A-Rod hits his 400th, Joe Torre is ejected and some women flirt with my son June 8th

Anyone who knows me knows I love the Yankees. So when interleague play brought them to Milwaukee this week, it was a given that I’d be there to cheer them on.

I decided to bring my three-month old son along too. After all, what better way to introduce a son to the great game of baseball than to show him what 26 world championships looks like?

[Yes, I know the Yanks are sputtering along this year. Maybe they will watch the playoffs on TV, but I’d watch my mouth if I were a Yankee-hater. I think the best is yet to come]

[personal note #1: Sure it was a little conflicting for the kid, rooting against the home team while wearing a Brewers outfit and a Yankees bib. Life is one big confusing mess; its best he learn that lesson young]

I made it a multi-generational affair. Just my me, my father, and Parker. Testosterone, hear us roar.

Except that once we learned I’d have to buy a ticket for Parker if I brought his car seat along, I took it back to the car and carried him in a Snuggly.

It’s hard to project manliness with a baby strapped to your belly.

The little guy did me proud though. He was very alert and curious about the sights and sounds around him, much more than I remember his sister being at her first game.

It was not, I admit, the most family friendly atmosphere. Success breeds jealousy, especially in a town that hasn’t seen a winning season in over a decade. While the Yankees were well represented, the Brewers faithful were not only vocal but bloodthirsty.

The best (PG)chant the crowd came up with? "Yankee fans suck, you only like them 'cuz they're good."

Uh, yeah.

‘Tis a shame for them then that the Yanks piled on 16 hits and 12 runs before it was over.

[personal note: while I am a rabid Yankees fan, I’m also a lifelong Brewers fan. Normally I wouldn’t conceive of betraying the home team, but I’m still reeling from the Brewers disheartening collapse of, oh, 1994 to the present]

With a two minute exception, Parker was the ideal child.

Quiet, alert, and cute, earning no less than fawning compliments from three hot women in the crowd.

Sadly, my son is already doing better with the ladies then his old man ever did.

You can’t blame him for paying attention. Not only was it a riotous atmosphere, history was made.

Along with home runs by Carlos Lee and Derek Jeter (accompanied by chants of ’Jeter has no peter’), and the unusual sight of having Tino Martinez ejected while playing in the field (leading to Joe Torre joining him moments later), there was one big milestone that was reached.

I’d mentioned to my Dad on the way to the game that Alex Rodriguez had 398 home runs, putting him on the cusp of history.

“Watch him hit two today,” I said.

Add psychic to my resume.

In both the first and the eighth innings A-Rod took the Brewers deep, becoming only the 39th man to ever rack up 400 home runs.

Even the Yankee haters gave him an ovation.

So the Yankees won. My Dad was disappointed in the lopsided score, a Yankee fan came up and shook my hand after the game, we got a free hot dog with our tickets, and waited out the crowd in the parking lot while soaking up a gentle summer breeze.

Not a bad time at all. We even had a chance to see the start of a drunken fight in the parking lot.

Good times, good times.

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YaYa's Final Week of K3 and my ensuing Depression June 8th

note:the pics of YaYa's first day of school featured in this post are of dubious quality as they were taken with an old, borrowed digital camera. Sorry about that  - Dan

This is my daughter’s final week of school before summer vacation.

I should be grateful. It means no more twice daily trips across town, no more school board meetings, and no more worries about whether or not her uniform is washed and ready to go each morning.

I should be grateful, but in fact I’m a little down in the dumps.

When the school year began she was two months shy of her third birthday. When I told people we were putting her in a full-day, year long K3 program the reaction was somewhere between pity for my daughter and disgust with us for ‘shipping her away’.

Much as I hate to admit it, I sort of agreed with them.

But my wife thought it was a great idea and my daughter, truth be told, had been asking to go to school since she learned to talk.

So I sucked it up and agreed to it.

I’m glad I did.

Of course that didn’t stop me from nearly crying when I learned she was required to eat breakfast at school, ending the daily routine I’d shared with her since her birth.

And it didn’t stop the actual waterworks that came every time I wrote out a tuition check.

It sure didn’t start on a great note We’d been sold on the promise of an ethnically diverse Catholic school with a strong tradition and even stronger academics.

What we got was a school where not only was my daughter one of only a handful of Catholics, she was the only white child in an otherwise all African-American school.

No one had mentioned that we were the reason they could henceforth use the word ‘diversity’ in their sales pitch.

