#310 In which our hero give a quick recap of recent events.

 Cat dies

My cat died a couple of weeks ago. He was 17 and, even though he was a terrible pain in my ass who insisted on sleeping on my pillow and waking me up nightly, I was pretty broken up about losing him. He had really been going downhill for the past year, more so then I really allowed myself to acknowledge. I finally had him put to sleep. I’ll write up a proper memorial at some put, but I’m not up to it right now.

Child ages

My oldest turned 8 yesterday. That amazes me. She’s such a smart, beautiful, reasonable little person. I can hardly get my head around the fact that The Scientist and I made her. From scratch.

And she’s a little nerd, too, like her daddy. More than anything she wanted a membership to Club Penguin, this online MMO for kids. We wouldn’t allow it for a long time, figuring she’d just lose interest and then we’re out 30 bucks. But she’s stuck with it, and we finally relented. It comes at the perfect time, with the weather getting colder I won’t have to try to pry her away from the computer, which she will be glued to for months to come. At least six months, since that’s the length of the membership.

Hero frets

There seems to be a bit of an exodus going on at work right now. We had some layoffs recently, which suck but aren’t anything I’m not accustomed to. But more than that, we’ve had several people in the department resign in the last two weeks. It doesn’t really affect me directly, these are people that I didn’t work that closely with. But it does give me pause… why is everyone in such a hurry to get away from this agency? It starts to give life to my growing concern that this place really isn’t as creative as I’d like it to be; and the account services staff seem to be, with a few exceptions, just stuffed suits that don’t know creativity from a hole in the ground. Worrying. Worrying.

That’s it for now. More (lengthy) posts to come.

###

FLAG HARANGUE

This morning I noticed that a friend of mine of Facebook (a real friend, BTW, not just a “Facebook friend”) had joined a Facebook group called “WE SUPPORT COL VAN T. BARFOOT'S (RET) EFFORT TO FLY THE U.S. FLAG.” This piqued my interest because who’s preventing people from displaying the flag? Also, I’m a natural cynic, so I assumed there was more to the story.

So I clicked to see what the hubbub was. Here’s the official group description:

90-year-old Retired Army Colonel and Congressional Medal of Honor recipient Van T. Barfoot has been ordered by his homeowner's association to stop displaying his U.S. flag on his own flagpole in front of his own home. The homeowner's association disapproves of the 21 foot flagpole (not the flag) and has now hired a law firm and legal proceedings against him appear to be pending.

It continues, but that’s the gist of it. As of this moment, there are 62,884 members of this group. That’s more than 60 thousand people who read this description and said, “Hell no! No Big Brother government organization is going to keep a veteran from proudly flying the stars and strips on my watch!”

But, out of those 62,884 people, I wonder how many really read the news stories the page linked to or, really, took note of this one line: The homeowner's association disapproves of the 21 foot flagpole (not the flag).

Clearly, no-one is telling this war hero that he can’t display the flag, they’re just saying that a 21-foot flagpole is too damn high. That’s a flagpole TWO STORIES high. Maybe these homeowner’s regulations stem from safety concerns. I mean, if 21-foot of metal pipe fell on your head while you were out walking the dog, wouldn’t you be upset?

Also, that’s the job of homeowner organizations, to make rules and regulations that all homeowners agree to live by. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that Col. Barfoot didn’t review these regulations before erecting his flagpole.

And maybe he did a half-ass job of it. Just because he’s a hero doesn’t mean he can pour cement. Maybe the thing threatened to crash into his neighbor’s house in every moderate wind?

Or, maybe it’s the butchest flagpole you’ve ever seen and the homeowners’ organization is a bunch of tight-assed jerks. Actually, as I read more about the homeowners’ association, it sounds like that’s exactly what they are.

But the point of my rant, though, is that tens of thousands of people signed up for this group; most without bothering to look deeper into the issue. And this grassroots movement was successful! After Fox News (ugh) got hold of it and the story went national, and after many calls and letters from the nation, the homeowners’ association backed off.

I do have to wonder though, if this was a story about someone wanting to display the Confederate Flag if it would have gotten so much traction in the news? What if it was a legal immigrant wanting to display the flag of their home country? Would the Governor of the state weighed in on the issue then?

