How can you tell if a fish is drooling?

I'm sick.

I have a cold. And, as anyone who knows me can tell you, I don't often get sick, and therefore am not very good at it. I'm honestly a great big weenie. I moan and whine and am generally miserable. Also, I don't think very well. I assume that this is due to snot building up in the synapses in my brain.

Last night I walked to the dresser to grab my pill bottle and take take my night-time meds. Due to my compromised mental state, I accidentally picked up the fish food and, without noticing, unscrewed the cap and poured it into my hand, just as I would a pill. Thankfully, before I threw a handful of "mega marine" into my mouth, I realized what i had and carefully put it back into the cannister.

I related this story to S.A., who was standing nearby, as a humorous display of my sickness. She stated that it'd nbo big deal as it was just ocean veggies.

I replied that though it might not be life-threatening, it would be very disgusting, as it's made of ground up fish.

She was incredulous. "It is??"

I proceeded to read off the ingredients. Ground Salmon, halibut, sardines, etc.

She looked at me with an extremely perplexed look on her face.

"How come they don't get 'Mad Fish Disease'?" she asked.

Her delivery was deadpan enough that I thought she was serious. I laughed so hard I almost wet my pants.

I love my wife.

Laterz.

Ho Hum...

Random thoughts that will undoubtedly interest no-one but myself.

1. "My" secretary has 1 eye. Actually, she has 2 eyes, but only one works. They're removing the other one the day before Thanksgiving. For some reason, I can't help but feel like my life has been leading up to this.

2. I have a regular reader in California. I mean, I have folks check in from all over the country, but most of them don't show up very often. My regular readers are generally my friends in real life who have spread out all over the country. They read me because, well, they have to. Whoever reads this blog in California actually seems to care because his/her IP shows up quite often. It's a little strange.

3. While I was in college, I worked for 2 professional athletic teams. I worked in the Sports Information office at the college for 4 years. I coached 2 sports at 4 schools.

Since I graduated, more than 5 years ago, with a degree in Sport Management, my only sports employment was 1 season of JV softball at a local high school. However, in those 5 years I've worked as a video store manager, a secretary, and a computer instructor.

So that's $80,000+ well-spent tuition dollars.

4. I belong to a golf league during the summer and a bowling league the rest of the year.

I am (at least at times) a pretty decent golfer. Additionally, I don't pay for my league membership because I do some work for the golf course.

I'm a truly shitty bowler. And I pay $13 a week to bowl. That comes out to over $400 for the season.

I do not enjoy my golf league.

I LOVE my bowling league.

I don't get it, either.

It's game time!

Just got back from G.R. where we went to the Pissers first pre-season game. It was S.A.'s b-day yesterday, so this was part of her present. We attended to game with her sister Rachel and Rach's husband Jeff. Very enjoyable game, with one very minor exception.

Jeff and Rachel chipped in with us so that we could have very good seats at the game. The seats directly in front of us remained empty throughout the 1st half, but at halftime, a couple decided that those seats looked great and since they weren't being used... So they sat in front of us.

I have no problem with seat jumpers. I've done it myself at many sporting events and I do think that there's no reason to let the seats go to waste. However, I and also not a drunken asshole. This could not be said for the gentleman who sat down directly in front of me. He had so much alcohol in him that he was visibly shaking. This, however, did not prevent him from jumping up and down and screaming about things that didn't draw any reaction from the rest of the crowd. I realized that his behavior was not only irritating me, but making it impossible for S.A. to see any of the action. I decided that I needed to ask the gentleman to sit down.

This, however, required some amount of planning, because most drunks at sporting events are also belligerent, in my experience. The fact that he was obviously with a date made this possibility even more likely. Also, because we were sitting at the front of the upper deck, I was afraid that if he took a swing at me and I ended up punching him, there was a decent chance that, in his obviously balance-impaired state, he would fall over the railing. Regardless of how aggravating he was, I really didn't need to kill him.

S.A., on the other hand decided to do the more mature, if somewhat less cathartic, thing. She stood up walked over to the female usher at the top of the stairs and politely asked her to deal with the idiot in front of us. When the usher asked to see his ticket and saw that his assigned seats were ACROSS THE ARENA, she asked them to get out of her section. Fans around us applauded. The usher walked back over to S.A. and gave her arm a friendly squeeze. They were obviously sister enforcers.

Jeff, who had been pointedly ignoring the moron and concentrating on the game, leaned over and asked me what had happened. I told him that the guy had been convicted of "Drunk in front of S.A."

After that, the game went smoothly. The Pistons won and we both got a decent night's sleep at R&J's. It was a good time and, I think, a very happy birthday for S.A.

Also, just because she sometimes wishes I'd make grand-er gestures in public I offer this-

Happy Birthday S.A.
I Love You!

Laterz.

We are Turtles! Hear us roar!

I recently wrote about my bowling team. We are know far and wide as not being... well... not good. Generally speaking, we suck. However, I also said that we were improving.

I was right.

Last night the Tropic Cove Albino Turtles (so named in honor of a $250 turtle Kevin purchased this weekend at a trade show in Chicago,) won. Handily. We won all seven points. We should be the T.C. Pin Piranhas. My dad, who in this case was obviously chanelling his alter-ego Tomas, was on fire. He rolled a 490 series and basically carried us to a resounding victory.

The only down point to the evening came on what should have been a highlight for me. Starting in high school, the vast majority of the games I've bowled have been with my buddy Nate. We always made sure, however, to make sure that we had at least a couple of gals with us when we bowled. The reason for this is that we've had a long-standing rule that if either of us ever managed to roll a "turkey" (3 strikes in a row) the ladies would "flash" us. I think it almost goes without saying that the gals were never in any real danger. Over the past 10 years, both he and I had 2 consecutive strikes many, many times. However, given the pressure that we always heaped on each other when we got to that point, neither of us has ever been even close to that elusive third consective strike. It got to the point where some of our more regular bowling companions would torment us with comments about the high quality of their undergarments, because they knew it was the only way we were ever going to know anything about them.