When we showed up for orientation I think they were expecting us to walk back out again. It certainly would have been reasonable; no matter how open you are on the subject of race, no child should be put in a position where they are so easily singled out as ‘different’.

Thankfully, with the rare speed bump the issue quickly became moot.

Within weeks YaYa became the most widely recognized kid in the history of the school. When I dropped her off everyone from eighth graders on down would call out to her by name and say hello.

As a side effect, I stopped being an individual and simply became known as “YaYa’s dad“.

[I suppose I should have demanded some more respect, but it’s hard to be taken seriously when you’re seen doing the ‘Tootytot” dance with a class of three year olds.]

They were spot on about their academic promises, though.

As of this writing YaYa, now age three and a half, can identify and write the letters of the alphabet. She can count to 40 (if you don’t mind her constantly forgetting ‘17’). She can write her name and the word ‘the’. She knows her prayers and the meaning of each holiday. She’s learned to brush her teeth after every meal ,wash her dishes after snack time, and just shy of a thousand ways to create art with macaroni and a glue stick.

Smart as we are, with two other kids to take care of, I can’t imagine her learning all that at home.

She’ll miss the routine, the interaction, and the challenges over the summer. No amount of swim and play classes can take the place of that.

But there’s a far more insane reason the end of the year brings a tear to my eye. Miniscule as it may be in the long-term, she’s done with K3.

Her first year of school is over, forever.

To me, it seems like the days of driver’s ed and prom dates are just on the horizon.

I’m not ready for that yet. If it was up to me, I’d like her to stay in K3 for, oh, another decade or so.

Which is why, I‘d imagine, father‘s don‘t have much say in the matter.

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Best of the Best

 

While, ironically, I find most of the hallmarks of blogdom annoying (quizes and memes and assignments, oh my!), I think I'm going to start a new blogish feature here at the good ole U.S. of Slapinions.

Every once in awhile I'm going to feature a blog I actually frequent on a daily or near daily basis. I'll still have the blogroll on the sidebar, but consider this the Best of the Best.

The fine author of  (sometimes)photoblog has done me the honor of spotlighting me on two occasions, so the humble first offeriing goes to him.

His site (updated daily) features some beautiful photos, mostly of nature and the insect kingdom.

I respect his work and enjoy having the opportunity to view it. Please stop by and take a look for yourself (and tell him slapinions sent you).

*A word of warning though - if you are going to subscribe to his site, skip the aol alert feature. He updates daily - no really - and it can clog your incoming mail in a hurry. (I have the misfortune of having my alerts ring my cell phone. My phone bill is now sky high :)

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Quote of the Day

I was at work the other night when a boy approached the desk.

"I'd like a Henieken please," he said in his best immitation of a James Earl Jones bass.

My co-worker and I laughed. The kid was no more than eight, ten tops, with a nervous but impressive habit of twisting his right ear into a knot that stayed tied until he unwound it.

"Do you have I.D?" I asked.

"Why do I need I.D?," he said. "Don't I look twenty-one?"

By now my co-worker had collapsed in giggles. Somewhat cooler, I kept a straight face and looked him in the eye.

"Either you come up with some I.D showing your twenty-one, or you find a hundred dollar tip for me. Those are the only two ways you're getting a beer tonight," I said.

[Yes, I was joking about the hundred dollars.

I'd have done it for fifty.]

The kid broke into a big grin and dropped the rumbling voice.

"I'm only kidding, I don't want no Heinie," he said.

He paused for a moment, just long enough for us to let our guard down.

"The stuff tastes like shit. I'm a Bud man myself.", he said.

I haven't laughed that hard in a good long time.

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The Birthday Party June 5th

Okay, I said three updates, I meant four. :)

We had the party at a McDonald's. When YaYa had her 2nd bday party at McDonald's it was a disaster. Crowded, ill-run, just a horrible experience. This time my wife scouted out a location at the far end of town with a heck of a play area and less of a midday crowd.

It worked. Not only was it roomy, it was well-run and just a very pleasant, relaxed party. They even had a tiny toilet in the playroom - perfect for my daughter, who is in the midst of potty training (two successes at the party, 1 mistake :)

Anyhow, here's Parker at the party

and YaYa

and the birthday girl on her throne

we brought a cake just for the adults

while McDonald's provided one for the kids

speaking of kids, here's one of the four group shots I took. Good luck getting them all to have their eye's open and a smile on their face at the same time.

and one of my daughter with one of her godmother's (she has two godmothers and no godfathers; YaYa has two godfathers and no godmother. Long story)

And lastly, I thought I'd add this pic of one of the many great gifts she received. It's a sandbox that now resides in our backyard, courtesy of her other godmother.

