Friday, October 31, 2008

All Hallows Eve

Happy All Saints Day to you and yours. That's what I always try to say a few times on Halloween. It's actually All Hallows Eve, the night before All Saints Day (The Hallowed Ones I guess). Since I became a dad I've started to see the other side of Halloween. Almost every year someone stands up in church and decries the Satanic holiday. My own saintly parents always let us participate, just as long as we didn't do anything scary or cause any trouble. So basically, we got to do all the good stuff: candy and costumes.

We hold the same rules for costumes as we do for tattoos, those being: no dead things and no naked women. Although quite a few of the eleven-teen year olds in the neighborhood picked Hoochie Mamma for a costume again this year, but at least they all had the courtesy to not smoke on anyone's porch. As the father of a daughter I have the following to day about that: Shit ain't goin down like that at my house! (Please allow me at this time to introduce my new favorite key... the colon ":" take a bow little fella!)

So now I'm thinking about the spiritual aspects of the holiday... holy... day. In all actuality, modern day Halloween is about as much like the Celtic festival Samhain as modern day Christmas is a day to celebrate the birth of Jesus. A pagan harvest ritual and festival of the dead with offerings for departed ancestors and divination has turned into a commercial spending frenzy with pumpkins, costumes and candy.

Apparently the Church thought it enough of a bother to make their own holiday on November first and christen (Christ-en) Samhain as All Hallows Eve. The same thing was done for Christmas and Easter, they both were scheduled to offset pagan holidays. It's this kind of stuff that brings me to my own take on the situation.

I'm going to take anything I run across and look at it in terms of my faith. Music for example, my disgust for syrupy worship music is contrasted by my love of heavy metal, satanic stuff included. Both types of music cause me to examine my faith and how I relate to the world because of it. I wish more people could apply this kind of thinking to their take on holidays. (ie. Apply your world view to something and take away what you like from it.)

This time of year I'm gearing up for all the news pieces about people who bitch about Christmas. You've got Christians all upset because Christ has been removed from the holiday and non-Christians carping about how their rights are violated by religious displays. So why the hell can't the atheists just enjoy a festival of lights while people who are only nominal Christians celebrate someone they don't really believe in in the first place. Why can't the Christians just enjoy a harvest festival and let the kiddies wear their ghoul masks. The truth is, most Halloween celebrants don't really believe in a power called Evil and a lot of Christmas celebrants don't really believe in Jesus, at least not in a way that propagates throughout the rest of their year, either of them.

So I say: (<-- there he is again) stop bitching about Halloween! Let the kiddies have their candy and foam rubber zombie heads because their belief in the holiday stops there. Well, maybe it stops right after a good toilet papering and a few well tossed eggs. Ahh well, enough philosophy. I'm off to change into something black and station myself in a good vantage point with a high power flashlight. Nobody's getting my pumpkins this year!


Thursday, October 30, 2008

How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 3)

How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 1)
How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 2)

Now we're up to the part where The Missus and I finally got together. I was staying with my folks while getting my life together. I'd like to pause briefly to say that while it does seem to be the trend for twenty-somethings to move back in with Ma and Pa, I was doing my best to be outside the norm for this group of moochers. I was getting my head straight, getting out of debt, and looking for a house. All told I was there for less than nine months.

It was time for one of my favorite events of the year, the candle light Christmas Eve service at church. If you removed every other moment and trapping of the season it would still be Christmas for me if I got to sing Silent Night by candle light in the sanctuary of the church in Alexander. The warmth of the season had me in a great mood that night. The Miss was there, wearing black velvet, to air her professionally trained voice as part of the service. I said something sound-guy-ish to her about making sure she was somewhere near a microphone for the benefit of the recording.

Afterward I got caught up with several old schoolmates who were in town for the holiday. When I ran across The Miss it turned out we were both spending a lot of time at home with our folks on the weekends. I was doing it out of an interest in not having a total lifestyle relapse and she was driving back home from Cleveland where she was teaching to try and help hold her family together. Her father was taking his sweet time leaving her mother for an inmate at the womens prison where he was a guard.

"Well," I said, "if you get tired of hangin' out with your folks we could go grab a coffee some time."

She was game and shortly thereafter I picked her up and we went to Denny's for a cuppa. I can scarcely remember a moment of it. I was dazzled. In my first year away from college I had forgotten what it was like to hang out with smart people. (Nothing against my other friends, everybody knows where they stand on that.) Her baby blues were flashing at me across the table and I was all but helpless. The only words I actually remember her saying were about something being "so cool", but I don't remember what it was because my retinas had dark spots on them from her eyes.

