Brooding

Okay, I left the brand spanking new six pack of 24oz Mountain Dew in the car this morning and so far my laziness has beaten my addiction. It is sad when addiction loses so easily. I mean really, when apathy and laziness can trump burning desire, something is askew. Sure I am cranky and all caffeine withdrawal induced headachy, but the Dew is all the way out there. If I had parked closer, I would have most likely already made the voyage. If I had parked closer, I would have had to gotten into work significantly earlier. If I had gotten to work significantly earlier I would most likely have already needed the green potion, and therefore would have ported it with me on my trek from the car to the desk. As it is I am sitting at my desk… brooding. Brooding over my dull aching mistake to leave my delectable beverage outside in the safe confines of the car. Brooding over the fact that my cashless method of existence is not conducive to vending machines. Brooding over the fact that I am Dewless in a Dewy world.

To recap
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy
No Mountain Dew and laziness make SRH go crazy

Four Things

Thing the First: The problem with buying a new computer is getting all the old shit onto the new computer. For someone, such as myself, who is somewhat tech savvy (not tech salve-y, that is just yucky) the process is moderately infuriating. I know just enough about computers and computer technology to completely mess some shit up, yo. The issue that will be tackled anon is the whole email accounts in outlook crap that needs to be taken care of. There is also the issue of migrating over my anti-virus and firewall stuff, and sadly, since the PC is my workhorse, it needs to take some priority away from other house projects currently underway.

Thing the Second: I took the broken chair back from our recliner/rocker/breast-feeding station to La Z Boy’s repair shop on Sunday. I got to the repair window that closes at 3 at 2:50. The man behind the window looked up at me clearly panick stricken. That’s right panic with a “k.” Do you feel the anxiety he was emoting. That is a “k” folks. It doesn’t get much more panicky than that. The panick stricken man stammered out, “But… but… but… everyone’s gone home for the day.” I guess I am tired and stressed because me response was less than compassionate.

Me: That’s not my problem.
Panicky: But… no one is here
Me: Listen, I don’t need this fixed right now, I just need to drop it off. You aren’t open on Sundays and I work during the week. I just now found out you closed at 3 and I am here before three. Take my information and have someone look at the chair Monday morning.
Panicky: Uh… ok, but..
Me: Listen, I have taken up enough of your time to chat about this and since you close in less than 10 minutes I imagine that you are pretty ready to call it a day. Thanks for your time, after I give you my information I will be going.
Panicky now writing down my contact information: uh… yeah.

Thing the Third: The painter is painting the Duchess’s room today as well as other places, but what I am getting at is that the room is no longer “the office” or “the computer room.” It is officially the Duchess’s. After the painting is accomplished, we have much furnituring to get done. The crib will need to be reassembled and we will need to have a dresser of some sort, for the little girl will have clothes. Many of which shall be small, pink, and frilly whether Wifey or I want them to be or not. That is the way of things. So it shall be written. So it shall be done.

Thing the Fourth: We are hoping the painting will not take too long and will be incredibly transformative. What we are really hoping is that the remodel will be done before the baby decides to show up. The OB is feeling pretty confident that we can make it 37/40ths of the way. That would be nice. According to the Dr 36 weeks is on Wednesday, and 37 would be the following week (because you clearly can’t add 1). So keep your fingers crossed that we make it until next Wednesday.

To recap:
Birthing class refresher courses should be just that refreshers for people who have had kids before
When the instructor asks who has had a kid before Wifey and I shouldn’t be the only ones to raise our hands
Waste of my frikkin time
I am sooo flipping tired
But there is sooo much more crap that needs un-crapping
Listening to Indian Reservation by The Raiders from Legend of Paul Revere
Love the organ at the end
That sounds slightly naughty

Some might say

So I have been staring at a blank page in Microsoft Word for about 20 minutes (off and on while trying to get work done and waiting on response from colleagues). The page does not seem to want to fill itself with witty banter. Stupid non-sentient computers.

I have started a post 3 times and all three of them have ended up in the digital equivalent of the good old “circular file.” Some might say that I have writer’s block. Some might say that supply is inversely proportional to demand. Some might say that you should salt and pepper between each step of a savory meal in order to build a depth of flavor. Some might say that hats are absolutely necessary. Some might even say that there are absolutely no absolutes. Some might even recognize the irony of those words. Some may not. Some might say that I am rambling. Some might say many things.

To recap:
I need more writing exercises
Or better writing ability
Or more sleep
I am going to stick with the “more sleep” possibility
It is the most likely culprit for my lack of ideation
Ideation is a silly word for thinkin’
Although it seems so much more heady than thinking
Skylight is in the kitchen
All I have left to do is stain the bathroom door and the kitchen windows
We are close to being done
So very close
Some might say
Listening to Rusty Cage by Soundgarden from Badmotorfinger

+1 Station... 6 weeks to go?

Stress is a gauze that irritates wounds.

