Our Second Day up North

Ok, there are a few parts of the rest of the weekend's story that are going to sound like a serious blow to the fun-meter, and yeah, they may not have been a blast themselves, but they really didn't ruin the integrity of the weekend.

Eh, you'll see.

Lump woke up super early in the morning and, eager to see us sharing a room with her, took full advantage by refusing to fall back asleep. So our day started early.

Then a few hours later I was holding her when she passed gas. Only, it wasn't gas and she quickly boiled over like a science project volcano turned upside down. In short, she shat completely through her diaper, outfit, all over my shorts and leg, and on a nearby backpack.

Apparently well-water didn't agree with her, so for the rest of the weekend she was on milk only, and her tummy settled right down.

Meanwhile I was feeling very fatigued and had shortness of breath. It had started the night before, just after the swim, and internally I was very busy trying to figure it out. Was it a series of small but vicious panic attacks? Was it the long-awaited heart attack? All I knew was that I felt like sh**.

And then it dawned on me. Mosquitoes. I'm allergic to mosquitoes.

Oh, I know nowadays everyone's allergic to something. It's hip and funky and gives you a ripe excuse to avoid inconvenient things, like your in-law's barbeque when the 'pollen index' is too high.

But I really am allergic to the buggers. I used to routinely get bites that would swell as large as golf balls, fully three-dimensional monsters. On one grand occasion I had to go for X-rays after a softball game because the coach thought I'd broken my hand in the field. Turns out I'd simply been bitten by a mosquito and had the whole  hand swell. Nowadays it's toned down quite a bit.

But when you are covered head to toe in mosquito bites, for me at least, it's more than itching. It's fatigue and shortness of breath and swelling, and it sucks. Benadryl helped, but there was an undercurrent of blah most of the day.

Anywho, despite appearances this was all of 5% of the day. In the early afternoon Lisa and her friend joined me and most of the kids as we hit the rummage sales in the area. The sales were largely void of books, but Lisa scored big at a clothing rummage.

And at another rummage I was so put off by one woman's constant refrain to her partner of "Did they pay for X? Did you charge them for Y?"  that I looked her in the face and told her I wasn't a thief. I don't know what she was so hyped up about, most of the stuff was worth about as much as a campaign promise, but she still wound up with $8 in sales.

[I say 'most of the kids' joined us because for the most part YaYa was AWOL with the 11 year old most of the weekend, to be seen only at dinner and bedtime. She rode the horses, she petted the bull, and she rode her bike, all day long.] 

Then we stopped off at a store called Pamida, which is basically like a small K-Mart. I'd never heard of it before, but they had very good store-brand diapers for very little cash. Smiley had a hissy there because I wouldn't buy him a set of water pistols, but otherwise it was a neat experience.

Later that afternoon we all drove into a nearby town for ice cream.

Milty Wilty is a drive in that's been in business since 1947. Their custard fails to trump Leon's here in Milwaukee, but that's besides the point. Leon's doesn't have an expansive set of play equipment for their customer's kids.

They even had a bouncing castle.

It was very relaxing to just sit out in the sun and enjoy your custard and conversation while the kids played.

As we were about to leave the kids found an injured butterfly in the parking lot.

Our original intention had been to attend a 5 pm parade in another town, but we ran late at the ice cream stand. So we returned to the house. One group of kids swam while LuLu asked me to watch her bicycle in the front yard. I did so, utilizing the 'flip the back bench over to create a tailgate seat' on the Freestar. Booyah!

At one point something came over me and I asked the 11 year old if I could use her bike. After adjusting the seat I took off on my first real bike ride in (seriously) 25 years. Oh, I'd hopped on a bike last year for a quick second, but that was diddly. This time I went for several minutes, at a pretty decent speed, and actually whipped around much as I did back in my childhood.

It might have helped that YaYa was egging me on and taunting me the whole time. :)

Maybe we'll buy some bikes as the summer progresses. It was fun, and good exercise of course; plus it would give us quality time with the kids.

Tacos for supper, and then the kids retired to watch a movie. I joined the friend's husband on the pier for some fishing (and caught two bluegill - the FIRST TIME I'd legitimately caught a fish on my own in all my 34 years. I had caught one last year, but with one of the kids joining me on the pole).

Later, Lisa and her friend went to visit her (friend's) Mom's bar in a nearby town (and came within a few feet of colliding with a deer on the return trip when it bolted from the woods. Credit her friend's sharp driving for avoiding disaster).

