Category: general

Where I put something when I’m too lazy to categorize it.

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babydoll kidnapping

Ahhh, the sun sets on another day.

In some charade of preparedness, I’ve been taking Keaton on long wagon-pulled walks now for a few evenings running.  I know these will in no way actually prepare me for the 65mi Muir Trail hike we’re doing in just a few weeks, but, somehow, they ease my conscience at not doing anything more tangible.

Tonight all three of us walked over to the nearest home improvement warehouse store and looked at their selection of ceiling fans (I hope to have one installed in the new front room before Sharaun’s folks get here this Saturday).  After that we indulged my wife’s sweet tooth and stopped at the local McDonald’s for soft-serve cones all around.

Oh, I remember what I wanted to talk about today… Keaton has been baaaad lately!

I mean, our daughter has always been (to us, at least) a shining example of perfection.  Every once in a while she’d have a little too-tired meltdown… but, to be honest, I always thought she was pretty easy to deal with. Not so anymore friends, not so anymore.  Lately, she’s really been playing with just how much she can get away with and how far she can push.  In some ways, I find it interesting to see her flexing her control – but her methods leave a little to be desired.  She’s particularly fond of screaming, flailing, lying dead-weight on the ground ala passive resistance, the word “No,” and complete and utter disdain for, or ignoring of, our instruction – the list goes on.

All of this started as the occasional boundary-checking, but it’s gotten a little more systemic of late.  Today, Sharaun supplemented our trite and predictable nouveau-parenting technique of “timeouts” with something I dubbed babydoll-kidnapping; because, see, Keaton loves her babydolls.  She has, by my estimates, near ten of them.  In fact, let’s count them to be sure…  From memory (pretty good Dad, eh?), they are: Baby Kia, Baby Claudia, Baby Finna, Baby Finny (I think they are brother/sister), Baby Hannah, Baby Sabrina, and Muñeca (she’s from Mexico).  She usually knows where each baby is at all times, whether they are sleeping, playing, hiding, crying, need to be burped or fed or held, etc.  Today, however, they all got rounded up and put on the high shelf of our closet.  Yup, Sharaun interned them all as some measure of additional bad-behavior deterrent.

When I got home from work, the first thing Keaton did (after my required big hug and lip-kiss) was to follow me into the bedroom and point out her dolls on the shelf.  “Look Dad,” she said, “My dolls got put up.”  Using my new-grown parenting skills, I deduced that there must be some logic behind all seven dolls being put in the closet, and chose not to comment aside from a, “I see that baby…” When I got the chance to ask Sharaun what was up with the hijacked dolls, I could hear the frustration seep back into her voice: “When she misbehaves from now on we take dolls away in addition to timeouts!, ” was her simple yet authoritarian reply.  Mmmm-hmmm; sounds good.  I’m on-board by decree at this point, “OK, I’ll remember.”

Poor Keaton; dolls all up in the closet gathering dust.  I guess we’ll see if the new technique works… but I have my doubts.  I figure this is just part of the “two year old” phase and that we’ll have to simply weather the growing and stretching and rattling fetters.  For what it’s worth, she’s still my favorite thing on Earth and I can never really be all that mad at her…

Goodnight internets.

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mercedes. i have a mercedes. mercedes.

Happy Friday all.  Welcome to the entry that almost wasn’t, but came together in a rushed half hour around 10:30pm last night.  Guess sometimes it all just works out, huh?  Moving on…

Today I left work around 11:45pm to meet Sharaun and Keaton at one of the local parks.  We had lunch in the shade and then hit the playground for a while before I had to leave and rejoin the ranks of corporate zombies back at the sawmill.  I love doing this, having some time during the day to spend with Keaton is the perfect way to break the spell of to-dos and teleconferences.

During lunch there was a couple of moms sitting at a picnic table near us.  As their young’ns played some kind of stupid Pokemon or Dragonball game on the playground (“You’re an egg now!”  “No, I’m a human already – and if you look into my eyes you’ll die!”), they sat and gabbed.  Well, one of them did – the other one just listened and gave deferential harrumphs and confirming nods.