To recap:
We think that the Duchess is planning on getting here early
She is impatient like that
There are many things left to do this week
I hope to have the arch way and door ways stained before bed tonight
That involves sanding on the big archways and staining the bathroom door jamb
I need to pop out the broken tiles under the fridge and by the new walls
Ack not enough time….

Happy Birthday

Today is Wifey’s birthday. If she wants anyone to know her age; she can tell you. I am not stepping into that pit.

So to my wife whom I love dearly:

Happy Birthday Dear One

Notice I did not type “Happy Birthday Deer One.” That would be Cernunnos the hunt master of the Wild Hunt. The antlered god collecting lost souls and wayward forest travelers in his endless hunt for the white stag of life. Relentlessly pushing his Wild Hunt to pursue the albine hart until all mortal recollection of a previous ephemeral existence is obliterated by the need to endlessly pursue. All matters mortal lost to the forced hunt. But that would be foolish to wish an endless one a happy birthday for Cernunnos has no birth or death, only pursuit. Eternal following has no beginning or end, Cernunnos was not begat on the 7th of May. Cernunnos hunts. Cernunnos hunted. Cernunnos will hunt.

Of course the Wild Hunt should not be confused with Ghost Riders in the Sky, for whilst the Ghost Riders will entrance wayward cowboys into their endless cattle drive across the sky, the Wild Hunt travels along the ground and not through the clouds. I can understand why one might make that mistake.

Ummm… anyway. Happy Birthday, Wifey. I wish you many more

To recap:
I still need to find a way to see Iron Man
Transcription from this morning:
Me: Gimme a hug and kiss before I go to work
Little Man: OK!
/hug /kiss
Me: You be good today, have a good day, Punkin
LM: Have a good day, Snakey
Me: ….?
Soooo much to do with sooo little time
Listening to Blur’s Song 2 their self titled album Blur

Door Close

Well, we are back from sunny Phoenix, Arizona. It was sunny… and hot. Sweet Jeebus it was hot. Stupidly hot… and it was only May. I cannot image the oven that Arizona must be in that clay baked kiln come August. Oddly, even with all the heat and all the sun exposure, even with me swimming with Little Man daily for at least 45 minutes a day and even with my exposed legs due to my beloved shorts (DAMN YOU WORK AND YOUR LONG PANT DRESS CODE!!!!) for about an hour daily, I am still a pale blue Scotsman. I swear it is like I didn’t even go outside. We Scots were meant fer tha basement! Plaid skirts, lack of social grace, foul mouth, and pale blue = basement dweller.

The real purpose of this post is to complain about the entirely in-effectual “door close” button on elevators. So this past week involved a bunch of elevators. Well, more precisely, not a bunch of elevators (there were only 4) as much as a bunch of elevatoring. Little Man was all about the button pushing, and this always involved hitting the close door button on the elevator button panel after choosing 1, 3, or 4 pending on where we were going. What I noticed in this mish-mash of button mashery is that the close door button is a placebo of buttons. It does nothing but make the button pusher feel like they are influencing the cosmos.

Every time that Little Man pushed that button, the doors took just as long to close as the times he was not in the elevator with me and I did not press the button. I don’t even think that the buttons are ever connected to anything. Every horror/suspense/action movie where you see the frantic leading lady scantily clad/smartly attired/geared up repeatedly hitting the door close button to get away from the psycho mutant killer monster/calculating murderer/melee opponent, just know that those buttons are not what make the doors close. What makes the doors close is a time delay. Period. No amount of rapidly repetitive button pushing or constant buttonal pressure will cause those doors to close any faster than they normally do. They will close when they have been designed to close.

Conversely the “door open” buttons work like a charm.

To recap:
Phoenix was nice
The contact with the parents was nice
It was 2 days too much, but nice none-the-less
It is both good and bad to be back to the normalcy of everyday life
The Huhugam Heritage Center was rather boring to a 4.7 year old
He liked the elevator
It had 3 buttons
“1,” “2,” and “door open”
Tomorrow’s 20 Questions is all about the Sun

printer document station

Whilst pondering the intricacies and delights folded within the mantle of vanilla cream of a vanilla bean cheesecake, it came to me that I should probably be paying better attention to the claxon call warnings coming from the printer document station that I was idly waiting upon. It seems that if there were 10 places within a printer document station that a paper might (how do you kids say it these days? Get…) jammed this over-achieving printer document station had discovered at least 2 more.

Whence the printer stopped beeping incessantly, I opened hidden compartment upon hidden compartment, turning handles and sliding drawers merrily collecting paper as I went. Tra la Tra la. After stacking the eighth piece of mangled paper from the guts of the printer document station, I asked myself in a surprisingly outside voice, “Sweet Jeebus, can there be any more of this paper jammed (as the kids these days say) in this god forsaken printer document station?” Alas an answer from the heavens was not forthcoming. An answer from a co-worker who is clearly a ninja due to his soft footfalls and silent ability to creep up on me up while my elbows are within a printer's document station's guts was forthcoming.

