YaYa's 1st Reconciliation

This Tuesday, December 2nd, YaYa had her 1st Reconciliation along with 16 other kids at our parish.

In the days leading up to the Sacrament she was very introspective and nervous. Occasionally she'd flash a bit of my Catholic respect for tradition and follow-it up a moment later with objections she inherited from her Mom's Lutheran DNA :)

In the final tally, it all boiled down to her concern that the penance would be too harsh.

The ceremony was held at 6 pm and was for immediate family only, but given the nature of the activity - you of course have to sit and wait your turn, and then wait for everyone that follows - we wisely got rid of the kids and took YaYa alone.

Beforehand we presented her with a gift of Bratz lotion and lip balm and a nice necklace to wear.









She was so gung-ho we arrived with forty minutes to spare and went for dinner at a Noodles & Company nearby, a meal itself punctuated by her nervous cries of "How much time is left?"

The public ceremony was short, but we were second to last among the families so the wait was just shy of an hour. We accompanied YaYa to the confessional room, formally introduced her to the priest, then waited for her to finish before leading her to the altar and lighting a candle from the Unity Candle. She was also given a button and ribbon reading 'Shepherd me Lord Reconciliation 2008'.





The 'harsh' penance she'd dreaded? "Hug your Mom and Dad and tell them you love them."

I snorted. "You got off easy because Father knows me."

Afterwards there was cake and punch in the school cafeteria.



Each child had a special place mat with their name on the front and a personal congratulatory message created by one of the kids in an older grade. YaYa had completely missed it because it was written in cursive, which to her might as well be French.



Here's YaYa with her Sunday school teacher



[One very nice, non-YaYa related note: when Father was told of my layoff he took me aside and told me to call him if I needed anything, from a letter of reference to a sympathetic ear, money or anything else. "It wouldn't be a handout, it would be a helping hand. And no one would have to know a thing. Lord knows you've certainly done enough for me and this Parish over the years," he said.

I was very moved, as was Lisa, although she herself was unaware of some of the assistance I'd provided to the Parish via my old job.]

We were both very proud of YaYa, and look with happiness to her First Communion in May.

Thanksgiving

This year, as last, we held Thanksgiving dinner at our house, other troubles be damned. This year we asked for a few more pot-luck contributions on the table than in years past, and some of the fixings were from Aldi's and not Sentry, but it was yummy all the same.

We served turkey and ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, creamed corn, deviled eggs, cranberry sauce, peas and carrots, rolls, pumpkin pie, brownies, and apple pie.

[Lisa had sent me to do the grocery shopping with instructions to bring home fresh cranberry sauce - not the stuff in the can - and misinterpreting this I brought home five pounds of fresh cranberries. Not a terrible loss, as they were on sale for 99 cents a pound, but only YaYa, Queen of Sour Foods, will eat them.]












After that it was on to a division of the sexes worthy of a second rate comedian's bit; the women in the dining room talking for hours, the men in the living room watching the awful NFL games.

[which, btw, goes to show I'm right: the NFL should reserve the right to alter game opponents in season, so as best showcase their product. Who here wanted to watch the lousy Lions that day? Heck, who in Detroit wanted to watch them?]

Longtime readers may note the absence of my mother-in-law and her husband and sister in the photos. No family division there, they simply had other obligations.







While watching the Lions pretend to be professional football players, my father in-law and I got into it a bit. He's a fawing Favre lover. I'm on the other side of the issue, hoping the guy gets run over by a bus, which, yeah, is a little extreme. Maybe just an SUV, ok?

Anyhow, we had a few minutes of enjoyable testosterone and turkey fueled banter that included a few strong words about one another. He started quoting Terry Bradshaw on the subject, and I couldn't hold it in any longer.

'Terry Bradshaw's a f*ing Redneck and he's always been in man-love with that hillbilly. He'd bear him a bleeping lovechild if his neighbors in the trailer park wouldn't object."

Ah, it was fun. Brings a tear to my eye, it does. :)









I'm a big fan of Photobucket, but in my experience the site never seems to properly save your edits. For that reason I've pretty much given up on doing red-eye corrections on pics stored on that site. Sorry :(

The idea of blogging lately . . .

