It's Going to Fast

Yes... this kind of thing has been overdone of late but with a bellyful of cookies and chocolate cream pie and a few days overload... days? Try 4 weeks overload of Christmas specials and Feliz Navidad, this is perfect.

KFC = Christmas

It's early afternoon on the day before Christmas... I consider only the night before Christmas as "Christmas Eve" versus the whole day... Kerry's got the house full of cookies and food. She's great with cookies and cakes and all that. Buckeyes and these are my favorite. Everyone else goes nuts over the sugar cokkies which normally I'm not a big fan of but Ker's are pretty good.

Liam's got a whole theory about the method and timing of Santa's trek around the world involving the International Date Line and a north-south zig-zag route around the globe. Erin's into the whole Tinkerbell thing and she's reading pretty well now. Finn's taking it all in... figuratively in wide-eyed wonder and literally in his never-ending appetite.

We've gone through all the major Christmas video's... all the classics (Rudoph, the Grinch, the one with the Miser brothers, Frosty, etc.). We missed out on the Charlie Brown one this year because irt was checked-out at the library but ended up with some obscure (for good reason) ones: Flintstone Christmas, the two Frosty sequels, and a few other forgettables.

Vince Giraldi is in the DVD player and I'm heading outside to the woodpile so we can do a fire tonight... after we eat our tradional Christmas Eve KFC dinner.

But first it's off to the recycling center for a pre-Christmas trash dropoff plus a visit to the hardware store to get two screws for my new bike (for my pump bracket) and some mousetraps.

Ho ho ho!

SUBURBAN ASSAULT!!!!

My mission: deliver 6 packages by bike to six separate locations spread throughout the Windemere wilderness. Piece of cake, right? No way, Jose. The last dude to make the attempt totally ended up as a hood ornament on a Kia Sedona. But then again, my middle name is Danger. Well, like it’s William really but wouldn’t that be wicked awesome?!

Anyway, it’s windy and cold as I head out but the clear sky gives me a total rush and I merge onto the 60 mph blacktop like I own it, man. I’m a gutter bunny ridin’ a tightrope on a shoulder as thin as a Huey Lewis tie… pickups and vans slamming past me. But I keep on pushin’ and pushin’ until I enter the cozy safety of the first development on my list. Can’t remember the name right now but does it matter? It was just Spring Mill, Vista Glenn, or Crapdog Farms or some nothing BS like that, ya know?

I mailbox the first package and jet to the next drop zone… which means a few gonzo downhills and a few granny gear climbs… wash, rinse, repeat for 4 more mail calls, comprende? Did a few Daniel Boone’s to find a few off-the-map shortcuts including an impromptu golf course path. Hey Arnie... rockin’ follow through!!

Took a much deserved break, check out this righteous view, bro. Me against the elements, man.

Sweet.

Glenwood Gravitas

Last Saturday, I did one of my yearly (maybe half-yearly?) trips intown to hangout with friends this time at a few of the new bars in East Atlanta. And when I say “hangout with friends”, I am not referring to an online chatroom or some My Face (yes, I did that on purpose) “social network”, I’m talking about actually being in the same room with people. And when I say “actually being in the same room with people”, I don’t mean some Second Life virtual porn palace where I can shell out lindenbucks to some voluptuous stripper with comic book heroine proportions and a guy in a smelly XXXL DragonCon ’96 t-shirt behind her eyes.

I’m talking about sitting at a bar with real goddamn people, goddamnit!!

Anyway, the next morning I found myself walking the 2 miles from Matt’s house back to East Atlanta to get my car. About ten feet from my car, I realize I don’t have my keys. Now this is the part I don’t get… that piece of information was in my brain the entire time. For the long walk in the cold through gray, leaf-strewn streets… the fact that I did not have my keys and the minor fact that I WOULD HAVE TO WALK ALL THE WAY BACK THEN POSSIBLY ONE MORE FUCKING TIME TO GET BACK TO MY CAR was in my head but my subconscious chose not to reveal this little tidbit until I could almost touch my car.

So I then found myself walking back to Matt’s house. About halfway back, little stabs of pain began needling through my recently cut-into knee and I started lacing my text messaged (the first time ever for me… pop!) implorings for a ride with this fact and it worked. Travis picked me up.

Of course, it was right in front of Matt’s house but hey, a ride’s a ride.

Kraftwerk?

Wait a sec... make that this Portishead song. This sounds EXACTLY like having an MRI. Listen to whole thing then get out and put on your pants.

Rafty: The Beginning

It seems like a fair amount of grooms these days elect not to have a bachelor party or have such a watered-down, tame one that it is not even worthy of the term. A bachelor party includes 1) lots of alcohol, and 2) strippers. A couple o’guys playing poker or camping although fun is not a bachelor party.

And I’m not saying it needs to be over the top. It does not need a flight to Vegas. Although that town will basically guarantee a good time at a bachelor party, drop the money you would’ve spent on the trip at the Sapphire Club behind the truckstop off Exit 17, and a great time will also be guaranteed. And then some!

So Mark, Matt, Charley, myself, and possibly a few others are in a raft floating down the Chattooga River in northeast Georgia approaching Bull Sluice, a Class 5 rapid. It was the first time I ever was on a whitewater rafting trip and probably the same for the others. We and the guys in one other raft are celebrating Charley’s upcoming wedding and this was the preliminary phase to the bachelor party.

By the way, my old school definitions of a bachelor party do not preclude anything like this. Hell, as long as you END UP drunk in the vicinity of strippers, you can spend the day doing macramé for all I care.

Anyway, we stop to watch the first bunch of our team go over the Sluice. They approach it all wrong and end up spinning around and going over backwards. But they are fine.

We, on the other hand, approach the first drop perfectly and glide over smooth as silk. We are just about to start the arms-raised, woo-hoo phase when – and here is what someone later said – it looke like everyone suddenly decided to jump out of the boat. Apparently, the raft skirted the edge of a fall and the inrush of water flipped over the boat, dumping our asses into the cold rushing torrent that is Bull Sluice.

Much like this guy.

Later that night, I ended up Dancers 2, a not-so-flashy place off 75, with a few guys but because this was in the days before everyone had cellphones, Charley ended up at another place. We finally met up near the end of the night and an enjoyable, frolicsome evening was had by all.

Fast-forward three years, Travis, myself, and a bunch of others went to what we thought was Dancers 2 mostly because of my fond recollections. The place had changed its name. We barely noted this and proceeded to walk into the place. Suddenly, we see Travis, who had been a bit in front of the main group come plunging toward us, his arms flailing wildly and his face a fierce grimace of shock. "Go back! Save yourselves!!" The joint’s new name was Swinging Richard's.

It later reverted back to a hetero place called Mousetrap where I had my own awesome bachelor party but that’s another story.

Did I forget something? Oh yeah… so we were approaching Bull Sluice and joking about what we should name the raft. I can only remember one but I suppose they were various iterations of “SS” this and “HMS” that and I said, “How about Rafty?”

With or Without Huynh

Kerry just recently found a box of my old CD's sp last night I was listening to Pixie's "Trompe Le Monde" which takes me back to Class Break, a pool hall across the street from UCF where Mark, Matt, and I used to hang out.

One of our typical gags back then was to make a substitution in the lyrics of songs. Smashing Pumpkins' "I am One" became "Matt Let One". Janes' "Standing in the Shower Thinking" became "Standing in the Shower Drinking". Usually they were a joke about someone but often, especially in the case of Mark, they were mindless. "Shock the Marky [Monkey]" was an example of highbrow, complex humor when compared to Pearl Jam's "Evenflow" becoming "Marky-flow".

That last one, coupled with Vedder-esque dramatics was endlessy repeated exactly because it made no sense (and annoyed the hell out of Mark). Anyway, one of the Pixie's songs has a repeated line with "Jefrey with one f" in it which became "Marky with one f".

F being exactly 2.5 times funnier than K.

I realized that nothing on TV or in movies hardly EVER comes even close to making me laugh like the way I do at jokes made up with friends. I can crack up at work, poolside, and definitely at a bar but put me in front of SNL for an hour and I'll hardly smile.

Grassman

A few nights ago, Liam was complaining about his dinner. At the time, I was reading a book about 12th century England in which, at one point, the main characters are on the brink of dying by starvation.