I’m pretty sure Fox News wouldn’t pick up that story.

SOUR HOUR

Speaking of Halloween; you might wonder if I dressed up for my work's annual Halloween party. You might wonder this because you remember that my costume last year was fucking AWESOME (if I do say so myself).

Now, the prize for best costume last year was a pair of round-trip tickets to anywhere in the continental United States. Not a bad prize. I wanted to win them, bad.

I did not.

Instead, this jackass won by dressing up like a woman. Ugh. I was rather put out by the entire thing. I debated if I wanted to make an effort to dress up this year or not; I was still pissed about losing to the tranny (Still, after an entire year? Oh yes.) but I enjoy making and wearing costumes, and if there was a good prize I figured I'd go for it. But, then the prizes were announced and the grand prize for the costume contest (a $50 gift certificate) was less than inspiring.

But, since I'm a good sport, I dressed up anyway:


Yep, I was "Bitter." My costume was a big hit. There were a surprisingly large number people who still remember last year's costume and think I was robbed.

Which I was. Yep, still bitter.

###

CHEAT FEAT

On the way to work this morning I heard a commercial for a website called “Ashley Madison.” It’s a hook-up site for married people. I’m no prude, and I guess I’m not surprised that such a thing exists, but I was floored to hear it on the radio.

Dating sites are one thing, but one that caters to people wanting to have an affair? That’s more than a little creepy.

So, naturally, I had to check out the site.

First thing that hit me was the tagline: “Life is short. Have an affair.” I’m like no shit? This is appealing to people? Clearly, I’m not the target audience.

The whole thing bugs me. Oddly enough, I’d be considerably less offended if a married man went on a traditional dating service or Craig’s list or something similar and pretended to be single.

And it’s not like I’ve never cheated on a girlfriend before, ‘cuz I have. And it’s not like I’m not open to personal ads, even though I’ve never done anything like that. Well, I take that back: there was a brief, dark period in my life where I dabbled in AOL personals (ugh, I know) and even got a few responses… but I never followed up and certainly never went out on any dates. I was single at the time, for what it’s worth.

Anyway, I dug around a little on the site; mostly to see if anywhere it mentioned that having an affair is most likely illegal in your state and we’re not liable if you get caught and lose half your stuff. The TERMS OF USE did include this:

In your use of our Service, you agree to act responsibly in a manner demonstrating the exercise of good judgment. For example and without limitation, you agree not to: (a) violate any applicable law or regulation…

Let me stop you there, because hey? Having an affair isn’t generally thought of as exercising good judgment. Also, isn’t adultery illegal? That would be violating an “applicable law,” right?

But, eh, what do I know? Maybe having an affair is the best thing that could happen to some couples.

I also enjoyed this portion of their FAQ (answering “I'm planning on meeting someone. What should I remember?”)

Try and tell at least two people where you're going to be, the name of the person you're meeting, what they look like and when you expect to be home. You can provide this information without revealing the purpose of your meeting.

Hey, Bob? I’m going to be meeting a blond-haired woman, 5’3”, at the Starbucks on the corner of Green and Cedar this Saturday at 7:30pm. What? Oh, no reason, just wanted to let you know. In case I, y’know, go missing or something.

There’s even a money back guarantee if you don’t hook up! Apparently you may not be able to guarantee the stability of your marriage, but you CAN guarantee your chances of having an affair.

###

BRAIN STRAIN

This morning a blog topic popped, unbidden, into my head. It was perfect: something I could write a reasonable length post about, didn't require me to edit photos to make it interesting, and would be easy to write. It was so perfect and obvious, that I felt no need to write it down on the spot, being that I'd easily remember it for later when I had time to write.

Then I forgot it.

On my drive home, I remembered what it was but, being in the middle of traffic, had no means of recording it. Since this was the second time it came into my head, I was sure I'd remember it this time.

Nope.

I've been racking my brains for the last hour an hour, trying to remember just what the hell it was. No luck. At one point it did come to me, complete and perfect, and I thought Yes! That's it! Then, something on TV caught my attention and it was gone, just like that. Crazy how the brain works (or maybe, just how my brain works).

