Boring family stuff

A good day today. I didn't eat a single calorie, depriving my stomach of any opportunity to rebel, which allowed me to make it through the work day in relative comfort. A good thing that, as I had the opportunity to speak with a 91 year old customer,born in 1918 - "Nearly ninety-one," she was careful to correct me. "My birthday isn't for awhile yet." She's still driving her own car, writing out her own checks and living life on her terms.

"You sure don't look ninety-one," I said.

"Well, I wouldn't feel it either if I hadn't broken my damn hip last winter."

After work I took advantage of a beautiful 80 degree day to don shorts and break out the bikes. Sadly a leak in the shed led to my bike getting a few spots of rust over its first winter. Still, she did me proud on a 10 minute ride around the neighborhood with YaYa and Ginger. [Lu and Smiley were scattered among the grandparents] The ex-Lump had no recollection of the bike trailer and sat bewildered the whole time, but she'll be a happy passenger in no time.

Now I'd been texted at work with news that the backyard was overrun with gnats. I found this to be a slight exaggeration, but there does seem to be a bit of an issue. So I broke out the ol' standby, a bowl of sugar water with a coating of cooking oil across the top. Bugs come to taste the sweetness and get trapped by the oil.

Once again, despite a decade of experience in the field, people rose up to naysay. To which I respond: folks, by nightfall the dang bowl had more bugs in it than Windows Vista.

After a dinner with Lisa on her break at work, the kids and I hit a local church's basement rummage sale. For ~$4 total we picked up a mass book, a Scrabble dictionary, three decks of cards, a wooden turtle from Jamaica, a clothes steamer, a book light, a wooden jewelry box, a 3-D Titanic puzzle, a Brain Quest trivia game, a childrens book, a wooden frog that you can make croak by rubbing a stick across its spine, and a great camera case worth about $30 alone.

What a deal!

From there we returned home and YaYa and I watched Call of the Wild on DVD. Call of the Wild was one of the first (abridged) classics YaYa read.

"Will you watch it with me Daddy?"

"I really don't want to."

"Why not?"

The real reason was I was tired and sweaty and yearned for a shower. But what I said was: "Because I never finished the book and I don't want to ruin the ending. Someday maybe I'll finish it."

"You can read my copy upstairs."

"Naw, I want to read the adult version."

"Hrumph. Well, it does have 107 pages you know. But I guess that doesn't count."

Checkmate. So we watched Call of the Wild, which turned out to be a sequel called "Foxfire" anyhow. It was ok, and I certainly enjoyed cuddling with YaYa.
Afterwards, when Lisa got home, she quizzed YaYa on the BrainQuest questions and YaYa aced darn near all of them. I gave her a big kiss on the forehead.

"Truly, you are my daughter." I said.

"Half your daughter," Lisa said. "She's much too cool to be your clone."

Wah wah and boo hoo

I don't want to become Gloomy Gary or Sad Sammy here, but a good 25% of my life seems to be comprised soley of bad luck in recent days. Thankfully the wife and kids continue, even in the moments when I can't stand 'em, to more than balance out the scale.

* * * *

It's been less than 48 hours since discovering my mortgage payment would soar because of local property taxes. Today the Journal reports that despite an influx of $100 million of Obama's stimulus money, MPS (Milwaukee Public Schools) will be asking for an addtional double-digit increase in the property tax levy.

If you follow the link you'll see note a reference to a recent audit of MPS, one that identified numerous black holes in their budget. Memo to the school board: maybe you could close those gaps before you take more $ from my wallet and throw it away.

* * * * *

I got my Escort back from the shop tonight. The verdict: both brake lines had been severed in the area around the drivers seat. The cause? Flying road debris, rust, Lisa getting inventive - who knows?

Anyway, I had the car back twenty minutes before the the exhaust system fell apart. All was quiet one minute, and the next I'm driving in a car making enough decibels to burst your eardrums. It's well and truly undriveable in its current condition. If I drove across town (again) I'd get a ticket in a second.

Sigh.

* * * * *

Smiley missed school today for a required check-up at the Ear/Nose/Throat doctor. His left ear tube has fallen out, which was more or less expected, but in its absence fluid has again returned to plague his eardrum. He'll be put on a prescription and if it doesn't clear up, look for a return to the operating room for more tubes.

* * * *

I was talking to a couple of the guys from work today when they asked me when I was going to go drinking with them.

