Buncha random pics

Forgive me if I've posted these before, but I think this is their original 'publication'.

Here's LuLu and YaYa on the first day of the 2008-2009 school year.



And two pictures of Smiley from a 'men only' haircutting salon I took him and his cousin too prior to the start of the school year.





At a pool this summer






My niece and Lump



Lu and YaYa with warpaint on





Lu on her bike



and finally, the patented Nekked baby

Climbing a tree, with unexpected results

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



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

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

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

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

And things in between - like the tree climbing.

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



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

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

More later . . . .

Two, count 'em TWO, blog awards :)

I have been honored by two different blogs in recent days. First, Ken of Bucko's World nominated me for a Marie Antoinette A Real Person, A Real Award badge.



He wrote

"Dan (a.k.a. Slapinions, can not get much more real than this :o)"

and I thank him kindly.

Next up was Bernadette who nominated me for a Superior Scribbler Award.



She wrote:

3. Slapinions - Have to throw a little testosterone into the mix before flowers and kittens start sprouting up on this entry! Dan is a mid-west father of four who always brings that essential male perspective to child rearing. Always good for a laugh and he regularly posts book and movie reviews. I can't write about him without mentioning our common bonds over football, I even like the guy so much I cut him slack for being a Pack fan ;) Dan is also an excellent writer, the kind that can actually get paid for it.

Three things about Bernie: one, for some reason her blog won't let me even advance to the 'leave a comment' section (AOL problem?), so excuse the lack of a 'thank you' there. Two, 'quarterlifecrysis' was one of the more imaginative blog titles out there and I miss it (or am I remembering wrong?). And three she left a hell of a well-written comment here earlier this week on the evolution post.

* * * *

Now I'm going to BLATANTLY CHEAT and not pay the awards forward. I'm supposed to gather together a list of blogs I feel are worthy of the honor and list them here, BUT:

1. I'm as good with memes as I am with portion control.

2. I'm more of a lurker than a commenter, so these things always look like I'm attempting damage control for 'not visiting'.

3. Someone always gets p.o'd at their exclusion

4. No other blog is as good as mine, so really, it'd just be watering down the value of the award. I kid, I kid.

I say this: take a look at the blogs I have listed on the sidebar, both the ones I inputted and the list of 'followers'. You'll find plenty of worthy writing there. Feel free to skip me and get the ball rolling yourself.

And Ken/Bernie - if this offends you then give me a holler and I'll pull the awards. The honor, as they say, was simply in the nomination :)

Ghost Rider of the South Side

Tuesday's are dance night, with the three oldest kids and Lisa all taking classes out in Brookfield. Normally Lisa's Mom helps out with the transportation but she was sick today and so I came out of the bullpen to save the day.

Unfortunately, my Mom called to say she needed a ride to Urgent Care, having let a tooth infection spread to the point where her visiting nurse feared it would go after her heart. WTF? So my sister K went to the classes with Lisa to keep an eye on the kids while I drove my Mom.

It was actually a pretty good time, aside from all the infection and schtuff. Rare is the conversation with my Mom that isn't a monologue of her day or a ratcheted-down argument, but it happened tonight. No moaning and groaning about her ills - ironic, considering why we were together - and actual give and take.

[When we put our minds to it it was surprising how much of my preschool we could remember, from the sliver I got on the playset and the time I tried rubbing two sticks together to see if it would start a fire, to the upstairs area for 'older' kids and the infamous crush I had on Christy, a young blond teacher that set my heart a'flutter.]

Afterwards I went on a few errands on her behalf and after listening to her marvel at all the 'new stores around', and realizing she spends most of her days inside her bedroom, I decided to take her with me out to Brookfield to pick up the kids.

I guess she enjoyed it, because by the end of the ride she asked me if I'd take her along the next time I would go to the bookstore. So, cool beans and a nice evening with her.