"Liam, you oughtta be happy you've got that food. In the book I'm reading, a family was so poor they had to eat grass!"

Liam looked down at the meatloaf on his plate.

"I'd rather have the grass."

Uncle Duke:

Part 4
Ok, if I’m at Disney ever again (and here I’m in a fantasy world of my own making with “if”) and I’m NOT poolside at one of the hotels, the place I choose to be is Epcot.

The World Pavilion thing is awesome. You’re walking in one “land” with cliché architecture and the perfect cliché music and arguing with the “cast members” about the capital of Morocco (whoops… she was right!) then suddenly you’re in another with a Guinness and twinkle-eyed and red-cheeked innkeepers throwing leprechauns at you… well, not really on the leprechaun thing but you see where I’m going with this.

Then, as night sets in, we’re walking through the America part with Liberty Hall and all that and I note over a loudspeaker that Night Ranger is about to start playing in 5 minutes.

Now I’ve never been a big fan of Night Ranger but1) I came of age in the 80’s, 2) I love music live, and 3) I’ve got a buzz and it’s Night Ranger!!! The fam heads to some ride and I head to Ye Olde Pig & Whistle or something to that effect for a ye olde Sam Adams to watch the show.

Mostly it’s just them clowning around with a lot of banter and some acoustic stuff that I don’t recognize. They do the “Sister Christian” thing of course but while I was there they didn’t play “Don’t Tell Me you Love Me” which I actually remember liking. They came across pretty cool actually… enjoying playing and not taking themselves seriously whatsoever.

Then my God… it happened. They were screwing around doing samples of whatever the crowd yelled out and I suddenly found myself in The Land Where Dreams Come True, cold draft in hand, with an 80’s power ballad band playing “Highway to Hell”.

My friends are gonna be there, too.

I can tell you… sniff… it was quite a touching moment.

Uncle Duke:

Part 3
The next day was Epcot. Ok, the plan was that while the women of the bunch were having a “Princess luncheon”, the guys would have lunch at a steakhouse in the Canada pavilion and after a long morning of rides and lines and FastPassing, I was more than ready to kick back a little.

Here’s the deal with the FastPasses: you go to the ride and pick up a ticket that “reserves” you a ride at a later time and you don’t have to stand in line with the commoners. Kidding aside, I honestly don’t lump this in with the elitist thing because the FastPasses are free. You just have to get there in time before they all get picked up… which can be a challenge on the more popular rides. But initially, I kept forgetting about this. I just trudge along with the group and I don’t pay attention to where I’m going… I don’t really have any personal preferences at these things and damn if I’m getting remotely involved in any of the family squabbles (by the way, not only were the in-laws there but so were Kerry’s two brothers and a sister-in-law and a 1-1/2 old nephew) over what ride to get on. Who gives a rat’s ass… I’m 41 years old.

Anyway, so we’d get to a ride and I’d look up with a “Hey, Liam.. all right we’re going on the Space Ranger Coaster… to infinity… and beyond!” but we wouldn’t be. We’d just be there to pick up the FastPasses then go halfway across the park to another ride that we had picked up passes for two hours ago.

So around noon, we get to some puppety kids thing and Coach (that’s what we call my father-in-law) mentions we need to get FastPasses for some thrill ride (versus said “puppety” thing) and it happens to be on the other side of the park… which it ALWAYS is. I volunteer to go get them while they are all on Figment’s Imaginary Wonder Puke or whatever it’s called and meet them at the restaurant… which is right next to where we currently are. Hell, 1) it’ll give me a goal which is a nice change of pace from following along pushing a stroller, 2) I can give ol’ Figment a miss, and 3) the faster I get to the restaurant the sooner I can do the only thing I myself enjoy at these things…. people watch while drinking a beer. Note, I say “myself” because I get a huge kick out of doing all this crap with the kids… but every once in a while, I need to grab whatever Jim-time I can get.

So I freakin’ Tom Cruise it across Epcot, grab the Fastpasses, and back across the park to the steakhouse where - surprise – there’s no bar. Ok, I’ll sit at a big table by myself and drink… can you seat me now? Nope. So I head up to the major walkways to grab a beer from a vendor and here comes the gang… I guess the line for the puppet thing was a short one.

Uncle Duke:

Part 2
We pulled up to the gargantuan Lincoln Log cabin that is Disney’s Wilderness Lodge, Kerry ran in with Finn to secure the room, and it was left to me to get the luggage up to the room. A bellhop… is it ok to say “bellhop” or is that politically incorrect? Anyway, a “cast member” promptly appeared with one of those rolling carts, ready to lend assistance.

Now for some reason, I’ve never liked having others carry my bags for me. Even at a hotel in Shanghai where it was like I was in the 30’s as far as labor was concerned and there were half-a-dozen guys standing around in the lobby just waiting to help you out, I carried my own suitcases. Mostly it’s because I hate being involved in anything that smacks of elitism but also it’s because I’m a cheap bastard and I don’t want to tip. But this time, my hesitation to accept the help of the Disney attendant was rooted in embarrassment.

We started pulling things out of the back of the minivan and stacking them up on the cart…. coolers, cases of juiceboxes and mini-cereals (the kind you could conceivably cut open and pour milk into but does anyone actually DO that?) from Costco, backpacks…. and everything was half-open and spilling forth. We were about halfway through and I had no idea what was supposed to go up and what could stay in the van and damned if I was going to put a 12-pack of Bud Select on the top of that mess and walk through the lodge so I told him I’d be back, drove off, and parked the van.

However, shame would not keep me from my beer so I transferred each bottle into a big red cooler and carried it back to the lodge, through the lobby, up the elevator to the 6th floor, down a hall roughly 10 rooms long (one side), then down ANOTHER similar hall (did I say this place was big?), and into our room where naturally I opened one up, plopped down on the balcony, and took a loooong sip. Then, fortified, I stuck the beer in the mini-fridge, and set off to bring the crap up.

Naturally, it turns out ALL the stuff had to come up so it ended up being two carts and a $10 tip. Ouch.

Everybody's movin-movin-movin-movin

By the way, this whole episode will have taken 5 separate clinical visits:
1) the initial consultation; "Hmmm... looks like a torn meniscus. Better get an MRI."
2) the MRI; like lying down on the floor for 45 minutes at a Kraftwerk concert with a white towel over your face.
3) post-MRI doctor visit; for some reason, I had to personally bring the MRI pictures to the doctor; "Hmmm... yup, it's a torn meniscus."
4) pre-op; sign papers... that's it
5) the surgery

Each one of these involved taking time off from work. I can't imagine what this will be like when we eventually go to socialized medicine. Maybe that's why I always get an out-of-office whenever I e-mail Europe. There out sitting in some goddamn waiting room.

Jim Kneesium

My pre-op instructions were not to drink any liquids or eat any food 12 hours before the operation. Thursday morning, I awoke at 6am and decided that 1) "liquids" certainly couldn't include water right? I mean, ya gotta drink water, and 2) a little coffe wouldn't kill anyone.

At the doctor's, I ended getting the riot act read to me by the receptionist, two nurses who discussed the situation back and forth, and the anathesiologist who explained to me that your cough-it-out reflex is basically shut down when you are put under. If you puked a little you could pull a Jimi Hendrix and no one notice.

But they went through with it and I survived. In fact, when I came out of it I felt great and could walk around. This was a 180 from the last time, roughly 9 years ago for a BS deviated septum surgery when I could barely stand and after Travis drove me home, I fell asleep for twenty hours.

They gave me a prescription for ibuprofen and hydrocodone. I've taken the ibuprofen to keep down swelling but I haven't touched the painkillers because so far, I haven't felt any pain.

Let's hope it stays that way.

The geeze's knees

I bought my first 12-pack of Bud Light a few days ago. I remember reading somewhere that light beers had slightly less alcohol so to me, light beer is a "value- depreciated" option.

However, I can feel my middle chubbin' up lately because, although I still consume as much food as alaways, I haven't been running for about two months. About 6 months ago, I noticed some pain in my left knee but if I stretched a fair amount, it seemed to go away and never really bugged me while actually running anyway. Then it gradually got worse.