Really, a nice, nice day.

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One pic of Park for good measure

What a stud.

My Daughter's 2nd Birthday

Man, I can't believe it's been two years since this little cupid came into our lives. While her birthday party was today, her actual birthday was Saturday. As a present we took her to Build a Bear at the mall.

While there she picked out a bear

helped stuff it by using a pedal

and put a heart inside her bear

and gave it a bath

We named it (drum roll) Birthday Baby Bear. She loved it, almost as much as we love her.

 

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Family Pics

This is the first of three - yup three - family pic updates due today.

These were taken Wed or Thursday in our backyard. Note the long sleeve shirt. It's the last you'll probably see of it, as the temperature has been a muggy 80ish for a few days now.

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Reader Survey/De-Lurker Day

Welcome to my 1st annual?

De-Lurkers Day

and

Readers Survey!

With 14,000 visitors and relatively few comments, I know there are folks who take a peek without saying hello.

That’s fine by me, but for one day I’d like to change the rules.

Whether this is your first time on the site, your fifth, or your hundredth, leave a record of your visit. If you‘re not on AOL, it isn‘t a problem. Just click here to leave a comment.

(btw - if this is your first time visiting, click here for an introduction to the site, and be sure to check out the blogroll and guestmap now up and running on the sidebar to the left!)

Thanks!

For people that have stopped by before and found something they enjoy, could you please take the time to answer a few questions?

1. What’s your site address/screename/email address? (optional)

2. Do you subscribe to this site? By what method?

a. AOL updates

b. Bloglines

c. RSS feed

d. Atom

e. other

3. How did you find this site?

a. Blog Explosion/BE Directory

b. Blog Clicker

c. AOL journal directory

d. other traffic exchange

e. another site’s blogroll

f. a comment I left on a site

g. other

4. If you came in on a traffic exchange, what ‘surf settings’ where you using when you found it? I.e. general, family, kids, politics?

5.How often do you visit Slapinions?

6. What category of post interests you most?

a. politics

b. sports

c. family comedy

d. photo posts

e. ‘scrapbook’ family entries

f. other

7. What’s your favorite post? (click here for a rehash of the past seven months of entries)

8. Would you continue to visit if/when this site moves to Slapinions.com?

That’s it. Just leave the answers in the comment section or email me at slapinons at aol dot com.

I appreciate it, and hope you continue to visit!

Dan

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Deep Throat: Hero, Villain, or Both? June 1st

Somehow, when I imagined how one of the 20th century’s greatest secrets would be revealed, I never thought Vanity Fair would get the credit.

Of course, that’s exactly what happened. W. Mark Felt, former number 2 man at the FBI, admitted in a Vanity Fair article to being Deep Throat, the Woodward and Bernstein source that's perceived as being critical in exposing the Watergate scandal.

The Washington Post confirmed his role Monday.

“I guess people used to think Deep Throat was a criminal, but now they think he's a hero,'' Felt is quoted as saying.

I’m sure the majority of people do view Felt as a hero, a man who brought down a corrupt administration that was involved in a criminal conspiracy.

“Felt had the means and the motive to help uncover the web of internal spies, secret surveillance, dirty tricks and coverups that led to Nixon's unprecedented resignation,” the Washington Post wrote.

Unfortunately, it’s Felt’s motives that bring the debate back into focus.

When J. Edgar Hoover died Felt believed he deserved an appointment to the top spot in the agency he loved. He didn‘t get it, and the Watergate scandal began with a key figure in the FBI disgruntled with the President he served.

“Wounded” and “furious” are how the Post itself described Felt’s state of mind.

And he wasn't leaking information in idealistic opposition to Nixon. On the contrary, he had a reputation for talking to reporters, and had fed Woodward secret information related to the shooting of George Wallace.

Moreover, he was hardly an innocent: less than a decade later he was convicted of authorizing illegal wiretaps and was pardoned by Ronald Reagan.

For thirty years Felt denied his role in Watergate, going so far as to tell his son that Deep Throat was no one to be proud of, that it was wrong to leak information for any reason.

So why the about face?

