Published writer, compulsive reader, Old School Whovian, Match Game enthusiast, NKOTB fan, data hoarder, and - surprisingly, given that list - married with four kids. Welcome to my take on life, fatherhood, entertainment, and whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
I find it unsettling that Bookreporter.com, one of my favorite book related sites, chose the following quote as their daily inspiration as the morning of September 11th, 2001 dawned:
Somethings very goofy, no doubt because of the size and quantity of pics, but the last post is very hard to read.
If however, you open it via 'permalink' on the bottom of the entry and view it as a stand alone page, it's ok.
I'll try to work on fixing it when I'm not exhausted.
Dan
UPDATE: Well, exhausted or not, I fixed it (one pic was too wide). Now if only my wife had stopped and bought chocolate chip cookies like I asked, then, THEN I'd say this was a moment of triumph. :)
Instead, I think I'll go read some Stephen King.
Folks in Wisconsin don't get very rattled by winter. Sure, the news stations scratch and claw to see who can provide the most weather reports and the best fear-inspiring storm graphics, but I think to Wisconsinites that's just a form of entertainment, like professional wrestling: no one here takes it seriously, but its fun to watch.
So the blizzard that hit last Wednesday didn't induce panic in the streets, but it sure packed enough oomph to make us pause.
Predictions going into Ash Wednesday were awful, with phrases like 'whiteout conditions', 'icy roads' and '17-20 inches of snow' batted about.
School was cancelled throughtout the city and anybody with common sense stayed home.
Naturally, that didn't include me, since I had to go to work at noon. I really, really, didn't want to leave the house but felt obligated A) because I'm the boss, and I couldn't expect other folks to show up if I wouldn't and B) I had an early afternoon meeting with a lawyer to oversee a deposition.
As you can imagine, once I got to work the lawyers cancelled and my second shift called in.
Not that I blame anyone; it was really turning into a whopper of a storm. This next pic hardly looks as if threatening weather was upon us, but trust me, it was just the eye of the storm.
Pretty, isn't it? I thought so when I stopped the car to take the shot. But these next few are far more typical of the day:
Keep in mind each one of the preceding shots was taken before 2 p.m - the blizzard would continue until well into late evening, tapering off in prime-time.
In the middle of this
no-visibility
ice-under-snow-covered roads
drifting and blowing snow
bitter strong wind
heavy wet snowfall
my wife called me and said she was going to take advantage of the snow day to pack up the kids and take them to Target to buy a pair of jeans for YaYa..
What???? Evidently she'd fallen into the comfortable 0pattern of discounting the weather predictions by 75%, which frankly is usually a safe bet. One look outside quickly discouraged her.
But about half an hour after hanging up jsonline.com broke a news story of a fatal van crash less than mile from our home, on a street we take often. Of course, it wasn't my family (thank God!) but for a moment there . .
Now one of the unique aspects of my business is that, much like funeral homes, we tend to benefit from other people's suffering. Big storms bring in big bucks, and Ash Wednesday was no exception. (we also tend to do well in great weather; it's the in-between where you have to fight and scrap for every dollar; go figure)
So, thrust temporarilly into the same job I held 9 years ago, and working alonside a brave replacement for my absent employee, we busted our humps throughout the long grueling evening.
The airport closed; more business. The local restaurants closed; more clients. By seven this was the situation: the city was shut down. No one was coming in, no one was going out, and no one was going to have any opportunity to eat, drink or be merry.
[Well, not quite true. We had a solid stock of alcohol, but it sold out quick]
During a lull I went to take some more pictures before darkness descended. Here's the depth ofthe snow as of, oh, 3:00 or 3:30. The numbers on the ruler are purely for decoration and don't dentote the actual depth - it's a foot long, minus whatchya see.
Note the ruler in my footprint.
As you know by now, this was a religious holiday, and one of some importance both to myself and my staff. With masses cancelled it was the first year in quite a long time where I didn't have the glory of having some descendant of the Reformation giggle and tell me I had dirt on my forehead.