Let me be frank with you all: right now I'm darn sick and tired of this blog.

It's strictly collateral damage, an incidental symptom of three weeks of strong emotions related to the lay-off. I've kept it all under wraps with a pretty deep facade of 'Man up', but the idea of laying any emotional insights onto paper, er, onto the screen just makes me . . I guess ill is as accurate a word as any.

The posts you've seen recently are 'scheduled' posts, items I wrote in the past and stored for occasions when I'd be away from the keyboard for a spell.

I've even put off writing a third article for the Journal, which is a g*ddam* disgusting shame, and one I intend to correct before the weekend. Although in my defense, it might speed up the process if I actually saw the other pieces in print between now and the end of the decade.

Ok, so jobs . . well, I can't say much. I've been interviewing hard (three in one day Monday), and there *is* some definitive progress. But even on that subject my blogging is stymied because confidentiality requests preclude me from yapping about it. So that'll have to wait.

I promise I'll try hard to catch the blogging bug in the next few days.

* * * *

Snow's returned to Milwaukee, and while that sucks in a thousand ways it's a plus in one: once the cold hit the biking stopped, and when you added in the binging post-layoff well, that ol' winter coat was feeling a wee snug. Now that I've picked up some new activity shoveling and prepping the yard for winter I've dropped a few pounds. The coat fit just fine earlier today.

[I actually dug holes for and planted 75 tulip/daffodils bulbs as a snowstorm was starting, which was flat-out dumb gardening. Then again, the plants might never bloom, but at least the bulbs won't sit in the shed as food stock for mice this winter.]

You Don't Mess with the Zohan

I was all set to rip this movie as the hair stylist version of Zoolander, but you know what? I surrender. I liked it.

Adam Sandler stars as Zohan, a top-level Mossad agent who tires of the life and stages his own death. He journeys to America, where he seeks to become a great hairstylist. He's on his way to making his dream come true when his identity is revealed and he must act to protect his dream and the Palestinian woman he loves.

There's not a minute of this movie that is serious, deep, or emotionally fufilling, which is a damn good thing. Aiming for any of those three in a movie where a fish is caught between the clenched buttocks of the star, and bushy pubic hair is referenced more than once . . well, it just wouldn't work.

Somehow the movie keeps your interest, and more importantly keeps you laughing, all the way through - and the female love interest is hot enough to justify your time even if the movie sucked.

[side note: I thought the 'Going out of Business' store was dead-on. Here in Milwaukee there's a mattress store nearby that has been advertising 'going out of business'/'final clearance'/'closing our doors/all items must go' for well over a year now; actually *two* years now that I think about it.]

Kudos to Sandler on a funny and enjoyable movie. Oh, and Zohan, ignore the snide comments in the film. I liked your hair. But, uh, just to be clear, I mean the hair on top of your head.

3 stars out of 4

Family Portrait circa 1985

When my parent's moved I found this in the attic. It's a family portrait I did at school in 5th or 6th grade, which would place it between 1985-early 1987. I can date it to that time period because Duke, the beagle in the drawing, was purchased in August of 1985.

(or was it 1986? He was a puppy when my Grandma and I went to see Back to the Future, so . . .1985, right?)

Two things of note: my Mom's tightly permed hair, which I remember distinctly from that era, and my Grandma's striped shirt which, honest to God, I can picture in my mind like it was right in front of me now.

Note: Blogger is not loading the picture fully. You may click on the image to see the full shot, which includes my sister C.

Just after Sunset by Stephen King

For a guy who doesn't like short stories I've sure been reading enough of them lately. I picked up a copy of Stephen King's Just after Sunset two weeks ago, just to continue the trend, and found myself once again impressed by King's skill.

There's nothing in this collection that fails to satisfy, even when it falls short of impressive (the exception being the blissfully short, D minus quality Graduation Afternoon).

I found my greatest pleasure in the short but impactful Harvey's Dream, Rest Stop and the wonderfully cheesy The Cat from Hell.