"Probably when someone asks me to," I said.

"We just did" came the response.

Regretably, I had to say no, not because of my legendary social phobias but because I already felt hungover by the time they asked, courtesy of a damn strong stomach virus.

I last called in sick to work in August of 2000, when I had compacted wisdom teeth pulled out. I should have broke the streak today. I was miserable. Instead I slugged it out and made it through the day, but if things don't improve I'm pulling the trigger and call in Friday.

American Idol and other Schtuff

Allright, first off I'm having a lousy coupla days here folks. I'm fighting off a mean stomach flu, I'm broke, and my mortgage just went up 16.5%. Oh, I don't have an ARM, in fact I have a nice, very low fixed mortgage. But the city bumped up my taxes last year and apparently looks to again, and so the adjustment of my escrow will all but bury me.

Congrats, you dunderheads in City Hall. As with all the good neighborhoods in Milwaukee, you will soon tax families out of home ownership and drive them to the 'burbs. Within a few years Ritchie Riches from Pewaukee and Whiteman's Bay (er, I mean Whitefish Bay) will own all the houses here and use them as rentals. After a few more years of ignoring their upkeep the area will go to hell, leading to a fallow period before good people step in to 'renew' the block and we'll start the dance all over again.

But at least the taxes go for something good, like . . . yeah. I don't even have a good punchline.

* * * *

On to happier news, a review of last nights American Idol.

I don't know if it was because they unexpectedly had to find time for a 7th contestant or because of format complaints, but I appreciate hearing from all the judges. All we lost in return were the hokey video introductions before each song.

1. Lil - enough America. Send her home. And please, no more excuses on stage and no low-brow opinions yelled out from the audience.

2. Kris - an excellent peformance and an innovative approach. One notch against him in my book is that he and Adam seem to skirt the spirit, if not the letter of the rules. Make Disco or Country or Metallica night all your own, natch, but shouldn't the end result sound something vaguely like the genre it purports to represent? As good as it was, it wasn't disco. It was Kris sampling the lyrics of a disco song.

3. Danny - very solid vocals. He did well, but I do wonder why he must perform hunched over so often. On stage Danny looks like he's trying to mime the letter 'C'. Mayhaps he and I should get an 'All Danny' discount on scoliosis treatment together.

4. Allison - that outfit was too old for a 16 year old, but her vocals were fine. I thought the arrangement was off and as always it all sounded Joplin-y, but whattayagonna do?

5. Adam - Much better than last week, although I think he was indulgent for a second in the middle of the song. Did anyone else think it appeared to end abruptly? Anyhow, well done, but see my Kris comments regarding the arrangement.

6. Matt - I love the guy and his performance was good, but it was the polar opposite of the Kris/Adam sytle. While faithful to the original, it just didn't work.

7. Anoop - Vocally he was pretty good, but the arrangement was off (for me). I also think he dresses a whole lot like the 5th Doctor (Who) Peter Davidson. That's great on the cricket field, but not so wonderful for an American singing competition.


Ok, two go home tonight. My picks: Lil and (sob) Matt. America's picks: Lil for sure, and either Anoop or Matt, with Allison a dark horse.

I say Lil and Matt go home.

Watchmen

Watchmen is proof that being a literary pioneer is a mixed blessing.

The graphic novel has earned numerous accolades, and deservedly so, for its mature and inventive re-imagining of the superhero concept. Unfortunately, it was so innovative that it changed everything in the field that followed.

The idea that America would regulate and ban masked heroes is now old hat, having been used in everything from X-Men to The Incredibles. Want to see angst ridden superheroes that resemble Sam Spade more than Superman? Superhero love triangles? Discussions on the nature of a 'hero'? Amoral vigilantes with no qualms about killing? Thanks to Watchmen you can see it all, in the form of a hundred inferior clones created in the last twenty years.

What was original is now cliche, and I fear many young people will read Watchmen and be left wondering what all the fuss is about.

Watchmen tells the story of a group of masked heroes who retired in the wake of a government ban on their profession. Only a rogue vigilante remains on the loose, and it is he alone who investigates the murder of one of their own. Soon a conspiracy to eliminate the group is uncovered and they must all once again don their costumes and seek an end to the threat.