I went to a doctor who pretty much guaranteed it was a torn meniscus. Had an MRI and sure enough, that's what it is. If I don't run or hike, I don't even notice it.

But since that's what I like to do, tomorrow I'm going to get a little piece of the meniscus removed via arthroscopic surgery.

Uncle Duke:

Part 1
We picked up the kids at school and hit the road. Fueled by 3 Diet Mountain Dews, 2 Cokes from Chic-fil-A, and snack-crap galore we made it to the Pop hotel at Disney in ten and a half hours… pretty decent for hauling an 8 yr old, a 6 yr old, and a 4 monther.

The kids wake up at the usual 7:30am and we trudged past titanic 8-track cassettes and yo-yo’s to the food court complex to get our coffee. We ended up with the same 12$ refillable cups as everyone else… cups we were to retain the entire trip… heck, we still have them now since they have been deemed “souvenirs”.

Seeing tourists walking around on tidy paths wandering among day-glo buildings, some of them in motorized wheelchairs and all clutching the same identical plastic mugs as we were, I was reminded of the scenes in WALL-E of the massive generation ship crowded with fat, pampered humans floating around on hovering lounge chairs slurping “cheeseburger-in-a-cup”s.

With Liam and Erin with Kerry’s folks, we had lunch at Hollywood Studios. I walked up to the register and caught the tail end of a conversation the “cast member” was having with a 10 or 11 year old boy about a hot dog eating contest. I made a friendly comment and she said he had eaten 125 hot dogs in 5 minutes. I chuckled and said that was impossible. She smiled and countered “Nothing is impossible in a child’s imagination.”

Give that cast member a raise, Walt!

I purchased a draft Yuengling and a Cuban sandwich from said dream-purveyor and sat outside with my beautiful wife and did a little people watching while I enjoyed my cold beer with zero knowledge of the luggage nightmare to come.

Dale:

Last week, we spent a week at Disney and, of course, the kids loved it! Basically, the whole thing was to celebrate the 60th birthday of Kerry’s Dad since it was a long-time dream of his to do a big multi-park Disney extravaganza with family.

We stayed at two Disney hotels: Pop which was a crazy-cool place with giant Bigwheels, Yo-Yo’s, and Rubik’s Cubes and the Wilderness Lodge, a resort done up Pacific Northwest-style… huge but charming with rustic wood and stone everywhere plus a pool and beach to boot! And everything with the polished but non-intrusive Disney professionalism and drive for perfection.

The first day the kids went to Animal Kingdom with the grandparents while Kerry and I moved all our stuff from Pop to the Lodge… with Finn, of course. We also met up with an old college roommate of mine that I recently found on Google. He worked at Disney then and I knew he’d be working for the Mouse still and I was right. We did a quick tour of Hollywood Studios and Finn did his first ride.



The next day we hit Epcot. Liam loved Soaring, a simulator ride where you fly over California and Erin talked with Crush, the sea turtle from “Finding Nemo”. Even before it started, I knew that he’d pick the “dudette with the pink thingy on her noggin’”! The guys had an early dinner at a steakhouse in Canada to celebrate Mike’s birthday (no, not Kerry’s brother-in-law) while Erin had a Princess lunch in Norway.

Hollywood Studio’s was the next day’s event where Liam rode the Rock’n’Rollercoaster twice… this was his favorite ride of the whole ord- I mean, deal… and we saw a really well-done show of Beauty and the Beast. I swear, I had remnants of that choked-up feeling again when Belle was crying over the beast’s apparently slain body.

Aaaaand the NEXT day, after waking up before 6am so we could make it to a breakfast with Mickey & Minnie Mouse, Pluto, and Donald Duck (with Micky-shaped waffles!), we spent most of the day at the Magic Kingdom. The roller coaster Liam rode Thunder and Space Mountain multiple times. Erin’s favorite was Peter Pan but not to be outdone by her brother, she laughed gleefully the entire time she rode on Thunder Mountain although she barely made the height restriction… she did Space Mountain as well. Then we stayed until around 11pm so we wouldn’t miss the fireworks.

The last day, before hitting the road for home, we spent a few hours actually AT the Lodge taking pictures, playing in the sand on the beach, and looking for “hidden Mickey’s” which are tiny, barely recognizable Mickey outlines spread throughout all the Disney parks and resorts… they had a printout at the desk for the ones at the Wilderness Lodge with riddles like:

In the lobby colors abound
In the rocks is where I'm found.
On the corner - color of red
Three circles make my head

Good thing Tracy, Kerry’s non-Suanne sister-in-law, bought us a Hidden Mickey book!

The Wilderness Lodge really was awesome and I wish we had spent a little more time there instead of concentrating on FastPasses and hitting all the big ride at the parks. I have to say that staying completely in Disney and not even having to see your car for the whole time is worth the money… assuming you can find discounts, of course. Thankfully Kerry spent months researching this trip and we ate cereal and Pop Tarts in the room for most of the breakfasts plus cheap snacks and PBJ’s at the parks for the kids. It doesn’t hurt having two generous in-laws doting on your kids either! Many thanks to them.

Another tip is to definitely buy the $12 refillable coffee/soda cup at the resort… they'll pay for themselves in half a day.

All in all, we had a great time... not a relaxing one by any means but definitely fun was had and memories were made... and digitally preserved in gigabytes.

Slice of Life, Part 731

Tonight, after buying a bag of tortillas, a bottle of Frank's Hot Sauce, and a carton of cheap vanilla ice cream at Publix, I turned on the radio to hear the depressingly gloomy "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails (even more brooding than Trent's usual) followed immediately by Beastie Boys' "Fight for Your Right".

I never was too into NIN but no doubt the guy's got talent. And I was never a fan of the License to Ill fratboy stuff save for it gave the Beastie Boys "license" to produce a lot of greatness. But I loved the transition between dark, emotion-laden dirge and "Kick it!"

Wow... that video was even worse than I remember.

Anyway, then I get home and Erin's in trouble. She had asked if she could have some carrots before dinner. She sat at the table pretending to munch on carrots when she really was eating a Halloween Butterfinger (it's fun-sized!) she had under the table.

You are dead to me.

Don't worry guys, I'm working on my Disney epic. I just have to lay the law down here and inform everyone that until Dec 1, I will see no Christmas decorations and hear no Christmas music. I will not talk about Christmas for what is there to talk about? It does not exist until Dec 1.

Unless, of course, I see this on TV.

Not bloody likely!

But first... more Erin!!!!

Out of the frying pan...

Well.... it's finally come. We're hittin' the road tomorrow headed south for Disney.

We just had a re-org at work including more than a 100 people taking voluntary retirement plus the fiscal year just ended and any order remotely ready had to ship so it'll be fantastic getting away from all that. Not that running around Disney with 3 kids is my idea of "wewaxation at wast" but there's only so much "what's the part number for an SAE6-JIC12 swivel", "the PZ242 sensors's not working and the one uses an unapproved laser", "all these splitter cables need to be repinned", and "this order needs to ship immediately" comin' at me a mile-a-minute, a different crisis every 10 minutes that a brain can take even with regular watering.

Anyway, it'll be fun with the kids.

The hotel charges for wi-fi so I likely won't bring the laptop and I ain't typin' anything significant on a Blackberry so my blogging will likely be confined to my good ol' journal.

See ya next Tuesday.

Oh, look at him!!!!!!!

Many women seem to have an apparently irresistible urge to say how cute babies are. I’m trying to be less negative so I it only lasts a few seconds, but whenever the claque of women converges, squealing and mewling… I feel the need to get Finn a t-shirt that says “Yes. Babies are cute. Thank you. Now shut the hell up already.”

Lago de los Cisnes

Tonight, thanks to Kerry’s brother-in-law, I had a father-daughter night out with Erin. We saw the Atlanta Ballet’s performance of Swan Lake. First, to pick up the tickets, we met Mike at a Starbuck’s in Druid Hills where I fortified myself with what I thought would be some much needed caffeine and Erin spilled hot chocolate on herself. Actually, it was just a few spots on her pink sweater. No biggie and Erin has never been one to let anything like that slow her down.

I realized that I needed to get some cash because most likely the parking would cost something and typically those places don’t accept credit cards. I drove around the strip mall we were in but didn’t see an ATM. Then I figured that at the ballet place, we’d get a ticket from some machine and have to pay on the way out. I’d find an ATM inside the theater.