So, instead of the thoughtful, funny and moving post that should be here, you get this. Blame my brain.

###

SMELL HELL

Lily calling me from the bathroom:

LILY: Daddy! Daddy!
ME: What is it?
LILY: Come here!
ME: (walking over to the bathroom) What's wrong, honey?
LILY: Daddy! You gotta smell this!

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that Lily is potty trained. But I don't feel the need to experience the pooping with her, y'know?

PS: Blah, forgot to post yesterday. So much for NaBloPoMo.

###

WRITE FIGHT

Still working on that novel. Well, not even the novel, now I’m trying to write the necessary BS that comes with trying to sell a novel. Namely, the cover letter and synopsis.

This is critical. A good cover letter and synopsis are just as important as a good book, if you goal is to get published. The reason being that no matter how awesome your novel is, if your cover letter is shitty the agent/publisher is going to chuck it into the trash, unread. And the reason for that is that there’s a lot of wannabe writers (myself included) and all of them are sending submissions.

So you have to grab their attention right away, get them interested enough so they actually read the sample pages you’ve sent. And I think I’ve finally written a pretty decent cover letter.

But the synopsis has been kicking my ass.

It’s no easy task… my book is 74,000 words long. I need to express the entire plot in two double-spaced pages… about 600 words. And it needs to be exciting and engaging. When I first sat down to do it, I thought “Good Lord, how can I ever do that in two pages?”

But I did finally manage to bang out a synopsis, even if it was twice as long as it should be. Re-reading it just now, I see that it’s terrible… a lot of and then this happened, and then this happened, etc. It seemed insurmountable.

But then I came to my senses.

“What the fuck?” I thought to myself. “You do this shit EVERY FUCKING DAY!” And it’s true. As an advertising writer, I am forever being told to condense a three-page specifications sheet into a two line benefit statement. Or expresses the entire concept of a three-month multi-platform advertising campaign into a quick sound bite. I do this all the time, and I’m good at it. So what’s my problem now?

Truth is, it shouldn’t be a problem. And it’s not going to. I am going to bang this damn thing out, tonight if I can. That is, if I can stop blogging for a minute and get to work.

###

HOPE FLOATS

I am thrilled that Obama won the election. While I hoped, I secretly doubted it could really happen. I certainly didn’t expect Ohio to go Democrat… my fellow Ohioans have well and thoroughly dashed my hopes on Ohio being regarded as anything but a hick backwater in the past (constitutional ban on gay marriage anyone?).

But this time, this most important time, the state got it right. The country got it right. It’s hard not to get all sappy about the “future of America,” but I like to believe that yesterday’s election really was us coming together as a nation and saying, “Okay, this is bullshit. We’ve endured enough. We’ve voted for--and received--the president we deserve for nearly a decade now, but we’re willing to elevate ourselves this one time and take a chance on something new. Look past the safe and known and give this young guy a go.”

Fired up? Ready to go!

###

CAT ATTACK

Two things of note happened today: I voted in what may be the most important presidential election of my generation; and my cat puked on me. Knowing you, my audience, as well as I do, I’ll relate that incident that is more interesting to you.

It was 12:30am. I was sleeping, and the cat was sleeping on my head, as usual. Now, when I say “sleeping on my head,” he wasn’t really on top of my head. Rather, he likes to sleep at the top of my pillow, close to the wall. This benefits both of us. He keeps the bald spot on the top of my head warm and, presumably, the heat radiating from my skull keeps him warm. So, y’know, win-win.

Now, we have a couple of rules, this cat and I. He get two trips around… he likes to jump up on the foot of the bed, walk completely around my perimeter, then settle down on the pillow. He does this twice, then we’re okay. But if he goes for three, he gets chucked off my bed, because that’s annoying.

Sometimes, he licks my face in the middle of the night. He gets the brush off once, then if he comes back for me he gets tossed. Nothing is more alarming that getting an unexpected and uninvited lick.

Note to self: holy crap, you sound like crazy cat guy.