“I know, this thing has been jamming all day long.”
“Not like Bob Marley though, right?”
“Who”
Damned kids! ... was that out loud? No? Good “Oh, a musician from the days of yore.”
“You’re weird, dude.”
“Wow, they said ‘dude’ when I was a kid”
“I’m getting out of here, dude, and calling IT before you break something. You freak.”

I set back to the task at hand. Un-jamming the printer document station. I was now up to 10 sheets of paper from 8 different locations. There were 3 doors open, five drawers exposed, and still 2 more jams to go. Finally moving onto the last trouble spot as indicated on the little screen embedded on the face of the printer document station, I knew I had only moments (hours) before the IT clean-up squad made me quit the quest. One final plastic tray and the day would be mine!

The last jam area on the printer document station was the gigantic paper drawer feed mechanism. The printer document station tried to stuff 5 pages through the feed mechanism simultaneously. For those of you out there in cyberland who don’t know what that means, it means… it means that… well, it means that the printer document station will go down with a paper jam issue.

To recap:
We fly out Friday morning
Little Man is excited to go
Gorgeous weather today
It is time to go home
Mimma is spending the evening with Little Man to get her fix before her weeklong withdrawal
That means Wifey and I will have a “date”
That means I need to get the heck out of dodge
Listening to Disconnect by the Rollins Band off of Weight

Ramblings

This week is the week that we make preparations to get the heck out of Ohio for a week of fun in the Arizona sun. This, of course, means that all three of us are getting new underwear. At least that tends to be one of the side effects of going on a longer trip for our family. Yesterday, Wifey got Little Man some new underwear and as I was rummaging through my underwear drawer (that oddly looks like a laundry basket) realizing that it is about time to take half of my skivvies out of rotation. The pregnancy seems to dictate when Wifey should hosiery up as well. It seems that all three of us are converging upon a point of underwear maintenance and procurement.

This is what you people come here to read about, yes?

So aside from impending intimate garment purchase, it also looks like I will need to purchase at least one more pair of shorts. I do not think that 3 pairs of shorts are going to get me through 7 days of fun in the sun with a 4.7 year old. He seems to be hard on my clothes. Much harder than me. I have not spilled pizza sauce on my shorts in over 15 years and yet, there seem to be pizza sauce stains from the un-refutable hugs of a loving yet tomato puree clad child. If we can get most of the laundry done this week, I should be okay regarding shirts for the Arizona heat as well. I am amazed at how many of the stains on my leg wear are not of my own making. This was not something that was impressed upon me during my previous to non-parental existence.

So for those millions of you out there who read this blog and do not yet have children (like the other millions of you out there reading my blog) children stain stuff. There is very little you can do about it.

ON the topic of staining, children like things that are permanent or near permanent. If choosing between washable markers that are happy-go-lucky colors like red, blue, green, purple, and yellow and a boring old black Sharpie, get ready to sand the finish off the dining room table, re-stain and re-poly. If Little Man can choose between slightly aged tomato puree and fresh baked cookies and if I am in a lighter colored leg wear, the puree gets selected. And glitter glue? Who the hell thought that was a good idea? Not only is it glitter, which we all know reproduces asexually, rapidly and constantly, it is also sticky. No one can get rid of regular glitter, much less this pre-sticky version. I assure you that if there has been alien contact by someone getting abducted, those aliens are right now wondering where the speck of glitter can from in their spaceship. Moreover, alien friends and family on their home world are wondering right now why Flarg the Mighty has glitter on his cheek.

FYI, For those of you who do not know, Flarg likes to go to raves.

To recap:
If Jules Verne had written that the center of the earth was filled with creamy nougat, instead of some odd amalgam of swamp gas and prehistoric landscapes and lost civilizations, the United States of America would have already sent a fat man to investigate. By “sent” I clearly mean “could not stop.” Using his Three Musketeers bar as compass and Hershey’s syrup as a weapon, that fat man would press on until he got to the Mohorovičić discontinuity. This intrepid traveler would be joined by his brethren in his quest for the Nougat. They would sustain themselves with flash cooked cake batter and indestructible Twinkies. Without proper cooling I am certain their descent to the Nougat would be halted at least temporarily while he and his friends imbued with the superhuman endurance of their Rascal Scooters endlessly roamed along the borders of the lithosphere looking for their entrance into the unforgiving mantle, the molten caramel of the geological Snickers cross-section. The promise of near limitless nougat fueling their unyielding drive bent on the complete consumption of the cloudlike confection that makes candy bars transcend from the mundane to the sublime…
Ummm… uhhh… that one kind of got away from me
20 Questions Tuesday will be an Interview with Dustin
I should quit now, shouldn’t I?

One thing

Thing the First:

Computers are made up of a bunch of different primary components that make them work. The list basically goes motherboard, processor, memory, soundcard, network card, graphics card, hard drive, front-side bus, media drives (diskette floppies, CD-Rom, DVD-Rom, etc…), power supply, heat sinks, and cooling fans. That is the basic list for a PC at least. The list for a Mac looks more like fluffy bunny, kitten’s purr, unicorn smiles, and good feelings (of superiority).