So we headed up to the Cobb Performing Arts Centre (gggrrrrrr… I hate those obnoxious “re”s but that’s how it was spelled, I mean, mis-spelled) and, of course, there was a guy at the front of the parking deck needing 5$ cash.

I flustered “I knew this would happen!” and asked him where an ATM was as I prepared to turn around somehow then I figured he saw Erin in her pretty dress in the back seat and he waved me through with a “Go on and park”. Very cool of him, if I must say.

So we head in… amazingly, I meet a co-leader of my Cub Scout den in the lobby… and get in our seats. Erin immediately pulls from her purse a Kit Kat from Halloween that she planned to surprise me with. We share it and settle in to watch the ballet.

I don’t really know what it is but there is something about live orchestra music or maybe it was the dancing… I don’t know… but every once in a while when I’m in an audience watching a live performance I get this surge of (I guess) emotion like I’m going to cry or shout or something. I swear it’s a real mystery to me. It’s not like I am amazed at the skill of the dancers (which was very good) or am captivated by the music… at least my conscious mind isn’t. I’m just sitting there and this feeling hits me.

And then, naturally, the absolutely hilarious ballet scene from Top Secret intrudes and the emotion is run out of town.

Erin was totally into it and I was actually enjoying myself as well. I mean, it is a LOT of just dancing around, but the performers are damn good at it and I loved that Erin was entranced.

But then… she had to go.

And by “go”, I mean as every parent knows, go potty. I look around and we’re in the middle of a row surrounded by dressed-up couples and the two main stars of the ballet are doing one of the highlight dances. I told her that the intermission was coming up fairly soon and could she hold it? She said yes but she when she started fidgeting I took her out.

After the restroom while we waited for the intermission, Erin danced in the lobby next to a screen showing what was on stage. She was having a great time and told me she didn’t want to go back in. She loved seeing the performers but she wanted to dance more. We stayed out there almost until the end with Erin dancing the whole time.

Gravy boat! Stay in the now!

Liam is a pretty smart kid… he’s good at math and can concentrate for hours on whatever he’s working on but the little guy is about as aware as a bowling ball. Kerry has actually wrapped his Christmas presents while he was in the same room. Now part of this is that he focuses so intently on what he is doing but he really is often oblivious especially regarding other kids.

Erin not only seems to know the names of all her classmates but can tell you something about each one of them not to mention the fact that she also talks about some kids that are in other classes. I could be wrong but I’m pretty sure that if I asked Liam what the names were of the four kids that sit with him at his table in school, I’d be lucky to get two correct names.

Unfortunately, I don’t think this is a just a phase because I am somewhat like this. There are several (Is about a dozen considered “several”? No?) people at my work that have been there over ten years with me and I don’t know their names. Also, the old saying “I’m bad with names but I never forget a face” may be true for some people but not for me. I’ll forget your name AND the fact that I ever met you.

One night BACK IN THE DAY at Dark Horse in Virginia-Highlands a cute girl walked up to me saying “Hi” like she knew me. I did the “Hey” thing but admitted that I couldn’t remember at all who she was. She kind of laughed assuming I was messing with her then when she realized I basically had no idea who she was she became a little pissed. It turns out she was from my work and I had talked to her several times and a lot more than the “hi” in the halls.

It was the context though! My work and social life were basically two completely separate entities back then. Unless I actually got someone to go into town I NEVER saw anyone from my work ITP. Never. I explained all this to ol’whats-her-name and she acted as she blew it off but the rest of our brief conversation was strained and awkward.

Dumbass.

I've got the powder! Ur-ur-urrr eh eh ur-ur-urrrr eh eh...

I spent the last few days in a place full of machines that look a little like this but with more of a 40’s or 50’s look to them and a whole lot of white powder all over'em.

I learned that laundry detergent in powder form has superior cleaning ability and it’s a waste of money paying the soap company to add water to it to make it a liquid. Also, in Europe, they don’t get a plastic scoop in every box like they do here and when you see thousands of scoops on tiny conveying tracks you’ll understand why.

Landfills.

How tough is it to keep the same freakin’ scoop?!

Let the bodies hit the floor

As far as sleeping goes, every one of our kids has given us a crazy time in their first 3-4 years. I expect Finn, too, will end up sleeping in the bed with us for his first two years then it’ll take two more to get him in his own bed. I can’t complain too much… I suppose it’s a small price to pay for such great kids.

Anyway, so the night after Stone Mountain, Finn is up much of the night so in between bouts of crying and feeding, Kerry needs to sleep and the way she can get to sleep in a hurry is to have talk radio buzzing away next to her.

To me, this is insane. When I was in school, I used to sleep with a fan next to my head and I can understand music, I guess, but talk radio? I like pitch black and no noise. I could deal with a fan or white noise but no way on the talk radio.

So I end up on the couch. But then this is where she ends up when Finn needs to nurse and she watches TV to stay awake. The floor in one of the kid’s rooms is where I spent the night. And now that it’s getting cold, I’ll probably have to dig up my wool socks.

Back in Periwinkle

I spent last night on the floor. I spent the previous one outside on the ground.

Saturday, after a typical day of yardwork, Liam, Erin, and I cooked up hot dogs and s’mores on a fire in the backyard. We played Crazy 8’s in the tent and Erin won two games, both victories being fair and - I’ll even venture to say - square.

After her hard-fought conquests, she made one of her announcements that she was going to sleep and fell promptly… asleep. Liam and I stared up at the starry sky – well, mildly starry for a northern Atlanta suburb – and talked not of life on other worlds nor of playground politics but of the economy.

I woke up at 5:45, poked the remains of the fire around a little, and headed up for a rousing breakfast of coffee and a sinkful of dishes. The kids stumbled in an hour and a half later and Kerry made everyone pancakes, hash browns, eggs, and bacon. Yay!!!! The sink’s full again!!!

The big plan to celebrate Liam’s 8th birthday was to pickup two of his chums and head to Stone Mountain. We actually paid for doing some of the stuff we’ve never done like a 4-story “barn” in which you collect foam balls for points plus the chance to shoot your buddies, a “4-D” movie in which a bullfrog belches on you, a crazy rope course that turned most of us into wimps plus a little one with a zipline, miniature golf, and the gondola rid down the face of the mountain . And we did our usual Stone Mountain stuff like a lunch on the lawn with homemade sandwiches and Publix-brand sodas, the train, checkout the blacksmith, and I was pleased to see that Liam insisted on hiking up the trail on the side.

But a bit more on the ropes course. This thing was a gigantic Mario adventure! I’d go on about swaying platforms and flying buzzsaws but I wouldn’t know because we never got past the 2nd leg on the first level of a dizzying 3 or 4 level complex. Yes, you are strapped to a rope that you pull along through a metal track over your head but a) there’s a fair amount of slack in the thing, b) even on the first level you’re high above concrete and peoples’ heads, and c) it is far from easy… the first “element” was a balance beam with a rail so no big deal but the next was a choice of a 4-rope “bridge” meaning 4 ropes and no actual bridge to speak of or a balance beam with NOTHING TO HOLD ON TO. That’s the part that gets me.

And looking around I could see it was going to get a LOOOOT worse… swinging boards, wavy beams, and more all far overhead. I determined that if all these normal (ie., NOT Spiderman) could do this I was going to. But when one of Liam’s friends said “forget it” and Liam decided he was on to something, I readily bailed. I shall return.

More later… I’m heading to Augusta tomorrow night for an install at a plant where they make the detergent not just the boxes this time so either I’ll get a fair amount of time to blog in my hotel room or I’ll get zero because I decided to have a few with the local gentry.

Whoops...

Did I say the 20th of September? Make that the 20th of October!

Lacuna Baboona

New baby, a lot going on at work, not enough sleep... need I say more?

Check back on the 20th of next month... I'm sure everything will be calmed down and I'll have loads of free time then.

No po'boys, mate!

Louisiana was nowhere near as hot as I thought it would be. Muggy and wet, yes, but not the hellhole I planned on. Things went pretty well at the plant, too.