While they were at the bar we took turns playing Tour of Duty 4 and MLB '08  The Show on Playstation 3.

[In the latter game I drafted and managed a team that went 102-60, only to be swept in the first round of the playoffs by the Royals.

By the bleepin' Royals! Can you believe it?]

Then it was on to bed when Lisa returned, and another fine day gone by. That swim, riding a bike, and catching a fish, all in one day.

 Huh. Good day for firsts eh?

The 4th of July

We hit the road on the Fourth of July midday (after some packing delays) and were on our way.

The kids weren't the greatest on the way up, whining and fighting at times, but I reckon it's like taking them out to eat - you have to put up with some bumps in the road in order for them to learn what's expected of them in the future.

 

Lisa in particular made a valiant but futile effort to get them engaged in the two $5 road trip games we bought to entertain them. No way it was happening, you could see that as plain as day, but she kept plugging away, and a tip of the hat to her for that.

The day before I'd had new tires put on the van, and let me tell you that Ford drove like buttah!

.

Midway to our destination we stopped for fireworks

I spent $60 at the store (not including the $4 state permit I had to buy) and that was about $60 more then I'd ever spent on fireworks, since I have a nifty love for all my fingers. In fact that was the first time I'd ever set foot in such a place. But the fireworks up where we were going had taken place on the 3rd, and there was no way we were going an Independence Day without fireworks. Especially not Lump's first Fourth of July.

[Odd sidenote: This is a picture of a dead rat on the side of the highway. We'd stopped . . what was it for?? Oh, I think to regulate one of the kids' tantrums and this is what greeted me. First (and last?) time I've ever seen a rat.

End of creepy sidenote.]

After two hours or so we reached our destination.

Lisa's friend lives in a nice sized house with a backyard that leads to a private stretch of waterfront on a man-made lake.  It's fifteen minutes to the nearest store, and more than 40 minutes to the closest movie theater.

Predictably, everyone was in the water within minutes of arrival.

And then the kids took off to explore the neighborhood on their bikes. The neighbors have a farm with horses and a bull, and YaYa in particular would spend much of the weekend there with the 11 year old daughter of Lisa's friend. Weird, but even with a five year age difference they seemed inseparable. When I asked how that could be Lis shrugged off the age difference and said "They're the same, that's all"

Later, we had a barbeque of hot dogs and hamburgers topped off with cake.

Near nightfall we roasted marshmallows and made smores over the firepit

,

 then began our fireworks display. The kids themselves got nowhere near anything heftier than a sparkler, which even my paranoid Mom allowed back in the day.

The $60 proved well-spent, as it provided a decent and relatively long show. LuLu was especially happy that her "Unicorn" brand fountain was impressive.

Again, a very nice display.

Then the kids were off to bed and the four adults sat in the enclosed patio and drank, talked, and played dominoes as we were seranaded by bullfrogs(!) and the echo of fireworks across the lake.

Around midnight we all headed into the water for a starlight swim. I may or may not have have kept my swimsuit on (but I think you can hazard a guess). Alas I can assure you that either way no hanky-panky took place, despite a strident but polite attempt on my part. Something about cold water and shrinkage, I think Lisa told me . . I kid I kid.  

Lisa btw, labels this weekend one of the Top 10 experiences of her life. I don't rate it that high, but it was a blast.

More to come . .

Last Weekend

Howdy, I'm back. But before I barrage you with pics of this past holiday weekend, let's jump back in time to just after our visit to Shakey's.

After we had lunch we decided to go rummage sale shopping. Sadly, that's one of our favorite weekend activities. I search for books, my wife for kids clothes and trinkets, and the kids generally wander around making a pest of themselves. It's grand.

We didn't have much luck in the field that day so we hit the resale shops, where I scored some fine books. The kids made out too.

That's a shark in Smiley's hands, btw.

YaYa scored big at a rummage we hit late in the day. I bought her 18 Junie B Jones books for $13, fleshing out her collection quite a bit.

The next day we went out rummaging too, but had no luck whatsoever. We did however tour a lovely ranch home during an estate sale (those are always a little morbid, and usually pricey, but the merchandise is so eclectic it's hard to pass up. Plus there's the voyeur aspect of it all). I really liked the house and would have contemplated buying it if we were in the market, although it was big on perks and low on bedrooms - not good when you breed as I do.

Anyhow, when the rummages all petered out we wound up at a restaurant for the 4th day in a row, this time at Organ Piper Pizza.