Anyway… if anything goes wrong in that laundry list that component has to be replaced prior to the machine working again. I have been expecting my 5 year old pc to start shutting some of these systems down because, well, it is 5 years old. So, it did not surprise me on Saturday evening when I was un-able to use my home PC. What surprised me was the component that had gone south (by “south” I do mean metaphorically where technology don’t shine, Alabama). It turns out that my monitor was borked.

Now, I don’t know if many of you out there in cyberland have ever tried to use a computer without a monitor… It is more difficult than one might imagine. Typically I would not usually list the monitor as something that might go wrong with a PC because it is not really associated directly with the box that is the PC. No screen makes computing HARD!

So Sunday morning I was at Best Buy getting a new monitor. I also priced out a new PC to go with said monitor. I maybe should have gotten the 2 bundled in a package deal, but I feel that further investigation into modern PC info is necessary. My knowledge of top-of-the-line PC components seems to stop about 4.7 years ago. I am slowly trying to re-acquaint myself with the modern PC component list. Buying a new PC is very similar, to me, as buying a new car.
I hear they are up to quad-cores now.

To recap
Still have much to do on the old “to do” list
We have to get a toilet and sink tonight
The plumbing for the new bathroom is going in this week
Yipppeeee!
This weather shifting stuff is killing my head
Why, hello, Fluffy
It has indeed been a long time
Not long enough if you ask me…
Listening to Monkey Wrench by the Foo Fighters off of The Colour and the Shape

Not enough time

There is a veritable plethora of things that must be done prior to the arrival of a certain, as yet un-named little girl. My mind very rarely strays far from this list of milestones and benchmarks of natal preparation. We are at week 29 in a 40-ish week process, and there is much to be done.

Currently the contractor has a few things left to do in the new kitchen, a slew of things to do in the new office, and a near blank slate to work with in the new bathroom.

The Kitchen:
The contractor has to add the quarter inch round to the counter tops to finish off those bad-boys. He also needs to sand down the ceiling seams and install the skylight and lighting fixtures. Unfortunately he needs me to prep the quarter inch round before he is ready to install it. That requires a bit of sanding and a bit of staining on my part. Once he gets the ceilings sanded and the skylight installed, it is time for painting a plenty. I also need to stain and seal the windows before he can trim them out as well. Once the ceiling is done, there are 2 walls that need painting as well. That doesn’t even start to get into the tile by tile replacement that needs to take place. There are a couple of tiles that have cracked and a few on the edges that need to be replaced as well.

The Office:
The office needs a ceiling, a wall, lighting, a significant amount of patch work on the tile floor tile, and to be painted. You know, nothing much. It will be my responsibility to re-tile the needing to be retiled portions of the floor and paint the room (including ceiling) as well.

The Bathroom:
It has a fan light installed and other than that it needs to be worked on. Plumbing has not been roughed in, it is missing a wall, it needs lighting, its vent needs to be moved, which will necessitate re-tiling some areas. Once all the construction stuff is done, I will need to paint that room up as well.

The Dining Room:
This room only needs 2 things done. The patch in the wall needs to be cosmetic’d up (seamed, sanded, and painted) and the vent needs to be moved which will necessitate some hardwood flooring patching. I will be responsible for painting… when everything else is done.

Once these three rooms are done, I will be able to move our current office into the new office. The old office will need some painting and then a boat load of baby fixings need to be put in there. Most likely we will need a new light fixture (possible ceiling fan?) in that room as well. Bottom line is that there is no nursery until the new office is outfitted.

If we paint the Duchess’s room (we will need to), we should also paint Little Man’s room as well. He is closing in on being 5 years old and his room is still stuck in the color scheme we used for his babyhood. It needs to be updated. I might try to postpone this until he is five and make it about turning five.

Anyway… I have about 16 weeks worth of stuff to do and about 10 weeks to get it done in. We are going to be out of town for Wifey’s work April 25th through May 3rd or 4th. Time… it is a running away from me.

How are you doing?

To recap:
So little time
So very little time
Yes, yes, like sands through the hourglass…
Not sure what will be ready for Digital Thursday tomorrow
I am digitally inking a piece for one of the Sketch Challenges I have been entering, but I have other things that need to be done
Listening to Sabotage by the Beastie Boys from their Ill Communication release

7 things

A few things to cover today.

Thing 1:

Thing 2:

Thing 3: Mom’s surgery went well. She is recovering nicely. Thanks for all the concern and well wishes. Her surgery was Friday afternoon and when I talked with her Friday night she informed me that I will definitely not be getting any more brothers or sisters. I assured my 64 year old post-op post menopausal mom that I was okay being her last offspring.

Thing 4: I went to the gym on Friday. I hurt now. Bad. I should be able to get back there soon, provided my aches and pains do not kill me before then.

Thing 5: The Duchess will be here before we know it

Thing 6: That scares the hell out of me. If you could see me now, there is a bunch of whimpering

Thing 7: Wifey and I have now been together for a whopping 13 years. Yep, 13 years ago this relationship started. I am pretty sure that 13 years ago we didn’t know what we were getting into and the bulk of the people who knew of us didn’t think that this would end up where we are in the here and now. A few into the relationship and there were inklings of the future, but 13 years ago was the unknown beginning.