As far as sites and Cajun food the only places I saw was the plant and the airport and my dining experiances consisted of Taco Bell, a Chinese buffet, Chili's, and Outback. The Chili's and Outback were within walking distance of the hotel which is why I chose them. And although it was a weeknight next to a freeway in a state known for good food, they were both slammed.

However, I always eat at the bar so I can walk right past the throngs.

Speaking of the hotel, I ended up at a motel. It was kind of cool walking right out of your room and being at your car. What could be more American than that? I guess motel's are a dying breed though I assume because everyone's crime paranoid.

At the airport, I snapped a pic of the door to best airport bar in the US (described here).

Gotta love it.

Macon Boxes

I’ve been traveling a fair amount lately. A few weeks ago I was at a plant in Stone Mountain where they were making Tide boxes plant … no, they didn’t make Tide detergent, they made the boxes. Then I went to a plant in Kansas City specializing in making boxes with the cellophane windows… mostly pasta but they also had some Pokemon card game box they were pumpin’ out. Same city went to a plant making mostly pet food bags. Then had some tasty barbecue.

Last Monday I was at a box plant in Macon… they make the big cardboard boxes… must’ve been a 110deg in the place. Thank God it’s cooling down a little because this Monday I’m flying back to Monroe, Louisiana, for some quality time in an 80 year old bag plant.

Joy.

Everything is Everything.

My main adversary on this site, Travis, once had a bag of cheeseburger-flavored potato chips. Not only did they taste like a cheeseburger… they tasted EXACTLY like a McDonald’s cheeseburger. So help me God, the crunch of the two thin pickles and the dabs of mustard and ketchup were in there… I swear some guy in the lab must’ve decided to make it his life’s mission to get it juuuuuust right. Like a Pixar movie or something.

Today I was cleaning out the toilet with this and whilst scrubbing wondered idly at the aroma... I soon realized it was the exact smell slash taste of Wint-O-Green Lifesavers.

Anyway, I’ll spare you the rant on how nowadays everything is everything… ice-cream flavored Oreos and Oreo-flavored ice cream but this is genius.

My MTV

Coolest video, bar none, and I’ve never been a fan of the band. I’m not really a fan of a video being anything but the band playing the song but if it is more, it should be “real” and this one is. I’ve always thought a great video would be a shot from the POV of a driver listening to the song on the radio as he drives past dry cleaners and libraries.

Another great video. Great album.

Here’s the first one I remember seeing on MTV back in the Nina Blackwood days. Watching it again at first I snicker at the cheesiness of the band but actually, it fit’s my criteria as a cool video.

I don’t think this band (playing on the 18th at Smith’s, by the way) meant for this to be the day-in-the-life-of-a-no-name-band portrayal that it is but it’s real so it’s awesome.

Kid Update

Finn is doing well although he lost some weight right after he was born. We had to feed him every two hours (incuding formula) for the first week or so. Then it was three. Now it's kind of whenever he's hungry... which seems to be all the time. He just got back up to his original birthweight earlier this week but, like I said, he's doing well. He cries when he wan't food and when he's gone in his diaper but other than that, he's a fairly easy-going, non-fussy little guy.

Liam and Erin argue over who gets to hold Finn and spend the rest of their waking hours tearing up the house. It'll be great to get them back in school in two weeks.

Rabbit Food

Wishbone Italian Dressing is the bee's knees.

The flavor is fine but what really sells me is the small ID spout that enables you to control the amount you dispense instead of accidenty dumping half the bottle onto your now-ruined salad.

Using that rationale, I should think the spritzers are great especially since the kiddies eat more greens when using one but I can't get into'em.

I guess it's because they're just too damn gay.

Why do people have windows in their houses?

I mean, in most of the houses I visit, the blinds or whatever window “treatments” are closed anyway so why have them? God forbid anyone see you actually walking around in your house. The horror! I say, let’em watch.

And shutters… talk to the hand, baby… don’t get me started! They’re eyebrows for houses… completely useless. Of course, I’m talking about the ones that don’t actually “shut” - ONLY the goddamn name of the things! And only the ones that are on about 99% of the houses in the US. It’s not that I’m necessarily against decoration for it’s own sake… painting a square or a design or something as an accent wouldn’t be the end of the world. It’s the concept of having an object that’s an utter sham and everyone knows it and doesn’t think twice about it that floors me.

But, other than being a potential haven for ants and mold, at least shut- I mean, “non-shutters” aren’t actually a negative… they don’t hinder anything.

Unlike muntins!

Get this… typically, everyone usually is trying to copy things found in richer houses, right? Fancy doors, acres of closets, exterior lighting, fresh-looking pinestraw… but muntin bars are an attempt to copy something that started as a cost-savings measure. Big panes of glass were expensive to replace so people put a bunch of little panes in their windows. But now, for some reason, we like them so we insert fake ones on large panes of glass to pretend – although nobody’s even remotely “fooled”- that it’s a bunch of little panes. And this actually inhibits the view through the window… which is WHAT – A – WINDOW – IS - FOR!

AND FOR NO @$%!ING GOOD REASON WHATSOEVER!!!!

Why live?

I'm driving to the recycling place yesterday and Cheap Trick's "I Want You to Want Me" comes on the radio. Decent song and all but why do you only hear the Live at Budokan version? The one with the screaming Japanese girls in the background? I can see hearing it every once in a while but I have never in my life heard the studio version of that song.

That and the lame-ass Frampton song where he somehow sings through his guitar. God I hate that one.

Last straw

The other day a cow orker mentioned to me that he had the pinestraw in front of his house painted. We were talking about other random stuff and this just slipped in but it completely floored me and I couldn’t let it go.

You PAINT your pinestraw? WTF?!!!

Apparently, the look of the “fresh” pine straw that he has hauled in fades after a while and he has it touched up for that oh-so-appealing “just dispersed” look. Yes, I know people have pine straw trucked in but I never even imagined that people had it sprayed down with Burnt Umber #5 or Tempe Sunset or whatever color fresh pinestraw is. Actually, much like bleached teeth, I greatly suspect that the painted-on color is not actually the color of real pinestraw but is a hue a few shades redder or orangier… hell, I’m not even sure what they would paint it… f*cking blue?

And while we’re painting pinestraw… why not paint it different colors? How about orange and black for Halloween.. or red, white, and blue for July 4th?

Why not snow white for Christmas?

I guess the fake pinestraw.. wait a sec… there IS fake pinestraw! I was going to start harping on how painted straw would match the fake-looking chemo wannabe golf courses that people have in front of their houses but why not go ALL fake?

Fake pinestraw surrounding bug-free, no-water plastic bushes dotting your beautiful fake lawn. And I love the names… SYNLawn, ForeverLawn (not just artificial grass, by the way). Let mowing be a thing of the past!

Look… the lawn matches their tans!

>>

If you are a person that lets himself fall into movies and espe-
cially if you're a father, I recommend that in Pan's Labyrinth,
when the Captain starts "interviewing" the captured hunter and
his son, you close your eyes and fast-forward a minute.

Sure it's an important part of a pretty good movie but I could do
without imagining that scene at least once a week since I saw it
eight month's ago.

Liam's Card

Get it?

Loser

I planned on having my last year’s Peachtree time be my fastest and not taking this one seriously but 48:03 was just too tempting so I went for it.

And screwed it up.

I am succeeding however in changing my perpetually running late ways… I got to the race in plenty of time, probably 45 minutes before I had to start running. On 400 around 6am, there was a massive backup on the on-ramp to the North Springs MARTA station. I flew by and got off at the next exit and went to the next station with no line whatsoever. Although with less parking than North Springs, it was filling up fast. I parked up on level 4… I don’t see how North Springs could NOT have filled up. I had my shirt, shorts, socks, and shoes… plus a MARTA card, my ID, and my car key. And my sunglasses, of course. I’ve got to represent, know what I’m sayin’?

My number put me in time group 1 but I went back to 3 to meet a friend from work. I had forgotten my watch and he lent me his. This is the guy that can run rings around me on a marathon but he doesn’t train or speed and doesn’t run the Peachtree seriously. Which is my plan for next year.