Last night I rolled a 97 in the first game and a 120 in the second game. Both below my average, but not as far below as I'd like. The last game I spared the 9th frame and had a 122 going into the 10th. I proceeded to throw a strike. With my 2nd ball of the 10th frame, I threw another strike. Joking the whole time with my opponents, I went back to the line for my 3rd ball and, wonder of wonders, threw another strike. Even our opponents were excited and all gave my high-fives as a 10th frame turkey is rare. Especially in our league. So I finished with a 162, which is WAY above my average.

Upon returning to my team's table, I realized that somebody was supposed to flash me. I looked around but all the people around me were middle-aged men. Man boobies were NOT what I was looking for.

Aargh.

So I've been cheated. But at least we won. And now I figure somebody owes me a flash.

I hope to God my mother-in-law doesn't read this and agree with me.

Laterz

Family Photos

S.A. recently pointed out to me that I might want to put pics of the fam on my blog, since I write about them enough. So here are a few.

Princess Roxie, the day she returned home from the Hospital, sans leg. And another pic from a couple days ago. Notice she's adjusted very well to the messing leg, but she'll only allow herself to be photographed from her "good side".
This is Velma. She looks perpetually confused and has a touch of what we lovingly refer to as "runt brain", meaning that all her wires are carrying current, but some of them are definitely soldered to the wrong spot on the motherboard.
This is Elphie. She's the new baby and the only one who's not named from the musical "Chicago". (Her full name is Elphaba, from "Wicked".)

Can I go home yet?

I'm now officially at the time-killing stage of my day. I've done my 2 trainings and earned my paycheck and now I'm just killing time so I don't leave so early as to look bad. So I'm browsing other blogs and checking out the user profiles of the folks who write them.

A few notes.

There's another guy in Petoskey with a blog devoted completely to juggling.

I've read more than one profile where the author lists "weight-training" or "lifting weights" as a hobby. Not surprisingly, none of these bloggers could spell worth a damn.

Females are much more likely to write about their daily lives. Guys are more likely to rant. I don't stay long on a rant-infested blog. I don't watch Survivor, Big Brother, or any of the other popular "reality" shows. Reading blogs is my own personal form of voyeurism. I enjoy getting to feel like I know the blogger a little bit. Therefore, the only blog I read that's written by a guy is actually written by the best man from my wedding.

If you don't have a decent sense of humor, don't blog. I mean, I know there are all types of blogs and the original intent of blogging was to impart and share information, not to entertain, but still, there's nothing worse than a really DRY blog.

Alright, that's all I've got for now. I'm outta here.

Laterz.

And the shut-out is officially over!

For those of you who may not know, (which is probably most of you, because i don't really talk about it that much) I'm in a bowling league. My team consists of myself, my dad, my buddy Kev, his dad, and a 2-headed bowling monster of Mark, who teaches with my dad, and Daryl, Kev's Dad's golf partner. (They bowl on alternating weeks.) We make up the Tropic Cove... Somethings. We don't actually have a team name yet. We have a sponsor, though. Tropic Cove. We could have used Joe's, my golf shop, but there's a $40 sponsorship fee and I didn't feel like forking it over. This week, we were the Tropic Cove Rabid Canarys. Last week it was the Tropic Cove Betta Bowlers. I'm proposing the Angry Ferrets for next week. Truth be known, we should be called the Tropic Cove Spastic Invalids, because you'll seldom see an uglier display of bowling acumen.

It's a good time. I love to bowl; always have. However, I don't generally broadcast my league membership. It's not that I'm not proud of my team, it's just that, well... we suck.

Seriously, we're awful. My dad hadn't bowled more than a handful of times in the past 25 years before he joined the team. Daryl bowled last night for the 1st time in 35 years. Phil's dad hadn't bowled in over 20 years. It'd been 15 years for Mark. And Kevin and I... Well, we've bowled more recently, but we still really suck. We both fall into the "please let my score be in triple-digits" category.

Last night, however, we actually won a game! Not the match, mind you. We still got our asses handed to us for the evening. But we won a game. Officially, we have now won 2 out of a possible 28 points this season. Things are definitely looking up. My new bowling shoes will be here tomorrow. I've already picked out my new bowling ball and now just need to convince someone to buy it for me.

I feel a hot streak coming on. Also, if you know Dave the techie at C.O.P., you should probably express your condolences. It's his team we beat.

Laterz

Puh-leeeeze forgive me...

Alright, I know I'm a truly shitty blogger.

It's been so long since I wrote anything that I've started receiving nasty email from my mother-in-law berating me for my lack of diligence. The thing is, I've got an excuse! Honestly, I do.

I'm a lazy bastard.

Hey, I didn't say it was a good excuse. Basically, I havent' written in quite a while because I generally (read: ALWAYS) blog when I don't really have anything better to do at work. I don't let it get in the way of doing my job, but I've always had at least a little bit of time to kill during the day, so I blog. Unfortunately, I've recently been much busier than normal at work. Hence, no blogging. But I promise I'll do better, starting today. In fact, depending on how much time I have the next few days, I may even go back and write entries for previous days when stuff happened but I didn't bother to write about it, because that's the type of diligent, hard-working blogger I intend to be from now on. (Also, I will try not to end any more sentances with prepositions.)

Today is a big day. Sarah has officially been pregnant for more than 12 weeks now, which means we are now into the 2nd trimester. Over the course of the past 3 months, I've learned something very important about myself. The biggest reason I have cared so much about things that don't directly impact me, such as national politics, is that there really hasn't been all that much going on that DID impact me. Since we found out that Sarah was pregnant, I've almost stopped listening to NPR or Air America Radio and instead spend a great deal of time reading about pregnancy and worrying about things like debt consolidation. Today I have the unenviable task of requesting a raise from my bosses. Now, they did tell me when I hired on that I could expect a raise after 90 days, but I'm still not comfortable pressing these things. So now I have heartburn. Narf.