The one talking, and boy could she talk, was rambling on and on and on (and on some more) about a car accident she’d been in recently, and the harrowing events which befell her life thereafter.  The thing is, though, she somehow managed to work in the fact that her wrecked vehicle was a Mercedes SUV at every turn of the conversation.  Soon, I began to think this was no mere coincidence:

Yeah, I had to take the Mercedes to a special Mercedes body shop that the Mercedes dealer recommended, because not just any body shop can work on a Mercedes, you know.

The rental replacement SUV they gave me was some GM or Chevy thing, and when I climbed in for the first time I couldn’t believe how small it was compared to the Mercedes.  I had to call my insurance agent and ask if they had anything more truly comparable in size the the Mercedes, because my back just couldn’t handle that thing – it’s so used to the Mercedes.

The people who hit the Mercedes were Yugoslavian or Russian or something.  When they pulled over I parked the Mercedes right in front of them because I was afraid they might try to run.

On top of this, she bemoaned how the wrecked Mercedes had hampered her and her husband’s plan to buy a boat, as they now had no vehicle to tow it with (presumably, the time the Mercedes would be in the Mercedes body shop would ruin an entire Summer boating season?).  She admitted, small hints derision vocalized at the corners of her words, that they had “settled for” an old pickup that they’ll “only use to tow the boat around,” but “never to just drive.”

I felt intensely sorry for her rough life.  And, also because I am pretty sure she was only telling the story so her friend (and whomever happened to be within earshot) had no option be to be keenly aware she owned a Mercedes, a boat, and a truck specifically for the purpose of lugging around the boat.

Not that I’m not occasionally taken into a swirl of materialism and status-symbol one-upmanship myself, but I hope I never hawk my wares quite like that.  Eh, it wasn’t even that egregious an offense… just made for quick and easy writing. And, now it’s over.

‘Night.  Have a good weekend, see ya Monday.

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just another weekend

Sunday evening and I put Keaton down before 6 o’clock.

I know, seems early, but we had a napless afternoon spent swimming at Pat’s place.  No sleep combined with sun and fun make for one very tired Keaton. In fact, we were only a scant ten minutes into an episode of the Backyardigans before she curled up next to me and put her head down in my lap. Of course though, she wasn’t tired at all when you asked her. But, Dad knows best, and put her down with the sun still shining. I swear she was asleep before I could tiptoe out of the room.  And now, with Keaton down and Sharaun still out, I’m watching Roy Rogers in 1947’s Apache Rose and thinking what I’ll cook up for dinner.

Saturday Sharaun and I finally got some inspiration and painted the front room.  Since we’re using it now as our main “sitting room,” or whatever, we’ve both been anxious to make it feel a little more “liveable” (most of the house is still the same stark white that it was when we bought the place right after construction, some five years ago).  And, although we’re extremely slow to dress the place up, I think we’re making some good progress lately.  Next on the list: a ceiling fan and (hopefully) a screen door that Sharaun won’t mind (she’s 100% against them, but I love the “notion” of an open door, sor some reason – even though it’s not really open… or something).  Yeah, well, let’s see what else I’ve got.

Anyway, part of the reason behind all the freshening up is the fact that Sharaun’s folks come to visit a just a couple weeks.  And, while Sharaun has a few more inside projects lined up, I’ve got some outside ones that are calling.  My goal is to have the place looking a little more all-around nice by the time they’re here.  Their stay here usually involves a lot of kickin’ it around the house, with things like barbecues afternoons in the sprinklers.  I’m excited, becasue I get to take some time off work.  Still a ways off though, so best to not get overexicted now…

OK folks, love you.  Sorry it’s nothing grand tonight, I’ll try and do better tomorrow.  Goodnight.

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a pleasant turnaround

Friday.