Given a little more room to breathe in other stories, I think King loses his way a bit (but only a bit). Is there anyone who reads about the mural in Stationary Bike and doesn't see what's coming, even if, as I did, they love every word of the text?

Likewise, most readers will be drawn to The Gingerbread Girl, a tale of a woman literally running from both her problems and a killer. It's a compelling story and I enjoyed the heck out of it, but I also found it too derivative of Dean Koontz for my taste. I was half expecting to read about a Golden Retriever, an endangered child, and suffer through a score of ridiculously pompous descriptions :)

I was unexpectedly and powerfully moved by The New York Times at Special Bargain Rates, probably well beyond its true worth. Likewise Mute, is quite a read, combining an eyebrow raising idea with a smooth exectution.

I found The Things they Left Behind a tad dissapointing, but soley because of my own inflated expectatons. As a story about a guilt ridden 9/11 survivor I was anticipating greatness, and instead settled for 'merely' an average story.

A Very Tight Place seems to be garnering a lot of attention, but I don't get it. It's ok, but scary? No. Gimmicky? Yes. But to each his own.

Again, cover to cover a satisfying and mature read. Highly recommended.

3.25 out of 4.

God Bless the DVR

Just to show my readers that all this time out of work hasn't been a waste, I've recently mastered Donnie Wahlberg's rap from Dirty Dancing (track 7 of The Block)

With her itty-bitty waist and a pretty pretty face
and the leanest,meanest, maddest, baddest body
didn't have no time to waste, she was looking for a taste
yeah, and she was wanting me to party

Speaking of Donnie, man he ticked me off on the American Music Awards. His voice was gone. Nevermind that Joe's was strong, or that Jordan's voice kicked ass as always (although he looked tired) - that rough patch of Donnie's is what I imagine most people will remember.

Dude, you've been doing this for twenty-five years. If you're voice isn't there, as it sometimes won't be after three months on the road, then work the song around the problem. Don't just push ahead and risk ruining the song.

As a longtime fan of Donnie my sister C took umbrage to my protest, and then - get this - made fun of me by saying 'Oh, what are you going to do about it? Go on your blog and write 'my sister C' made me mad?'.

Yes, yes as a matter fact I will.

Lisa rated it an average performance but noted an increase in The Block sales in the hour after it played.

[You should see the inside of our van when NKOTB's on the radio, or when the CD is playing. At times I'll kill the volume just to hear the kids chime in with spot-on lyrics and background vocals, and they'll even imitate some of the hand moves. It must look dang strange if you're in the car next to us at a red light]

[Single is getting a lot of airtime here, with interest in it increasing organically. Even Chris' baby-daddy has acknowledged liking the song now]

BTW, my DVR automatically deleted the VHI NKOTB footage from September. If anyone has a copy, drop me a line.

* * * *

As long as we're discussing TV:



One of the few new network shows I've taken a shine to is Fringe, although unlike my unequivocal love of Lost I think of Fringe as a guilty pleasure. The mad Doc is great, as is Dawson's Creek guy (no Wikipedia look-ups for this post, no siree) but . . .

I think they try a little hard to stretch the limits of 'fringe' science each time. Eventually the gimmick will wear off and it won't be pretty. Plus the actress that plays the main lead drags the show down. She mopes around looking perplexed and troubled at all times, like a toned-down female Shatner, and sometimes her Australian accent pops through. When the accent stays put, it's just as bad; a generic, bland telemarketer version of American speech.

My recommendation: have her kidnapped by the big-bad corporation (all companies are bad, dontcha know) and replace her with a more capable actress.

Another new guilty pleasure of mine is The Dish, Style Network's version of Talk Soup, starring Danielle Fischel of Boy Meets World, who turns out to be quite funny.



Lot's of HGTV still in the rotation here, and I've developed a fondness for Trading Spaces. Prior to this year my only exposure to the show was an episode starring the daughter of my then-boss, but I've grown to appreciate it, ESPECIALLY a whack-job Hildy episode. I still say they intentionally mess with people's rooms for the inherent drama, but it's always fun to watch a train wreck in progress.