Anyway, wish me luck.

Laterz.

More wholy irrelevant facts about me.

1. Ten Years Ago: I had just started my senior year of high school. I lived with my folks, but not in the same building. I was actually thankful that they allowed me to live in the guest house most of the time. I didn’t realize that I was really doing them a favor by sparing them my presence. I drove a 1991 Teal Mazda Protégé that got 42 miles per gallon on a bad day, was, would go from 0 to 60 in under 6 minutes flat, and was lovingly know as “The Rice Burner”.
   
   Five Years Ago: In September of 2000, I was a newlywed living in Lansing, Michigan. I was a graduate student and teaching assistant at Michigan State University, teaching “Coaching Baseball/Softball” and “Intermediate Softball”. I also took 3 classes but I don’t remember them. I quit school after that semester. I drove a 1991 Dodge Caravan, given to me by my new Mother-In-Law, when she was unable to convince any poor sap to actually buy it from her. Though all the doors opened just fine from the inside, it only had one hatch that was useable to enter the vehicle. My students at MSU LOVED watching me climb through the rear hatch of my minivan and crawl through the vehicle up to the driver’s seat so I could spew blue smoke behind me exiting campus.
   
   One Year Ago: I was the store manager of 2 Blockbuster Video stores in Petoskey, as well as the owner of a small golf shop. I lived in a manufactured house on a very nice lot in P-town. I drove a ’98 Nissan Sentra with a number of Diversity bumper stickers on it, as well as power locks and windows. S.A. had just started a new job at the Woman’s Resource Center and we had been trying to start a family for a few months.
   
   Yesterday: I taught “Microsoft Excel: Level I” for The Learning Center. Sarah came home and craved Burger King food. Pregnancy is really strange. We don’t even LIKE Burger King… I helped dig a trench from my house to my shop so I can run gas line out to the furnace in the golf shop.
   
   Five Songs I Know All the Words To: I know every word to basically every song I’ve ever heard. That being said, I can easily perform on command-
   Rainbow Connection – Kermit the Frog
   Lodi – Creedence Clearwater Revival
   Studebaker – Jordan Zevon
   Oliver’s Army – Elvis Costello
   Crocodile Rock – Elton John
   
   Five Snacks: Edy’s Rocky Road Ice Cream, Sam’s Choice Crackers, Fresh Apples (Fresh is the key word. I don’t generally like apples from the store.), Garlic Melba Toast, Crab & Cocktail Sauce over Cream Cheese w/ Triscuits
   
   Five Things I'd Do With $100 Million: Pay off every college loan for every one of my friends; buy the 10 acres next to my parents and build a kick-ass barn-style house; build my own recording studio; give my parents whatever they figured to be able to retire TODAY; give the rest to Sylvia, because she and Danno help us out as often as my folks do and I know she’d find all sorts of great causes to give it to.
   
   Five Places I'd Run Away To: Miami, Miami, Miami, Miami, and for a change of pace, my folks house.
   
   Five Things I'd Never Wear: Anything supporting President Bush , anything supporting the republican party in general, a v-neck sweater, briefs (seriously, how do you guy in your tighty-whities stand it?), a raccoon. (Would you?)
   
   Five Favorite TV Shows: Queer as Folk, West Wing, Baseball Tonight, Any Detroit Pistons Telecast on FSN with Greg Kelser and Fred MacLeod, Celebrity Poker Showdown
   
   Five Greatest Joys: Having an Animated Discussion w/ My Wife While Driving, playing piano in the dark, napping with Roxie on my chest (even though I invariably wake up with a cold), poker with all "my kids", lying in bed with S.A. talking about all the great stuff we’re gonna do with the baby
   
   Five Favorite Toys: 3 words – SUPER MONKEY BALL. Also my Cleveland Launcher 400 Driver, Jeff’s postal Jeep (WHICH IS WHY I NEED MY OWN), Strat-O-Matic Baseball (1991 Season), my new Fire Poker from Yvonne
   
   1. What is your favorite word? Bean (Also my favorite person, hmm…)
   2. What is your least favorite word? Fidget (You hate it too, if you’d been told to stop doing it as much as I have.)
   3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? The ability to make me laugh out loud.
   4. What turns you off? REPUBLICANS!!!!!
   5. What is your favorite curse word? Goddamnmutherfuckingcocksmoke… (I got this from Nate, years ago.)
   6. What sound or noise do you love? My wife snoring. (Seriously)
   7. What sound or noise do you hate? Gunshots
   8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Professional musician
   9. What profession would you not like to do? Accountant
   10.If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? “There are some old people with funny-ass names waiting inside for you.” (Seriously, I hope God cusses like a sailor.)
   

7 things...

Stole this one from Andrew Andrew.