Engagement came (relatively) soon after and marriage after that, but none of that would have happened without April 7.

To recap:
It has been a great 13 years, Wifey!
20 Questions Tuesday is up next
Little Man is disturbingly like me
Slump is the often forgotten about natural hazard
Even more ignored than a mudslide
Many a cliffside mansion should look into slump
I not only blog, I am also a public service
Buy a t-shirt!
Listening to My Body is a Cage by Arcade Fire for their release Neon Bible

Yeti, Bigfoot, Sasquatch

If there were a popularity contest between the Yeti, Bigfoot, and a Sasquatch, the Yeti would reign supreme. We all knew this to be true, who is not enamored by the wondrous being from the roof of the world. The ever loveable Yeti is by far the most well known of all the giant primate cryptids, and that is saying a lot. The thing is the Yeti is like that fly by night foreign exchange student that everyone starts out liking until they get to know him. Sure Anders is cute, Danish, speaks with a sexy accent, plays soccer, and dresses all metro, but ladies he also thinks women should stick to womanly things like oral sex. Seriously ladies, Ander’s only came to the US to get laid. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out…

Ummm… anyway, I believe I have a t-shirt design for the Yeti now. You will have to wait until tomorrow to for it to be unveiled.

To recap:
Stupid popular Yeti!
I don’t like you
… or Anders
I would have ranked them way different
Well as “way different” as you can rank three things
Wifey has another dinner time meeting tonight
Listening to Karma Police by Radiohead off of OK Computer
Radiohead is consistently more popular than the Yeti
…and Anders, the Danish Jerk!

Tina and Craig

This weekend, after careful deliberation with Capt. McArmypants, I have determined that I shall refer to all women I do not know as Tina and all men as Craig. It will be much easier on me to categorize things in my simple brain like that. Wait staff, café baristas, flight attendants, desk clerks, new receptionists, drive through workers… unless they have previously given me their name such that I have remebered it, are from now on Tina and Craig.

I am sure that a naming convention will be necessary when there are more than two extras of either sex converging on stage. I think a good hierarchy should be Tina, Beth, Jane, and Olga for females. For men the hierarchy shall be Craig, Bob, Jimmy, Chuck, and Lawrence. Any more than four female extras and it shall be referred to as “those chicks,” while more than four extra males they shall be referred to as “those guys.”

Any Tina’s and Craig’s that I currently know shall retain their official monikers. They should just recognize that they shall become one of many Tina’s and Craig’s in my life. Hopefully those few existing Tina’s and Craig’s in The Life and Times of SRH, shall be less transient than the check out girl and bagger that rang me up for some flank steak yesterday, but if they really want true permanence in my bent skull, they should either legally change their name to something more remarkable than Tina and/or Craig, or nick-name up to something more exciting like Sugar Bottom and/or Slick.

Another determination that I have unilaterally decided upon is that anyone I have not had any contact with in the past five years is now considered to be dead. That way I can look back on memories spent with those newly deceased folk and wistfully contemplate all the fun time we had. There is no longer any cogitation necessary when I wonder whatever happened to Blake, John, and Dave. I can merely think wistfully about the fun we had running into supermarkets for IBC Root Beer, whilst those unfortunate souls take a well deserved dirt nap in my mind.

The 5 Year Rule for living acquaintances helps to curb my idle ponderings on people no longer germane to my existence. It WAS nice occasionally to think back on people I did not hate and wish them well enough, but it is much easier to think back on them and give a sad shake of the head, a rueful smile of lost possibilities, and think of something else.

It is just easier this way. Mass naming the extras in The Life and Times of SRH and reducing old acquaintances into corpses is really the only rational thing to do. With the impending arrival of the Duchess, it will be necessary to ruthlessly prioritize aspects of my life. Since I am terrible with names in the first place, I have decided that giving up all attempts at name memory is the best for all involved. I am positive that many of these newly monikered Tina’s and Craig’s shall cry out with umbrage for being summarily genericized, but that is okay, for they are only the bit-players... they will be dead in five years anyway.

To recap:
When I know your name you have made it into the cast of characters
Think of yourself to be lucky at that point
You know who you are
No, not you Tina, get back in line with the extras
Tomorrow’s 20 Questions is all about burnout
So far the questions I have gotten seem to be asking me when I am going to stop assaulting the Interwebs with my drivel
NEVER! I say, NEVER!
Capt. McArmypants graced our houseold with his prescence until late Sunday morning
Little Man is unhappy that his playmate left
He has also asked "Won't Uncle Capt. McArmypants Miss me?"
We have assure the little guy that, indeed, McArmypants already misses him
Listening to Conroy by Cake off of their most recent B-Sides and Rarities

Writing Exercise

Here comes another writing exercise.