Now 91 and in poor physical and mental health after a stroke, the new motive seems to be cash - though he may not have much say in the matter.

His daughter said she hopes his admission allows him to "make enough moneyto pay some bills, like the debt I've run up for t[my] children's education."

Woodward, for his part, said he doubts Felt has the mental acuity left to make the decision.

Personally, I think motive is irrelevant, at least after the fact.

If a man rescues a drowning child solely to land on the news, so be it: the child is still safe. And if the man keeps walking and the child drowns, who cares if he had a good motive for his action?

If Deep Throat was the sole conduit to the truth, if without him the law would have been abused and cast aside, then I could care less if he did it out of a sense of justice or revenge.

The problem is he wasn't that important.

Woodward and Bernstein have always seemed a tad annoyed at all the attention their source received. To them, Felt was nothing more than a source that collaborated facts learned after endless hours of pounding the pavement.

In other words, history books would probably be the same, with or without Felt.

(of course, there’s that pesky motive word: Deep Throat’s importance diminishes their own hard work, rendering their opinion suspect)

My opinion? If Felt was anything more than an embittered employee he would have skipped talking to the press and gone to the grand jury, or publicly resigned his position in protest.

He may have been a necessary evil, but he’s no hero of mine.

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Memorial Day Pics

I've seen several blogs that lament the Memorial Day holiday as superficial and  disrespectful of the sacrifice our veterans have made for this country. I disagree.

While it's important to remember the fallen I don't think there's anything wrong with celebrating the weekend as a holiday. For me, the idea of traveling hundreds of miles just to eat and visit with family doesn't diminish their sacrifice; it highlights just what they fought and died for. 

Enough of the soapbox:

This year the family met up at my mother-in-laws house, where we spent nearly the whole day basking in bright sunshine (for a change).

Aside from great food there was a pool for the girls

and a baby swing for Parker (yes, I know: he doesn't look happy - trust me, it's just a bad pic) [er, actually, despite trying three different ways, the pic won't load right. I'll tinker with it later and try again.]

 

but this pic makes up for it. Not the greatest quality, but I chose this over a 'better' pic because it shows just how happy they were (YaYa had confiscated the baby swing for herself)

On a seperate tack, I couldn't resist putting up this pic of Billy the Cat with my Dad. It gives you some idea of his size (the cat, not my Dad).

Before I forget, check out the new features in the 'about me' section, including a link to an 'intro' page, a guestmap, and (old news) my graphic. Btw, I should have a reader survey up in the next 48 hours as well.

Hope your holiday was a happy one

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Whoo-Hoo! 100 Mystery Credits!

Tidbits from Blogdom

Here's a chilling report about a blogger that was murdered. His killer was identified through the last post he ever wrote, in which he mentions the unexpected arrival of his sister's ex-boyfriend.

Perhaps only minutes later, the boyfriend took the lives of the blogger and his sister.

The brief mention in his post was enough to blow the ex's alibi and bring him to justice.

You can check out the blog here. As of this writing, more than 250 comments have posthumously been added to the post expressing condolences for the writer.

* * * *

On a less serious but equally creepy note is this widely-circulated report of a lake in Russia that vanished (yes, vanished) overnight.

Naturally they blame the U.S., even though its perfectly obvious Canada is at fault. :)

* * * *

And on a much more lighthearted note, Random did a write-up on the USPS Photo Stamp program.

Thought the web link she provides you can add a picture or graphic of your own to legal tender U.S. stamps.

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Police Department at a Crossroads May 28th

On Friday an inquest jury unanimously recommended a Milwaukee police officer be cleared in the shooting death of William Javier Prado.

 
Prado had allegedly engaged an off-duty officer in a traffic encounter in March, tailing the officer as he drove home from work. While many of the facts seem contradictory, and even the officer admits to being confused about the chain of events, two things are not in dispute:

First, that the officer fired nineteen times, hitting the unarmed Prado eight times in the back and killing him.

Second, that no inquest jury has recommended charges in an officer related shooting for more than twenty years.

Like most of this city I paid scant attention to the Prado case. I barely remember hearing about it, and I certainly couldn’t have recited any details until the inquest made headlines this week.

Some of that is, shamefully, because it didn’t seem all that important of a story to me. By nature and by upbringing I tend to trust the police, and so I gave them the benefit of the doubt without much thought.

But some of it was because another case was crowding the local news outlets.