At 3 miles, I was doing fine, a little ahead of where I needed to be to beat 48 minutes. My strategy of going for the psychological boost of passing (starting with Time Group 3) instead of being passed (Time Group 1) does actually work to make me go a bit faster but I’m sure I come out behind with all the weaving and dodging I have to do. Anyway, I hit the hill up to Piedmont Hospital where each of my three kids started their lives in the outside world and the Chic-fil-A where I ate lunch at least once during each time.

The next night after Finn was born, I had dinner with Matt and Travis. I wanted a place within walking distance from the hospital plus, being a nice night, a deck or patio was a must. First choice was Mamma Fu’s which was a noodle house. They had beer on the menu but none in the joint. We ate at Central City Tavern, kind of a standard sports bar with a rickety, “slip the inspector a wad of bills” sort of deck overlooking Peachtree. Decent food. I had a tasty salmon burger and Matt had a trough of nachos. Travis got there late so didn’t catch his chow. Anyway, we drank a few pitchers of Bass and did our usual thing of not catching up whatsoever on each others lives and talked about crazy BS.

Anyway, I thought the hill slowed me down a good bit but checked my watch and I was ok. In fact, I was a little ahead of ok. Turns out this was a major miscalculation on my part which I didn’t realize until the end. I was actually about a minute behind at that point but never bothered to make up for it. I didn’t exactly waltz the remainder of the course but, looking back, I’m pretty sure I could’ve pushed it and made 48. I didn’t realize the error until I passed 6 miles and realized I wasn’t going to make it at all. I did it in around 49:20 ending my 5 year streak of continuously improving times.

2002 53:50
2003 51:58
2004 51:58*
2005 50:06
2006 48:08
2007 48:03

Crossing the new finish line (moved from Piedmont Park because of the drought-stressed grass), I looked up and saw the deck in front of Midtown Tavern, half-filled with revelers at 8:30 in the morning. If the race finishes at the same place next year, I’ll be sure to bring my credit card.

Thank you, Sir Purée-a-lot

Just a little observation here… there are all kinds of “drunks” and I’m referring to the actual condition here not a person in such a condition. One example is the “sun buzz”… this is the kind of drunk you get drinking beers on the beach in the middle of the day. For some reason, this kicks in quick… sometimes even halfway into the first beer as if your brain eagerly pre-anticipates the afternoon and wants to get started.

Another is the “hyper drunk” feeling you get when you’ve drank a few in and around the pool. Even without alcohol, I get a little jumpy when I’m inside after spending some time in a pool… likely it’s a defense mechanism against hypothermia or something. Throw a few Sam Adams and a homemade banana-canteloupe-Bacardi smoothie into that mix and I’m doing karate kicks, slo-mo Matrix leaps, and talking like a Hollywood cocaine fiend.

I don't feel tardy.

Well, so far, life with Finn is life with the typical eating, sleeping, and pooping machine. And if there are any issues with any of the 3 primary functions, go to #4: crying. Thankfully, he seems healthy and is eating well.

When we got in the car to take him home, the first song on the radio was Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher"... a far cry from freakin' "Red Sails at Sunset"!

Lots to do right now, otherwise I could write a lot about this song... one item being I once got in a 4-car wreck while it was playing and the first thing I did after the car stopped shuddering was to painfully reach to turn it off.

Enter Finn!

Stats:
Born 3:05pm, 6/24/08
Weight: 8lbs, 4oz
Length: 21 in

Weight-wise, he's the smallest. Labor-wise, this one was the longest... roughly 7 hours from the beginning of the induction... about an hour or so longer than Liam.

First song heard via the cable's Easy Listenig music channel: a pretty schmaltzy "Red Sails In the Sunset" followed by a Muzak version of "Bridge Over Troubled Waters". I ain't counting it until we get in the car and turn on a rock station! By the way, Liam's was Bowie's "Fame". Erin's was a Red Hot Chili Pepper's song... can't remember it off hand but it's on the tape.

Mother and son are doing fine. So far, Finn is a chow-hound.

Congratulations... it's a beautiful bouncing BLANK.

Looks like Finn is taking it easy and, although Kerry thinks it should only be another hour, there's a chance we may be in for the long haul.

But no matter... they've got GSN the Game Show Network and Matchgame just came on... and with Charles Nelson Riley!

He's Here!!!

Just kiddin' folks...

STILL no baby but things are comin' along
Kerry's thinking in the next hour but who knows?

I was THINKING of sending out a joke e-mail with the attached pic but Kerry was adamant that something like that would not be funny. I will defer to her in matters like this.

It's all in the delivery.

Ahem.

Here we go!

Well, here we are in the same delivery room we were in for Erin’s birth. When I walked in then after dropping Kerry off at the Emergency entrance and hurriedly parking the car, it seemed like there was a dozen people rushing around the tiny space, machines bleeping, everything lit up… a-buzz with purpose and activity. Twenty minutes later, Erin was in the big wide world.

This time seems much more like the time before Liam’s arrival (then in the delivery room next door)… calm, dim lights, the brook-like murmurings of Finn’s heart/sound monitor… and a lot of sitting-around time.

So it’s 8:50am and I’m typing away on my laptop. Kerry’s in bed next to me watching Good Morning America. My father-in-law is home with the kids. The pitocen is in so we’re on our way.

No story on the ride in. We budgeted for possible traffic and ended up having plenty of time. We drove by our old apartment on Wesley… the street’s been redone but otherwise the same from the outside. It’s a two-story brick place with about nine apartments. Our place had two small bedrooms, a bathroom in between, and a tiny kitchen. We liked it and the area was great… especially since for a year we had one car so Kerry had to walk everywhere with Liam. But it was a little awkward with a baby crying at all hours plus we could hear all the drama of the neighbors so we soon ended up making the move OTP.

Kind of a crazy last few weeks for us. First Finn’s breach then not. Then we’re without water for a night and half a day. Then last Friday, our AC went out. Yes, yours truly was dealing with a mother about to burst in late June in Atlanta WITH NO AIR CONDITIONING! So with screwdriver in hand, I headed down under the house once again willing to dive in.

BREAK-IN: 9am, the doc just showed up and did a quick check. Things going fine. Nothing shakin’ yet.

Anyway, I know nothing about AC’s but I’m going to give it the once over just to check all the stupid things that could be the problem. Damn if I’m going to spend $70 for a guy to come out and re-connect a loose wire. By the way, it’s a twenty year old system so we all know it’s days are numbered but we want to try to get more one or two more years out of it. Everything basic checks out. So now I figure the guy’s gonna show up and immediately say we need a new one.

He doesn’t but it turns out we either spend $600 for a new capacitor and fan motor and likely something else will go in a year or $3100 for a new system. With a new baby due, we opt for the big chunk o’change.

More news as events warrant….oh wait… this just in. First semi-painful contraction at 9:30am. Here we go!

We're goin' in!

In less than 8 hours, we'll be at the hospital and soon after, Finn's a-comin' out.

Makin' Jack a dull boy.

My father-in-law is staying with us to help out with the kids and all during Finn's impending arrival. We're headin' intown Tuesday by the way unless he decides to pull an Erin Monday afternoon.

Anyway, I took the opportunity to ride my bike around and rode the same area described here only this time, I found a bunch more winding trails... a little muddy because of the prior day's rain but included stream crossings, little jumps, and tasty trailside blackberries. One thing notably absent was the same thing missing last time I wandered here... no bike tracks.

I mean, technically it's probably illegal to ride on old construction trails or whatever they are but if that's why there are no kids messing around back here then today's kids are listening to up parents a bit too much! I'm thinking that's not what it is. I also don't think it's all due to Wii's and the fact that kid's lives today are jammed with structured activities (sports and day camps) although these two reasons are probably a huge part of it.

I think it's because we never let our kids leave us nowadays. Kids aren't wandering around exploring and having aimless fun because we won't let them leave our sides. We're afraid that they're either going to be hit by a rampaging SUV with the driver jabbering on a cellphone or that they'll be spirited away and murdered by a serial killer or child molester... the TV populations of which are 10x that of reality. Note I'm ranting a little here... I'll probably be somewhat guilty of the same thing but hopefully not to the extent that my kids can't ride a freakin' bike around the neighborhood.

One sign of hope... there were the smoldering remains of a small campfire in the middle of one trail. Since it was a very small one and there were no beer cans strewn about, I assume it was the work of a few kids screwin' around with matches.