The pizza joint features a large, early 20th century pipe organ that's the center of attention. It's as dark as a bar in there so excuse the poor pics.

The organist takes requests, and my girls often choose "Under the Sea" or "Over the Rainbow" and dance the afternoon away.

Smiley, meanwhile, had made fast friends with a boy from a family of 7 sitting nearby. The last of the five kids was conceived six months after a botched vasectomy - oopsie.

The restaurant also features a game room and small merry-go-round, which the kids enjoy.

There was one meltdown, but I don't remember who did the deed  (Smiley, I think) and overall a fine way to cap off a nice weekend. I returned to work the next day refreshed and rested.

An American Medley

Happy 4th of July!

In only a few hours the family and I will head 'up north der eh' to Northern Wisconsin to visit a friend who moved away last year. I expect I'll be out of touch for a few days but wanted to leave you with a tribute to this great country on our 232nd birthday. Credit Deslily's journal for giving me the idea.

Here's two clips of the incomparable Kate Smith. I remember listening as a kid to WOKY every 4th of July as they played 24 hours of patriotic music. Because of that I quickly became a fan of Ms. Smith. The second clip, from a NHL finals game played in 1976, features the 69 year old receiving a moving ovation as she takes the ice to belt out her signature tune.

Also from my memories of AM 620, John Wayne's moving spoken word piece on the country he loved and represented onscreen.

 

Here's a few clips of the great Jimmy Cagney. My Dad's always been a fan of Yankee Doodle Dandy and I can't say I fault his taste. Some parts of the film still bring tears of pride to my eyes. Check out the great tap down the stairs in this clip of 'Over There'.

 

 

Here's a black and white clip from the movie, this time of "It's a Grand Ol' Flag'

 

And the title song of the film. I'm not overly fond of the scene, but I include it in part because I think I detect Cagney doing some toe-tapping during the song, a tap-dance niche that my wife was researching recently.

And if you really want to see t the sacrifices that were necessary to obtain and keep our freedom, go rent Gettysburg. The famous battle was fought at this time 145 years ago. Some of the scenes in that movie reduce me to tears (as Lisa will tell you, patriotic movies and baseball are about the only things that manage to do that).

In particular the end of Pickett's charge, when the Union holds the line and the flag flies free, the South checked for the moment (and forever, as it turns out), or Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain's heroic stand, preserving the Union flank even as his men ran out of ammunition and fixed bayonets to charge into history  . .wow.

Wow.

God bless everyone who contributed to this great land, and Happy Birthday America!

Mama's Boy - a Review

                           

There are some funny moments in Mama's Boy. Not a ton, mind you, and far between at times, but they are there.

(Look for Jeff Daniels' line: "Sometimes we confuse our fears with our fantasies Jeffrey". Classic!)

The plot is standard issue. A 29 year man still lives at home with his mom, but a new boyfriend has entered the mix and the son will stop at nothing to preserve his cushy, coddled life.

A positive: a stellar supporting cast. Diane Keaton (adorable as always - she looks just like my big high school crush, albeit not 15 or goth), Jeff Daniels (go Midwest!) and Eli Wallach.

A negative: for too much of the movie the cast seems to exhaust themselves keeping Jon Heder afloat. I liked Napoleon Dynamite; heck, I'd even vote for Pedro, but in this movie he played it too National Lampoon for my taste. It didn't work.

I'm still not sure what motivated Anna Faris' character to pine for Jeffrey, but hey, Lisa is the one that pursued me years back. I wasn't exactly a Happy Meal with fries at the time, so who's to say?

But I also take umbrage with the complete and utter co-dependency at the start of the film. Living at home at 29, tied to your Mom's apron strings, a virgin . . .ok, I cry for you, but I can see it. Living at home at 29 with all of the above and having your Mom wait for you at the bus stop and pack your lunch every day? Go on weekly 'dates' with her? Talk to her while dressed only in tight underwear with your (sock stuffed) goods highlighted?

No, no sirree.

Still there were those few good laughs, and Jeff Daniels rocked.

2.75 out of 4, 65 out of 100.

A Story I Started and Abandoned back in 2008

The end of the war began in a convenience store near 5th and Center.

Had the stranger come the day before he would have found the store closed, as it often was in those days, the iron bars on the window zealously guarding the meager stock inside. But the stranger came that day, and so he found a sun-faded 'open' sign in the window and the owner seated behind the counter just as he had spent many days before the troubles.

Erzo, the shopkeeper, disliked him instantly.