Anyway, the cat (“Ash,” if you’re wondering) obeyed all the rules and was sleeping and purring peacefully, as was I (sleeping at least, I don’t purr in my sleep that I know of). And he’s the kicker: if he had started to choke up a hairball, I would have woken up and got him away from the bed. But no, there was no warning noise, just a sudden BLARGH! and my neck and shoulder is covered in cat puke.

I jump up, of course. “Goddammit!” The Scientist jolts up, saying “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?”

I strip off my shirt and toss it in the hamper. Next is the pillow case, and the one blanket he managed to tag. The puke itself was mostly water, but holy lord did it stink. Enough that I took the foul load straight to the washer downstairs and started a load.

The rest of the night was uneventful, and I woke up with the perpetrator purring contentedly on my pillow, like nothing ever happened.

###

MCCAIN PAIN

As reported by AP:

A suburban Detroit woman decided to scare up the vote by just offering candy to John McCain supporters Friday. Shirley Nagel turned away other children empty-handed. Nagel called Democrat Barack Obama "scary." TV station WJBK says a sign outside Nagel's house warned: "No hand-outs for Obama supporters, liars, tricksters or kids of supporters." Asked about children she turned away crying, she said, "Oh well. Everybody has a choice."

And with that one simple story, the difference between McCain supporters and Obama supporters is made clear.

PS: Ohio, try not to fuck me on Tuesday.

###

DRINK FINK

Two things that will help you understand the rest of this post:

1. Macey is potty training (and actually doing a great job of it)
2. The Scientist loves Slurpees. I mean, LOOOOVES Slurpees

The Scientist goes to pick up the girls after daycare. Macey is wearing big-girl panties all day now (as opposed to Pull-Ups) so one of the first things asked of the daycare teachers is if she stayed dry all day. Now, I don’t remember if my wife had talked to Macey about this ahead or time, or just decided on the spur of the moment, but she thought that if Macey had stayed dry all day she would get a special treat right after school; ie., a Slurpee.

So The Scientist shows up to daycare and the girls are all excited and run over to see her. A teacher confirms that Macey has stayed dry all day long. So, my wife says, “Macey, that’s great! Since you stayed dry we’re all going to get Slurpees!”

And then, at that very moment, Macey wets her pants.

She reaches around and grabs her butt. The Scientist says, “Oh no, Macey, you didn’t just…”

And Macey, in a little sad voice says, “Slurpees?”

And, being that The Scientist and I are pretty hardass when it comes to doing what we say, she has to inform Macey that, sorry, now there will be no Slurpees on the way home.

“But… but, Slurpee!” Macey says.

“Sorry, honey, but I said that we could only get Slurpees if you stayed dry…”

Then all hell broke loose.

Macey reacted to this virtual “Psyke!” from The Scientist with unadulterated furry. “Slurpee! Sluuuuuurpeeeee!!” she bellowed. This went on for the entire car ride home. It was about this time I called on my way home, and The Scientist answered from the car. I could barely hear her because of the screaming coming from the back seat.

“Slurrrrrrrrpeee! SLURR-PEE!!”

“What is going on?” I asked. “I’ll tell you when you get home,” my wife answered, grumpily.

When I got home the fit had not abated one bit. “Sluuuurpeee! SLURRPEEEEEEEE!!” I got the run-down and tried my best to distract Macey. Lily was also grumpy, but in the general grousing way: “I wanted to get a Slurpee, too! But Macey messed it up and I don’t like it when she does all that crying and I’m thirsty but not for milk but a red Slurpee….”

This went on for quite some time, and I’m doing a really poor job of explaining the horror/pathos of Macey’s crys. It was a pathetic cross between “Oh dear Lord, I miss my best friend the Slurpee and I’ll never see her again” and “Mama fucked me over big-time.

But this, like all things related to our kids having fits, finally passed.

And the next day, Macey stayed dry and did get a Slurpee.

Thank God.

Addendum: As evidenced above, the entire family got Slurpees the next day. AND the next day after that. Since we only fill them up half-way, that means we're still good parents, right?

EDIT: I've corrected the story above after The Scientist reminded me that it was oh-so much more tragic than I originally related. The corrected tale is above.