More imporantly, we had to abstain from meat, and we had no fish on the premises. Thus we bravely sent out a young gentleman into the peak of the storm, to return shaken but not stirred, fish fry's in hand.
Suprisingly the ride home wasn't too bad, as I have the fortune of being able to take two major throughofares (sp?) to within blocks of my house. It was near my home that the fun began.
I ignored my wife's telephone warning and attempted to drive into our alley. I got no further than the entrance before I was hung up on drifts three or four feet deep. Once I got help and pushed my way free I parked blocks away in the only halfway decent spot, and walked home.
The alley was miserable, with snow drifts going up to my hips. And then, horror . .
The picture doesn't do it justice. The drift was three or four feet high and covered the majority of the 400 square foot parking slab we'd put in last year. Add to that the fact that if wehad any chance of escaping in the morning, I had to dig out a good chunk of the approach in the alley.
This was heavy, wet snow, a pure pain to move. Best of all? My snowblower was buried under a drift and I couldn't get it out without digging a path to the shed. So it was back to a good ol' fashioned snowshovel, yessir.
Suprisingly it went quickly. This didn't take finesse, it took brute strength, and of that I have plenty to spare. Still, thanks to Lisa the front had been shoveled once early in the day and a gracious neighbor had snowblowed the rest of the buildup, sparing me that chore.
We still were unable to get the van out the next day and Lisa wrote a very angry but articulate email to the Alderman complaining of Milwaukee's longstanding policy to leave alleys untouched (but under penalty of fines require homeowners to shovel out the garbage cans for city crews). The alderman not only wrote back but called me, gave me his cellphone number, and then called and left a message that was so long and chatty my machine cut out.
Huh. Guess it's an election year.
The next day I had to dig some cars out at work, and boy did my muscles feel it. By then the snow had melted just enough to give it some extra weight, making it just that much harder to clear out.
Oh, one cool thing: on the way home from work one dayI stopped and took photos of the biggest snowman I'd ever seen. Keep in mind this was taken a few days after the snowfall and it had already partially melted and shrunk. Note the pedestrians relative size to the snowman.
The total snowfall?17 or 18" I believe, with drifts of much deeper depth. Other areas of Southeastern Wisconsin got hit much harder. That snowfall put us over the five foot mark for the year; last year at this time we had experienced just over TWO feet.
Tonight's forecast, following two days of temperatures of -5 F and windchill temps of negative 35F?
Three to seven more inches of snow.
For quite awhile now I've hated the picture in the 'about me' section. I rarely wear T-shirts anymore and haven't for years, my hair is (sadly) thinner, and I have never stood in front of the Art Museum in a dorky thumbs-up pose.
It was great for '05, but not '08. Plus the pics of the kids desperately needed updating.
So here's the new version, again created by Oftencold during a rare day-off up in the wilds of Alaska.
Note that while he did all the hard work, I did tone down the text just a smidge. The rest of it still applies - if your boy toy is a publishing maven, by all means send him a link.
Of course there were previous versions too. In retrospect I kind of like the text at the end of this one . . hmmm. .
This next one was yanked because it included my full name, and the pic had inspired someone to ask what accident caused the scar on my forehead. In fact, it was nothing more than a crease on the scanned photo. Frankly, I can't even see it now, but that might be because of the resolution. Plus, in retrospect, newborn Parker looks like a shrunken head that I propped up on a pillow.
The creator of the graphics vetoed this next one because he didn't think that City Hall was recongizable enough behind me in the pic. I suppose the Art Museum is slightly better known, but not by much.
Plus I'm trying to alter what I call the 'masthead' above every post. Here's an early attempt:
Note the nesting dolls representing the family. Remember, it's still just a draft. I was kind of thinking of having different mastheads for each subject - family, politics, sports, local, general, etc.
What comes to mind is the YaYa nose-picking pic on the current masthead, now front and center on the Family version . . . again, I guess we'll wait and see.