National Geographic would still be my favorite channel if it wasn't for their new found fondness for shows about prisons, both here and abroad. I get it folks. If you smuggle heroin out of Turkey bad things will happen to you and your (formerly) private regions during 25 years in a Turkish hell-hole. Why is this on TV twice a day, and why is it remotely worthy of NatGeo?

On the subject of horrors that are substantially less troubling, we've taken a shine to VHI's Scream Queens, in which contestants engage in acting competitions for a role in Saw VI.

It's fun, it's interesting, at times it's funny, and it's a (tiny) look into the making of a film. It also has the advantage of showcasing Lindsay Felton.





Although a little short for my taste, she has many of the typical DannyGirl ideals: short hair (a must), brunette, smart, a cute nose, curvy, capable, and . . oh. Dangit. It slips my mind. What's that other attribute?



I'm sure I'll remember eventually ;)

2008 Milwaukee Holiday Parade

How's this from the 'Dan is very predictable' department?

I was about to write an intro sadly reporting that unlike last year, this past weekend I just didn't feel like attending the annual Holiday Parade. Because, as you know, I'm such a big fan of parades and family get-together's in the freezing cold.

The truth, however, will not stay hidden. To quote the 2007 post: Today Lisa dragged me along on a family trip to watch the annual Holiday parade downtown. It was just about the last thing I wanted to do after a long week of work

Ha!

This year, as a matter of fact, I *did* wiggle out of going to the parade, and all it took was a bad runny nose from Lump and a persistent cough by LuLu. Someone had to stay behind to take care of them, right?

Here's what I missed:



That's YaYa, Lisa, Smiley, and my niece KayKay.

It was cold enough to warrant the blankets, and chemical hand warmers. Still, I'm pretty sure these young ladies had it worse:



The family went to the parade along with some friends from school.







There were the usual hot air balloons, marching bands, and such. That's the federal building in the background, a structure I've always found distinctive and beautiful.

















They had a good time, but the kids complained about the lack of candy that was, er, wasn't thrown out over the parade route.

You'll note the lack of photos of the man of the hour, Santa himself. Again folks, don't blame me. I wasn't there taking pictures. I was much, much too busy sitting on my couch in a warm house regretting missing the parade to have left instructions on the photography ;)

Stuck

Stuck is a 2007 film starring Mena Suvari as a young nurses aide who hits a homeless man (played by Stephen Rea) while driving home high. The man is stuck in her windshield, but rather than report the accident or get him help she parks the car in her garage and waits for him to die.

While he struggles to free himself from his excruciating prison she has sex with her boyfriend, goes to work, and otherwise tries to maintain the illusion of a normal day.

The film is loosely based on the death of Gregory Biggs, who faced the same horrible fate.

Initially, the filmmakers try hard to frame her actions as those of a good person who fails herself when confronted by a difficult situation, rather than as an immoral/amoral and heartless killer. She's seen taking great care with an elderly patient and is held up as a symbol of responsibility in her profession.

That buildup falls flat quickly once the hit-and-run takes place. This is not a fender bender, or even the vaguely more excusable cover-up of a fatal hit and run; this is the slow and painful death of a man while you stand around and watch.

The change is abrupt but complete, and soon enough more than one person is on the moral hook, from her boyfriend to the neighbors who ignore the evidence in front of them.

Lisa found the actions mystifying and a little unrealistic. As for myself, I believe a large chunk of humanity holds idiocy and immorality close to their heart. So when a woman proceeds to beat a critically injured man and declare it is 'his fault', well, it's sadly not so unbelievable.

One thing about the film's production disturbed me. After seeing the film I saw the trailer and was surprised to see it edited to make it appear to be a comedy. Upon hitting the internet I saw several references to it as a 'dark comedy' or 'satire'. I found it nothing of the sort while watching it. Maybe I'm too dumb and it sailed over my head, or the studio had trouble marketing it properly, or whatever, but a comedy . . no, I don't think so.

3.0 out of 4

Titanic at the Milwaukee Public Museum

Some time ago I wrote about YaYa's fascination with Titanic, both the ship and the movie. It's a passion both Lisa and I share and I'm glad YaYa's kept up her interest in it.