7 Things I Plan To Do Before I Die
___________________________________
1) Teach my kids to play baseball/softball, basketball, football, volleyball, and golf.
2) Give them the opportunity to decide that sports are a waste of time and that their time is better spent writing poetry. (And make sure they know I'll love 'em anyway.)
3) Take my son to every major league baseball stadium. (Yeah, it'd be cool with a daughter, too, but somehow, in my mind's eye...)
4) Golf in Scotland.
5) Record an album. Just me and a piano. (Okay, maybe a few friends on guitars and the like might be helpful, too.)
6) Become the President. (Of my kids' school board.)
7) Visit Prague with S.A. I may not have much of a sense of history, but it's her favorite place in the world and I truly want to share it with her.
__________________________________
7 Things I Cannot Do
__________________________________
1) Enjoy gross-out/sophmoric comedy movies. (Movies like "Wedding Crashers" and "Old School" make me want to punch people.
2) Walk more than 15 feet without "sprinkling". (This is my mom's term for whistling without enough air to really blow a note so it's just kind of airy sounding.)
3) Hear ANYTHING about our current president without becoming violently angry. I've actually stopped listening to NPR because I was afraid I was going to intentionally ram my car into an SUV at some point.
4) Keep my foot out of my mouth when regarding my wife's extended family. I actually LIKE her family, but I still manage to offend them regularly.
5) Convince myself that I do not actually NEED a Jeep. (Seriously, I am SO in need of a 12-step program.)
6) Make myself understand why appearances matter. Cars, houses, people, cribs, clothes... I'm just too logical, I guess.
7) Give up on humanity. Even time I come to terms with the idea that people in the U.S. are just not ever going to meet my standards, somebody goes and does something great and get my hopes up all over again. (My Mother-In-Law just offered up her home to any person or family who has been displaced my Hurricane Katrina. She lives in Northern Michigan but figures that if somebody makes it this far north, she'll definitely take 'em in. Kudos, Sylv. My Grandpa Beaver would be proud of you. So would Grandma Alice.)
______________________________
7 Things That Attract me to the same or opposite sex
______________________________
I'm nt goona say the cheeseball thing and put "a sense of humor", but only because it's not specific enough. Instead I'll lead off with-
1) A SHARP sense of humor. Nothing makes me laugh more than my wife shredding someone else. (I hope this doesn't make me a bad person.)
2) A flare for a witty turn-of-phrase. "Like ants on a twinkie," is one of the great similes of our time.
3) A great smile. And there is no other kind. Anyone is 100 times more attractive when they're smiling.
4) Hair. I never really knew I was a hair guy until I met my wife. Now, if I'm good, she'll let me brush her hair before bed.
5) Self-confidence. Know who you are and stand up for that person.
6) Intelligence. The ability to formulate a persuasive argument is SEXY.
7) Compassion and empathy. Nothing is more attractive than seeing that someone cares about something other than themselves.
_________________________
7 Things I Say Most Often
_________________________
1) "Bloody" I really do wish I was British.
2) "Bean" My pet name for S.A.
3) "Good grief!" I've worked really hard to curse less than I used to.
4) "Booger" Besides my obvious affinity for words beginning with "B", it's another one of those exclamations that keeps me from swearing at work.
5) "DUDE!" This one really only crops up when I'm around my friends from H.S. or college.
6)"If I was any father out on the left wing, the plane would flip over." (Describing my political views.) This first time I said this, I thought it was pretty witty. Years later, I don't find it nearly as charming. But people keep laughing at it, so I keep saying it. I'm a laugh whore.
7) "Yeesh..." I don't say this as much as I type it in email and IMs.
_______________________
7 Celebrity Crushes
_______________________
1) Vivica Fox. I'm not really a breast guy but, well, Yeesh...
2) Jessica Alba
3) Christina Ricci
4) Scarlett Johansen
5) Hilary Duff (S.A's gonna hate this one since I think she's still underaged and, as S.A. points out regularly, she has no neck.)
6) Natalie Portman
7) On VH1's "I Love the 90's", Jay & Silent Bob had a bit called "Guys I'd Go Gay For." #7 is my list that S.A. and I have joked about that the past couple years. In no particular order-
Hugh Grant, Phil Gordon (From Celebrity Poker Showdown), Dave Foley, and it seems like I'm missing someone, but I'm sure S.A. will point him out.

Perhaps a peg-leg?

Most of already know that we have two cats, Roxie and Velma. When we fed them this morning, Sarah realized that, though Roxie joined us to eat, she was not putting any weight on her right hind leg. When I picked her up, I found that her leg was hanging limply from the hip joint, although, quite surprisingly, she did not hiss or scratch when I felt the leg, trying to find a break.

I took her to Jensen's Animal Hospital where a childhood friend, Sarah Ginop, is now a vet. Sarah called me a few hours later to tell me that Roxie had been hit by a car and had broken femur in 2 places. Thankfully, undoubtedly because of Roxie's predilection for neatness, she had cleaned herself so well that there was absolutely no sign of infection. Sometimes being an uppity snot is a good thing, I guess. However, do to the severity of the break, the best option for a full recovery was to amputate the leg.

Roxie has always been a beautiful cat. You know that old adage about there being girls you date and girls you marry? Roxie is definitely a girl you date. She's pitch black with a white muzzle, white tummy, and white feet. (In case you wondered, Velma is a girl you marry. Cute enough, and you know that she'll always love you, but you also know that all those bugs she eats are gonna go straight to her hips.) I guess now instead of doing that kitty calendar that S.A. and I have joked about, she's gonna have to do an amputee calendar with Heather McCartney.

Anyway, she'll have her surgery later this afternoon or early tomorrow, so we should be able to bring her home on Friday. She'll be living in the guest room, since even I , with my allergies, can't bring myself to make her stay outside, even in the shop, while she's recuperating. So everybody keep her in your thoughts and prayers. (Even though you should already be thinking of the homeless in New Orleans about 24/7.)

Laterz

Yo Ho Ho...

We went to Michigan's Adventure / Whitewater Adventure this weekend. I love water parks and I enjoy a number of amusement park rides, so it was a good day. However, the highlight of the whole experience is an easy call.

Jeff, Matt, and I took my nephew Joe on the pirate ship ride. You know the one; the ship swings side to side so you're looking straight down and then you're straight up and then... Anyway, we've all done it and we all enjoy it and since Joe actually likes roller coasters, we thought he'd probably like the pirate ship.

We climbed on and started the ride but on the second or third ride Joe made a strange yelp at the moment when you start to quickly descend and it feels like you've left your stomach behind. Jeff and I looked at each other thinking that we thought we might have recognized the tone of his yelp and when we swung back up and then descended again, Joe cleared up any doubt for us.

At the moment when everyone else on the ride raised their arms and screamed, Joe grabbed ahold of his "junk" and screamed "The wind's pressing my Wee Wee!". We laughed and figured we might want to mention to him that this probably wasn't an appropriate thing for a 9-year-old to yell on a public ride, but we really didn't worry, because we knew that no-one outside our group had heard him.