* * * *

On the way home an odd event. My sister C was in the car hitching a ride home when an Alero (sp?) pulled up alongside of my van. It was making an awful noise, part putt-putt, part groan, part the sound of metal tearing. It was unique, I'll give it that.

Eventually the Alero pulled ahead when I was stuck at a light. When I was through the intersection he was about two blocks ahead (this was between 27th and 20th on Oklahoma).

And then, in a flash, the underside of his car was on fire. I do not mean it was sparking or smoking or anything of the kind; I mean it was full on on-fire, with smoke billowing out and flames visible even from that distance. Not a fireball, (let's keep this in perspective) but inevitably well on its way to becoming a burnt-out shell.

The cars around him all pulled to the side of the road. Only he kept going. And going. And going, seemingly oblivious to the fire. I thought about calling 911 but saw another driver bring his phone to his ear. The yahoo was still driving the speed limit, right down the center of the lane as the flames got worse.

"He's going to burn alive," my sister said. "Oh my God, he's actually going to burn."

At which point the kids reacted with terror and screaming. So I floored it, bringing the van up to sixty and laying on the horn. We pulled aside and rolled down the window, screaming 'Fire!' and gesturing to the ground. The driver, a young Hispanic man, continued to bounce merrily to whatever tune was on his radio. When he did see us he reacted in anger, and for a split second I thought 'This moron wants to fight'.

It didn't get that far. Instead he took the next turn without slowing his Ghost Rider self, squealing his tires and hitting the gas. The flames grew larger, but the hell with him. I'd done my part. If he was still truly oblivious to it, then his mind is someplace I'd rather not visit.

It was a good few minutes before the kids calmed down - as I write this YaYa just came downstairs crying and asked to sleep on the couch - and I had to put off questions about what 'Burn alive' means. Bad slip of the tongue there Aunt C.

I told the kids what I believe the truth, however. That somewhere a block or two down the kid recognized what was going on, pulled over, and ditched the car. It'll go down in the books as one more lackadaisical car fire, he'll ride the bus tomorrow, and all will be well with the universe.

* * * * * *

More juicy news from work er, ex-work. Details Friday, after I pick up my final paycheck and the hounds are loosed upon the moor;)

Just a brief Update

It's been an odd few days. Cliche/sexist as it may be, it's true that a man seems defined largely by his job. I am, at times, at a loss as to how to describe myself since the layoff.

Case in point: I ran into my *pre-school* teacher for the first time in 30 years Saturday. She recognized my unusual name and asked me what I 'do' for a living. Uh, yeah, uh, about that . . . I'm kinda between gigs right now. Where the heck was she a week ago?

[true admission: sometimes I think I have largely useless flashes of premonition. The night before, while submitting a resume, a security question asked for the name of my first teacher. Unable to recall the name of my kindergarten teacher [Sr. Pat] I thought back to pre-school and listed 'Penny'. Twelve hours later I saw her for the first time since 1978. That happens to me more often than you'd think.]

[2nd sidenote, this time from the small world department: she works as a teacher at a nearby school and knows our friend Chris' kids]

On the subject of jobs, there's been some progress but I'll not jinx myself by writing about the news. I will say this much - in addition to tomorrow's opportunity I've also lined up an interview for Thursday.

The Journal-Sentinel, btw, has written to say they've accepted one of my columns and will publish it prior to December 19th.

* * *

On a very sweet note, some of my old employees/co-workers are getting together for drinks Wednesday and sent me an invite. :) Lisa works that night, so I'm not sure I can pull it off, but it's a grand gesture and much appreciated.

* * * *

As for the kids: report cards for both girls, including a surprisingly positive one for YaYa. We'd assumed, based on some homework, that she was struggling. The opposite appears to be true. On Saturday she also passed her Red Cross Level One swim test with 'excellent' marks, falling short only in the backstroke.

Lu's report card was more pedestrian, but in the conference the teacher said she'd lowballed the report card and that LuLu was doing great.