Sure, sure there are some of you out there who feel I have more topics that I could be writing about. Some might be curious how Little Man is holding up under the withering glare of autocratic Papa. Some of you might be curious as to how Wifey is doing in Canada. There area substantial portion of you fine folk who would like more information regarding my mom’s Cancer of the Lady Bits. Well, there is not much to report regarding the homefront, the Canadianfront, or the momfront. Little Man and I are getting along just fine, Wifey is surviving well enough in the frigid tundra that is Canada, and I am also awaiting more information on Mom’s Cancer of the Hoo-Hah. Little Man will be well and tired of me by tomorrow evening when he would like me to make Manwich (which he is happy to announce rhymes with sandwich, I mentioned that was part of Manwich’s marketing plan, but he seemed unimpressed.) Wifey is feeling comfortable and confident in a relatively unknown role for her at the group facilitation thing she is doing. My mom should be in appointment right now finding out more information about the Cancer that Shall Not Speak Its Name.

I could try and create a post from the fringes of my consciousness, but, honestly that is more work that I am willing to commit to. Plus, with the level of my sleep deprivation that I am currently enjoying, the continuity of a post like that would be questionable at best. Truthfully, there is a good chance that a contrived post from the esoterica that is intertwined between my conscious and subconscious self would ramble aimlessly on for over a page, briefly alighting on subjects as varied as the horrid voice acting from The ThunderCats, the theory of relativity, and why Dora’s amazingly huge noggin frustrates me so.

No one wants to read my ill-formed rants about 80’s cartoons, Einsteinian Physics, and poorly thought out children’s programming. While the voice acting on the Thundercats seems dismal, I am pretty sure it was not the voice actors fault as much as it was just a poorly conceived cartoon created in the beginning of the market driven cartoons. That being said, I will not be focusing on that even remotely. And don’t get me started on Dora’s inability to look behind her. It has to do with la gigante cabeza Dora is sporting. She can’t turn that massive oblong monstrosity in time to spot Swiper. It really is too bad that boots is such a useless primate. If Dora was paired up with Gleek swiper would be a stole. I swear that Gleek was the only character with a lick of sense from the Superfriends, but that is a topic for another day.

So, really, the most responsible avenue as a conscientious blogger is to stay away from the rambly stream of consciousness that would occur with any sort of attempted post without the structure associated with a writing exercise. So here it goes:

Finish this.
John and Charlie didn’t know…

how Sam got the glitter on his upper lip, but they were pretty sure they didn’t want to find out.

To recap:
Man, am I tired
Capt McArmypants should be visiting soon
Maybe tomorrow
Maybe Friday
Day 3 of 5 sans Wifey
For some reason I think Wifey and Capt McArmypants will be arriving on the same day
Listening to Ghost Riders in the Sky by Johnny Cash
Digital Thursday tomorrow
Cheers

Man Crush

It is really sad. I have a man-crush on Ming Tsai. For those of you who don’t know who Ming Tsai is, he is a chef who grew up in Dayton, Ohio and now has a wildly popular restaurant in Boston, Massachusetts called Blue Ginger (even though he has publicly stated that he is a Mary Ann guy himself… who isn’t really? I mean, come on… Mary Frikken’ Ann. YOWZA!)

ummm anyway… Ming Tsai is this insanely good chef. The thing I really like about him is that he really does attempt to cook really simple things, and usually he creates a recipe that Wifey and I would absolutely love right until he adds some last ingredient. Typically we will be watching in awe of his cooking, mentally copying his recipe until he adds a whole fish head and a pickled pepper that would make demons cream for mercy.

Anyway… I had lost track of the wonderful Ming when he jumped ship from the Food Network. He had the show East Meets West and then Ming’s Quest, but then he fell off into cable obscurity. He showed up on the inaugural Iron Chef America to wipe the floor with Bobby Flay’s ass, but nothing from him any more. Turns out he decided to go for even more obscurity than Basic Cable channels. It turns out that he got a gig on PBS creating a show called Simply Ming. All this time on TV without me watching.

Anyway… last week he made a few dishes with a key ingredient of “Ginger Syrup.” There were two meals that he put together that both Wifey and I were really interested in. So far I have made the Ginger Beef with Onions twice and we are still waiting to put together the Ginger Chicken with Potatoes and Vegatables. Don’t get me wrong, on that show he did make a dish that required the use of “The Homer Chili” and the intestines of a small goat or something like that, but two of the recipes are definite winners.

Coupled with his wonderful food prep skilz, Ming Tsai is also hugely involved with the restaurant industry and food allergens. His little boy has a pretty severe allergy to peanuts, and he is becoming quite the advocate against restaurants not disclosing ingredients in their meals. So he is not only a great chef, but he is also an advocate for Little Man as well.

Basically this post boils down to the fact that Ming Tsai is dreamy in a gigantic Chinese way.

To recap:
I am not usually that into Asian men, but…
Wow, Wifey left this morning for Nova Scotia and I am confessing my love of another man
That is weird
You would think I would wait until day 3
I tempered it by being attracted to Dawn Wells, right?
Tomorrow’s 20 Questions is about single parenting
I have no idea how full-time single parents do it
Looking your way ZZ
All day with Little Man and we both still have all our fingers and toes
Wooo-Hooo!