Hallelujah!

Sumerian Octopus

By the way, something about anonymously posting on a site like this disgusts me so from now on, they'll be summarily deleted no matter how innocuous. If you don't feel like signing in and all, that's fine but put in a nickname or something, you puss.

I have spoken.

FD08 II

A few weeks ago I spilled a thermos of water at a meeting so vowed never to use one without a screw-top lid. Sunday, Kerry got me the mac-daddy of thermos', the Nissan Travel Tumbler. Without a handle, it's a bit prone to "tumbling" in the car but that's more the fault of the cupholders than anything else.

The other day, I filled it with hot coffe, drove to work, jogged for an hour, then changed.... roughly an hour and a half. The coffe was still hot. Not scalding by any means but it was more than simply warm.

Erin made me a great picture... framed and everything... with her handprint and "Happy Father's Day". The charm of it was only slightly diminished by the fact that she completely forgot about it until halfway through the day!

FD08

This year’s Father’s Day did not start well. Oh sure, I got the kids waking me up with the cute handmade cards and the bacon and egg breakfast… that part was great. And then Liam put me through his clue-game to get my present of a Speed Racer race set… I did say it was MY present, right? Hey, he did get it with his own money and actually he stressed it was only HALF mine!

Anyway, so far so good but there was a dark cloud hanging over our tranquil scene of domestic bliss. Yesterday, my wife sent me down under the house… into the spider-infested netherworld of pipes and rocks that is our crawlspace… to see if there was a way I could route cable to our TV (long story… later). I find the entire middle area of the space flooded with water, a leaking pipe coupling on the water heater being the culprit. Tightening it made it leak more. Taking it apart, inspecting it, and putting it back together made it even worse… much worse. So I shut off the water coming into the house and head to Home Depot. Nothing seems to be what I need. Part of the problem is my house has polybutylene piping. Google that and you’ll get one side of the problem. The side that says avoid PB pipe.

Regardless of whether it’s a problem or not, nobody has stuff (fittings, etc.) for it everything being for iron, PVC, and copper. I would’ve gone to Ace in the first place but the hours of Home Depot (plus it’s nearby) make it hard to resist.

So the family went to bed with no water. I’ve always said that generally, having no power is far better than no water. Barring the middle of winter, no power is kind of a rustic ole-timey adventure... candles, blankets, etc. but no water means no washing hands, no clean dishes, and the worse… no flushing toilets… a major pain. And I really had no idea how the Hell I was going to fix the problem.

So after the Father’s Day morning, Liam and I head to Ace where we are quickly lead to someone that knows what she’s talking about. Soon we have the parts and a plan and I’m back under the house. Amazingly, after some hacksawing, measuring, and more sawing, the job is done. No leaks.

Rockin’.

I am Man, hear me roar.

In like Finn

Finn’s been putting us through some twists and turns just lately. His original due date was June 22 but then a few weeks ago, we realized he was breach… sitting in Kerry’s womb like a Buddha. So we went back and forth about what to do… should we have a specialist try to turn him? Should she have a c-section? We decided on the c-section and once things calmed down, I have to admit it was nice having everything scheduled… I had my PTO dates in at work (my boss e-mailed “thanks for the heads up” in reply), no need to read up on how to deliver a baby on the side of the freeway… pretty nice. The cesarean (are there any other surgeries named for a murder?) was scheduled for the 13th on a Friday which, of course, brought a comment from everyone. Remember people, rub your warts with a dead cat!

But then Finn flipped (do I need to write “literally”?) and now we are back on for au naturale. And since Erin came lickety-split, I’ll be reading up on roadside deliveries.

Don’t cut the cord!

My Teeth

I brush my teeth twice a day.

It’s usually the first thing I do when I wake up and definitely the last thing I do before going to bed.

I don’t use a lot of toothpaste.

I remember Pearl Drops and even that Colgate powder stuff.

I used Aim for a while when I was a kid, then the striped Aqua-Fresh for a bit when it came out.

As an adult, I stuck with the baking soda stuff for a long while now I use whatever Kerry gets.

It's been some extreme mint stuff for a year or so now.

I used to spend a lot of time on the gums until they started receding and my dentist told me to lighten up.

I floss about once a week.

I’d like to do it more but don’t.

After I get my typical glowing report from my dentist and hygienist I always let them know I rarely floss and they go on and on about how I need to.

I typically floss while I’m sitting in traffic or lying in bad before going to sleep because that’s pretty much the only time I’m not using my hands.

I’ve never been one for mouthwash.

I went through a Listerine stint in college but haven’t used it much since.

I had braces when I was a kid and used to wad them up with the wax they gave you so the insides of your mouth wouldn’t end up a bloody, shredded abattoir.

I’ve had eight teeth taken out of my head… four wisdom, four for the braces.

I still feel the gaps of the internal ones.

I’ve got a bunch of metal fillings that I’ve had for thirty or so years.

I used to love the nitrous, redolent with the scent of banana at my orthodontist’s… who doesn’t love that stuff?

I hated the fluoride gel they would put in a plastic mold of your teeth and make you keep in your mouth.

Once I couldn’t and gagged and spit the whole mess out… butterscotch! Blech!

Whatever happened to those red pills you would chew that would put red stains on your teeth where the plaque was?

Too much FD&C Red #5 or something?

Everybody... get down!

Last Memorial Day weekend, along with the regular lawn mowing and visit to the recycling center, I biked with the kids at the Suwanee Greenway (Erin’s not far from shedding her training wheels), camped out in the backyard with hot dogs and s’mores (and slept in the tent), went to a very fun cookout at some friends’, and took Liam to see Speed Racer.

My earliest pop-culture memory is Ultra-Man. #2 is Speed Racer. Speeding cars racing along high-rise tracks, slamming into each other, crashing, explosions… classic fodder for Saturday morning TV.

The critics seem to be skewering it but I think the movie got it just right. If the goal was to bring the cartoon to life, they accomplished it and I can’t imagine it being captured any better. Now, one might argue that emulating the cartoon may not be such a worthwhile goal… a few views on YouTube will reveal that the original show does not hold up well. But that’s from an adult’s perspective. I loved the show when I was a kid and that’s exactly what the Wachowski’s were going for. And I think it was a gutsy move to aim it right at the kids instead of throwing in a few innuendos to get a PG-13 and a wider audience.

And I’ve never really understood the “too long” judgement for any movie. If I’m enjoying something, I’m fine if it goes on for three hours let alone one-and-a-half.

Spritle and Chim-Chim were great, the races were like giant Hot Wheels tracks, and the racing was insane. I'm tellin' ya it was straight from the cartoon. Jumping cars, spikes, ice caves... the only thing missing was the Mach 5 racing through a forest chopping down trees with the sawblades. Yes it was mostly all just a super-simulated blast of technicolor eyecandy and yes, the plot was cliché but how’s that not a great way to spend a summer afternoon with an 7-year old?

MARTA, IT'S SMARTA, my ass!

I’ve always been like O.J. Simpson.

Wait. Strike that. Reverse it.

I’ve always been the type of guy that cuts it close when catching a flight. And each time I almost miss (or actually DO miss) a flight, I swear it’s my last time and I’ve learned my lesson.

Well, this time I have. Honest

So I’m heading down 400 on my way to the airport. It’s 6:30 am and I have just enough time to make it no problem but I make the first of several moronic mistakes. For some reason, I decide to take the MARTA. I pull into the North Springs station and jump out of my car, doubts already collecting and clamoring in my head like seagulls around the bread lady. I fumble with the new passcard system and run up the steps and, as always, hear a train leaving the station as I emerge onto the platform.

So then I sit in the other train for 5 – 10 minutes… waiting…. waiting…. but instead of whisking me off to the airport, an announcer comes on the intercom saying it’s out of service. I get off and sit down in the other train that recently showed up. I watch the “out of service” train speed merrily off then wait… wait… then make Moronic Mistake #2.

I realize that I have not enough time to make my flight by taking the MARTA. I doubt I’ll be able to do it in my car but there’s a slim chance I can do it.. plus I’LL BE IN CONTROL instead of sitting here on this stupid, f**king train! So I rush off, hauling my luggage back to my car… knowing I will see the train leave before I get to it… which I do.