On October 24th, 2004 several off-duty police officers accused Frank Jude, Jr. of stealing one of their badges at a party.

When he denied it he was dragged out of his truck, beaten, kicked, stripped naked, and threatened with a knife - allegedly by as many as a dozen off-duty officers.

On-duty officers who responded - and who found no badge among Jude’s belongings - didn’t call an ambulance. Instead, after letting the suspects converse and wander around the crime scene, they arrested Jude.

The charge? That he had resisted and fought the officers, a charge denied by witnesses and rejected by prosecutors who refused to file charges.

It wasn’t until four months later that the case progressed, as the investigation was stopped cold by a ‘wall of silence’ - officers who refused to speak against their own.

This Tuesday - seven months after the beating - nine officers were fired and four others disciplined for the events of that night.

This follows a year that’s seen Milwaukee officers accused of evidence tampering and extortion, falsifying reports when injured sledding on the clock, and other abuses of their power.

In all, 21 officers have been fired since Police Chief Nannette Hegerty took office in November of 2003.

Eighteen officers were fired in the seven years her predecessor was in office.

The temptation, of course, is to hold the uniform in contempt and distrust those who wear it. That’s understandable, but near-sighted.

Someone said to me last night that 95% of cops are good people, and the other 5% ruin it for them.

I’d go one step further: I’d say 95% of local cops are good people who’ll spend their career avoiding a front page headline or the glare of a TV camera .

Another 3% are good and honest people who’ll have the same mistake filled workday we all have from time to time - only in their line of work, mistakes cost lives.

The final 2% have no business wearing a badge.

Truth be told, I have friends who are Milwaukee officers. While I’m a little old to idolize anyone I’ve had over for a barbeque, I respect them for the dangerous work they do.

I hope that the past eighteen months are an anomaly, and the Department rights itself before it’s reputation takes another hit.

Both the citizens of Milwaukee, and the officers that risk their lives to protect it, deserve no less.

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The Milwaukee Art Museum May 26th

Today was a heck of a day. After a scheduled half-day at school, Lisa took YaYa to the Milwaukee Art Museum's Degas exhibit. Lisa took some postcard-like pics while she was there.

The Art Museum is the newest archetictural jewel here in Milwaukee and so popular it's the only image on the new city logo. It's the first U.S. design by Santiago Calatrava, and along with a 90 foot high glass reception hall its highlight is the Burke Brise Soleil.

With a wingspan greater than that of a 747, the fins open and close in a 'flapping' motion, creating a vibrant moving sculture.

Combine that with a world-class art collection, and I'd say it's a must see if you're visiting this neck of the woods.

           

As for YaYa, she loved it! I was suprised (to be honest) but with a guided tour from her Aunt (a longtime Art Musuem employee) she came back raving about the place. Not just the obligatory "It was fun" but a genuine enthusiasm for the museum.

I'd say the place has a new fan.

Afterwards we all went out to dinner at Chili's, spent an hour at the library for storytime, and caught a movie at a friend's house. A very relaxing, fun day.

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Yay!!

Just now my pics popped back onto my storage space and are once again showing up on the site. Thanks to everyone who offered their voice on my behalf and (for once) thanks to AOL!

Lost Season Finale - spoiler warning

I taped Lost while I watched AI, and thank God I did. Not only did it almost balance out the Carrie disaster, it lived up to the hype and offered up a host of goodies and plot twists.

1. Charlie seems doomed to resume his heroin habit, since he swiped one of the smuggler's statues.

2. The 'defense system' seems mechanical, not animal. You could hear the sound of a chain while Locke was being pulled along the ground.

3. If the smuggler's plane was from Africa, and the Black Rock was allegedly a slave ship from the east coast of that continent, I'd say it places the island (if it's physical) somewhere between Africa and Australia.

4. The others could care less about the baby; their goal all along was the boy. More on this point later, but that explains some of his odd comments in the last few weeks.

5. There's a strong possiblity someone from the raft didn't survive the fight.

6. Anyone catch the significance of the 'bad' numbers on the hatch cover? They were the same numbers that appeared on the terminal gate, the soccer team jerseys in the terminal, Kate's ransom amount, etc.

7. The island is huge - remember the comment "how can something this big not have been discovered?"

8. The ladder they discovered could stand for Jacobs Ladder, a bridge between heaven and earth (and it was severed at the bottom, you'll notice). I can't claim credit for this insight, I saw it on a message board.