The weeks dragged on and we phoned and e-mailed. We of course got together every single time she was in town, which was increasingly frequent. After our first non-date we became regulars at O'Lacy's Irish Pub where we conspired to raise the price of stock for the St. James Gate Brewing Company (That's Guinness for you clear-beer types.)

Somewhere in there I thought since I was having such good fun being friends with The Miss that I should find some other folks my age to hang out with. A classmate of mine and her husband had just moved in down the street and we hung out some. But it wasn't the same. That was my first inkling that I really had it bad for The Miss. It wasn't just adult conversation and beverages with a smart Christian that was my age. There was something about those baby blues after all. There should have been some clue, we would be on the phone till all hours of the night and were not able to say goodbye. We called it "Playing The Game". I was giving her goodbye hugs that made her say, "You're a good friend" when really they were trying to say, "I'm in love with you!"

Long about Easter time she was home for an extended stay and decided to extend it a day further so we could catch a movie. Her car was a pile and she had been renting a Malibu to come home in, so we took her wheels. We went to see Blow at a theater in Rochester, which is a good forty-five minutes from home, because that's how far you have to drive to get to a real movie theater around here.

On the way home, slouched in the passenger seat, I came clean. I told her I was pretty much in love with her and was really interested in figuring out a way to make it work. Her response was, "Yeaaaaaaah, it would be better if we were just friends. I really just need a buddy right now." Which was just fine with me, oddly enough. It didn't even faze me one bit. I guess I could tell she way lying, although it wasn't a conscious thought at the time.

She dropped me off and I said good night. I remember taking a long walk and feeling just great. It was my lack of feeling crushed that told me once again that this was something different.

Tune in next time and find out why I had to get a new drivers license after our first kiss...


Wednesday, October 29, 2008

In Other News

For some strange reason, the sidebar is still not updating when I post over at Simple Terms. Here are some of the gems you missed if you've been depending on SeƱior Faulty Widget over there to keep you up to date. I'll warn you in advance that my rant on fat people ruffled a few feathers, but it also served to make me aware that I have a wider audience now (no pun intended) than I did when I started and also that I should point the finger at myself more than I do.


Sunday, October 26, 2008

Feeding The Family

Today at church we had a couple people who had gone on mission trips recently come up to show pictures and tell stories. The majority of the narrative involved crippling poverty and a woeful lack of medical attention. The third speaker had some slides from a book called Hungry Planet that contains photos of families from all over the world with a weeks worth of groceries. They range from a few people eating hundreds of dollars worth in the richest countries (The US is actually closer to the middle, surprisingly.) on down to massive families who subsist on less than US$30 a month.

Then things got really interesting. There was a luncheon scheduled to celebrate our missionaries' return, but there was a twist on it. Every place setting had a card with a color on it that corresponded to a serving table at the front. It was broken down like this:

White Table: Bowl of rice, pitcher of water.
Yellow Table: Bowl of rice, pitcher of water, plate of meat (tiny serving).
Green Table: Bowl of rice, bowl of rice dish, several indescribable pot-luck type dishes that were heavy on the gravy and cream soup, something with tater tots on top, pasta salad, six kinds of dessert, cider, milk, coffee and doughnuts.

Our family's allotment, between the five of us, was two white tickets, two yellow tickets and one green ticket. We got a heaping plate from the green table and put it in front of the baby, the other two kids got rice and meat, and The Missus and I picked over what was left. (Actually, the Green Table stuff was a lot less healthy than what we usually eat and we kind of passed it over.)

Asking around the room we found that nearly every other family had pushed the best food down to the little ones. Our daughter had even shared some of hers with another child. It got the mind to turning. What if instead of just putting the good food in front of the short people to keep them from whining, we were giving up our own nutrition for their well being and trudging off to work with a growling stomach.

One of the other things we did this Sunday was to write a big check to the food closet. I'm not saying this to make us look like angels, The Missus was planning on doing it anyway this week. We spread the love around. Here we are, in the Land of Plenty, where nearly everyone at our church is in the top 3% of wealth in the world and there are people in the shadow of our own steeple without enough to eat. During a rough patch last winter my own family was depending on that food closet some of the time.