All of us were chuckling as the ride came to an end, thinking of how we should check to make sure he wasn't in too much discomfort when he turned around in his seat to face Jeff and I and exclaimed "Let's go AGAIN!!!"

Yet another way that amusement parks rock.

Laterz

Boredom

After about 2 weeks of being absolutely up to my eyeballs in jobs to do at work, I've hit a momentary lull. Though I suppose I could spend this extra time wisely, possibly getting ahead on some projects, since I know that it'll be much more difficult to get to them in the future, I've really just been killing time for about the last hour. I've read all my regular web sites (freep.com, detnews.com, si.com) and checked in with all my regular blogs (S.A., Drew, Amy) and now I've got nothing to do.
Now, mind you, I did manage to offend someone with a comment I left at one blog, so I had to leave another comment clarifying the first comment and making sure no-one thought I was ripping on the blogger. (Good grief... I spend so much time back-peddling, I should play cornerback.) And Drew's not adding much to his blog today. Something about power outages due to some hurricane in Miami. S.A. and Amy seem to be focusing on their actual jobs, so they're not writing either.

All in all, I need more stuff to read. I used to read Dave Barry's column in the Miami Herald every so often, but he retired from regular writing, so it's just reprints now. I get tired of reading politics right now, since nothing's really happening because everyone in the federal government is on vacation right now. Ironic, isn't it. I wonder if the kids getting shot at overseas get a vacation.

Anyway, if anybody's got any good suggestions, pass 'em along. Know any blogs worth reading? (The quality and style of the writing is much more important to me than the actual content.) I'm all ears. Alright. Time to waste more time.

Laterz

More Jeeps and The Fine Art of Placenta Building

Morning, all.

1st item. Today is my Anniversary. S.A. and I have now been married for 5 years. (Nate says this is our Nickel Anniversary and I have to give her something worth a nickel.) If you're having difficulty deciding what to give us as an anniversary present, send cash. Or baby stuff. But for God's sake, DON'T GIVE US A JEEP!

We had a somewhat long and involved "discussion" this morning because I received email for a gentleman in Tennessee who was interested in taking our baby grand piano of our hands (which really need to happen soon, by the way,) in exchange for a running, but still needing work Postal Jeep. Needless to say, this idea excites me. I REEEAAAALLLLYYY want a jeep. S.A. is concerned that once I have one, the charm will wear off and it will sit in our storage space covered in useless crap until the end of time. This is probably a valid fear, as I do have a track record that points to a certain lack of attention span and follow-through as far as my hobbies are concerned.

However, I am absolutely convinced that there is absolutely no way I would lose interest in this one. No matter, though. I told her that I have already made it clear on all my Jeep web sites (I told you I was fixated.) that I will not be accepting any donations for the time being. This is true. However, if this guy contacts me again with a good plan... Well, I shudder to think about it.

-------------------------------------

I stopped by "the boys" house last night on my way home from golf league. Johnny, Adrian, (Not a "boy", but she lives there anyway.) Trav, and Liam had a barbecue and I want to stop by even though I'd missed the actual food part. Anyway, it was really nice to see the boys, as well as some of their family members (Johhny's dad, Tim, was there as were Trav's mom and sister.). They were disappointed, however, that S.A. had not accompanied me, so I explained to them that she was already in bed.

That's what she does right now. She sleeps. She's explained to me that it takes a great deal of energy to build a placenta and I can't really argue much because I have never, personally, built one. Trav said I should try it. He figured I have a well equipped shop and a supply of jell-o. He figured the discussion would go something like this-

S.A.- "Get in here! It's time for dinner!"
Me- "I can't! Could you bring me some more jello? I'm trying to build a new placenta!"
S.A.- "You never let me have ANYTHING for myself!"

This is why I love those kids.

Laterz

You know, I really DO tend to step in it...

This weekend, S.A.'s brother Matt came up to help Tomas and myself to split up sections of a 100-year-old+ white pine that came down in a lightning storm a couple years ago in my folks yard. S.A.'s folks also came up, so my mom, Sylv, and S.A. went baby shopping and Danno helped us with the tree.

If any of you have never had the opportunity to use a hydraulic splitter, get on it. It's quite enjoyable. However, when working with a large pile of wood, especially wood that is extremely ant-infested, be careful of who might be living in said pile.

I picked up (okay, rolled) one of the logs, a good sized specimen, about 18 inches high and at least 30 inches in diameter, as I was pushing it towards the splitter I felt something move under my foot. I, as you might guess, picked my foot up and moved quickly forward, at which point Danno exclaimed, "Watch out!"

I turned around in time to see an obviously unhappy skunk sprinting off into the underbrush. I'm happy to report, to those of you who may have ready S.A.'s earlier report on skunk behavior, that this skunk made no attempt to do a hand-stand, no did it (evidently) try to spray me. It just took off.

I noted to the rest of the guys that, if anyone was going to step on a skunk, it was almost a given that it would be me. No one argued.

Laterz

But I'm Jonesin'...

Good morning to my reading in Newington Connecticut! Yet another person with whom, as far as I know, I am not personally acquainted, yet for some reason has checked in more than once to read this useless drivel. I hope the weather’s better there than it is where you are.

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S.A. was compared to a heroin addict this morning. We were at the pet store and Kev’s got a new kitten for sale. Needless to say, S.A. immediately started to play with it and looked as me as if to say, “Can we? PLEEEEEAZE?” Now, bear in mind that we already have 2 cats and will have a third as soon as my folks kittens are weaned.
I didn’t even respond. Kev, however, looked at her made the decision for me.
“I feel like a drug dealer who feels sorry for his customers. I’m cutting you off.”
And he kicked us out of the store.

Laterz

Baby Names

Hey! 2 posts in one day! God forbid anyone should think I actually have a real job...