9. Jack has finally accepted and verbalized a leadership role in the community, and anticipates a showdown with Locke.

10. The baby's name is Aaron which means:

Origin: Hebrew Meaning: Lofty; exalted; high mountain. Biblically, Aaron was Moses' older brother (and keeper by God's command). He was first high priest of the Israelites, remembered for the miraculous blossoming of his staff or rod.

 

All along I've fallen into the camp that says the island isn't physical but purgatory, a place where the dead (the passengers) atone for their sins before journeying to heaven or hell.

It fits for a number of reasons:

The passengers who survived did so with superficial wounds, if any.

They all seem to have complicated and often bloody pasts. Atthe very least, all seem to carry a great burden of guilt for past sins.

The island is too goofy to fit, in geography and events, our world.

Children seem to be 'collected' by the others, which would seem to point towards the fact that the innocent don't belong (but then why were they there in the first place? perhaps as a fulcrum to shift the hearts of the adults - the baby changed Charlie, and the boy has certainly changed his father)

The baby was rejected, true - but didn't we once hear that the child was destined for evil? Perhaps he isn't 'pure' enough yet, despite being an infant.

Note also the recent talk on the isle about 'destiny' 'punishment' 'fate', etc. Coincidence?

Now I think that is where the writers were going when this began, but with fans guessing at the 'truth' they may just be tempted to shift gears and make this some alien world.

Who knows?

What I do know is that this is one of my favorite shows of all time, and one of the very very few I'll purchase on DVD.

 

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Carrie Underwood is a no-talent hack

Mere moments after the travesty that befell American Idol tonight - with Carrie Underwood beating out the much more interesting/talented/personable Bo Bice - my mother called to gloat.

She is, to put it mildly, a Carrie Underwood fan.

Two words Ma: Jimmy Carter.

Ya voted for him too didn'tcha?

 I love ya, but I can't say I envy your track record.

Trust me, in two years you'll see Carrie guest starring on whatever schlock takes the place of Life on a Stick, just like Reuben "I beat Clay Aiken" Studdard.

And Bo will be pecking Kelly on the cheek and shaking Regis' hand as they congratulate him on his next gold record.

Just my slapinion.

But I am right.

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Yet another reason to move away from AOL

Begining last night, pictures have been deleted from my AOL storage space, apparently by some unknown glitch on their end. Three yesterday, seven so far today.

I've contacted AOL and they seem genuinely concerned but have provided me no means of fixing or arresting this problem. Their service reps have filed two reports  to their technical department on my behalf but admit I won't be contacted when/if the problem is diagnosed or fixed.

If nothing else, having a bunch of blank boxes on my site makes it a wee bit less impressive to first time visitors.

How crappy.

Furry Cats and the Kids that Love Them

Here's a pic of Billy, our cat of eight years. We called him the girls 'brother' for so long YaYa's school once scolded her for making up imaginary siblings (this was pre-Parker).

Here's one of Parker in his momma's arms:

Oh, and to give you some standard by which to measure Billy's girth, there's this pic:

To give you some perspective: YaYa is only three and a half, but already wearing 4T Slim pants because of her height. Despite years of a cup of diet cat food a day, Billy still probably cracks the 20 pound mark.

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Famly Update - avoid at all costs

YaYa: aside from an upcoming Spring Concert Tuesday, not much going on with her. My wife did notice that she appears to walk a little pigeon-toed. While I think it may have just been a fluke, it'll be on our minds as she approaches a doctor's appointment.

Middle Daughter: as her second birthday approaches my wife began potty training her, and she'd done a heck of a job. While YaYa despised diapers (I remember a period where she would fight like a dog whenever anyone tried to change her) my youngest girl was the opposite.

Lisa finally cracked her of her diaper addiction, but it's been rough. Today she managed to go #1 three times on the potty, with only an accident or two, but for the last few days the floors have been bathed in her miscues. Thankfully, unlike when we trained YaYa, we have hardwood floors.

Parker: following a fierce week of constipation, Parker has resumed his normal eating habits (he passed 12# loonngg ago. He's been unusually cranky - reminiscent of our youngest daughter's entire first year - but coos quite a bit and takes in the sights. Now that I think of it, I wonder if he's teething? All our kids seem to break their first tooth very young . . .