There’s been a pleasant turnaround in our small household.  Keaton hasn’t thrown up all day, and I’ve been able to sit on the couch more than the toilet.  Seems that perhaps we’ve reached the calm after the (happily breif) storm, and might have just licked those nasty creatures invading our entrails.  This is good, because it means we’re still in for the camping trip this weekend.  So, that means that tomorrow we’ll steam off into the hills as soon as I give a must-do presentation at work.  I’ll phone it in, from the very same couch I’m sitting on now, more than likely.

And, before said steaming-off into said hills, I’ll need to get stuff together.  The plan is to leave as soon as possible after the single morning meeting I couldn’t get out of, hopefully sometime around 10am.  Campsites at our regular spot are extremely limited, and there’s no reservation system (it’s primitive camping, first-come, first-served), so we always worry that the place’ll be full when we get down there.  With only five spots up for grabs, and just three of those alongside the river, it’s a must that we secure “good ones.”  So, tonight, in just a scant few minutes, in fact, I’ll be pulling the car out of the garage, doing a loop in the street and backing it right back in to load it with all our gear.

And, fast-forward to nearly 11pm.  Packing is done, and Sharaun’s putting the finishing touches on what food we’ll need to bring out in the kitchen.  I’m online typing these last few sentences and trying, futilely, to upload the presentation I have to give tomorrow morning.  Something wrong with the server at work I guess, I keep getting a timeout.  Owell, I’ll try again early before I have to speak.

For now though, I bid you a goodnight.  Love you, see you Monday.

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a lovely day spent horiztonal

Thursday.  Remember yesterday when I said I felt off and hoped I wasn’t getting the stomach bug that’s been floating around inside the bellies of our friends?  Well, I’m sick.  Keaton’s sick.  Sharaun, so far, is well.

Today I alternated between sleeping, in some half-dead approximation of myself, and running to the bathroom at the not-so-subtle behest of my knotted and writhing insides.  Furthermore, this tortuous cycle was interrupted several times to join Sharaun in the bathroom to rub little Keaton’s back and tell her it’d be “OK” as she “spit out” (what she calls it).  Having not been in this situation before, she was of course terrorized by what was happening to her physically, and only wanted to be held – which, as you might imagine, impacted our ability to “aim” her where we wished.  Ah… yes, a lovely day spent horizontal.

Sharaun took care of us both, bathing Keaton twice after each “spitting out” instance, and herself once (for the same reason); cooking me some buttered toast for lunch and later some chicken soup for dinner; taking the garbage out to the curb; all the stuff you’d expect a good mom/wife to do when you’re under the weather.  And, with that soup staying in my belly well, and glass after glass of some liquid designed to replenish my electrolytes (whatever that means), I’m feeling on the up enough to sit here and bang the keys.  Which is good, because it’s been a bad week for writing.

Let’s just hope the universe send us the mend before the weekend, as we’re slated to go camping this weekend and I’m bound and determined to get some time with dirty feet.  So send some wellness our way, eh?  If you’ve got it in abundance, throw some in and ship it, OK?

Goodnight.

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vaporized by a hadron-shooting reverse-vampire spawned from a magnetic monopole

Happy Monday folks.  Was a great weekend.  Keaton had a good time with Grammy and Grandpa in town, she got into full “show off” mode.  We barbecued, enjoyed some beer, and got some great weather.

For today, I’ve got a pretty random entry, ranging a bunch of pretty unrelated topics.  It happens sometimes on Mondays, it’s the prime day for blogging leftovers.  So, I’m gonna slap a bunch of paragraphs on a paper plate, punch in two minutes on the microwave, and pour you a glass of icewater or Pepsi or whatever.  Here goes.

Our neighborhood Fourth of July get-together was fantastic, like a huge hunk of fresh-from-the-oven Americana; with kids on bikes giving impromptu “parades,” lame-style California fireworks set atop folding ladders in the street, even down to the nametags, handshakes, and cakes decorated like American Flags.  We got to meet a ton of our neighbors and Keaton even ended up with a couple “she’s so cute” hand-me-down toys from some of the older girls.  We also put toghether an e-mail list for the block, something I thought was another stroke of genius.  Ahh, community… it’s kinda nice.