I don't like to order people around, what with all the pan handling that goes on for good causes these days, but you're in for it today. Next time you go shopping, buy an extra item and put it somewhere folks who need it can get it. I've needed it, I've gotten it, and it's the very hand of God.


Friday, October 24, 2008

How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 2)

Here's Part 1 of the story if you're just tuning in.

I left off at the interstitial period. That's the fancy word they use to describe the time in the Bible between the two testaments and I use it for just that reason. Those years are cloudy, dimly understood, poorly documented. The one thing that is significant to this story is that throughout that period I was still trying, although subconsciously, to find my wife and was always extra messed up by breakups, not because of the loss so much but because the girl had turned out, yet again, not to be my wife.

The next couple items are a bit of a touchy subject because they involve serious relationships that I'm not really comfortable talking about in front of The Missus. Not that it would bother her that much, but really, who wants to hear about their spouse's exes. So this is the only time this is going to come up and only because it's significant to the plot.

There was one relationship during my college days that marked a significant change in the way I did things. Early in my sophomore year we were sitting in my apartment with a bunch of freshmen over because becoming part of the herd was important in my department and helping the new recruits fit in is a long held tradition. There was a girl from Long Island who was loudly and obnoxiously a lesbian. One of her statements was that she required and would, in fact, demand cuddling for her mental well being, at which point she jumped in my lap. At that point a freshman guy and I decided that we were in a race to see which of us would be the first to bed her down.

College boys don't amount to much more than a set of genitalia, socially speaking. (The chicks weren't much better, or a help, before you go getting all high and mighty ladies.) But despite this, I was fast becoming friends with this girl and decided that trying to weasel my way into her pants was just likely to mess things up. I told her as much a few days into the contest, on a Thursday. Friday night there was a big party, and when I say big I mean BIG. Theater kids only get to party when a show opens and that only happens seven times a year. We're talking sound and lights that make the power brown out in the neighborhood, 300 people in a six man apartment, bouncers at the door to keep lame liberal studies majors out big. As it was winding down she asked me to walk her back to the dorms, which was not unusual for a girl to do purely for safety reasons. Strictly on the up and up I thought. Halfway there I jokingly said something to the effect that it would be disappointing to walk her home after a night of revelry and not get laid. "Oh... you're gettin' laid!" was the response.

Apparently exhibiting that minuscule bit of maturity was enough to elevate me in her eyes to the status of: Worth Switching Teams For. At least temporarily. We eventually, without actually defining it out loud, slipped into what was for all intents and purposes a committed relationship. We supported each other through thick and thin that year, while in our out-loud voices we were looking for someone else. (It was a favorite pass time of ours to scope out chicks together.) Obviously a guy dating a lesbian wasn't going to work out. So we never really got together and we never really broke up, but years later we both agreed that we loved each other. It was likely the fact that that things were so unofficial that we were able to keep it together, there were no rules and trappings of dating so we were freed up to just enjoy each other.

That was lesson number one on how to actually love somebody.

My last year at school I was home on a break and got introduced to a girl who was dating a friend of mine and knew my brother. We connected on-line and would mostly swap news about our mutual friends. At one point I let it slip that I was attracted to her and very nearly attempted to kiss her one night at Denny's. "Why didn't you?!" was her response. We saw each other all summer and finally, about two weeks before she went back to school I started pursuing her, and a week after that we fell madly in love.

For a year we suffered through a long distance relationship. It was working though and was mostly a happy experience for me. The whole time we were both, for the most part, very unselfish. I remember having some very long contemplative sessions and realizing in fits and starts what love was really about. I learned how to put something in to a relationship. Everyone around us assumed we would get married some day and eventually we started to think so too. The whole time I was just reveling in the experience of loving someone, unselfishly.

Right after she graduated that spring and moved home a few things happened. The first was that I did not want her to move in with me. That was a pretty hurtful discovery for her because she had assumed that she would. It was mostly because I was living with two roommates in an apartment that was just big enough for the three of us, there just wasn't any place to put her. The next big thing was that I got saved, again. I had grown up in the church and wandered away, to eventually come crashing back in that spring. I completely changed my lifestyle. I got off the drugs, moved back in with my folks, completely changed my circle of friends. Needless to say it put a damper on our relationship.

