Climbing a tree, with unexpected results

The day of the trip to Benihana's YaYa climbed a tree in the park. No biggie, she's done it before.



This time, however, I felt a physical urge, a yearning, to climb one myself. A thousand warning klaxons, all built over the last 34 years to contain and restrict me to what is safe and 'acceptable', rose to scare me off. And they worked. I backed off.

But then I thought on just how often, and it is often, that I found myself in that scenario. Not tree climbing, obviously, but 'not' doing something innocuous that every fiber of my being - save one or two stray Stick in the Mud genes - would like to do.

Big things, like the Nirvana concert I skipped out of sheer . . whatever the hell that rationale was in '93.

Small things, like resisting the urge for a last second dash to the video store before closing.

And things in between - like the tree climbing.

Somewhere inside my head I said 'F it' and started up the trunk. In a few seconds I was ten feet and a few limbs up in the air (I am, as I've mentioned, spry for a large man).



I couldn't believe how easy it was, frankly, how easy it *usually* is for my body to do as my mind instructs, when given the rare opportunity.

All this led to a bit of an internal policy change, one that would soon lead to a positive milestone for my girls in the weeks to come . .

More later . . . .

On Souls, karma, and a whiny monologue by St. Peter

 

I just thought about Nancy, a friend of my sister's who died in a car accident, God, it must be 15 years ago now.

I think of her every once in awhile. She was a genuinely nice person who would have made done right by the world if given the chance - I can imagine her with a house full of kids and maybe a job as a teacher.

It was a horrible waste  - she was only in her teens - so that sticks with me. She also seemed to have a bit of a crush on me, one I never reciprocated, which makes me feel a bit of misplaced regret.

Anyhow, I mention her here because of one of my kooky maybe Christian/maybe not beliefs. I've felt for a long time that whenever a person is remembered after their passing, be it an everyday thought of my Grandma or some obscure well-digger who's name pops up when reading an archived document, well, it does . . . something. Call it my half-baked, inarticulate version of 'every time a bell rings an angel gets their wings'.

[Of course, by that theory, Hitler gets a whole lotta 'something' too. So I guess a caveat - only good or neutral thoughts count]

[And while we're on the subject, when did all this 'angel' stuff get so big? I object to this notion of angels being the recently deceased. So, 'some' people in Heaven rank higher than others? How does that conversation go?

St. Peter, coffee cup in hand: Yeeahhh, listen Frank. I know you lived a good life, and, well the proof's in the pudding right buddy? I mean, you bypassed purgatory and hell and jumped right to the Big Show. Do you know how rare that is in this day and age? You da man!  [hits him on the shoulder]

But, uh, well . .listen bro. You know we have this 'angel' thing, and . . .hey, I just work here ya know? But there are some . . I don't want to say 'quotas' per se, but . let's say 'requirements'. And, no offense, but a guy who had a heart attack is a dime a dozen. Gladys over in Toledo, you know, the one who was cut in half by a cable car? That's the kind of applicant the big guy is looking for right now. Attractive, female, unusual death . . .

I know it's hard to swallow man, but there's always next millenia. Allright? Thatta boy! I knew you were a trooper! Talk to ya later!]

Anyhow, in no small part because I believe it does some karmic good with her soul (the online version of lighting a candle in church?) I just want to say that Nancy is remembered.

That's all. Enjoy your weekend!

Roughly 1400 words of nothing in particular

60% of the work week gone - eyes on the prize baby. eyes on the prize.

It hasn’t been a bad week, actually, although it started out a little guilt-ridden . On the one week anniversary of being stranded with a dead car battery and being helped by a Good Samaritan, I was forced, by company policy to deny help to a customer asking for a jump, thereby earning me one more day in purgatory down the road.

Still, other than that it’s been prety good. Keeping the ol’ spirits up, keeping busy, enjoying my time at home to balance out work.

* * * *

I conducted an odd interview the other day. For those of you who don’t know, one of my Big Dreams was to travel the world as a vagabond after college, changing jobs every other week, getting into fights in Shanghai and falling in love in Stockholm. Didn’t happen, of course, seeing as I met my wife and settled down.

No regrets, mind you. But it turns out this candidate earned a history degree as I did, then traveled the world doing odd jobs, from being a cab driver to a bouncer to an English teacher and a deckhand. He is fond of the local library system (where I worked a number of years), can teach but doesn’t want to (ditto) and wants the job at hand in part just to have time to read and, you guessed it, write.

The other manager who sat in on the interview kept giggling. “It’s like he’s your soul mate,” she said later.

Eh, more like my Bizzaro World Mirror-Image Danny.

* * ** *

Memo to self: I bleeping hate typing in the dark, even as a ‘touch’ typist of 55wpm. It’s darn annoying, but the baby is sleeping in the swing behind me.