Atlantis

I will refrain from waxing eloquent about the massive amount of snow that has fallen this weekend. Suffice it to say that my back is tired and I hate shoveling. As an addendum, I would like to add that Little Man enjoys trailblazing in 24 inches of snow. When I download the pics I will put on up here.

Anyway… this weekend had a bunch of TV shows dedicated to one of my favorite myths, the Myth of the Lost Continent of Atlantis. Oooooh Atlantis… Now there are many theories associated with the lost continent/civilization of Atlantis, but the one that always makes me both giggle and rage is the super-advanced civilization theories. You know... the theories that Atlantis was a super-technological wonder civilization with hover bikes and laser spears. In this theory the surviving Atlanteans impart the knowledge of pyramid building to nascent civilizations (early Egyptians and Mayans) by becoming part of the civilization. I have a couple of bones to pick here.

Bone the first: pyramids as a building concept is not very hard. The execution of it is difficult, but the theory behind it is pretty darn simple. The bottom is not as big as the top. The taller you want it, the bigger the bottom needs to be. Not rocket science. This is not a “technology” that an ancient civilization couldn’t smurf out. Given time and nearly inexhaustible man-power with enough incentive, pyramids happen. Deal with it. The process is not elegant, the process is brute force.

If, all of the sudden, the Old Kingdom Egyptians started making 14 story tall office buildings with steel girder construction methods, I would assume some outside influence from a more advanced culture.

Bone the second: I highly doubt that the skills a super-advanced society would bring to bear on a stone/iron/bronze age society would revolve around building large edifices of stone; I think it would more likely revolve around bathing and the brushing of teeth not being the precursor to demonic possession. Maybe they would have taught them not to shit in their streets or to wash their hands. If a culture has achieved the micro-processor or the ability to focus light into a laser, I am positive that they have gotten the rudiments of hygiene down pat.

Hey, Bob, should we teach our Iron Age cousins that sanitation is one of the keys to staving off massive amounts of disease?

Nope, let’s teach Anok Sabé over there how to stack stones on top of each other.

Yeah, you’re right. They couldn’t handle “clean.” Let’s go native and crap in the corner and wipe our ass with our hand.

To recap:
So much shoveling
My back is quite angry with me
Not like “Screw you! I’m outta here!” angry
But unhappy nonetheless
Lord Pithy is heading to Ireland tomorrow
Lsig has procreated
That unfortunately means that ksig has as well...
Congratulations to the whole sig clan
I think I should make a T-shirt of “Pyramids Happen: Deal with it”
Any takers? I could Café Press something up real quick like

Five things

Five Things today:

Thing the first: It is amazing how much better a kitchen looks when you put hardware on the cabinets. That being said, it is amazing how unfinished it looks when you are only able to get about 70% of the hardware on. The other 30% waiting on longer screws. It is amazing how many trips to the hardware store are necessary during any particular home improvement, and how many more are necessary when it is the kitchen being remodeled. The cabinets will look nice when done though.

Thing the second: The Super Marble Run is a bitch to reconfigure. Little Man decided that yesterday was the day to change how it had been laid out since Christmas. Over an hour later, Little Man had a shiny new layout and a tired papa who was incredulous at the lack of playing with said new Super Marble Run configuration. I guess an hour’s worth of construction is a bit too long of a wait for a 4.6 year old to wait to play with all its marbly goodness.

Thing the third: Is it wrong to throw other peoples’ recycling out of the big neighborhood recycling drop off point dumpsters so that I can get my recycling picked up? I mean, this is about ME feeling good about my environmental conscious. I KNOW my recycling is getting picked up, while those sorry littering suckers who got there before me only THINK they are helping the environment. Nope, you sorry suckers aren’t recycling, you are littering… by proxy, you environmentally unfriendly jackasses! Yep, all your Girl Scout cookie cases are now litter.

Thing the fourth: I had a fourth thing not too long ago, but I have clearly forgotten what it was about. That’s how it seems to go with the old memory. Some days I gots it, some days I don’ts. This does not bode well for Thing the fifth though…

Thing the fifth: oooh. Oh yeah, The Computer Room (nee Office) is now relatively clean. For some reason Wifey’s laptop occasionally decides that it needs the network authentication key for our wireless network. You know the bajillion letter and number code that lets our router know that it is okay for the laptop to use our Internet services. It looks something like…

IOJBGFOIUWGRFWE089H54LKJBEDFGVOPIYHE054RHGLEK5RGE90U509NGLJKE
RFBEIUHRV9OI3HN45OPGIN3509VH5

But completely different. Anyway… the information used to be in this blue or black folder on the edge of the computer table. I am not sure where that folder went, but it was not to be found in the computer room. Even after the room was semi-cleaned up. Therefore I had to have a delightful online chat with the good folks at Geek Squad. Luckily they are required to type in real words, because I could not have followed an IM Txt lingo’ed IT chat. Anyway, the Geek Squad guy was very pleasant and helped us out pretty much immediately and now Wifey’s computer is all netted up AND the office is relatively cleaner.

