There's nothing flakey about it

The new apartment is so much bigger than my previous place. That means that several items which I’ve had in storage are actually being used — or prominently on display.

Sunday afternoon I was cleaning up and organizing my bedroom, one of the last rooms in the house to be tended to. (I never got my bedroom painted in my old apartment, despite living there for 18 months). I took my box of Flutie Flakes and put them on top of my dresser, surrounded by a couple of stuffed hedgehogs and a stuffed bear.

And my girlfriend immediately started picking on me!

You’re thinking she was picking on my for owning stuffed animals, right? That’s where I thought she was going to go when she started laughing. I mean, what self-respecting adult male has a collection of stuffed animals that he keeps on display?

But, no, she had seen the hedgehogs and the polar bear before. It was the Flutie Flakes that apparently drew her attention.

The box is in pristine condition — still unopened. They go for about $10 on eBay. Of course, I didn’t know that until about 30 seconds ago because I’ve never considered selling it.

For one, it provides “10 essential vitamins and minerals.” For another thing, it’s kind of signed. In the same manner that all first-edition Flutie Flakes were signed. And lastly (this may be key), my dad gave it to me.

“I’ll bet 10 percent of men in Western New York still have a box of Flutie Flakes,” I told her.

She seemed to doubt this supposition on my part and contends that any self-respecting male that does have a box of Flutie Flakes has them hidden in a closet somewhere so his wife or girlfriend won’t throw it out.

I know I’ve said previously that I’m not a huge sports fan, but c’mon. Doug Flutie? How could you not like the guy. For a while, he was the hero of 50 percent of guys in the Buffalo area. The other 50 percent, for some reason, hated him.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe the “shrine” (her words not mine) to the Flutie Flakes is a bit much.

Eventually, they’ll end up on a shelf along with other items she’ll think should embarrass me but don’t, like my tin Labatt Blue sign which she suggested should go in the “man cave” (attic).

But for now, my box of Flutie Flakes will be prominently displayed in my bedroom — where no one other than her or I will see them.

But I have to ask you guys, where do you keep yours?

Don't wait to be productive

I’ve always been a bit of a night person. It started in college when I would stay up all hours of the night — doing homework. Or something.

I’ve gone back and forth between day jobs and night jobs since then. My current job sees me leave work around 2 in the morning. I go home, putz around on the Internet, have something to eat, drink some coffee and finally head to bed around 5.

Some nights, though, I feel like being productive. Such was the case Sunday night as I sat in my new kitchen and stared at the walls in disgust. That wallpaper was the ugliest thing ever.

I say “was” because at 2:30 Monday morning (to me it’s still Sunday night, though), I got out a step stool and started peeling wallpaper. I only intended to do a corner as a test — to see how easily the wallpaper came down. To my delight, it peeled off the wall quite easily. The problem with that, though, was that I just kept peeling. Instead of doing a corner, I did three whole walls and part of a fourth. By the time you read this, all that horrible wallpaper will be down. And some time next week, I’ll consider painting.

Every day I add items to my to-do list. Most days I mark items off my to-do list. Some days I even do those tasks before marking them done.

The new apartment means a constantly evolving to do list. As soon as I accomplish one task, it occurs to me that two others need done. I should name my to-do list Hydra.

One of the myriad problems that comes with being a night person is that many of the things on my to-do list simply can’t be done at night. Sure, I can do dishes and laundry, but I can’t really hang the shelves that I need to. And I’m pretty sure my downstairs neighbor might be a touch upset if I vacuumed. I can shop for groceries, but banking at 4 in the morning doesn’t work so well.

I met another neighbor on Sunday. He was doing some spring cleaning and I took the opportunity to go say “hi.” I introduced myself the same way I always do: “Scott.” We talked for a bit and then he glanced at my license plate. For those who don’t know, it says “LEFFLER.”

My neighbor turns to me and says, “There used to be a Scott Leffler.”

I love the way he phrased it. “There used to be ...” Of course, I told him there still is and I am, in fact, the same Scott Leffler that used to be. As it turns out, he knows my name from my radio days. Also, I know his daughter. That happens a lot — both the radio thing and the daughter thing.