* * * *

I’m working on some new graphics to replace the outdated sidebar (man I hate that pic) and the ‘masthead’ I run at the start of each post.

* * * *

One bad thing about the Packers in the Championship game: seven long and tortuous days filled with Packer related this and that, from human interest stories to interviews with players to morons who make snow statues of their favorite players. Two stations have even extended their newscast each night by ten minutes for the duration of the week, thereby knocking out the HD version of the talk shows that are scheduled to run next.

Just watch the &@*# game

* * * *

Stolen Joke: What’s the difference between American Idol and the NFC Championship game?

Answer: American Idol is in Dallas this week.

I watched American Idol, as usual. Not overly exciting,. Weird to see a tamer Simon, but it does appear genuine. Thank goodness he’s finally mocking Paula over her inclination to constantly side with Randy.

Loved the Simon worshiper. Let’s face it, the whole night brought home the point that most folks respect Simon’s word far more than Randy or Paula’s.

That woman from Kelly Clarkson’s home town . . Yowzas. Shame her voice doesn’t match the look because I wouldn’t mind seeing her all season.

To the woman who went off about Simon for no reason, as he simply said she would best be served by singing in a band: he was right, and it wasn’t an insult. You have a good voice for a rock band.

Complaint: I am annoyed and bothered by the fact that AI spends entire 5 minute segments on people that are clearly mentally impaired. Not the kooks, mind you, or the freaks, but the honest to goodness Flowers for Algernon contestants. Poor taste and exploitive. Plenty of ‘normal’ losers to waste airspace on.

By the way, that Princess Leia contestant bothered me greatly. She wasn’t impaired, so she doesn’t fall under the above criticism, but she was obviously suffering from extremely low self esteem and self-loathing. Remember her first tear filled words to her Grandma when she left the audition? I paraphrase, but “They looked at me and just said dork, like always”

And earlier, when they were talking to her and she said that she didn’t find herself remotely attractive . . to me it was painfully obvious that the whole Star Wars/Leia thing was a way of explaining away a failure and salvaging some self esteem.

I used to do that a lot, sabotage my own efforts so that if I failed I could look back and disregard the loss by saying “Pff. It wasn’t like I tried my best. It’s not like the result counts”

It does, and that’s just a way of announcing to the world that you’re uncomfortable in your own skin.

It really bothered me. Sometimes I’m still the little kid who bawled after watching Dr. Detroit and wanted to deliver a bag of groceries to the homeless drunk who approaches Ackroyd in the movie.

And sometimes I feel like a heartless bum. Go figure.

* * * *

I have a shed in my backyard that I took apart and moved from a friends house late this fall. My friend graciously gave itto me for free provided he didn’t have to partake in the move or construction, but one of YaYa’s friend’s Dad lent me a hand. The frame was put back up, three sides went upand then you guessed it, it was on to the 4th or 5th snowiest December on record and the project sat untouched.

Now it’s in the 40’s, there’s no snow and I was gearing up to spend an off day this week working on it . .and the news says we can expect two inches of snow tomorrow followed by bitter cold.

Ain’t life grand?

* * * *

Enough of the Britney Spears coverage. She’s honestly going to kill herself and then the whole world will fall over itself looking to place blame, without bothering to look in the mirror.

Reporters followed her into church and yelled “Are you praying Britney?”. They followed her into church.

Leave her alone.

* * * *

Memo to parents-to-be: four year olds are, day in and day out, as much trouble ,and just as prone to emotional fireworks, as two, three, and five year olds combined.

Now that I mention it, 5 month olds, two year olds, and six year olds aren't a piece of cake either.

* * * * *

I had the misfortune of sitting in a meeting this past week and listening to a local recall-the-elected officials group speak at the request of the board. The speaker was charismatic but very loud and aggressive. Nothing was said that was out of line (save for the fact that I believe this to be a democracy, and if I person in office sucks vote him out, don’t talk to me about a recall ) but the whole atmosphere of desperation and anger in the audience. . Shiver. Not for me, thanks.

* * *

Watched Alvin and the Chipmunks and dang near peed my pants at times. The kids were flat-out laughing out loud too. Unexpectedly a lot of fun.

Wish I could say the same for Eastern Promises. Boring, boring, boring, and excessively violent.

The Sarah Connor Chronicles was very entertaining and well written. Even Lisa liked it. I wonder how long it is until Terminator fatigue sets in though. I mean really, I’m already adding up the ‘bots and wondering how Skynet or John Connor found any time to fight a war with all the tinkering and tampering with time travel. Just between the three movies five cyborgs and one human were sent back in time. In just one episode of the show we’ve seen three cyborgs and four humans that traveled, and presumably at least a few more stuck back in 1963.