The next day Lu was in the kitchen and hit the back of her head against the table as she tumbled from a chair. It bled a decent amount, as scalp cuts are prone to do, and to be safe I took her to the ER for stiches, but none were required. Good thing it happened when I had company over, or I'd have been stuck taking all four kids along with me (Lisa was atwork) instead of leaving the others behind with the makeshift babysitter.

The part that ticked her off the most? The nurses messed up her ponytails while examining the cut. She glared at them until they got the hint and offered to redo both 'tails.

Smiley had a '50's party to celebrate the 50th school day of the year and wore a white T-shirt and cuffed jeans. He had a blast.

The Lump is just darn adorable, and fully mobile, getting up the stairs to the bedrooms with ease. I love skinny bald babies :)

Some people get a tatoo . . .

Some people, when they encounter an unexpected change in their life, deal with it by getting a tattoo, having an affair, finding Jesus, or in any number of ways.

Me? I shaved my goatee.



I'd promised Lisa, oh so many years ago, that I'd consent to shaving it off once every five years. I did it for our wedding, and once around the turn of the century. By my reckoning I was a few years past due and I figured, "What the hell."

I disappeared into the basement bathroom and reappeared with the sudden recollection that the kids' dimpled chins come via my genes.

The kids reacted to the 'new' me with laughter. LuLu fought off her giggles long enough to say 'You're ugly!" (charming girl). YaYa, being a little more couth, said she prefers it this way. Smiley doesn't seem to care but found it funny, and Lump looked confused for a minute before heaving up her shoulders and thinking 'Hey, I'm one. Everything is confusing. Move along.'







I'm not saying I 'hate' my cleanshaven face, but it's been a shock. You'd think a 6'2" 350# man would have known he had a double chin, but I always assumed it was an shadow cast by the beard ;)

Seriously though, I do have girly lips and when I smile I look, Honest to God, like the bleepin' Joker, which is disconcerting to the residents of Gotham.

My skin reacted horribly, not having seen the light of day nor the touch of a razor for nearly a decade, but that'll pass if I keep up the look.







What did Lisa say? She was shocked. She said I looked nice, but that she prefers the goatee.

Will I keep it up? Who knows. We'll wait and see.

Die Mommy Die!

As a sympathetic gesture recently, Lis allowed me to pick out the movie of the night.

Hmmm. I just lost my job . . . what'll hit the spot? Howsabout a movie that recreates the big screen soap operas of the '60's? Only this time, let's have the the main character, a retired movie actress, be played by a man in drag for no particular reason. And, you know what, let's have him, er her, kill her husband with a poisoned suppository the size of a bratwurst. Toss in a promiscuous gay son ("They found me atop the lazy susan in the mathematics department!") and a virgin daughter sexually obsessed with her oblivious father, a movie producer in debt to the mob.

And let's not forget Jason Priestly, playing the resident gigolo who enjoys 'entertaining' the whole family.

Lisa hated it.

I thought it was swell.

I'll admit Aaron Spelling would roll over in his grave if he saw Brendan Walsh frenching a drag queen, but if you can put that aside - and yes, it's hard to forget but try I did - the movie's a hoot.

It's firmly tongue in cheek, and the performance of Charles Busch as Angela Arden was just delightful. His vocal performance alone was worth the rental, with his Joan Crawford by way of Mommie Dearest diction.

And you know the odd thing about this Sundance film festival movie - well, ok, the only thing *not* odd about it? If you take away the drag queen and the LSD trip and scale back the kitsch 80%, then underneath it all you're still left with a pretty decent plot.

If you have a sense of humour and a taste for unconventional films, check it out.

3.0 out of 4, 72 out of 100

My, This Sucks

I lost my job this past Thursday.

It was at the end of the day. The owners' nephew pulled me into the office and with a poorly worded speech, accompanied by (what I hope was) a nervous giggle, said that I was going to be laid off Friday. I could, he assured me, finish the hour left of my day.