The thing that really killed it was going from long distance to local. We were both neurotic enough that extended time in close proximity was driving us nuts. She would say things like, "When are you going to shave off that beard?" To which I would reply, "I'll shave it off for my wife." Which I thought to mean that I would do it when she was in for keeps. Really that was an event to take place at another time, with another person. Unfortunately the breakup took about two months of actual breaking up and, for me at least, another three of feeling unbelievably shitty.

That was lesson number two about how to actually love somebody.

In those five years, I messed around a lot, slept around a lot, and in the middle, got to have about nineteen months of actual good relationship experience. Figuring out how to put another person ahead of myself in a relationship of any kind was a big step, that was the first lesson.

The second lesson was about marriage. I knew that to be really happy in life, I was going to need a wife. Up until this time I had never had a girlfriend that I hadn't cheated on. I was having a real hard time getting into practice the morals I had learned growing up. I don't mean all the safe sex stuff they were spewing at school, nor do I mean all the crap they shoved at me in youth group at church. Quite simply, I had my parents and grandparents to look at, who were happily married for a combined total of over 100 years and all of whom had yet to have their first fight. There was also no cheating, it wasn't even the glimmer of a thought for them. So I knew that I believed whole-heartedly in the sanctity of marriage, but hadn't been able to pull off a reasonable facsimile of it so far.

I realized it was likely going to take meeting That Girl. Not thatgirl, who is totally awesome, but you know, the ONE. I had a feeling that even then I was going to have some serious work to do (Those of you who have experience the first year of being married know what I was in for). I knew myself to be a mess of a human being, but I was slowly getting it together, and praying fervently for a wife. One day at a stop light, I even remember which one, I told God that I really, really, really wanted a wife, but that He was sufficient for me. It wasn't long after that when things got really interesting.

Check back in a couple and I'll tell ya about it.


Sunday, October 19, 2008

Hi, I'm Buzz Lightyear

I know... not what you were expecting if you happened to be awaiting a post about how I became The Mister. This was just too juicy to let slide by though.

A couple days ago I had gotten up at 4 am to go do a morning gig, and by 9 pm my ass was dragging. I was out here in the shop, clicking around on Facebook and catching up with some folks. The phone rang. It was The Missus. Usually this means that some short people are not sleeping and need attention. It was J-Man this time, and apparently it was not going to be possible to sleep without talking to a certain someone. Here's how it went down.

Myself: 'lo

The Missus: Hi, this is J-Man's Mama, Buzz, remember you said earlier that we could call you?

Myself: Who's up?

TM: Would you be willing to talk to J-Man, Buzz?

Me: Awright, I'll be right in.

TM: No, J-Man want's to talk to Buzz, remember you said that would be OK? (I hadn't said anything of the sort, she was ad-libbing and I was too slow to catch on.)

Me: I'm pretty slow right now, could you just tell me what you want me to do?!

TM: I need you to be Buzz Lightyear!

Me: (?).... (!)... OK... put J-Man on.

J-Man: Hew-wowe?

Me as Buzz Lightyear: Hey there Junior Space Cadet!!! Having some trouble getting to sleep are you?

J: ...

MABL: Well, I hope you'll get all snuggled under the covers and get a good night's rest.

J: ...

MABL: Space cadets need to get lots of rest so they can do their best! Will you do that?

J: uh-huh

MABL: (Paddling while I try to get my tired brain to supply me with Buzz Lightyear's catchphrase so I can end this.) Well... I'm about to go to bed myself, I've got a busy day tomorrow and I want to be at my best.

: uh-huh

MABL: Goodnight Junior Space Cadet J-Man. To infinity and beyond!

J: ...

I hung up and after a few minutes finished up what I was doing and went in the house. The Missus told me after the call his mouth was still stuck open. She asked him what he thought.

Buzz Witeyeaw is so COOL! He's gowin ta bed too!


Thursday, October 16, 2008

How I Got To Be The Mister (Part 1)

The Missus has been slowly revealing the story of how we got together on her blog. She's kind of let the story lay for a while so I thought I'd get started on my side of it and see if we can't get a parallel narrative going here.

We both grew up in the same small town. We lived not more than a half mile apart, but I was a townie and she lived out past the sidewalks so we didn't see each other much outside of school. She's also much younger than I am so our crowds didn't mix too much. By high school we were both in the band and the chorus, she was on the swim team a couple years too. My friends were dating her friends but we didn't have much interaction at all.