If you have time for plans that intricate, shouldn’t you have time to think of a way to stop the whole madness? And if Skynet succeeds, how do they ever know that they need to go back in time to kill Connors? Likewise, if Connors succeeds in stopping Judgment Day, his father never goes back in time to conceive him.

Lose lose in logic land, no?

It might not be possible . . .

One of my favorite 'fridge art' comics. This edition of Hagar the Horrible says a lot about how the world really works.

BTW, the 'blank' entries aren't a mistake - I'm planning a big sidestep of an AOL limitation. If it works, you'll know in about a month. Otherwise they will quietly disappear with no one the wiser.

The Second Post about my Ideology April 8th

Several months ago I wrote a senseless little ditty about my personal ideology.

Now, if you 're inclined to believe my sarcastic and occasionally shifty writing, I published it because it was important to know what an author "truly believed about the things that mattered."

Yeah.

In other words, I was stumped and discovered a neat way to fill space.

Déjà vu, baby.

In my defense, however, you can glean bits and pieces of a man's character from the tidbits I covered: Do I prefer The Godfather or Scarface? DC or Marvel? Conan or Leno?

By my choice of the Godfather you can tell I have a love of epic drama and family loyalty.

By my preference for DC you can assume I'm a traditionalist.

And by choosing Conan you can safely say I have a fetish for tall slim men with red hair. . .

Okay, maybe my theory has a few holes.

But it still fills up a page.

So, may I present to you My Rambling List of Personal Ideology, Ranging from the Divine to the Absurd, with Little Order and Even Less Sense, vol. Two.

I do not believe in fortune-telling or the zodiac.

Even so, I am a Pisces who often has big, creative dreams with little to show for it. And shortly before our introduction a psychic dismissed my wife's hopes for her current beau. Instead, she said my wife would soon meet and marry a very large dark haired man with a strong ethnic background.

Said psychic did not, however, mention my near constant plumbers crack.

I believe raising a child is by far the hardest job in the world.

I think that somewhere in this vast universe there exists other intelligent life, but I refuse to believe they confine their visits to people named Dwayne and Elmira.

Toilet paper rolls should be loaded overhand.

This is not up for debate.

I would take a beat-up Ford over a new Chevy any day.

Fifty years ago a Disney movie featured a wicked queen who demanded the heart of her stepdaughter in a box, a bunch of armed dwarves that chased the queen to her death, and a morbid funeral vigil.

Now kids grow up watching cartoons where no one is hurt, not even if Cobra Commander shoots down their plane in the middle of a battle.

Yet which group seemsmore violent to you?

I prefer Star Trek to Star Wars, but admit that Lucas' epics were cool - when I was eight.

I have no problem eating cows, fish, or pigs, but chicken bones freak me out.

The income tax didn't kick in until around WWI. How did the government make money before that, and why can't we ask for a do-over?

I can't remember the last time I had sex with the lights off.

At one time, I was bitter that Elmo so completely took over as Sesame Street's king.

I love Tony Randall, but I never bought the idea that Felix Unger was straight.

I prefer plastic to paper, and look down upon those indecisive peons who answer 'paper and plastic'.

If eliminating carbs is truly the key to weight loss, I'm screwed.

Given the chance, I know Jo Frost, aka Supernanny, would choose to stay in my 'naughty corner' all night long.

I think the character of Jack on Lost is the epitome of who I'd like my son to be.

I believe 'smooth jazz' is to jazz what show tunes are to death metal.

And, finally, and most importantly:

Forget asteroids. Worry about the super volcano under Yellowstone.

 

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The Post about My Ideology December 14th

I’ve been wandering all over blog-dom in the last month, perusing what people around the globe have to say.

My conclusion? Thank heavens for the computer age, because it can’t be healthy to keep this stuff bottled up.

There are sites about pets, and sites ‘written’ by pets. There are Republican blogs, Democrat blogs, blogs about blogs, blogs about blogs about blogs, transgender blogs, gay blogs, straight blogs, and blogs about nothing. There is even a site (purportedly) written by a one year old boy, which if true means my three year old is a slacker and good for nothing.

(Which is something my wife and I have always suspected, but try to keep on the down-low)

But not once, did I ever feel I got to know what that person truly believed about the things that mattered.

And when you get right down to it, it’s important to know whether the author of a site favors Biggie or Tupac. Wars have been fought over less.

So in the interest of partial disclosure I present my Rambling List of Personal Ideology, Ranging from the Divine to the Absurd with little Order and even Less Sense, vol. 1

I‘m a Catholic, for many reasons. Among these are what I call the two Hollywood rules: whatever its faults, the original is better than any remakes. And when all is lost and the devil is loose in the world, who shows up in the movies to set things right? It ain’t the Mormons, brother.