It remains a powerful and thoughtful piece of literature, 'comic book' be damned. This is a hefty novel that requires thought, one I couldn't finish in a single night. But while I stand by my praise and unequivocally recommend the novel, I want to point out that Watchmen is not, despite everything, a book that raises the graphic novel to par with standard prose literature. It is in truth a hybrid, deriving a fair portion of its character and plot development from prose chapters scattered throughout its length.

As I said, I unequivocally recommend this; if you haven't read it already, you need to pick up a copy. Today.

Loooong and meandering Post

A grade-school friend of mine was ordained as a Priest this past weekend, and it's about time. I remember as kids he'd recite every word of the Mass along with the Priest, as if he was conducting the service himself. I haven't spoken to him in ten years, so I'm not sure why he delayed enlisting, but all the power to him. Congrats Brad!

* * * *

To be honest I'm a little jealous of Brad. As a kid part of me wanted to become a Priest, and I remember playing 'Mass' with my sisters and using the piano bench as an altar. But I knew from an early age it wasn't for me. I've inherited a foul mouth, for one, and I also - let me be blunt - have a decently robust sex drive. During puberty I'd spend a good portion of the Mass staring at the ass of the girls ahead of me as they knelt in prayer. That . . . didn't bode well for celibacy.

* * * *

Regarding my last post, I think I'm going to give the guy the benefit of the doubt and say that his statement, while quoted in the correct context, came off more bigoted than he intended. Maybe he's Catholic himself, or was, and was one of the people scarred by the abuse scandals; who knows?

It is creepy that he sought to mail it to my home. That isn't cool, although again I think he was harmless.

* * * *

You want real religious bigotry? A guy came into my work wearing a t-shirt that read "So many Christians - so few lions".

You are free to believe what you like, but can you imagine the uproar it would cause if he wore a shirt joking about violence towards Jews? Because of the Holocaust he wouldn't dare (instead, he'd no doubt moan about Israel; I do believe many of the people who hate on that state do so as an outlet for their anti-Semitism). Worse yet, can you imagine if he wore a shirt preaching violence against Islam, especially in the mideast?

He wouldn't - because they'd cut off his head. Literally.

And yet I'm willing to bet he doesn't think twice about the value of the First Amendment that grants him his freedom. It's a shame.

* * * *

Speaking of Israel, a word on Hitler, as today was the bitter anniversary of his birth. He was a monster. Period. Why we need to create more reasons to hate the man than those amply provided by WWII is beyond me, but I've seen more than one source in the last few days that sought to do just that.

I picked up a book that took grade school age photos of Hitler and sought to extrapolate intent and evil and malignancy in the eyes of a little kid . Crap like that minimizes the true breadth of his evil and twists it all into a cheap horror film plot. Think The Omen. The book was promptly returned to the shelf.

Then there are several TV specials that seek to establish, somehow/someway, that Hitler was of Jewish descent. I do not comprehend this line of reasoning. They aren't doing it to reason out a new and comprehensive physiological portrait of the man. No, they're doing it because in a twisted way it somehow makes him 'less' than he was, allegedly because if he was indeed of Jewish descent then he was a hypocrite on top of it all. I think we can all agree hypocrisy was the least of his crimes. Isn't that pursuit a dangerous, if unintended slippery slope? Aren't these people saying, in effect, "Hey, guess what? Not only was he an a*hole, but it turns out he was a Jew too! Can you believe that?"

What does it matter??

Maybe I'm too sensitive on the subject. I don't know.

* * * *

One last WWII thing that ticks me off: ignoring Stalin's ills and painting his USSR as a besieged, noble country that rallied to stifle Nazism. Bullshit. Hitler killed millions and dragged the world into war. Easily, easily one of the top three human beings of the century. But Stalin was right up there, and unlike his one-time buddy Adolf, Joe went merrily committing mass murder for decades. Millions were murdered under his rule and few people seem to care, perhaps - and I'll grant this is dark - but perhaps simply because he never got around to waging war against American soldiers and grabbing the media's attention.

And uh, 'poor' Russia not only had a friendship pact with Germany, they invaded Poland in concert with Hitler.

* * * *
Allegedly a true story of WWII, but probably apocryphal: we of course bit our tongue about all those nasty points and supplied the Soviet Union with anything and everything they needed to fight Germany, as they were the only nation capable of bleeding Germany dry through raw numbers. When I say anything and everything I mean exactly that, right down to birth control. The Russians, as a macho snub against the Americans, requested condoms that measured eighteen inches long.