Over the weekend I received news from YaYa's Godfather that his Grandmother had passed away.
The viewing was held today at a local church and I took YaYa out of school for an hour to attend.
My rationale for taking her was simple: I thought it was an appropriate show of respect for her Godfather and a good way for her to cement his importance in her life. He lost his mother a few years ago and I imagine that made the loss of his grandmother even more difficult to handle. He attended the funeral of my own Grandma in 2006 and I had met the woman, if only briefly. I felt it right to make YaYa attend.
[by the way: as his mother was the first of our parents to pass, it was horrible harbinger of things to come for everyone in my generation; it signaled that a new day had arrived for us all]
At the showing she was not 'bad' per se. She was quiet and more or less respectful. But she acted very shy, hiding behind me at times and offering her condolences only when strongly prompted, and even then with a dopey grin on her face. She prayed by the casket with me but claimed to have forgotten the words to "Hail Mary", which is a bold-faced fib. Her hug was more of a headbutt. And she seemed to take far too much pleasure in being the demure, shy little girl at the party.
None of this, on the face of the retelling, seems worthy of my anger. I know I'm coming off as over the top when I say that on our ride back to school I ignored perhaps six apologies and didn't speak to her at all.
But you know what? Every parent wants other people to see their kid for who they are, and YaYa's a very social, very courteous (when she wants to be), and very refined kid.
Yet every time - and I mean EVERY time - she's near her Godfather she turns into this shy, goofy stranger. Every. Single. Time.
The guy has no kids of his own, so I can only imagine what he says when I'm not in hearing distance. You can't say 'wait til you have kids of your own' to someone who doesn't have one; they might nod agreement but in their heads they're thinking their kid will be better, more polite, more social.
I did it. You did it. Every future parent thinks it.
His Dad was cool about her behavior.When she bumped into an easel of pictures he was quick to her defense. "That's ok. If you drop it we'll just pick it up. No big deal."
So some folks will say she was too young to attend, and in my defense she's been to a few before and certainly has attended fewer than I did as a child.
So what do you think? Was she too young? Does she feel too pressured by me and so act out with her Godfather? Does she try to 'be' someone else to impress him and have it backfire? Or am I just nuts?
What's your take?
Tags: YaYa
Val maintains a weekly contest in which readers have to construct a sentence using six letters that she provides. The letters have to be kept in sequence and must be used to begin each word.
This weeks letters are:
TCRABC
My contribution for this week:
TODD'S CHILDREN ROUTINELY ATE BLUE CRAYONS
Not bad for a beginner, eh?
Last night we were cleaning the house when I put on a little Buddy Holly and Lauren started bopping to the beat. I grabbed the camera and once she saw it she hit the brakes but still gave me some whopping smiles.
[Please note that I'm sorry that every pic of her seems to include a dirty collar, and that this one includes some spit-up on the chin, albeit generated as the shots were taken. I assure you, it was wiped off promptly.
This, coupled with the makeup laden shots of YaYa in the last post, I'm sure paints a very trailer-parkish portait of the clan :) But in fairness Lauren, for all her great points, is a spitup and drool machine and keeping her clean is a constant challenge.]
And one of the best smile photos EVER, if a tad out of focuse with the zoom.