###

FANCY DANCY

I'm generally not a "OMG! This video is soooo the awesome!" But this just makes me happy.

###

IT'S ON, LAWN!

Yesterday I seeded the entire back yard and the side yard (plus a few spots here and there in the front yard that were bare), spread starter fertilizer, then watered the ever-living hell out of it. So, if the "lush, full lawn" copy on the side of the Scott's bag isn't complete hyperbole, I should start seeing grass in a matter of days! Or maybe a week or two. Honestly, I didn't read the bag that closely. Then I threw it away. But! The point is: grass! And more importantly, no more digging or grading or mucking about with the lawn.

I hope.

###

TEA SPREE

About a month ago I was cleaning off my dresser when I came across an individually wrapped tea bag. I don’t remember where I got it or how it got on my dresser, but there it was. It might have been a remnant from my brother-in-law’s gift basket when we flew out to California for his wedding.

I’m not a big tea drinker, but I have read good things about green tea. So, I usually keep a box of green tea in the cabinet, and when I have a hankering for something hot, but can’t be bothered to make coffee, I have a cup of green tea. I like to think that the benefits of the antioxidants and whatnot in there makes up for the generous amount of sugar I use. But anyway, this mysterious tea bag is “Good Earth Teas’ Original Sweet & Spicy.” On a lark, I decide to give it a try.

And holy Lord, it is the most delicious tea I have ever had.

I cannot get over just how fantastic this tea is. Man! Naturally, I want more of it. So I hit my local grocery store. They don’t have it. I go to the discount grocery next door. They don’t have it. So I go to the Whole Foods, which is a little out of the way. They don’t have it.

I start getting a little desperate.

So I look it up online and, like everything else in the world, you can have it sent right to your doorstep. So I do.

A couple of days later I’m meeting The Scientist and the girls out for dinner. I’m early, so I run over to Wild Oats which is completely out of my way, but close to where we’re eating. I don’t expect them to have my tea either.

But they do.

Elated, I buy a box. Then, a couple of days after that, the tea I ordered online arrives. But here’s the thing: at the time, I was consumed with getting more of this mélange-like tea. I could have just got a single box of tea, but there were considerable savings if I bought multiple boxes.

Thus:

I got six boxes. Seven, if you count the one I bought at the store.

The tea is still delicious, but… well, it appears that now that I have an ample supply, it’s not quite at delicious as it seemed at first.

Does anyone know if you can freeze tea?

###

ART START

Lily likes to draw. And while she's only four, she sometimes busts out these drawings which I think are really good. Really good meaning that I can tell, more or less, what they're supposed to me.

Yesterday she was drawing and informed me that she was going to make some dinosaurs for me. This is the first one she drew:


Clearly, it's awesome. Our conversation when something like this:

ME: Wow, honey, that's great! Look at all the spikes on his back!
LILY: I know! He's very spikey.
ME: What's his name?
LILY: I don't know. You name him!
ME: How about "Spikeasurus"?
LILY: Yeah! I'm going to draw another!
ME: Great!

Then, about five minutes later, she brought me this:

ME: Wow, honey, that's... wow. That's something else.
LILY: He's very tall!
ME: Yeah, he sure is.
LILY: What's his name?
ME: Boy, I dunno. How about "Dongasurus"?
LILY: Yes! That's the perfect name, daddy!
ME: Sure it is. Go show that to your mama.

So yeah, remember me when you're filling out your ballot for father of the year.

###

HATE STATE

Last week I had encounters with the two kinds of people I most hate in the world. And, lucky me, they both happened at the time.

I was at the grocery store picking up a prescription. There were two people in front of me, and the transaction seemed to be going slowly. Not horribly slowly; I was absorbed enough in my own woolgathering that it didn’t really register as slow. But, apparently, all time stopped for the lady behind me.