The Americans promptly delivered them as requested. Across each crate was stamped:

Condoms: size Medium

* * * *

In the last few days we marked the tenth anniversary of the Columbine shootings. When it happened I was working third shift. I remember on the night of the attack/early the next morning the newspaper guy came in and dropped off Journal's with the news splashed across the front page. I'd slept through the day itself, never hearing so much as a whisper about the attack.

* * * *

Let's end a bleak post with some happy thoughts: while I was at work Monday Lisa took Ginger for her first ever haircut. She did great and didn't fuss a bit :)

A short Saturday post

It's a beautiful day here in Milwaukee, with summer like temps and an insane amount of sunlight. We even had my father-in-law and his wife stop by to visit in the backyard. And wonder of wonders, my tulips have begun to come up! Having planted them in the midst of our first winter snowstorm I'd have laid money on them being a no-go, but they're hardier than I thought.

* * * * *

I got my first anonymous, non-fan (not hate) mail yesterday. It was mailed to my father, as I'm not in the book, and was a polite handwritten letter responding to my article on Archbishop Dolan. Nothing objectionable in it until the end, where he says "congratulations to your [Lutheran] wife for not being under the spiritual domination" of the Catholic Church.

Ah. There are only two acceptable bigotries in America nowadays, one towards fat people and another towards Catholics. Luckily I'm both.

* * * * *

I work today and have to hit the showers. Later!

A talk with a Vet

I love collecting stories from people, even I never record their words on paper. That was the case the other day at work, when in a lull I found myself conversing with a man in his sixties. He was a retiree who spent some of his free time flying old WWII planes, mainly Mustang knockoffs and (my favorite) the Corsair.

I asked him what he was doing in Milwaukee, since he mentioned he lived 45 minutes away in Lake Geneva.

"Oh I was up at the VA getting something looked at. The docs want to take some more shrapnel outta my back, but I said I'd get back to 'em. Sure they numb you up, but that sucker hurts like hell for days after the surgery."

I asked him if he'd been a pilot in Vietnam, thinking he'd been a helicopter pilot that took some flak. He said no, he was an Army Ranger. Now when you talk to a guy from that era and you hear the words 'Ranger', 'Green Beret' or 'Seal', it makes you wonder if you're about to hear a tall tale. No one wants to say 'I spent the war as a clerk typist in Saigon', but I had a genuine feeling about this guy, especially when he detailed how he got his wound.

"We were checking out a village, see, that was our job. To come on in before the troops and make sure things were the way they were supposed to be. Sometimes it got hairy, but most of the time we weren't there to fight, we just had to check things out. Anyway I'm wallking through the village and I tripped over a landmine. And I mean I tripped over the damn thing, like my shoelace was untied or something. Blew right up. My back looks like a damn road atlas. It was allright tho, I left with all my arms and legs, which was good. But every once in awhile they want to go digging for some shrapnel. Last time was twenty years ago, but they said some of it shifted. Might be no bigger than a grain of sand, but they move. They might just move a [shows me his fingers a cm or two apart] in five years, but they work their way around. Doc says its near an organ and he wants it out."

He shrugged. "You know I'm on pysch meds. I ain't ashamed or nothing. Had a nervous breakdown. Doctors at the VA say it's Post-Traumatic but that's bull. I was always a little mixed up, from way back. It started getting worse and my wife bailed on me, and that was it, I cracked up."

He shrugged again. "Anyway, nice talking to ya. I didn't know it was this late. I gotta get back."

Fifteen minutes I spent talking to the guy, and in all that time I never got his name. Not once. If I see him again I'll ask for a formal interview. I've done two or three, with research, transcriptions, the whole ball of wax. One's even on file down at the Milwaukee Historical Society.

But even if I never see him again, it was time well spent.

A Joke

Warning: Naughty Bit

Read on, dear reader, and don't confuse the Obama reference ahead with a political post. It's a joke people, a funny.

A ten minute segment of Smiley's spring concert was a spoken word piece starring kids from the older grades. In the performance children were lined up across the stage and, one at a time, recited a fact or anecdote from the life of Barrack Obama, all presented in front of a rousing PowerPoint picture medley of the President.

What the hell. He's the President, and the new car smell hasn't worn off yet. I can deal, even if it is dancing on the edge of creepy.