This is a very rough draft:
http://journals.aol.com/mleighin21st/iwasthinking.../
http://journals.aol.com/fisherkristina/SometimesIThink
http://journals.aol.co.uk/kirkbyj05/DaytoDayLifeintheLakes
http://journals.aol.co.uk/jeanno43/JeannettesJottings/
http://journals.aol.com/thebaabee/LUANNESLIFELIVINGWITHLUPUS/
http://journals.aol.co.uk/pharmolo/NorthernTrip/
http://journals.aol.co.uk/jeadie05/Serendipity/
http://journals.aol.com/ladymagnolia1963/ladymagnolias-daily-blog/
http://journals.aol.com/gaboatman/DockLines/
http://journals.aol.com/rap4143/MyDayMyInterests/
http://journals.aol.com/valphish/ThereisaSeason
http://journals.aol.co.uk/specialadyfink/Anyway...../ main journal
http://journals.aol.com/specialadyfink/Anyway......./ Christmas Story
http://journals.aol.com/specialadyfink/in-the-sticks
http://journals.aol.com/specialadyfink/say-what/
http://journals.aol.com/specialadyfink/share-and-share-alike/
http://journals.aol.co.uk/specialadyfink/the-halloween-party/
http://journals.aol.com/specialadyfink/woof-woof/
http://journals.aol.co.uk/kirkbyj05/DaytoDayLifeintheLakes
http://journals.aol.com/gehi6/daughters-of-the-shadow-men/
http://journals.aol.co.uk/aniracj/StrannyDayze/
http://journals.aol.com/labdancer51/SandrasScribbles/
http://journals.aol.com/luvrte66/nutwoodjunction/
http://journals.aol.com/valphish/ThereisaSeason
http://journals.aol.com/csandhollow/Mydayandthoughts
http://journals.aol.com/oldetownephotos/olde-towne-walk-about/
http://journals.aol.com/lv2trnscrb/kodas-corgi-tales/
http://journals.aol.co.uk/astoriasand/MYSIMPLERHYMES
http://journals.aol.com/memes121/AsIAM/
http://journals.aol.com/seraphoflove9001/Pleasedonttakelifeforgranted/
http://journals.aol.com/bhbner2him/LifeFaithinCaneyhead/
http://journals.aol.com/justaname4me2/InTheShadowOfTheIris/
http://journals.aol.com/rdautumnsage/ravens-lament/ *****************
http://journals.aol.com/kaydeejay5449/a-little-left-of-center-ii/
http://journals.aol.com/cacklinrosie101/CabsCreations/
http://journals.aol.com/nelishianatl/PrayingandBelieving/
http://journals.aol.com/luddie343/DARETOTHINK/
http://journals.aol.com/hunybea4him/HunybeasOpenJournal/
http://journals.aol.com/mleighin21st/iwasthinking.../
http://journals.aol.com/deshelestraci/MylifeasatransplantedYankee/
http://journals.aol.com/merry1621/Merrysthoughtshopesdreamsgoal/
http://journals.aol.com/bgilmore725/Wanderer/
http://journals.aol.co.uk/oddb0dkins/WaffleandWhinge/
http://journals.aol.com/ladymagnolia1963/ladymagnolias-daily-blog/
http://journals.aol.com/heavenlybama/journey-to-success
http://journals.aol.com/heavenlybama/my-photo-lounge
http://journals.aol.com/helmswondermom/DustyPages/
http://journals.aol.com/ma24179/MISSYZSTUFF
http://journals.aol.com/maryajacobs5/grand-tour-of-america/
http://journals.aol.com/jibaro6543/ELLIESCRAZYLIFE/
http://jpurnals.aol.co.uk/sybilsybil45/villagelfe
http://journals.aol.co.uk/mariealicejoan/MariesMuses/
http://journals.aol.com/libragem007/collage/
http://journals.aol.com/wwfbison/life-on-a-bison-farm
http://journals.aol.com/winivere2002/TheGlassBox/
http://journals.aol.com/winivere2002/TheMadPlatter/
http://journals.aol.com/winivere2002/TheAmateurFeng-Shui/
http://journals.aol.com/gaboatman/DockLines/
http://journals.aol.co.uk/m100addy/a-scrapbook-of-snapshots/
http://journals.aol.co.uk/sylviam4000/YeOldeEnglishPosy/
http://journals.aol.com/easteeleco/Lasttimeatbat
http://journals.aol.com/preciousone25/JoannsWeightLossJourney/
http://journals.aol.com/lsfp1960/LindasWorld/
I'm getting in just under the wire, but this week's contest's subject was/is 'Pets'.