As a stroke of good fortune her interest coincided with the arrival of a major Titanic exhibit at the Milwaukee Public Museum. The exhibit features real artifacts from the wreck, a large mock up of the iceberg that doomed her, full room recreations of passenger cabins, and a 3000 pound section of the actual hull.

Lisa and I want to go, but with current finances . . .luckily YaYa's Godfather had already announced he'd take her as a birthday gift.



When you arrive you are given a boarding pass and assume the identity of an actual passenger.



The trio spent all day at the exhibit and the museum, and I was pleased the follow-up reports indicated good and friendly behavior on behalf of my first born. Her Godfather's a good guy and I'm glad they get along.

They were all a tad, well, not disappointed in but not overjoyed with the exhibit. Her Godfather and his wife have seen a major Titanic exhibit in Florida, so take that into account, but YaYa left with some complaints of her own.

Some advertising - the website included - stated that perfume samples recovered from the wreck would be at the museum. If they were, they didn't see them, and she'd been looking forward to it. They also commented on the nickel-and-dime aspect of the show. Museum admission, exhibit admission, $6 for a audio tour, separate charges for the accompanying shows, and a slightly macabre gift shop that offered pieces of the ship's coal supply incorporated into fashion jewelry; well that all left a slightly mercenary taste in their mouth.



At the end you are told whether or not your persona survived. YaYa, as pediatrician Alice Leader, lived. While her Godfather's wife survived, he himself was not so lucky. As a second class passenger he perished; but as a priest he went down a hero, helping others into lifeboats and offering absolution to the doomed.

One last thing: her Godfather bought her a teddy bear dressed as the ship's captain.


YaYa named him Captain Tit - pronounced like it looks - 'short for Titanic'. We have since convinced her to change the name :)

Just a mish-mash of gloom

You'll have to forgive the (relative) shortage of posts. I have no less than 20 in the 'draft' folder, but it's hard to post about cheerful or even ordinary events when you're down in the dumps.

Not much has gone right lately. Argh, not true. Take away the job situation and it's no worse/no better than a 'normal' week, but perspective is everything, and mine is dark right now.

* My cell phone was dropped in the sink last night, rendering it useless, and althought it was replaced today at no charge (by renewing the contract) none of my contact numbers could be recovered. I usually keep copies of the data off-phone, but this time . . . what can I say, I got lazy.

* Smiley has yet another ear infection. It's horribly par for the course for him, so much so that he doesn't even complain about them anymore. Here again perspective is everything, because the doc says the number of infections is greatly reduced in the last year, but my mind says the opposite.

* A friend of mine came into town with news that his wife had moved out but left their dog, and while he was at my house he received word that he was going to be laid off this weekend. Add a beer into the mix and you have a country song.

Enough of the negative. Wednesday's interview called back and wants to meet with me next week. It sounds promising, so I'll wait with fingers crossed. I have an interview with a different company downtown this Friday.

YaYa's taken to reading this blog, which is good and bad. It means I'll have to censor the blog more - not for language, but for content like Xmas gifts and whatnot - and that sucks. On Saturday I established a seperate Blogger account for her and set up her own blog, although I was careful to restrict it to invited readers only. Hopefully that'll take her attention off Slapinions.

Otherwise . . . well, I'll try to get the gumption to post later and clear out that 'draft' folder.

Talk to you then,

Dan

My Shoes

While I realize 'Crocs' and their derivatives are surely the platform shoes of this decade, I happened to enjoy the hell out of a pair of knockoffs Lisa bought me on our 4th of July trip.

* * * * *

Oh, and a miserable night of football for me tonight, with Texas Tech swallowed whole by Oklahoma. I was SO looking forward to watching a good game - and a TT win.

I still don't know how my Badgers fared, and as I write I'm in the 4th quarter of the rebroadcast, with Wisconsin on the short end.

Have I mentioned I love Big Ten sports?

* * *

I watched a lot of the WIAA High School Championship games in a few divisions, culminating in Homestead's victory over Arrowhead in Division I. Congrats to them.