S.A. and I went in this morning to have our first ultrasound. Well, Sarah had an ultrasound. I stood there, holding her hand and making what I hope were comforting faces. This early in the gestation, they don't do the ultrasounds like you see on TV withe the goop on the belly and the defibrilator paddles (or whatever those are). When you're only 6 weeks in, they do the old "trans-vaginal" ultrasound. In other words they stick this plastic wand WAAAYYYY up inside the pregnant woman so they can see what's happening inside. At first, her facial expressions alarmed me, but I relaxed when i realized that the only reason her eyes kept buggin halfway out of their sockets is because the OB/GYN was pushing them out with that little wand. I assume anything is okay, as long as a doctor is doing it.
Anyway, they found "Junior", as S.A. has taken to calling him. I asked if it was okay if, just for now, I called him "Spot". Yet another one of those moments when I wish I was blind so I didn't realize the looks of horror, display, and anger that are so often directed my way. So I am NOT calling the baby Spot. Not even in jest. I might call it Elton for now, on the suggestion of Andrew Andrew.
Anyway, it's official. We really do have a baby growing inside my wife. Hopefully we'll have better luck with him/her than we do with our houseplants, or else the poor thing will be born with brown leaves and mold around his/her feet.
Also, I feel that Spot was a perfectly logical, if somewhat insensitive, choice of name right now, as you can see in our first baby picture. He/She is the little white-ish smudge in the bottom right part of the black circle. (I think.)

Anyway, I just thought y'all would like to know. :)

Laterz

How I Spent My Weekend OR Why Someone Should Invent Edible Radiator Fluid

Last weekend I went down to the In-Laws to work on Danno's Jeep. Well, technically, it's not a Jeep. It's a '42 Ford GPW. It's an original Jeep design form before "Jeeps" actually existed. Very sweet vehicle. However, he has decided that he would like to restore it to its original condition. It's gonna be awesome when it's done, but it has a very long way between here and there. So anyway, I got his permission for Jeff and I to work on it with him.

Let me tell you, the 3 of us combined offer a great deal of interest, a very decent knowledge of Jeep history, and VERY LITTLE mechanical know-how. This is why "Machine Gun Sally" has sat buried under mounds of miscellaneous crap in the garage for the past couple years. Nobody really knew how to get started and everybody was a little afraid to try.

Enter Yours Truly; Big Chief Leap-Before-Looking. No project is too daunting for me to get involved in it. This is largely due to the fact that I refuse to think about how difficult it might be before I get started. I figure the level of difficulty will be readily obvious once I'm into it, but by that time I'll have momentum working for me and I'll be able to push on through. As Danno said to me late Sunday afternoon, the project would never have gotten off the ground without someone like me to push it along. Of course I probably wouldn't have spent as much time spitting stuff up or have had such a horrible headache had we not started it, but hey... More on that later.

On Saturday night, we determined that we needed a 16' by26' space in which to work on the Jeep. Being as the only reasonably workable space was the garage which also had to house the 2 family daily drivers plus all the assorted stuff that always seems to gather in a garage, we decided our first task was to completely clean and reorganize the garage. It only took 4 or 5 hours. Sylvia was SO pleased at how good it looked. I think my willingness to do these projects is the reason she still allows me to come visit.

So Sunday morning, we dug into "Machine Gun Sally". With Danno, Jeff, and I, you have an interesting selection of personalities. Danno is somewhat introverted and he tends to be very hesitant to give orders. Jeff is also pretty quiet, but a little more willing to take control when he sees the need. I, on the other hand, am not at all shy in these situations. I may not know what I'm doing, but if nobody's telling me what to do, I'm darn well gonna do something. Thankfully, seeing that that was the case, both of the other 2 decided it was probably a good idea to give me specific tasks. We accomplished the first few tasks outlined by "All-American Wonder, Vol. 1" and were just getting to emptying the radiator when we were called in for breakfast. Jeff, who has MUCH more automotive experience than I, (and fits a little more comfortably under the Jeep than Danno,) was handling that task and discovered that the butterfly bolt that would unplug the radiator was stripped. He was being very careful not to make a mess because radiator fluid is toxic and we all know stories of pets dying from drinking it. Cuddles may not be my favorite animal in the world, but I don't actually wish her harm, so I, too, felt we should try to be careful. When we were not immediately successful emptying it out, we opted to go have breakfast and approach things later on with a clear mind (and a full belly).

Though Jeff had, thus far, been leading the charge (in his always logical, controlled manner,) both Danno and I finished eating before him and were itching to get back to work. (This was not shocking. Jeff tends to be a bit.. deliberate. Rachel often refers to him as "Grandma" because of his tendency to approach life at a very leisurely pace. I feel this is a bit insensitive, but I must admit, I make a concerted effort to relax when I'm with him, because I know moving at my normal, somewhat frenetic pace will not mesh well with his much more unhurried tempo.) We headed back out to the garage, where I set about removing the plug from the radiator.

I quickly found the right tool for the job and, following Jeff's instructions, opened the plug just a little, hoping for just a small trickle of radiator fluid which I could catch in a coffee can. Unfortunately, I found that radiator fluid doesn't like to trickle. Since the plug was still partially in, it could not exit in a controlled stream, but instead reacted to the plug like water from a garden hose does when you put your thumb over the end- It just all sprays sideways. Resultantly, I was getting very little fluid in the coffee can, but quite a lot elsewhere. Primarily in my hair, on my glasses, in my mouth, up my nose, etc. I, being a scientific genius, realized that if I just removed the plug entirely, the resulting stream would be much easier to catch. Somewhat surprisingly, I was RIGHT. The torrent of radiator fluid spewing from the core streamed happily, if somewhat rapidly, into the waiting coffee can.

It was at this point that I recalled Jeff saying something about needing an extra can so that when one can filled with fluid, the other could be set in place while we carefully disposed of the first. Realizing that my coffee can was filling much faster than Jeff, with his "controlled drip" theory, had probably anticipated, I swiftly set about finding an empty receptacle to put in place when it was needed. As you might guess, I was unsuccessful in finding one. I hastily attempted to replace the plug in the radiator. This resulted in my ingesting quite a bit more radiator fluid, but not in actually replacing the plug. At this point I gave up and watched the can overflow and radiator fluid continue to spew onto the garage floor.