Now, I hadn’t been there that long, but apparently I had stepped into line as precisely the correct moment to avoid a line. Because three or four people quickly queued up behind me. The pharmacy in my grocery store is next to the employee time clock, and just as the first woman in front of me was finishing up, a manager came on duty and clocked in. Now, I’m not sure how anyone would know he was a manager; he seemed to be dressed in the same khakis and blue shirt as everyone else, but the woman behind me instantly knew what he was. “Excuse me,” she said to him. “Can you get someone else to ring at the pharmacy? The girl there seems a little… slow.”

Now, this girl did look a little slow to me, as in dim-witted. And when, I have to ask, did they start letting just anyone work at the pharmacy? At one point my prescriptions were only handed to me by actual pharmacists. But now, it seems like they just let any register-jockey man the desk.

Anyway, the manager, a fresh-faced young man in a freshly pressed shirt, was eager to help out this lady, so he went over to the pharmacy window and addressed this only employee who was typing things into a computer. By her equally dull-witted expression it was clear that she, too, was just a lackey, and not a pharmacist.

Now, I didn’t catch what he said to her, but I’m assuming it was something to the effect of, “Hey, can you stop whatever you’re doing and start ringing out some of the people in this line?” And I didn’t hear what she said to him, but I heard the rest of the exchange loud and clear.

FRESH-FACED MANAGER: Okay, put it this way, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.
APATHETIC EMPLOYEE: You can’t tell me.
FFM: Yes, yes I can.
AE: No you can’t. You can ASK me, but you can’t tell me!

But, she got up from the computer and moseyed over to the register. This is kind of person I hate #1. The person who openly hates their job and, by extension, everyone they have to deal with as part of their job. One assumes that she was told that speaking directly to the public would be part of her job when she was hired; maybe she could try not to be so contrary about it. I mean, everyone hates their job at some point, but Jesus, it’s your JOB. You get paid to do it. Just fucking do it.

But, as much as I dislike the woman now “serving” me, I hate the woman behind me even more (she is kind of person I hate #2).

As soon as the manager and this dumbass employee get into it, she starts huffing and puffing behind me. “Unbelievable!” she says, just loud enough for the people directly around her to hear. “Unbelievable! If I talked to my boss that way, I’d be fired in a minute! Unbelievable!”

This is the kind of passive-aggressive harpy who never confronts the object of her scorn directly; she only mumbles about the situation, hoping that the people directly in front and behind her will take the bait and initiate a bitch-fest. She’s hoping that I’ll chime in with “I know! You just don’t get good service these days!” or some such shit.

The really crappy thing is that this kind of person usually pipes up when the person behind the counter is doing the best they can. Like they have some crazy return and refund they have to coax out of their computer; something that only comes up once in a lifetime. In these situations I like to say something really cynical to the huffer and puffer; like “I know! How dare she not know those beans were 36 cents a can, and not 38! The nerve!” Sometimes they get that I’m making fun of them, sometimes not.

But, back to this pharmacy situation, the lady behind the counter wasn’t doing the best she could; she was barely doing anything at all. So I just kept my mount shut.

And once again wished I could shoot laser beams out of my eyes.

###

NEW SPEW

As usual, I am going to blame my lack of posting on being busy at work. I could write in the evenings, of course; but the truth is that generally after writing all day, my motivation is low to sit down and write some more. But once we get the new computer set up (Hey! We got a new computer for Christmas!) maybe I’ll be a little more excited, considering that our current computer would lock up if you tried to do something demanding, like cut and paste in Word.

So, a quick update:

• More water in the basement, yah! As I’ve commented on before at length, this fucking money pit of a house drives me crazy. Last month when it was unseasonably warm we got a lot of rain. The basement waterproofing/sump pump system we put in worked great. But the backyard still flooded, and our attempts to divert the water after from the house worked a little too well… the water instead pooled up in the side yard, and filled the basement window wells. When that happened water started to seep in between the cracks in the windows. End result was The Scientist and I out at 11pm digging a trench from the side yard to the street to release the water. And it worked surprisingly well. I spent a long time in the back yard watching the flow of the water, and I’m pretty sure I understand how to contour the land so that the water flows where it should. This is a project (a BIG project) for the spring. Right now the snow and ice have returned, so we should be safe from flooding for a couple of months. *Crosses fingers*
• Lily hasn’t crapped her pants since the big blow-up. So that’s nice.
• I’ve been hacking and coughing for weeks; apparently the tail end of whatever ick I got over the holidays. I finally went to the doctor last Monday and he gave me antibiotics. He also told me that the weird little dry patch on my cheek probably isn’t cancer. So that’s one thing to stop worrying about.