I get to my car and head out only then realizing that I will not be able to head on 400 south to the airport but instead will be forced to go north on 400 in the ever-growing traffic. I see ahead to the overpass… the one that I would have to cross over to get onto 400 south… and everything’s jammed up.

I will not make it. No way. No how. An hour and a half until my flight takes off… and I’ve already missed it.

So I’ll catch a later flight. I get off the exit to go BACK to the MARTA station, but decide that, since I now have time, I’ll take the backroads to the station. I end up another one down at the Sandy Springs station. I park, get on the train, and head into town. On the phone, my work’s Travel rep gives me another choice. Do I change my flight now and pay $50 or do I try to get it done at the desk at the airport where possibly it will be no-charge? The fact that they may count me as a no-show for the first flight before I manage to get to the desk thereby forfeiting the whole ticket seals the deal. Change it.

I meet up with my cow-orker in Philly and we take a car into the country, We end up on the Turnpike which is basically an endless tunnel under the sky. No signs, no exits, no sign of whether you are passing through a city or not, no restaurants… nothing. After an hour and a half, we miss our exit and it’s THIRTY freakin’ miles until we get to the next one. So rather than go back 30 more we recourse our route and get off the turnpike. Only I have no cash for the toll booth which, of course, does not take credit card. Jason has no cash either so we spend ten minutes at the head of an ever-growing line of cars while the attendant digs up some form in which I promise to mail in $4.25 to the Turnpike Commission.

Starving, we both grab cheesesteaks at JT’s Steak and Ale, a pretty neat place in scenic Jim Thorpe.

Things were fairly tame during our stay in Frackville… yes, Frackville. Had lunch at a cool little bar… the 901 Pub in Pottsville. I love these kinds of dives… the kind with wood paneling everywhere, regulars, and shit on the walls that you know has been there for a while… not something some design consultant selected from a catalog. These places are everywhere up north and are hard to find down here in stripmall land.

Pennsylvania was nice… rolling hills, green everwhere, etc. but Philly was something else. I will suspend any criticism since we were near the airport the whole time and one can certainly not judge a city by it’s airport hotels! But I will comment on the wings we got at the Ramada.

It may be a “style” but they were served slightly crispy with no sauce on the wings. The sauce came in your own personal cup for dipping. I guess the way I like them is called “wet” and that’s how I’ve been eating them all my life.

The flight back was uneventful… I brought a laptop for the first time and did my expense report on the plane… gee whiz this new technology… next thing you know it, you’ll be able to watch a movie on these things.

So then I get off at the MARTA station and walk out to the parking garage. For some reason, all the stairs are marked FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY so either you are forced to use the elevator or must wander up the ramps I suppose. I took the stairs.
I get to my car and start driving for the exit but the signs that say pay for parking at the station entrance keep pointing in the other direction. It finally dawns on me that the “station entrance” is not where cars drive in but where I walked into the actual station.. ie., NOT the parking garage.

So I re-park, get out, and make the trek back to where the turnstiles are. I show them my ticket and pay the fee without even bothering to ask if I can put it on the MARTA passcard that I unintentionally put $10 or 11 on because I know they won’t let me. Sigh. I have two or three pieces of paper in my hand after this, toss all but one receipt in the trash (why do so many places still give out two receipts?!), and head back, once again making an “emergency” trip up the steps.

I’m about ¾ of the way back to my car and I’m wondering what keeps people from driving off without paying? How do they know whether you paid or not? That’s when I realize that I shouldn’t have thrown away my ticket after paying! SO baaaack through the garage… baaaaack down the steps… and baaaaack to the turnstiles where I fumble in the trash drawing stares and titters (“I thought he was looking for food or something”), then baaack to my car then, joy of joys, I have to drive to freakin’ work.

Next time, I'm getting to the goddamn airport six hours before my goddamn flight.

Ouchie

Here's something I'm sure Charley can relate to.

When I was single, I probably went through a box - actually, I never got through a box of Band-Aids. But have a little girl in your house and you'll go through a box in three months easy.

It's not so much that Erin hurts herself all the time... it's that everything, real or imagined, gets a Band-Aid.

Everything.

TOP TEN REASONS WHY I BECAME A UCF ENGINEER

10. I don't want a social life.

9. I thought coriolus was a pastry.

8. I like taking classes twice.

7. I could only find a parking space in the Engineering lot.

6. I enjoy 3 hours of sleep a night.

5. Engineering? I thought "EGN" meant English.

4. I wanted to find out what the other buttons on my calculator did.

3. 4 years of college just isn't enough!

2. I flunked my philosophy entrance exam.

And the number one reason why I became a UCF engineer:

1. I love trains.

This was from one of those rampant top 10 shirts back in the late 80's. On this one I came up with 5 or 6 of the items but my #1 was voted down because it was "risque":

For the chicks.

Life is good.

A classic beer moment is after spending two hours in the hot sun, sitting back, looking over your freshly-mowed lawn, and taking deep sips off a nice, cold bottle of beer.

I'm surprised the big breweries never have ads focusing on this... the best beer for it is in fact cheap, American beer. Instead they usually have some frat-fantasy of hot, model-types being impressed to the point of orgasm by obnoxious dorks buying them bottles of watered-down beer.

Thursday

Except for running, I carry a contact lense case full of saline solution wherever I go.

Fact: TARGET shopping carts are made primarily from scrap toilet seats. Try finding that on the Net.

A real man should always cultivate facial hair and longish hair so that after committing a crime, he can more readily escape detection with a quick shave and trim.

Goals, Roaches, and Black Nails (a weekend in the life of)

Friday night, after work I rushed to soccer practice with the kids. First was Erin’s but only a few kids showed up including the Terminator, a little boy tinier than Erin but put him on a field and roll a ball out in it and he will not stop going after it until it is in the goal. I swear, everywhere the ball is, he’s there constantly at it. In a game, I have never seen him tire nor look anywhere but at the ball nor do anything but get the ball and dribble it down to the goal. Right after Erin’s was Liam’s practice but fairly quickly it was called on account of lightening.

Got home, ate some spaghetti, almost fell asleep putting the kids to bed, but cleaned up my utility room instead. This is a tiny unfinished (ie., no drywall) room off the garage with shelves and a workbench. I keep all my tools in there plus all the yard and DIY crap. I’ve kind of done it up as a guy place but instead of wood panelling, a dart board, and a neon beer sign over a wet bar I’ve got two old posters (Swingers and an awesome Thunderball) on the ceiling and a lava lamp on a shelf.

Saturday, I woke up a little after the kids did. Liam was already working on his paper transformer. I got the coffee going like I always do and made oatmeal for the kids. Kerry got up and we all headed out for 2 hours of soccer games.

When we got back, I mowed the lawn while Liam took apart an old can opener and Kerry and Erin went to a birthday party for one of Erin’s classmates. Then Liam and I went mountain biking at a park nearby with a small and relatively tame trail. Good thing because Liam’s bike has no gears and no shocks which’ll have to do for now.

Then we played Life (for Family Game Night) and watched Enchanted (for Family Movie Night). I hate the game but the kids loved the movie.. especially a great scene where rats and cockroaches tidy up an apartment ala Snow White... they were completely cracking up. The flick did a good job gingerly treading the line between parody and tribute.

The next morning we did the church thing. Typically, I go on Christmas and Easter and likely once or twice every other month.

Then good ole yardwork. I know I’m saying this because it just turned Spring and next August when it’s 100 degrees outside I’ll be reading this and shaking my head but I love screwing around out in the yard… mowing, weed-eating, clipping, cutting back vines… my war against the poison ivy has fired up again and the ants are massing an assault that I’m strategically repelling… or at least I hope I am. Good times.

There’s a patch out front where the plumber dug up the yard replacing a busted pipe last year that I’ve been trying to get grass to grow on. Seeding helped a little but I’m going in again with some lime this time! Lime it, till it, rake it, seed it, cover it with straw (not pine this time), and water it, water it, water it, water it.

I also fired up my stick pile out back. This is where I put all the thousands of sticks and pinecones that piles up in my pine-infested lot and I waited until a rainy day and had to get to it because a ban goes into effect May 1. I plan on getting around this though by doing hot dogs and s’mores... being the straight-up O.G. that I am.