Anyway, the amusing part. Every part of Obama's life, large and small, EVERY anecdote, ended with some variation of " . . . because Barrack Obama wanted to help people.". No part of his life was governed by motives outside the common good. The kids could talk about a job Obama had in high school and it would come out: "after careful thought he decided to work at Pizza Hut[dramatic pause] because Barrack Obama wanted to help feed people".

This went on with each kid across the stage and it was so over the top some parents in the audience began to snicker - and it was a very pro-Obama crowd.

There are advantages to sitting in the back row. Midway through I grinned and whispered to Lisa: "and after his prom Barrack Obama asked his date if he could take her virginity, because in his heart Barrack Obama only wanted to help people [climax]"

I believe Lisa hit me at that point, but if she did I was too busy laughing to notice.

What a lousy day

Ugh, I can't wait for this day to end.

After my last post I took Smiley out to the hospital to get those x-rays of my back. I figured, one, two shots at best - easy peezy fresh and freezy. Nuh-uh. They had me strip to my skivvies and did a busload of x-rays while Smiley sat and flirted with the radiologists. Thank God I'd thought to change my undies before I went.

Then, on the way home my brakes failed.

No warning, no prior problem. I'm rolling along at 30 miles an hour, the light turns red, I go to stop and nothing. Not a thing. I took the pedal all the way to the floor and nada, and then at the last second they kicked in and brought me to a stop mere inches - literally inches - from the guy in front of me.

After that the brake light announced itself and I noticed that there was a trail of liquid behind the car - brake fluid. As I was only half a block from a Walgreens (really, when isn't someone half a block from a Walgreens?) I stopped and put in some fluid I bought there, then continued home at a snails pace. I was careful to stick to side streets and because of this it took me around 40 minutes to cover the 15 minute ride home.

I had that car out of the shop for all of 72 hours. #!@#@$%

Remember, I still had to go pick up those couches. I hooked up with Socialist and headed out to Pewaukee, where Lisa had made arrangements to buy the set from a guy on Craigslist. We went armed with Mapquest directions, directions that were apparently flawed. They took Socialist and I about ten minutes out of the way, ten minutes spent arguing politics. Yay.

He and I got the couch and loveseat to my house, where we struggled to fit the pieces through my door. It was only after the loveseat was in and the couch stuck in the door that I remembered - ok, was prompted by Lisa's friend Jessica - that my new bay windows could be removed completely to accommodate moving furniture. D'oh. In the end, that's how we got the couch to fit.

Then it was on to Socialists house to reload his van with all the tools of his profession. During this time we noticed that three of the couch legs had been left inside his van. I took them home confident the fourth was at home (we'd removed them in front of the house) but so far, we haven't found it.

Great.

When I got home I had to help Lisa carry the old couch out to the curb, and THAT was a big ordeal, with Lisa laying into me for alleged - and by that I mean imaginary - lapses in carrying my share of the load. When we finally got it outside our neighbor to the north rushed over to offer Lisa I hand, but I shooed him away. I was dang ready to see she finished the job she had us start.

The only bright spot of the day were the kids physicals, were they all got a clean bill of health. Ah, but even that has a gray lining, as LuLu came straight from a sleepover with her cousin and showed up for the physical with ratty hair, a dirty shirt, and day old undies. The kicker is I'd called ahead and told them to get her ready for the appointment. Grrreeeaaat impression for the doc, dontcha think?

Friday, where are you????

Doctor Thursday at the Slapinions house

It's going to be a long day of doctor appointments. I already finished one and found out what I already knew: that last weeks x-ray's showed heel spurs. I guess what was good enough for Joltin' Joe is good enough for me.

But I also discussed my back with the doc. I was diagnosed with scoliosis as a kid but was told it was too mild to be treated. Eh, that reeks of bulls**t in hindsight, but either way its gotten much more pronounced lately. The doc checked my spine, noted a curvature to the right, rattled off some Latin into his digital recorder and said "Your left side is shorter, correct?"

"Left side of what? My whole left side? I don't know, I've never measured."

He nodded briskly. "It is shorter. Note how your left shoulder sits below your right. You must go for x-rays."

So in a few minutes its back out to West Allis to get the ol' spine zapped.

Meanwhile, Lisa has developed an abscess above a troublesome tooth, which is naturally a concern for us all. Oh, and all three of the older kids have scheduled physicals for this afternoon and I'm supposed to drive to Pewaukee this evening to pick up a new couch.

Fun times, fun times.