To Recap:
I have to get those new hardware screws tonight
Okay, I am soooo adding this to the blogroll
The wrong kind of funny
20 Questions Tuesday is tomorrow
If I could only remember what the topic was that I had picked out

Breathe

Nothing to post about today, so here we go with another writing exercise. This one is “write about combat in first person.”


Just concentrate on breathing. Breath is life. Feint. Life is breath. Parry. The flurry of activity around me is blinding, I just focus all my thoughts on the breath. Thrust. Instinct saves me. Kill. Instinct driven by countless hours of training. Parry. Spin. Instinct honed in countless melees. Pivot. Thrust. Another kill. Breathe in. Three more. Breathe out. Concentrate on the breath. Dodge. Breath is life. Lunge. Life is breath. Kick. Breathe. I am alive. I am breathing. My sword drags across one of them. I dodge the other’s lunge. Three down. Breathe in. Breathe out. They have no choice, but to attack. Breathe. I have no choice, but to kill. I make it swift. Not deep and slow like my breathing.

One more. The dance slows, but I keep my breathing steady. His breath is ragged and heavy. Breathe in. Action. Reaction. Instinct. Time slows more. Feint. Breathe out. Parry. Focus on the breathing. His breath is irrelevant. Breathe in. Move. Breathe out. Advance. Lunge. Breathe in. Retreat. Breath is life. Life is breath. Parry. Spin. Time slows even more. I see his blade. I breathe in as the blade passes. Parry. I breathe out as I move it out of the way. I slow down my breathing more. I slow down time even more. I lunge. I thrust. I parry. I breathe. He lunges. I hit. I kick. I thrust. I breathe. He doesn’t. Time speeds back up to normal, and I take a deep breath.



Meh, I am not sure if I like it, but it is only an exercise.

To recap:
I miss my constant caffeine high
Should be able to use the sink tonight
I have a dental appointment tomorrow morning
I haven’t been flossing much
Oh well
Not sure what is on tap for tomorrow’s Digital Thursday

Tedium and Inactivity

I have run into a problem associated with reducing the daily amount of caffeine in my diet. I guess since I was not feeling 100% last week I did not notice the issue. Without the illness weakening my perceptive abilities I have noticed something that was not apparent to my adlepated brain. It turns out that caffeine is absolutely necessary in my professional life because my job is mind numbingly boring.

Sweet Jebus help me. My job is akin to picking up spilled toothpicks while watching paint dry. It is mindless tedium followed by large moments of inactivity. It is clipping the grass one blade at a time and watching a tree grow. It is… you are probably tired of the analogies by now, I will move on. I have the inglorious task of connecting vector lines and then watching progress bars slowly creep across my screen. Conversion progress bars… print queue progress bars… print to PDF progress bars… flattening progress bars… save progress bars… my life slowly draining progress bars… Please make it stop!

It was not until I got to work today and watched my concentrative energy slowly drained by the difficult to focus on tasks at hand did I realize that caffeine is the only thing that has kept me from sleeping on the job. The job sure as hell isn’t keeping me from taking a snooze. Trained monkeys could sleep at this desk… under-trained St Bernard’s could find slumber easy. However, squirrels on crack would not sleep through this job, because, well, they are squirrels and they are on crack.

Caffeine is all that keeps me remotely employable. Caffeine, my co-worker… Caffeine, my friend… Caffeine, my companion … Caffeine, my lover … Caffeine my savior…

To recap:
I am fighting the urge to sleep and the urge to drink more caffeine today
I hope I do not lose either of these fights
One would think that I would find a more efficient caffeine delivery system than Mountain Dew
One would be incorrect because coffee tastes like boiled socks and I am unwilling to use a pill form of caffeine
I am not a trucker
I do not drive a big rig
I am not known for hauling goods cross country in the vehicle that Peter built
I am no truck driver
I have lately been mistaking thirst for hunger
I need to drink more water
The counter-tops are stained and have three nice coats of acrylic on them
The water elements (sink and dishwasher) in our new kitchen should be attached today
Oh, Glorious Dishwasher! How we have missed you so...
That means we are only a sky-light and some cosmetics away from having Phase 2 of the construction done
Phase 3 is coming fast on its heels
Phase 3 will be interesting to say the least

Stupid Stomachabitch

Last night I was up until stupid early because my stomach was on fire. A strong burning sensation in my belly made laying down and sleeping nearly impossible. I have had a track record of upper gastro-intestinal issues and pretty consistently take medication to alleviate some of the more tiresome symptoms. Forget the Prilosec for 3 days and the belly will let you know.

But the issue last night was something more than mere GERD. Last night was something… well, something more . Now I have to go about the arduous task of finding a new primary care physician. The previous 2 that I have most recently seen changed practices to areas of town that are not at all convenient.

Anyway, I am preoccupied with belly woes, so this post will be rather short.

To recap:
Crackers and water are not a way to live
I am tired of burping
Stupid Stomchabitch