Family: Sunday we attended a performance of You're A Good Man Charlie Brown at the Marian Center on the lake. To be kind, it sucked. Lousy even by amateur standards, although Lucy and Charlie Brown were talented. Youngest Daughter was a terror, everyone was bored, and we left at intermission - to the relief of everyone there I'm sure. The tickets were valued at $36, but I won them on the local PBS auction, so it was only a waste of $10.

Afterwards we made our own pizzas at home, which was a great way to get greens into the Youngest Girl: beneath the cheese was a solid layer of spinach.

Facinating, isn't it?

Of disturbing dreams and Divine Intervention?

Yeah, here's where you write me off as a quack.

On Thursday I loaded the kids into my two door hatchback to take YaYa to school. Three blocks from home - without any sign of trouble or warning - the car just stopped. It went kaput and wouldn't even clear the intersection.

[full disclosure: due to a wacky side effect of a long ago accident, the car occasionally has problems after a rainstorm. But this is forecast by a myriad of hints and oddities I know by heart - none of which applied here]

Anyhow, I got the kids out and walked home, which they at least thought was neat. YaYa, who's been through two flat tires in the last few months was confident in her diagnosis. "It's probably a screw or a nail in the tire. You should get the spare Dad."

I got my wife's minivan and finished the journey. The block around the school, however, was closed off by the police.

I later found out that a drunk driver had lost control and hit a woman who was getting out of her car, severing her leg before smashing into another car.

This happened at the same time I would normally pull up at the school and unload the kids, on the very same block that I've almost had my car door knocked off a dozen times by passing cars.

When I got home I tried the hatchback. Not only did it start, it's driven perfectly ever since - frankly, almost better than normal.

Now saying God was watching out for my family is a perilous path, one that implies the unwitting victim was less deserving of protection than I am.

I'm not saying the big J.C. was playing tricks with my itinerary, and I'm not saying the woman deserved to be hit.

But I'm also not saying it didn't happen that way; good sometimes follows from misfortune, and I'll never know all the particulars.

Either way, I feel a thank you is in order, and so here it is.

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On a COMPLETELY separate tack, I've been plagued by extremely vivid dreams lately. I think it's a side effect of a medication I started a few weeks ago, so don't sign me up for the loony bin yet.

But if anyone is an expert on dream interpretation and cares to offer an opinion, here's two of the many dreams:

In the first, in what appears to be a grimy and gray England of old, a young woman is being blackmailed. She's instructed to place money in an envelope and leave it inside a 'secret room' behind a false wall in a manor house. 

The blackmailer, who appears to be a traditional English cop, meets her at the drop off and tries to include a sexual favor with the payment.

The woman agrees readily enough, but as they embrace she pulls a knife from beneath her dress and coldly hamstrings him. As he lays crippled on the ground she just as easily cuts his throat, retrieves her money, and leaves.

Nice huh?

Number two: my wife and I are in a church, one that I suppose is meant to pass for St. Peter's (but a darn plain one, I must say). The Pope is giving Mass.

On a silver platter next to him are two faces - think of the smiling and crying masks in theaters. These are real human faces however, and somehow I know they are the dead but still coherent faces of Pope John Paul II and another holy man (since forgotten). They moan pitifully, as if they are begging for the release of the hereafter, and their eyes roll back and forth in what could be a spiritual trance or (honestly) just a creepy look.

The line for Communion forms. My wife and I move forward, but as she is about to receive the wafer the faces begin to let out a guttural, animal scream. The Pope consults them, glares at us, and says my wife is forbidden to be there and has angered God.

We leave (duh)and I wake up.

Now, to aid any interpretation:

a) intense dreams are a legitimate side effect of this medicine (and yes I'm going to try to change it). So does its physical source void any potential meaning?

b)my wife's Lutheran and therefore not allowed communion in a Catholic church (a rule that has been not only ignored but actively violated by clergy). I would put that forth as the seed of the dream, but it seems too literal and easy an answer.

c)No, I'm not blackmailing or holding info over anyone's head, nor am I a victim of such a person. Frankly,my life is so damn boring that this blog is the most interesting thing I have going. So skip the skeleton in the closet theory.  

I think that's enough embarassing info for now.

 

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Why Revenge of the Sith is almost as good as an episode of Dr. Who May 22nd

Spoiler Warning: Minor plot points of the movie are discussed.

 

Like most thirty-something American men I saw Revenge of the Sith on its opening day, just as I did the first two Star Wars movies.

Which is odd, because unlike most GenX'ers, I’m not much of a fan.