I jumped up and went to get Danno's Shop Vac. I returned just as Jeff was entering the garage with a very contented, post-breakfast, expression. His look turned to one of abject horror when he looked at the area surrounding the Jeep, which now looked like Lake Antifreeze.

"Didn't you hear me say to let it out SLOWLY???" he asked incredulously. "And where is your extra can?"

Without bothering to explain myself, (I learned a long time ago that explanations are often pointless. Especially when you don't have a particularly good one.) I took the top off the shop vac to remove the dust filter. Jeff asked what I was doing and Danno explained that to vacuum up liquid, to remove the filter so it doesn't get ruined. It shocked me that Jeff, who I know owns his own Shop Vac, was not aware of this bit a vacuum protocol, and I honestly felt quite a bit better for a moment. After all, I may not know much (okay, anything) about emptying a radiator, but at lest I know how to operate a shop vac. Of course I stopped feeling superior when I realized that someone like Jeff never spilled, and thus never had to occasion to learn what to do with the dust filter. And moreover, if he did spill, he'd probably take the time to read the manual to decide how best to approach the situation. Sometimes working with smart people can be very humbling.

Anyway, once I finished cleaning up the mess in the garage, I took a minute to go out in back and cough up as much of the radiator fluid as I could. It turns out that it has a somewhat tongue-numbing effect, but other that that, I didn't suffer too many ill-effects from it. It did, however, leave me with a hell of a headache. Also, my next morning "sit-down-job", as my Grandpa would have said, was a little bit glow-in-the-dark. Ah, war stories...

Anyway, we all continued to work, and, by the end of the day, had made significant progress. So I feel a good time was had by all. I can't wait for the next Jeep-work weekend. Maybe I can electrocute myself or run myself over or...

Laterz

Open mouth, Insert foot.

I'm starting to feel a little like Harriet the Spy. And it looks the the world has gotten ahold of my notebook.

Someone near and dear to me has pointed out that in my amusing little anecdotes, I seldom paint flattering pictures of any of the participants. Though I attempt not to use proper names, the characters generally know who I'm talking about when I write. That's intentional. I certainly don't want anyone to think I'm talking behind their back. Also, all the characterizations are meant to be humorous and in no way do they are they meant to give any sort of complete or even accurate description of a person. Unfortunately, I sometimes (okay, normally) forget that most people don't appreciate being referred to as a "roommate/squatter" regardless of how humorous the line might seem to me. For that reason, let me give you a little background on, and a slightly more complete picture of, the people who sometimes show up in my blog entries.

"Spike"- That's me. I'm a tech trainer in the great white north. I love my job. Especially because it took me 7 months of being home, unemployed, to find it. I found out last Christmas that it doesn't matter how good you are at your job, nor does it matter if you're right. When you have a serious throwdown with the owner's sister-in-law, you don't generally keep your job for long. I'm opinionated, a little arrogant, and sometimes kind of an ass. I'm also crazy loyal, which is important because I have to be able to survive the times when the people I love are pissed at me, and not let it effect the relationship after they cool off. Also, I have a nasty habit of speaking before I think, hence this blog entry.

"S.A."- My wife. The greatest thing ever to happen to me. Smart, Funny, Beautiful (even if she doesn't think so), and totally willing and able to put me in my place. She's a great writer. Sometimes, I think she serves as my conscience. OFTEN, I think she serves as my brain.

The Families-

My Folks- Sometimes referred to as "Tomas” and Cathy. They “raised me from a pup.” If I seem like an ass, blame them. My dad once mentioned that when I was a kid they really tried to teach be to be independent and not to overly concern myself with what other people thought. He now figures maybe they tried too hard.

“Frog” – My younger sister. We probably have the best relationship now that we’ve ever had. She lives 5 hours away. That probably doesn’t hurt. She’s a good kid. She teaches special ed and spends pretty much every waking moment helping people with disabilities.

The In-Laws- “Danno & Sylv” or “Grammy & Grampy” (That’s what our nephew calls them and what our kids will call them.) I have awesome in-laws. Danno is now letting me work on his highly collectible ’42 Ford GPW. I have ZERO mechanical expertise, but luckily there are a couple other people working with me to say “STOP!!!!” when necessary. Sylv continues to like me even though I make her life miserable by opening my mouth when I shouldn’t.

Rachel & Jeff- Sarah’s sister and her husband. Rach is S.A.’s best friend. Jeff is one of mine. He often serves as both my partner in crime and my voice of reason.

Matt & Joe- Sarah’s Brother and his son. Joe is my favorite nephew. Matt’s kind of a guy’s guy. Definitely the one to call when you’ve got stuff to move. (Unless you’re easily embarrassed by someone who works 3 times as hard as you do.)

Our friends-

The Barry Crew-

“Drew” (also known as “Andrew Andrew”)- Author of the “Blog at the End of the Universe”. My best friend from college, the best man at my wedding, and an all-around wonderful guy. Also a really big geek. This is demonstrated by the fact that he actually has a career and that he just got his MBS. Damn motivated people…

“Mr. Steve”- Also a collage buddy. Has taken a career path similar to my own. Largely consisting of “Gee, this job sucks. Next!” Repeat.

SJP, Michelle, Jen L. – All my best female friends from school. Not only my friends, but they all adopted S.A. when she was living in Florida and helped her through the whole home-sick thing. All have strangely morphed into adults since I left.

Friends from Home-

Liam- Previously referred to as “Uncle Liam”, “our squatter/roommate”, and “slightly balding”. The biggest reason I thought I should write this entry. Liam lived with us for a few months because he needed a place to stay and we had extra space. I referred to him as a squatter because he did not pay regular rent while he was with us. Of course, the reason he didn’t pay rent is because I told him not to. He was the best roommate I’ve ever had. Always conscientious, not too messy, and didn’t each much of my food. Also, he prefers “thinning” to “balding”, so there you go.

