the extra lap instead.

I saw the whole scene unfold, and it about put a tear in my eye. Only a child could be so unselfish. Only a child could be so sincere and pure at heart.

I've grown more cynical in my adult years. The world will never be as nice and forgiving as I once hoped it could be. That's why I'm grateful for the lessons children teach. Children really are the last bastion of innocence and sincerity.

BREAKING NEWS: You shouldn't have eaten that third chili dog

FIRCREST, Wash. (AP) — A routine family dinner took a turn for the worse Saturday night after you ate that third chili dog.

The fateful decision took place at 7:28 p.m. Sept. 7 during an informal dinner at your house. The menu consisted of Hebrew National jumbo all-beef hot dogs with chili and spicy pickles, along with macaroni salad from the Fred Meyer deli.

After eating two chili dogs in quick succession and smacking your lips in delight, you asked your wife if she wanted the last hot dog. She declined. According to sources, that's when you approached the kettle on the stove where the lone frankfurter floated in greasy water. Armed with a fork, you stabbed the hot dog, wrapped it in a bun, then slathered it with warm chili sauce that came from a can.

The third hot dog was allegedly devoured in five gluttonous bites. Overall, you consumed three days' worth of calories and sodium at this dinner, experts say.

Witnesses reported that when your children asked for dessert, you instead wished for a DeLorean time machine like the one on "Back to the Future," with the intention of traveling 15 minutes into the past to prevent yourself from eating the third chili dog.

As of press time, you were moaning on the toilet while reading a National Geographic.

In your old house (2009)

In your old house
Where you learned to crawl
And wrote your name upon the wall
A wooden bat, a glove and ball
In your old house

In your old house
Smells like cigarettes
Acts of faith, last regrets
A portrait of your favorite pets
In your old house

In your old house
Around Christmastime
You spent every dollar, nickel and dime
On a man who sang but couldn't rhyme
In your old house

In your old house
Wrapped in wedded bliss
And a cold betrayal with a kiss
Today I cry because of this
In your old house

In your old house
Where you grew up poor
A rifle hangs above the door
A camera makes you smile more
In your old house

Look into my I's

The most effective way to deliver a persuasive message or write an effective opinion piece is to minimize - or eliminate - yourself.

That means losing the word "I." The more "I" gets used, the more the reader can lose focus on the message, all in an effort to include the messenger somewhere in the picture.

There is no harm in using I when done sparingly to serve the message. Likewise, if the message is delivered more effectively with a fistful of I's, then so be it. But when I leads to navel gazing, it's time for a rewrite.

3 albums to check out

Here are three albums I've introduced into the rotation in recent months.

• The Civil Wars, "Barton Hollow." Their new self-titled album is worth picking up, but this debut is the purest form of the duo's musical chemistry. Their delicate harmonies swell, soar, dance and fade with perfection in a dozen emotional folk-country ballads. The voices ache and make love, often at once, and are best enjoyed in candlelight. The voices of John Paul White and Joy Williams twist like double-helix DNA. White's muscular guitar is the horsepower behind these fragile slices of Americana.

• Norah Jones, "Little Broken Hearts." Most know Norah Jones by her mega-selling debut with jazz-lounge flair. The follow-up was "Feels Like Home," where the tight songs roadtripped through the country. "Little Broken Hearts" is the mid-1990s alt retro album she's been dying to make. Nothing on this new album sounds like "Don't Know Why." The lyrics reflect a distraught view of past relationships. Danger Mouse's production techniques add a classic sitcom sheen to the songs' hooks, which complement Norah's ethereal delivery.

• Queens of the Stone Age, "Rated R." For some reason, when I want something stronger, I light up the speakers with these guys. Their stew of screw-you guitar thrashings refuse to take themselves too seriously — and occasionally surprise with moments of warm clarity. This particular album from 2000 is trippier than their successful follow-up, "Songs for the Deaf." There is more art for art's sake, like the trumpet oddities that close the album in "I Think I Lost My Headache."

3 books to read

Of the books I've read recently, here are three that I liked, in no particular order.

• "1984" by George Orwell: This timeless novel confirms your worst fears about government. Even if you are a status quo establishment worshipping eunuch, you'll be impressed by the depth at which Orwell portrays the media's presence in modern life. This story was written in 1948, long before TVs (referred in the story as telescreens) lived in every home. I bought the book out of curiosity over recent media buzz over government surveillance. I was amazed at how much of an impact "1984" has had on everyday thought and even speech, especially in the political world. This story transcended entertainment with a parable about intellectual integrity and the pursuit of happiness. I could go on. This is a must-read.

• "The Shipping News" by Annie Proulx: The main character, Quoyle, starts a new life in Newfoundland as a newspaper reporter. This story puts coastal Canadian province on my bucket list. The prose and metaphors turn this harsh environment into a supporting character. The humans in the story live and die by the elements in a rural Newfoundland village where no secret hides. Quoyle is haunted by memories of his dead wife as he raises his daughters in the small fishing town where his ancestors settled. He learns a dark side to his ancestry and finally unties all the mental and emotional knots in his life. Armed with a gift for painting breathtaking portraits of nature, the author also has a way with funny names like Wavey Prowse and Beety Buggit.

• "Breakfast of Champions" by Kurt Vonnegut: I love everything about Vonnegut. His stories are a freewheeling ride on the meaning of life. There are better entry-level Vonnegut books, but "Breakfast of Champions" is one of the best. The book is filled with the author's rudimentary drawings (like an asterisk, which is a self-portrait of his asshole). The deadpan pictures are equal parts hilarious and functional. He cross-references characters from past novels, with Kilgore Trout taking the lead as a failed science writer. I devoured one other Vonnegut novel in the past year -  "Galapagos," which he published in 1985. That was a fun tale about evolution, but "Breakfast of Champions" delivered a purer dose of that trademark wit.