Now I could do the standard shot of my cats or turtle, and I have at times, but that really kind of bores me. Besides, Angelcakes was only recently featured, so I figure we're good on that stuff.
Instead, let me introduce you to her 'pet' Princess and tell you her story.
Last Saturday Lisa and I took the two oldest kids roller skating, the first time we actually managed to skate through an entire 2 hour session. The rink is located right next door to a busy Goodwill Store, and I had a hankering to look around. I asked my wife if she wanted to go check it out.
"What's my budget?" she said.
"I don't know," I said. "I just want to loitter for awhile. . .say . . 10 -12 bucks?"
"Deal!" she said.
The total wound up at $23.00.
Sometime during this excursion YaYa saw the Ty brand cat pictured above, literally from across the room, and asked her Mom if she could have it. The price? A mere 49 cents. Sold!
[Irrelevant detail: She also picked out a huge overstuffed cat for Lu. She's becoming a pretty good shopper, a truly useful skill in this civilization.]
We took the purchases home and the kids were eager to take the animals to bed with them.
This is when my Mom's DNA kicked in. Irrationally worried about lice, chiggers, roaches, termite eggs, ticks, and all manner of germs, I denied the request until I had a chance to throw them in the wash.
"No Daddy!" YaYa begged. "Don't put it in thewash! Please!"
I shrugged her off without hesitation. To be honest, I don't even remember what the dang animals looked like. It was grab 'em from the bag, toss 'em in the washer, fughetaboutit.
So come bedtime, with Lisa at work, I cheerfully took the animals to the girls . . and YaYa screamed.
This is what Princess looked like:
Maybe this one show's it in a better light . .
Oh. Uh, yeah, no, I guess it looks bad no matter what.
"She had long hair!," she said."Now she looks like a lamb!"
"No, she doesn't," I argued, alarmed that I'd somehow managed to screw this up, "She looks like a very pretty little shee- er, cat"
Ugh. Even my unconscious betrayed me.
But the pics don't show the worst of it, because I spent a good half an hour combing and blowdrying and combing it again and again until the curls were loosened to some extent.
After all this work I called YaYa downstairs and proudly presented her the cat. Remember, I didn't remember what the stuffed animal looked like. I thought YaYa was being overly dramatic and that my efforts had more than solved the problem.
She came down and took the cat in her arms. She wiped away her tears with her forearm and smiled at me with a big gap-toothed grin.
"Thanks Daddy," she said. "Now I think I'm going to change her name, from Princess ..",
At this point her eyes filled with rage and her face twisted up and began to shake.
" . . to Looks-horrible-and-is-going-in-the-trash!"
And she threw it down.
Oh man was I ticked. "You don't appreciate anything I do for you! I took you skating, I strapped on roller skates, I bought you the cat and I just wasted half my evening combing that thing, and for what? So you can call me a bad Dad?"
"You're not a bad Dad" she said, not at all impressed by myanger. "But you screwed it up. She was special and you ruined her. I told you not to put her in the wash, I told you! I told you!"
"Excuse me for not taking laundry advice from my six year old!" I replied.
At that point some physical seperation was needed and I sent her upstairs. I calmed down, pretty wracked with guilt, and combed it out some more, to the point it appears above.
I took it upstairs, we both apologized - me willingly, YaYa after being coerced - and she tied a ribbon around its head.
"It's kind of pretty," she said, and contemplated it for a minute. "Yeah, I think she still looks like a princess".
And sure enough, when I recapped the story for Lisa after work and went to show her the cat, it was tucked snuggly into her sleeping arms.
"Told you you shouldn't have washed it," Lisa said.
*&@#&
* * * * * * * *
Here's some pics of YaYa with Princess. The makeup is from a (authorized) raid into her Mom's old stash, not prep for a beauty pageant.
Here are my two oldest with their new 'pets'.