I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies.

I am truly bothered by the idea that Tony Soprano might be killed off before he gets a chance to redeem himself, and wonder whether God takes things like that into account.

I believe Oswald killed Kennedy.

I think M*A*S*H was the best sitcom ever, and prefer Trapper to BJ, Colonel Potter to Blake, and Winchester to Burns.

I think Friends takes second place, and firmly believe Chandler rocks.

I think when a political party chooses an ass as a mascot it tells you everything you need to know.

I prefer Laurel and Hardy to Abbott and Costello, werewolves to vampires, and the Captain to Tenille.

I think Burger King burgers are better than McDonald’s, Wendy’s is better than both, and McDonald’s fries trump all.

I think Kate Winslet is the sexiest woman in Hollywood, and am eternally grateful that she removes her clothes in 80% of her movies.

I think that sometimes the quickest way out is through.

Personally, I go with Tupac.

I think baseball is the greatest sport of all time, followed by football, boxing, basketball, and hockey, in that order.

Soccer, when erroneously called a sport, ranks last.

I am the only person on the earth who can say he likes every type of music - and mean it.

I think the New Kids on the Block are the best boy band ever, and that Jordan Knight was their most talented member.

I prefer DC comics to Marvel, but favor Spider-Man over Superman. Go figure.

I prefer Conan to Leno and Kelly over Kathie Lee.

Of the hundreds of books I’ve read in my lifetime, the only one I’ve read twice is The Godfather.

Titanic is the first of two movies I’ve seen more than once in the theater. I saw it thirteen times.

Gladiator is the second. I saw it three times.

I believe human teeth are the only flaw in God’s design.

And finally, and most importantly in the whole scheme of things:

I think the Godfather would wipe his ass with Tony Montana.

The Post about the Reserves December 12th

The older I get, the more I worry that there are no true solutions to a problem, only temporary course adjustments.

The formula is always the same. A problem is evident, and a solution - innovative or tried and true, it doesn't matter - is put into action. The trouble is solved and great praise is bestowed. Twenty years later that panacea has created its own difficulties and the cycle beings again.

What we're seeing in Iraq is the end/beginning of a cycle.

After Vietnam Chief of Staff Creighton Abrams was charged with overhauling the troubled Army as it switched to an all-volunteer service. He reduced it in size, but he also implemented a fundamental change in its organization. Abrams believed Vietnam had gone wrong partly because we were able to wage a war with a bare bones contribution from the Reserves - which, to his mind, slowed the impact of the war on the middle class and necessary debate on the war. His reorganization of the Army ensured that any future war would necessitate activating the reserves.

It worked. In both the Gulf War and Iraq, whether you agree with the war or not, action was preceded by public debate and congressional approval.

But this newfound reliance on the reserve system has strained the patience - and performance - of some Army units. In October reservists from a South Carolina unit refused orders to drive a convoy because it was too dangerous.

Last week eight U.S. soldiers and reservists filed a lawsuit seeking to stop the Army's stop-loss policy, another 'correction' of Vietnam policy. Unlike Vietnam, where units were depleted of experience and leadership by a policy of rotation, soldiers are sometimes required to remain with their units past their scheduled return.

And this week Spc.Thomas Wilson of the 278th Regimental Combat team (a unit comprised mainly of Army National Guardsmen) openly confronted the Secretary of Defense about a lack of armored vehicles- to the loud applause of his unit. It was later discovered that a journalist had secretly coached Wilson.

I don't doubt that the vast majority of reservists are patriotic Americans doing their duty. And I don't mean to minimize the sacrifice they make by leaving their families behind for months and even years; after all, it was a sacrifice I was unwilling to make in the years of peace that followed my eighteenth birthday.

But the truth is that it's an army and not a means of paying for college or making an extra buck. If you aren't prepared to be called to active duty, then it would be wise not to enlist. If you are unwilling to accept that 'fairness' is largely absent in war and you may be forced to stay longer than you thought, then it would be wise not to enlist. If you do not have the vague notion in your head that a whole lot of missions are dangerous and could get you killed (even if you're only driving a truck), then it would be wise not to enlist.

[This might land me in hot water, but if your character precludes showing the Secretary of Defense his due respect, and you prefer to turn a courtesy visit into a carnival at the request of a reporter, then kindly choose not to enlist.]

It's time to re-examine the Army's organization. Abrams was right - reserve units do hold a special place in America's heart. But while in the past Americans may have needed a kick in the pants to question a war; we've grown bitter and cynical and perhaps, smarter. We don't need that extra incentive, not at the expense of morale.

And in an era where the Army is called to work miracles under the glare of an antagonistic media, maybe it's best if that work was done by personnel who do it 24/7/365.