In the size town that we live in, there's only so much opportunity for dating. With about sixty in a graduating class things were actually pretty limited. There were a few kids that nobody would date, but other than that, the lack of options made for some interesting combinations. Cheerleaders and headbangers, that sort of thing. I tended to get stuck on a girls that were totally out of my league so I didn't date that much.

That's not to say that the spark wasn't there though. We were both reasonably good looking for two people in the heart of the awkward years, so there was an appreciative eye cast here and there. But we both also had raging tempers and razor tounges. The way we tell the story these days is that there were times when one of us was sweet on the other, but then said other would open their mouth and ruin it.

Eventually, graduation came for me and much, much later for her and we departed for far off lands in pursuit of academia. Five years passed without a thought for the girl who would someday give birth to our crop of shorties. There are two versions of my younger self that I wish I could pass a note to, that guy is one of them. If I could slip a note to the 1994 mister and tell him not to even worry about who I would end up with, I could have saved myself a lot of heartache in my college years.

That's the set-up. Check back in a couple days and I'll let you in on our bumbling glorious reunion. Its a tale of parents and pubs, lies and intrigue. As I said before, The Missus has written eloquently on the subject, I'll be sure to post the appropriate cross links.


Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Quote Of The Day

Miss O and I were reading a joke book for bedtime story tonight. I went and turned off the lights and then leaned in to kiss her goodnight but she wasn't quite ready yet. So I did a couple push-ups and she said

Dad, what are you doing?


How do you do them?

You just push up.

Oh... I know how to do a back-up!


Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Big Deal

I'm not writing a post here tonight because I just drafted my 100th post over at Simple Terms and it wound up being lengthy. My family is no more or less insane or cute today than they were yesterday anyway, so I'll catch up on that later. Besides, there's dishes to do, furniture to move, and bed to try and get to before midnight.

If you're not a regular reader over there, it's about how I got started blogging and some of the folks I've met in the process.


Monday, October 13, 2008

Laundry is SO not metal

I found myself, pretty exhausted, nearly at the end of my duties for the day. Children fed and nearly sleeping, toys put away, dishes washed, whiskers trimmed, just a little laundry left to fold. I found that I had the house to myself and that the laundry was within easy reach of the computer. So I did what naturally comes to any dad faced with folding a pile of underwear that belongs to a five year old girl...

I got on youtube and blasted metal videos for motivation.
  • Anthrax - Room For One More
  • Overkill - Spiritual Void
  • Pantera - I'm Broken
  • Slayer - Seasons In The Abyss
  • Slayer - Reigning Blood
  • Slayer - Stain Of Mind
  • Slayer - War Ensemble
It went on for about half an hour, then The Missus walked in the front door with a huge grin and wanted to know what that was all about. Too bad. I was about to go after some more Anthrax and click up Among The Living for the final push. But that kind of swung my perspective around and made me think about how much has changed and what's still the same. You can take the boy out of the mosh pit, yaddah yaddah yaddah.

Life is weird!


Friday, October 10, 2008

In Sickness and Health

Anyone not following along with The Missus on her blog will have missed out on the Great Barfing Binge of '08. Yeah buddy. It started with little H-Bomb demonstrating his above average skill at projectile vomiting. Setting the mark at just a tick over twelve feet, he's ready for collegiate level competition. After The Missus, who has an extreme aversion to barf, wrangled the children through the rest of their day it continued to go down hill from there.

J-Man woke up crying about two minutes after I finally got into bed. False alarm. The real deal came at 2:45 when I was awakened by more crying to find The Missus at his door and himself with a big pile o' doggie chow in his lap. Yay. Deduct one hour of sleep for cleanup, laundry, snuggling, etc.

I was feeling none too stable when I got up at 5:30. Not that I'm particularly together at that hour of the day. I wasn't sure if I was getting it or was just feeling the effects of missing out on some zees. Then the churning set in mid-morning. Now I can cope with being under the weather at work. Usually if I can stand up I'll go to work cause it helps keep the blood moving and speed recovery. This particular work day found me completely out of my element. Instead of strapping on my tool belt, I got saddled with updating the computer program that keeps track of our mandated inspections. The computer program that is unlike any I have ever experienced before in that my previous experiences only include programs that make sense. To make matters worse, the last guy that did it was former military. He was mostly concerned with filling drawer after drawer with printouts. Apparently the really important details he just kept in his head though because they weren't in the program or the file cabinets.