That’s about it for now. I’d love to write about some of the frustrating and ridiculous things that have been going on at work… but I’m about 80% sure that some of my co-workers have discovered this site. So I’m not saying anything.

###

DISPLEASED DISEASE

We all survived the holidays.

As previously reported, The Scientist got sick, and remained sick, for days. She basically didn’t get out of bed for four days. Come day three my father-in-law, who is prone to get a little bored, started to give her some shit about it. “You can’t just lay in bed for three days,” he said. “You have to get up. Take a shower and come downstairs; that’ll make you feel better!”

Then, despite my best efforts, I got sick, too. I started to feel crappy on Christmas day, and rapidly went downhill from there. In a perfect world my wife would have started to feel much better about the time I started to get sick… but it didn’t work that way. We were both sick and cranky at the same time. Thankfully the girls never got as sick as we did.

Speaking of the girls… Christmas morning was a big event, of course. They enjoyed their presents (all of them--it’s fun that they’re still at the stage that everything is fun, even clothes. That was always the bummer present for me when I was a kid. “Oh, a box of underwear. Big deal.” But they’re girls, so maybe it’ll be different) and the dueling toy rockets were a big hit. Maybe the best gift was this dumb marble run toy I bought on a lark.


I have to say, The Scientist and I also enjoy playing with it.

The in-laws left the day after Christmas, hoping to avoid the specter of death that was lurking over our home. Can’t say I blame them. It wasn’t the holiday that anyone had wanted.

And now, nearly two weeks after Christmas, The Scientist and I are mostly recovered. I still have a head full of glue, and my wife’s lungs are still a little labored… but Lord knows we’re head and shoulders above where we were.

EPILOGUE: Both my mother-in-law and father-in-law are now sick with what we had. I wish they weren’t, we tried hard to sequester our sick selves so they wouldn’t be infected. The Scientist’s father told her, “I’m so run down, all I want to do is stay in bed.”

To which I say, “Why don’t you get up, take a shower? That’ll make you feel better!”

###

DAUGHTER FODDER

Whenever someone asks me if there was anything about fatherhood that I didn't expect, I say that I expected to love my children (eventually, as it turned out), I expected to feel protective of them, and I expected them to be terribly cute... but I never expected them to be so funny.

These kids make me laugh every day. And every time one of them does something that makes me laugh, I think I need to remember this so I can post it to my blog! But I never do. Sometimes because it's just funny in the moment, or it's so esoteric to our family that it wouldn't be funny to anyone else, or sometimes because it is just so stupid that I don't like to admit that it made me laugh. Like farts. Any time either of the girls farts, it's good for a chuckle.

But Lily did something earlier this week that made me laugh.

She apparently learned rock-paper-scissors at school, and wanted to play with me. But she didn't have it quite right.

LILY: Daddy! Daddy! Let's play!
ME: Play what, honey?
LILY: Play craft paper, stone, horse!
ME: Wait, what is it?
LILY: Craft paper, stone, horse!
ME: Huh. Honey, do you mean rock-paper-scissors?
LILY: Yeah!

So we play a couple of rounds, and I tell her paper covers rock, scissors cut paper, etc.

LILY: Daddy! Let's play something else!
ME: Okay, what do you want to play?
LILY (looking around) Let's play... um... rock, stove, rug!
ME: Sure!

So we play a couple rounds of rock-stove-rug (rug is in front of stove, rock breaks stove, rug covers rock) then Lily wants to play another game. This time it's Polly Pockets, horse, chair (Polly Pockets sits on chair, horse jumps over Polly Pockets, chair... jeez, I don't know what the chair does). This goes on for some time until she gets bored of it.

See? That's probably only funny to me.

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SWELL LOL

Holy crap. Rarely have so many odd and esoteric things come together to make me laugh.

LOLsheviks

Awesome. The people demand you click NOW!

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