It was not his manner, which was respectful enough (although the shopkeeper imagined he saw a hint of a smirk while examining a can of food off the shelf - let him try to find better nowadays. Let him try!).

Erzo's reaction was instinctual, with no basis in fact or logic. If forced to justify his reaction he would have shifted blame to the stranger's hair, cut long in the back and combed to the right; or his suit, ten years out of style before the war's first shot was fired but even so clean and pressed without a tear or patch to be seen.

The idea of a 'draft dodger' was antiquated - everyone had long ago been pressed into service, favorite son or not - but the sight of someone groomed and manicured was enough to bring back bitter memories of the beast.

"Good morning," the stranger said when he approached the register. "How are you today?"

Erzo managed a curt reply and began to add the purchase.

"You have son's in the service?" the stranger asked, gesturing with his head to a gold star flag on the wall. The shopkeeper paused, but in the end managed to keep his voice civil.

"Had two sons and a daughter. Lost one boy at Simeile, another at Cantyoi. Haven't heard from the daughter in awhile. By now they might all be gone," he said.

"I'm sorry to hear that," the stranger said, and the emotion on his face matched the words.

"I don't need no pity." the shopkeeper thought. But what he said was "Fourteen, and three ration tickets. Machine ain’t worked since they knocked out the power last week. Paper only.”".

"Of course," the stranger said, and pulled out a wallet. It creaked when opened and the scent of fresh leather wafted through the air. He took out several bills and handed them across the counter.

A look of confusion crossed the shopkeep's face for a moment, then anger.

"What the hell are you trying to pull? You walk in here with that fancy suit and then you try to steal my goods with this crap? If I was younger I’d do something more than just call the police," he said, reaching for a phone.

The stranger reacted calmly (and in hindsight Erzo would recall a hint of amusement in his eyes).

"Sir, you have it all wrong. I simply misplaced some of my ration bills," he said, pulling out new versions and laying them on the counter "It's a simple misunderstanding, nothing more. Please, keep the change as my apology for upsetting you.”

The shopkeeper glanced at the bills and quickly chocked down his response. The amount on the counter was more than enough to pay for the food – in fact, given what remained on his shelf, it was nearly enough to buy out his inventory.

The stranger, having correctly gauged the greed on Erzo’s face, smiled.

“I will of course need those other bills back,” he said, holding out his hand.

Reluctantly, Erzo handed them over. The stranger picked up his bag, issued a cheerful goodbye and walked out the door. Erzo waited until he rounded the corner before reaching for the phone.

2.

When the stranger was finally led to an interogation room he could not have told you how much time had passed since his arrest, a fact that struck him as both ironic and troubling. More than a day certainly, and less than a week. The uncertainy was galling - there was much to be accomplished, and little time to do so.

The room itself was nondescript. Dark grey walls made darker still by years of dust and dirt, a simple metal table in the center of the room, two chairs on either side. There was a camera mounted near the ceiling , but he was confident that it was a ruse and that the real deal was planted somewhere out of sight. There were no windows in the room and it smelled strongly of commerical disenfectant.

The door opened and a middle aged man entered. He stood a few inches shy of six feet tall, with a round ruddy face and deeply receding hairline. He wore the olive uniform of an Army officer and carried a single manilla folder under his arm. Though the uniform appeared relatively new he wore it haphazardly, in a manner that would have driven a drill instructor into a fit of rage. He took a seat before saying a word.

" I'm Major Chesham, currently assigned to domestic monetary investigations, a division of Army intelligence that now classifies you as a 'person of interest'. You're aware of the charges against you Mr. Smith?" he said.

"Barlow. My name is Kenneth Barlow."

"Ah, thank you for that seque. 'Smith' is the name we assign to all unidentified persons, of which you are one," he said. "No ID card. No fingerprints or DNA on file. No record of a birth matching your name and age. Not my current professional area of interest, but would you care to explain that?"

Smith shrugged. "Maybe the records were destroyed in the bombing."

Chesam smiled. "War is a civilized activity Mr. Smith. While we bomb and burn each others population with impunity, there's an unspoken rule that neither side impair the workings of the powers that be. I assure you our records are intact. Care to change your story?"

Smith shrugged, and in response Chesmam sighed heavily.

"Mr. Smith let me be honest with you. You were caught in possession of eighteen hundred credits of non-legal tender," as he said this he pulled the now-laminated bills from the folder and set them in front of him. "In addition you used these bills to purchase items in a minimum of four businesses in a one mile radius."