And LuLu alone with hers. Please note that despite appearances she wasn't the least bit angry/annoyed/tired. She's just got this odd 'supermodel sulk' idea stuck in her head.
It's hard to believe she's already half a year old. To me it's a blink of an eye, whereas Lisa say's it feels like she's been around forever (in a good way).
Here's a few shots I took today as she visited me at work. I didn't remember the camera until it was time to go.
She went to the pediatrician for her 6 months physical and vaccinations today. She measured 44.5 cm around the head, 27 inches in length, and 14 pounds, 13 oz in weight.
Hard to believe . . six months. Just think what we could accomplish if, in the moment, we truly grasped how quickly time passes . . most goals would seem far more reachable if 'six months away' didn't seem like an eternity.
Anyhow, Happy 1/2 birthday Lauren, and here's hoping for 200 more!
ps. for her 'birthday' her parents got the best gift - a night with the baby spending the night at Grandma Jeanne's! :)
Whoo-hoo! Lost is back!
Sure, Season 4 premiered last week, but like one co-worker/reader said, that episode was fine - for mid-season filler. Tonight, tonight was the Lost I love.
The big revelation was hinted at in the title. Back in the 'world', the undersea wreckage of Oceanic Flight 815 was located in the Indian Ocean. The plane was relatively intact - no great big missing tail or nose section hint hint- and corpses were visible.
So what's going on? Is it really 815, and are the Losties spirits in purgatory, as I once theorized? That would certainly jive with the inclusion of Miles, professional and legitimate ghostbuster, on the mission to the island.
Or is it an elaborate and apparently successful hoax?
Assuming the folks who discovered the wreckage actually found the thing, and it isn't just an expensive special effects film, how is the hoax possible?
Big budget films don't have the moola to take an entire commercial airliner and drop it on the ocean floor, create a debris field, and load in some corpses (real or not) just to stage a scene. How could, well, whoever would do such a thing, finance/prepare/execute such a ruse? And how could they guarantee a legitimate accidental discovery?
Of course the writers threw us a bone by having the pilot object to the incorrect ID of the corpse and plant doubt in our heads . but really folks, what news channel would release those images in the first place? They kind of lost me on that, no pun intended.
Either way, how do the 'Oceanic Six' fit into the mix? Logically their existence is impossible in either scenario.
Next development: the insertion team. You have a cute, female Indiana Jones type archeologist with a thing for Dharma, the before mentioned ghostbuster, a quirky physicist who rather resembles a nervous Orlando Bloom, a drunk pilot who claims to have originally been scheduled to fly 815, and a professional soldier for hire.
They're all on the island to go after Ben. Why?
And some more questions: What did the physicist mean when he said light diffused oddly on the island? Why did the pilot not make the flight? Has the island now called him to meet his fate?
And back to the Losties themselves and the quote of the night.
Jack, after turning the tables on Miles, right after he says "how stupid do you think I am?"
"I don't know Miles how stupid are you?"
Not a whole lot else to say about Jack's group. But as for Locke's . .
LOVED the Apocalypse Now reference aka Colonel Kurtz. I was thinking the exact same thing just before Sawyer said it; as we seem to know from future-Hurley, Locke is leading the group down a frightening path.
Note that he said Walt looked 'taller', a simple and amusing way to explain away a child actor's growth over three years time. For those who haven't seen the Lost webisodes, which are short little scenes available only online, Walt has violent and destructive abilities . . it may not be a good thing Locke is listening to him.
So Locke survived his shooting at Ben's hand in part because he had no kidney there . . so his father's 'theft' of his kidney, in the end, saved his life. Every little thing ties into another in the Lost universe.
As for predictions, eh, why bother? I'll just sit back and enjoy the ride.
* * * *
One thing: before the episode I got to thinking. How do we know last weeks flash-forwards are after the events of the Season 3 finale? Is there something I'm missing, because otherwise it's perfectly reasonable that the events with Hurley preceded Jack's breakdown.
Just a thought.