I also watched a bit of the girls high school volleyball championship. In a very hard fought, very well played match #9 ranked Kenosha Tremper beat my old hometeam (#1 ranked Pius XI)to take the crown.

** * *

Jesus I need a job. Girl's volleyball? What's next, a soap opera addiction?

Just an update

It was an exhausting day and a bitter end to the week.

I've been going to Mass every morning, not so much to seek solace or ask for help, but because it does help 'center' me. If I didn't so thoroughly enjoy sinning I'd consider being a deacon, something I wanted to pursue years ago.

Frankly the Mass also helps kill the awkward hour between the time the kids go to school and the start of the business day.

Friday I missed it because LuLu forgot her cold lunch and I had to double-back to go get it. No biggie, but the start of the downward slope. Afterwards I went to pick up my final paycheck and some drama ensued, starting with the fact that I was told I didn't have a check (B.S). Then the story changed to say that it was there but being held, pending me teaching them some things they'd failed to ask about (such as the name of a service tech) when I was laid off.

Nuh-uh. You wanted to know how to do X or Y or Z, then ya shoulda thought of it before you got rid of 97% of the staff.

I got angry but stayed civil. I got my check.

Oh, I never did mention that 97% number did I? It's only mild hyperbole, as just two of the primary staff members that started the month remain. The rest have been replaced by members of the family that now owns the place or not replaced at all. I'll leave it at this. While I was there I saw customers wait about as long as I've ever seen someone wait there, and there were people in line behind them. Replace me and the rest of management all you want, but at the base level it's all about customer service; they should have left the people who were paid to smile and woo in place.

While this was all going on I got a call about my insurance. You may remember my (non-employer) insurance was cancelled because a payment was received late, or at least reported as such, and another was 'never received' (although for a check that was never received they sure cashed it easily enough).

Well earlier this week they acknowledged that all payments were in place and that the 'late' one was in fact on time, but it's still a brouhaha to get it back in place, which means I've gone without medicine since my prescription ran out on the 3rd. I presume the call today was to tell me yea or nay on getting it back up and running, but I had to put off the call to debate the owner's nephew.

I never managed the rep on the phone again.

On the way out of the parking lot I hit a large pothole -one of many fix-it projects the budget never had room for - and knocked a stabilizer bar loose.

Sweet.

Later I helped Lisa's Aunt purchase and install a large TV and went to the grocery store. Be still my heart.

Anyhow, on the job front:

Two interviews this week. The one on Wednesday was OK. I don't think I excelled or tanked, so any future there is strictly in the eyes of the interviewer. Thursday I had a second phone interview with a large company and was told I would move on to a face-to-face interview and told to prep for the long haul. From what she said, it could be a 6-8 interview process, assuming I make it that far, and there is typically a minimum of 4-6 interviews.

The weird part (and tell me if this is in fact common) was that on the last interview they require you to bring your spouse along to 'answer their [the spouses] questions' and see if I'd/we'd be a good fit for the 'corporate culture'.

Well hells bells, how very Stefford Wives., or am I wrong?

My main concern with the position would be going through all this and then getting turned down because of a credit rating. Mine is just fine to get a mortgage/car loan, etc, but it isn't Clorox clean, and that could be a deal breaker.

I'd never thought of that until one of Lisa's old friends brought it up. She was a friend eleven long years ago and then left our lives after a horrible bit of drama, but out of the blue she and Lisa reconnected this past week. I'm not saying I'm a great fan of this; as Bucko pointed out in a comment recently, I tend to find myself in adventures quite often enough as it is, and I was content to leave well enough alone. (adventure, as Louis L'Amour said, is just another word for 'trouble')

But lo and behold this woman is now a corporate recruiter and she mentioned that she herself had failed to get a job because of her credit rating (which is lower than mine, but still).

Her position would seem fortuitous for me, but not so; she's a recruiter for the legal field, which doesn't help me at all.

So I give it until midweek. At that point, barring a firm job offer, I hit the grunt path and get whatever gig I can to make ends meat (or is it ends meet?) while the longwinded professional search continues.