So I got to sit in a six by ten office all day, sea sick, and have people check in by phone, in person, and by radio to see why-the-hell-it-wasn't-done-yet! While sea-sick. Yay. Then at the end of the day I had the high honor of meeting said former employee so he could teach me his methods. He must have interpreted all the deep breathing as my method of coping with the task because he seemed completely unaware that he was at risk of wearing my lunch.

At home the kids were mostly better and a little Gatorade seemed to make everything right as rain. The Missus had a prescription for some anti-nausea medication that seemed to fix her little red wagon as well. Myself, I just skipped dinner and tried to help get the kids to bed. I didn't rate too high on the helpful spouse scale. My efforts consisted of laying with my head in a pile of laundry and willing the children into bed.

I crawled onto the couch, pulled a blanket over myself, and except for getting up once an hour or so to see if I was actually going to throw up or not, I knew no more until I woke up this morning. It was time to go to work so I figured eh... what the hell. A cup of coffee and a graham cracker probably wasn't the best recovery breakfast but sometimes you just have to make do with what you've got. Fortunately, the sickness had passed and I had a mostly normal day.

Despite the sight of me laying on the couch likely making her blood boil, The Queen Mum let me lie. I'm so grateful to her for that. She's had the rottenest of rotten days, the house is pretty messed up, and I won't even get into the medicine she had to take. So now I'm off to do some overtime. We're days behind on the housework and nothing makes Mama happy like a clean house. Except blogging, which I hope she's doing right now. While blogging she's about as reachable as a coma patient, so I can be a whirlwind of productivity and not even disturb her reverie. When she get's up from the computer it's like she's been away and is walking through the door. I can totally surprise her with a sparkly kitchen.


Sunday, October 5, 2008

The Soft Glow of Electric Sex

"Fra-gee-lay. That must be Italian. "

"Uh, I think that says FRAGILE, dear. "

"Oh, yeah."

"It's... it's... it's indescribably beautiful! It reminds me of the Fourth of July"

"Would you look at that? Would you look at THAT?"

"What is it? "

"It's a leg!"

"But what is it?"

"Well, it's... A leg, you know, like a statue."


"Yeah, statue."

"Yeah, statue."


"My mother was trying to insinuate herself between us and the statue."

In celebration of The Missus coming out with herveryown Major Award I decided to throw up a few memorable lines from the movie which spawned this delectable piece of Americana. I'm referring, of course, to the movie "A Christmas Story" that indescribably loveable time capsule of Christmas at a time gone by, now celebrating its twenty-fifth anniversary. The movie that later inspired the narrative style of "The Wonder Years" where a grown man narrates his awkward childhood experiences. There's an online store that carries all the best stuff from the film: the leg lamp, Life Bouy Soap, and of couse the Little Orphan Annie Secret Society decoder pin. You can find it all at A Christmas Story Shop.

The house that featured in the movie is still standing. It's been recently renovated and turned into a museum, complete with the soft glow of electric sex emanating from the front window. If you'll be near Cleveland this winter you should totally stop by A Christmas Story House.


Thursday, October 2, 2008

Honey! I'm Home

After the long battle to get the short people fed, washed and in bed tonight we had a few friends over to watch the debate. We had an hour before it started so we sat in the kitchen chatting about, what else, our kids. (Their punkin is in the same class as ours.)

My mind wandered a little bit and started thinking about the ideal homecoming. (Ya know, instead of getting headbutted in the crotch three times and screamed at for three hours.)

It starts with the kids running at me in their usual fashion and then, quick as lightening, out comes the can of ether. *SPFFT* *SPFFT* *SPFFT* (THUMP) (Thump) (thump) "Daddy! I can't feel my body! Ha ha!" *SPFFT* (Silence)

Just kidding. I would never subdue my lovely short people with starting fluid. Chloroform is a much better choice, you don't get so much of a hangover.


But seriously folks. I did have rather a nice time with the short people today. For the most part they were content to just run around and scream while I dozed and occasionally spoke up in the interest of safety. Dinner was the usual long process but they actually ate some tonight and didn't wind up screaming for fish crackers from their little beds. There was even freshly baked apple pie and Grampa came up to enjoy a slice with us. And now... the house is silent, our friends are arriving, and two people who want to be Vice President of the United States of America are about to say things on TV that will likely cause laughter.

P.S. Despite the sidebar indicating that I haven't updated Simple Terms in five weeks, I HAVE! There's a few things over there that you may or may not enjoy reading depending on the geek factor in your life.