But not to worry dads, I’m not looking. I’m pretty content with my girlfriend — who at 4 o’clock Monday morning was dying her hair.

Who likes beige, anyway?

A new house means new checks. I can’t, after all, use checks that have the wrong address on them. Plus, I like buying new checks. I have no idea why, but I do.

The funny thing of the whole “new checks” thing is that I just used my last starter check — from a bank account that I opened up about six months ago. I think I use an average of one check per month. So, in truth, these aren’t new checks, per se. It’s more like I’m finally getting around to ordering checks.

I think the checks people use say a lot about them.

Some people are very standard — upright citizen types. They order the parchment or executive checks. Those checks say very loudly, “I’m an adult and there is nothing fun about writing a check.”

Other people go out of their way to bring attention to their checks. They might have sports logos on them or flashy cars. Hello Kitty also comes to mind in this category. That kitty sure has staying power, doesn’t she?

Personally, I like the happy medium. I like colors and shapes. Maybe polka dots. Maybe plaid. If I’m feeling daring, wavy lines. My last checks were pink. I’m not kidding. Pink polka dots and plaid. My daughters made fun of me for my pink checks. But I didn’t get them for them. I got them for me.

Several years ago, we painted the girls rooms. We let them pick the colors, if I recall correctly. The Big One chose purple and the Little One chose pink. Guess who hates purple and pink now?

When we lived in Tonawanda, the girls shared a room. With sharing came a necessary compromise on paint color. If I recall correctly, Big One wanted lime green and Little One wanted orange. The compromise was blue — a very vibrant blue. Personally, I like it. My old landlord, on the other hand, does not. She wants it back to beige, along with the rest of the rooms in the house. She has this theory that the new tenants will want the house to be beige. I bet she has parchment checks.

I’ve painted every apartment I’ve ever lived in, primarily because I can’t stand beige. The Tonawanda apartment had a yellow bathroom, a gold dining room, a blue kitchen and a green living room. They’re all going to be beige now. Beige is really just gray with a hint of brown.

We haven’t picked colors for the new apartment yet. But the girls each have their own rooms here. I’m kind of hoping that they don’t pick the lime green and orange that they each wanted in the last house. I’m certain, however, that they won’t pick pink or purple — or beige.

Of course, even beige is better than the wallpaper in my new kitchen. But that’s another story for another day.

Try, try again

Life is pretty awesome. More often than not, it allows you to try things over and over again until you get them right.

About 12 years ago, a previous version of myself — age 25 at the time — moved from Ashland, Ohio, back to Niagara Falls and, eventually Lockport, along with my wife and beautiful 3-year-old daughter. We were starting over. It wasn’t an easy move. We had to admit defeat in Ohio. As much as we loved it there, it just didn’t work out (Some things just don’t).

We picked Lockport primarily due to its spot on the map — about halfway between my parents’ house in the Falls and her parents’ Albion home. A few weeks before we moved home, my Dad passed suddenly. We would be starting over without him. And suddenly being closer to family seemed all that much more important.

If you’ve ever been to my website, you’ve likely noticed that it’s blue and gold. Sabres colors. But more importantly, Lockport colors. It always has been. In fact, a website I had prior to the current one was also blue and gold. I embraced Lockport long before we moved here.

About three years ago, I started over again — by myself this time. I moved to Tonawanda — via Snyder, Niagara Falls, West Seneca and Niagara Falls again.

Truth is, I’ve started over a few times in the past few years. Life just lets me keep trying until I get it right.

I’ve loved living in Tonawanda the past year and a half. Anyone who knows me has heard me crow about it. But something hasn’t been quite right. I’m in Tonawanda, and my daughters are all the way in Lockport. Yep, two of ’em now. We had a second one shortly after moving to Lockport — in the year 2000.

So as of this past Sunday, I’m starting over again. Again. Closer to work. But more importantly, closer to my girls.

Life just lets you keep trying until you get it right. It’s awesome like that.