Sure, I was as a kid, but that wore off before Jedi came out - and I was only nine at the time.

So why do I bother waiting in line in the rain, then sitting in a cramped theater for an hour before the movie begins, when I could take or leave what’s on the screen?

Peer pressure.

My best friend is a Star Wars fanatic, one who made the trek to Indianapolis for the convention this April. For the sake of our friendship, and because I didn’t want to be the one pal that turned him down, I went to all three movies.

And believe me, if waiting in line for Jar-Jar Binks and The Phantom Menace doesn’t prove the worth of a friend, nothing will.

This time I’m glad he dragged me along.

Sith wasn’t perfect, but as Star Wars goes, it came darn close.

Once you got past an awkward first half-hour, with its evil comic robots and superfluous battle scene, Sith almost proves itself the equal to Empire.

Sure, Natalie Portman’s acting is wooden, and what George Lucas’ knows about writing a romantic scene can fit in the eye of a Jawa. . .

But . . .

Hayden Christiansen gives an impressive and troubled performance as Anakin, Ewan McGregor all but channels Alec Guiness in his portrayal of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the plot is coherent and strong, and for once the special effects compliment rather than overwhelm the movie.

Two parts of Sith refuse to be ignored:

The showdown between Kenobi and his protégé is stunning and emotional, and much as I can’t believe I’m writing this, the sequence in which the Jedi are destroyed not only seemed plausible, but so tragic and well-crafted that it took my breath away.

Even Lucas’ alleged knocks on George W couldn’t ruin the movie.

If I had to put them in order, I’d rank Sith behind only Empire, with the original, Clones, JedI, and Phantom lagging behind.

I still thought the movie left some things unexplained.

¨ Why, in this advanced universe, didn’t anyone pick up on the fact that Padme was carrying twins? Didn’t she have prenatal care, or was all the ultrasound funding spent on that nifty white armor?

¨ Yeah, yeah, the Jedi are powerful. But they seem awfully casualty prone for such skilled fighters. And is it just me, or does the JedI Council come off looking like an ineffective and elitist bureaucracy that all but pushes Anakin to the opposite camp?

¨ Dying of a broken heart? Gag me. Okay, sure - the father of your babies is a future mass murderer/tyrant who cuts off your son’s hand. But don’t you think you might stick around for, oh, the sake of your twin babies?

¨ We’ve all said it before: what’s the obsession with amputation?

¨ Why did Yoda abandon his fight with the Emperor? On my fight card it was at worst a draw, and if I’m not mistaken, the fate of the universe was at stake.

¨ You join the dark side so your wife doesn’t die. Yet when you enlist your wife not only dies, but you think you’re the one that killed her. So why stay with the dark side?

When I saw Empire my father told me Lucas planned on nine movies - three prequels, the trilogy, and three sequels.

If the next three would match Sith, I’m game for another wait in the rain.

 

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ps. here's a link to a Sith  article by sci-fi writer Orson Scott Card. I think it's a bit over the top, and he takes the subject too seriously, but I agree with his ideas about the Council and the elitist nature of the Jedi. Or rather, since I wrote mine before I read it, he agrees with me. What the heck, give it a read.

ps2. just found this very good (negative) review here. I never thought about the Vader-Droid problem . . .

 

How Lightsabers Work.

Screw Lucas' monopoly on Jedi technology. Courtesy of Pentavirate, here's a link to a site that explains just how those fancy lightsabers work.

It also shows the practical uses of the tool - such as saving time by slicing and toasting your bagel with a singe swipe of the blade. Enjoy.

 

Egads! More Daddy Blogging.

Never fear, a normal post will show up in the next day or so. In the meantime, if you want a taste of grown-up schtuff, you can click here for a WWII post, or here for one on Marquette's name change.

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Subscribers: Check out the new graphics in the 'about me' section! Courtesy of a friend who wishes to remain anonymous (cough *Oftencold *cough) and via a trick learned from Patrick's Place.

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A slight change of pace: my wife took YaYa to the zoo with her class and took some great pics, three of which I'll include here.

I know, I know; I did a post on the zoo already, but two of these pics just downright rock (although at reduced 'best for web' quality they lose a little something).

Wonder if that trip counts towards the mind-boggling summer to-do list?

Oh, and in the small world category, a casual reader of this site turned out to have a granddaughter in the same dance studio, and at the same recital, as Ya Ya.  Neat :)

Ok, here goes:

 

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