Kev- My golf partner. Probably my best friend up here. Confirmed bachelor. Business owner. Has a long track record of dating skeezy waitresses. (If you are a waitress and have dated or is dating him now, I’m sure YOU’re not one of the skeezy ones, so don’t worry.) Has made it very clear to me that, regardless of how big a geek he might seem, he never went to band camp. He was too busy going to computer camp. And to Star Trek conventions. And playing Dungeons & Dragons. Hard to believe he’s still single, huh?

My Blockbuster Kids and Assorted Associates- I was a store manager for 2 Blockbuster Video stores in Northern Michigan. That’s right, I got canned by Blockbuster. Now I’m very glad, but it was a hell of a kick to the ego at the time. The best part of the whole deal is that I got to keep all the kids who worked for me. John, Trav, and Lauren all walked out the day I got fired. Now that’s loyalty. Lauren finally got another crap job 8 months later. Trav was a little luckier and only took about 4 months. John started his own business, so he didn’t have to look for work for quite so long. Now they all live (officially or otherwise) with Liam, Adrian (Johnny’s girlfriend), Paul (a school chum), and Scott. Collectively to coolest group of young people I’ve ever met. When I compare myself as a teen to this group, it does not make me feel good about myself.

“Skippy”- He works for Kev at his store. He also plays in a band. Walking evidence how music makes you attractive. At least that’s all I can figure, because his girlfriends are always out of his league by any reasonable measure.

Tim- The last member of the poker group. Skippy’s uncle and a truly great guy. He’s been a vegetarian for 20 years, does yoga, and generally makes me feel like a kid. It’s truly a shame that he has no kids because he’s one of the world’s greatest role models.

I.L. Friends-
Nate- My best buddy. Only person I know who’s more loyal than I am. Fellow Tigers nut. Now a married massage-therapist in Chicago.

Adam- Also known as “Bud”. One of my best friends since we were 3 years old. One of very few people I’ve ever met who I knew was, without a shadow of a doubt, smarter than I was. But that’s okay because I’m taller. Now an electrical engineer in NY; he does some sort of sub-contracted communications work for the military that I fail to understand regardless of the fact that he explains it to me every time he sees me.

Jen R.- Now Jen G. since she’s married. My other best friend. Now a Special Ed teacher in Indiana. Sometimes calls me “Ramjet” and Adam “Tiger”. Not really sure why. Married a great guy who we love but who unfortunately lives in Indiana, so we don’t see them nearly often enough.

The Best of the Rest-

Amy- S.A.’s cousin and author of “Floyd’s Hardware”. Mother of 2 great kids, who I have attempted to kidnap on many occasions, but have yet to be completely successful. Now the soon-to-be step-mom to 3 more kids. All of whom also seem to be quite cool. I used to think she was a bigger klutz than even I am, but changed my mind when I watched her on a jet ski.

Laura & Ryan- Laura’s Amy’s younger sister and has always been one of S.A.’s best friends. They had a little falling out a while back, (Probably my fault. I find that most things are.) but now seem to be back to normal. A very good thing because most of all S.A. needs more female friends. Ryan’s her husband of a couple years. (Thanks for straightening me out, Amy.) Very decent guy. They have a 6-month-old daughter who’s the coolest.

Dave (A.K.A. “Fire Marshall Dave”) & Holly- Laura & Amy’s kid brother. Sort of the family cut-up and ring-leader. Has a degree in fire science. Worked as a Private Investigator until he quit, out of loyalty to a co-worker. He is now finding out that loyalty can seriously bite you in the ass. Holly’s his wife and is, amazingly enough, as goofy as he is. When I tell stories about doing less-than-advisable things with S.A.’s family, Jeff and Dave are usually involved, too.

Anyway, I think that’s just about everybody. Hopefully, a little background will help shed more light on folks. I am very obviously blessed with some amazing friends and it’s probably important that I say that every so often. Especially so I can continue to tell embarrassing stories about them.

Laterz

Spelunking and Asia (Not to be confused with Spelunking IN Asia...)

I noticed another interesting thing this morning. I have more readers in Central Asia than I do in the entire Mountain Time Zone. This concerns me. First, I'm pretty sure that people in places like Montana and Utah could stand to hear a little more from me becuase, as I recall, they all voted for the our beloved Moron-In-Chief. Also, I wonder a great deal what folks in Central Asia think about my blog. I don't know all that much about Asia, (mostly, just what I saw on Long Way Round,) but I'm guessing they think I have way too much spare time. Which is probably true. However, I don't know what they're thinking because nobody's left a comment yet. Yet another way in which I feel unloved... Anyway, I guess y'all probably don't care, but now you know anyway.

On a completely unrelated note, I went spelunking this weekend. It was U.P. spelunking, so it wasn't exactly dangerous or spectacular, but is was in the middle of the night and it followed a long evening of drinking, so it was very enjoyable just the same. Dave, Jeff, Rach, and I put on our head lamps and went down to get extremely cold and wet. It turns out that caves, with foot-deep water in them, and no possibility of passage without a significant amount of submersion in just-over-freezing water, have a very sobering effect. Also, you wake up quickly because you don't want to continue sticking your hands in 6-inch-deep piles of bat guano. Jeff noted that he'd never seen bats flying around anyone's knees before. It is also worth noting that when a drunken, out-of-work, private investigator tells you that there's a great underground waterfall, and it's worth the struggle to get there becuase of the grandeur of the scene, it's probably not. Underground waterfalls in the U.P. usually resemble a garden hose pouring off a rock. Kind of neat, but not especially grand. Anyway, it was great fun and I thought I should pass along the message to all you adventure seekers out there there are great opportunities for danger and excitement underground in the eastern U.P. As long as you don't mind bat poop.

Laterz