Seeing as I was salary, I refused that generous offer.

It's not that I didn't see this coming. Things got goofy fast recently.
Lisa had predicted this, saying they'd have me do their dirty work by laying off much of the staff and then can me in the end.

Well by this week there wasn't much of a staff left to lay off - 3rd shift had been gouged (infuriating me, as I believe it to be a safety concern), the day shifts were barren, our most populated department was down to five workers, and an entire department was 'replaced' with the nephew.

This week staff was instructed to train 'visiting' members of the owner's family -'visitors' who will no doubt take their jobs. I equate this training with being forced to teach someone how to properly F your wife.

In the infamous words of one employee, who once welcomed the regime change, "I never thought it could be worse. I thought it'd be all unicorns and rainbows. But this . . man they actually make me miss [the old owners]."

So I made sure my personal effects were out of my desk, I'd taken home some of my business cards as 'souvenirs' and I'd put my resume out there - all long weeks before I was let go.

Let's not sugarcoat this: this sucks. I put in ten years and was kicked to the curb on the eve of the holidays. What savings I had were severely dented by helping my family during and after their recent move, and severance - what severance?

So the future holds . . bills and no paycheck to pay them. Other than that, who knows? It's damn frightening.

I suppose it'd be nice to stay within the industry, but the track record of the X is certainly not something to highlight on a resume. [Then again, I think most of the industry knows of the goings on within the place].

If I was to stay in the biz I would like the luxury of, say, an actual budget that doesn't change on a whim, some coherent marketing strategies, honest ownership, and either a solid physical structure or the actual means of recreating one.

But I think it's time to move on, to try something else for a change. I spent the day Friday sending out resumes and was rewarded with a quick call-back from one place, with an interview scheduled for Wednesday. Wish me luck.

There are positives to this whole deal. A) I don't have to worry about working this weekend and B) when an employee (who hadn't gotten the message about my layoff) called to complain about his schedule I was able to respond with a 'click'.

Seriously tho, I'm relived to be out of there. I HATED having my name all over a place that was falling short on customer service and product quality. I hated having to constantly use the owners wishes as a crutch when I had to explain why we did things - or failed to do things - a certain way, knowing that it made me sound like a weak and excuse ridden fool. And I'm sure this next part would hold true no matter where I'd worked, but I'm happy to be, at least momentarily, relieved of having to be ultimately responsible for everything.

It had become, on its best days, a toxic and unhappy place and it is refreshing to think/hope/pray I will soon work someplace with a different aura.

Better days, folks, better days.

It's the economy stupid

I'm old enough to recognize that even Chicken Little, if he sticks to the script, will one day turn out to be right. That doesn't make him a genius, that makes him a patient card player with a lot of time on his hands.

But I think Peter Schiff believed his dire predictions about the stock market and the housing boom were accurate, which of course they proved to be.

Of far more interest in these clips is the pie-in-the-sky predictions of the other panelists, some of whom literally laugh at the man and ask if he wants a razor blade (to cut his wrists) as they discount his warnings.

It's a ten minute clip, but three or four minutes of it will give you the gist.



Good bleepin' luck trying to change the tune mid-dance or convince people a downturn is ahead. Human nature is just dead set against that thinking when all seems well. You'd have better luck telling Romeo Juliet's slept around - it just plain can't be done.

For this reason I think recessions and downturns are inevitable. Even if a government had the power to stop these natural ebb and flows of the economy, the government of a Republic can't - or more honestly, won't - risk the wrath of the public by denying them their illusions.



hat tip

A marker, a crib, and Superman underwear

When we checked on the baby after a nap recently we found Smiley asleep in her crib. He'd dumped a number of spare blankets and pillows inside. He also, as you can see, decided to decorate the baby with Magic Marker.

The bedding ticked me off the most, because if Lump had put two and two together she would have been able to use it to climb out on her own.

Quite a pair, those two, and surprisingly quiet when they're up to no good.