Smith gave a shrug of acknowledgement.

"And notice how I said 'non-legal tender' not 'counterfeit'. These are legitimate bills of credit, issued by the government, printed in our treasury, distributed by the military." Chesham said. He leaned forward and dropped any hint of friendliness from his voice.

"The only thing is Mr. Smith is that these bills aren't set to be distributed until next week. As a matter of fact they weren't printed until the day of your shopping trip and alledgedly, allegedly Mr. Smith, even their design was randomly chosen by computer that very morning."

"So what I think  is that you have a friend in very important places, a greedy friend who put a little too much faith in your discrection. I'd like the name of that friend Mr. Smith. I'd like that name very much."

Smith sat silent. After a moment Chesham put the bills back into the folder and put it to the side. When he spoke, he did so with resignation in his voice.

"Mr. Smith six years ago if we'd had this conversation I'd have labeled you a traitor and beaten you to a pulp. Four years ago I'd have called you a scoundrel who was endangering the war effort and thrown you in jail. Two years ago, Mr. Smith, I'd have said you were costing us valuable time and resources and sent you off to join the infantry."

"Now, I don't care. I'm here because it is my job and because it's what I do. But I couldn't care less about what becomes of you, good or bad. Give me the name of your supplier and I promise here you walk out of here. You don't even have to explain away your identity. Just a name Mr. Smith. That's all I'm looking for. A name."

Smith seemed to consider the offer, then leaned forward.

"I purchased them from a man I know as Alex. He runs an antique store on the 4300 block of Central."

Chesham looked confused. "There's no antique store on that block."

Smith broke into a wide, toothy grin. "There will be 200 years from now"

Chesham's face turned red. "You think this is funny? You think this is a joke? Tell me how funny it is when the interogators are breaking your knees for the second time in a year. Tell me a joke then." He got up to leave and headed for the door."Enjoy your time in custody Mr. Smith."

“July 1st,” Smith yelled out as the door opened.. “On July 1st you’ll invade Sontau with thirty thousand men. It will be a disaster, a massacre. But a few thousand of your men will escape because a lietuanent named Dupreu organizes a last line of defense to hold off the enemy and buy time,” Chesham was already halfway out the door, “He’ll die with a bullet in the forehead but he’ll die a hero. Streets will be named after him. July 1st!”

The door slammed shut.

* ***

Chesham was wrong. They did not break his knee. Instead his interrogators broke each of the fingers on his left hand, a substituiton Smith found satisfactory under the circumstances. The hand was almost healed by the time the Major returned.

“Do you know why I’m here?” Cheham asked.

Smith smiled. “Presumably because it is now July. It would be nice to have a calendar you know. Downright barbaric to deny a man such a simple request.”

The Major's words came with difficulty. “The Sontau operation was compromised from the begining. My mother told me after it hit the news that she'd heard about it from someone in church months ago. The general staff knew it was compromised and  went ahead anyway, and 28,000 men are now dead or captured. It was idiotic to proceed. Your knowledge of the operation only proves that fact."

He paused, searching for the right words.

"But Lietuant Dupreau . . he died there, as you said. But he bought us enough time to evacuate the few men that were left. I've rolled it around in my head, and there's no way you could have known about him. No way to have predicted his actions."

Smith shrugged. "And?"

"And?," Chesham said. "And? I need you to explain how you knew. I need to know how you knew something that no one on this Earth could possibly know."

Smith looked annoyed. "I read about it in a history book two centuries from now. Is that the answer you were looking for?"

"Mr. Smith, I really don't have time for games," Chesham began before Smith interrupted.

"What's the date?"

"The date?"

"A simple question. What's the date?"

"July 7th," Chesham replied.

Smith's reacted with disgust. "You kept me in here for a week after the fact?,"  he said, shaking his head.

"Listen to me. In two days time there will be a bombing run against this city. One of your fighters will be cut in two but on the way down clip the wings of a bomber. That bomber will then veer off course and crash into St. Mark's Basillica. General Heatchliff, along with the mayor and the bishop will be on an inspection tour of the city and regretably they take shelter inside the building. None of them survive, and an officer from your own Intelligence division will take over as Commander of the Army. You know of Jeremy Rule?"

Chesham nodded warily.

"Tell him congratualtions on the promotion. And I would appreciate if you don't leave me to stew in here any longer than necessary. Come see me on the 10th, or don't come at all."

"And Major Chesham? When you visit me next, make sure you bring a company checkbook. You'll be needing it."

* * * *