Changing subjecte drastically, I want to talk about the Large Hadron Collider for a minute.  Now, before I start, I fully realize you may have never heard of the “Large Hadron Collider,” not to mention knowing what the heck “Hadron” might be.  And, I’ll also let it go if you accidentally misread that as “Large Hard-On Collider,” it happens.  Anyway, it is “Hadron,” and all you have to know is that it’s got something-or-other to do with physics.  See, the LHC (as I’ll cooly call it from hence forward) is the world’s biggest particle accelerator, a device which physics boffins use to smash different kinds of subatomic particles together at super-high speeds.  They do this so they can observe what happens afterward, like new particles or other phenomenon created by the collisions.  To physics nerds, all of this is incredibly exciting.

There is, however, a significant amount of fear mongering and doubt on the internet about the LHC.  See, the machine has just finished being built, and is set to be fired up for the first time any day now.  This has a certain set of folks quite concerned.  These people are afraid that the experiments performed at the LHC may create awful things that could possibly destroy the entire planet.  Terribly scary-sounding things like “micro black holes,” vacuum bubbles,” “magnetic monopoles,” and “strangelets.”  Whatever those are, they sound pretty intimidating, and can, apparently, destroy the Earth.  And, even though the official safety study was incredibly comprehensive and found no cause for concern, it’s still kind of interesting to think of the unintended effects the massive machine may have.  Heck, I’ve even written about a similar scenario before.

OK, I know that probably wasn’t intersting, but I’ve been wanting to write about the Large Hadron Collider now for a couple months, and just decided I’d go ahead and do it.  If you’re interested in when keeping track of how much time you have before you’re vaporized by a hadron-shooting reverse-vampire spawned from a magnetic monopole, you can check this website.

Now then, let’s move on to something equally as off-topic.

I found this site online today and loved it. I mean, regardless of how “real” it is – what a fun escapist fantasy concept. I’ve talked before about how I have this lingering desire to “drop out’ and start/join a cooperative community, and seasteading is like that with an added layer of cool. Yeah, it’s perhaps a tad more isolated than a small community of like-minded individuals taking to an agrarian lifestyle up “in the hills” somewhere (trying to avoid Branch Davidian “compound” esque imagery here), but wouldn’t it be cool to give up modern life and go live on a huge self-sustaining bio-barge in the middle of the sea for a year? Yeah, sure you’d probably get some sort of cabin-fever, end up hating or killing or sleeping with everyone in your little water-locked society… but, y’know.

Told you it was random.  Goodnight.

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so begins another day

Wednesday morning at work: I walk from my car towards the building, my ears still ringing from the stupid-loud volume I had my car stereo set to on the way in. I’m still humming the Beatles’ “All Too Much,” a trippy-but-rocking Harrison number, my laptop bag slung across one shoulder instead of around my back messenger-style like I usually do, was just easier today.

After passing through the Orwellian badge-scanning “portal” that lets me and the rest of the arriving worker bees into the building, I break left towards the hallway that leads to the café. Past the elevators, past the ATM machines, and on into the main area where I pass the donuts, which are laid out now where the salad bar will be come lunchtime. I stop off to pick up a paper coffee cup, plastic lid, and one of those cardboard sleeves that’ll keep my hand from being burned (I was too lazy this morning to grab, clean, and reuse my Earth-friendlier cup from upstairs). Turning the corner towards the Starbucks, I chose to fill up with the stiffest, French Roast, because my normal mainstay, the Verona, has been tasting a little watered-down to me lately – I need something “extra bold” today.

A short walk to the elevator (I’m just not feeling the stairs today, even though I know they’re “good” for me) and I’m whisked up to the third floor where I make a couple turns and find my hole, identical to all the other holes but for the pictures of my wife and daughter and other personal effects pinned to the dismal gray fabric walls.  I put down the large coffee, take my laptop from its bag and plug it into the big monitor, and dial into my 8am meeting as I take a cautious sip.

And so begins another day.