Sunday, February 28, 2010

My Cat Is The New VISA

Sully... he's everywhere you want to be. The little kitten we got for my daughter is now a hulking beast of a feline. And it's not so much that he's into mischief, he doesn't trash the place, it's that he's a thoroughbred bastard of a stalker.

I go to check on a sleeping child, he's there under the bed. A furry black paw lashes out and lands on my sock, claws ever so slightly extended as if to say, "I coulda, but I didn't". I flip up the skirt on the couch to look for the remote, out comes the paw. Pick up a basket of laundry, there he is, under the last two items deposited in it.

He's in the dryer. He's on the piano. He's behind the toilet. I opened a little used cabinet where we keep the computer paper last night and there his fat ass was, perched right on top of it. I tried to just get a few sheets and not disturb him but he was after me with both paws like a furry little ninja!

And to top it all off this cat sometimes craves affection and will absolutely not be stopped until all eighteen pounds of him is perched on somebody's chest. Aside from difficulty breathing the only other problem is that after about four good pats he stops purring and goes straight back into ninja mode, usually with teeth!

So it looks like it's time for me to reassert myself as the Alpha Male among the animal kingdom contingent at my house. Fear the boot, furry ones! Resistance is FUTILE!

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Thursday, February 25, 2010

BlogHer Dream

So the other night I had a dream that I was at BlogHer, in a bar with my Out-of-town Wife, Jen from Steenky Bee and my real wife The Missus from Dayton Time. Did I mention we were in a bar? Yah, OK. So the whole goal of the evening seemed to be just to get back to the hotel for Lord Sakes. I don't know why but we were trying very hard to get there.

The problem was that everywhere we went there was this guy in a suit telling us we needed to be at a meeting. The guy looked just like the gangsters in Buggs Bunny cartoons. Tall, wedge shaped, in a brown suit with a fedora pulled down over his eyes and a stubby cigar clamped in the corner of his mouth. In fact, now that I think on it he was actually a cartoon in the dream.

So no matter what bar we went to, there was this guy urging us to get to that meeting when all we wanted to do was get. back. to. the. hotel. for Lordsakes. I must have still been on that kick the next day because I actually started snooping around to find out if I could go along to BlogHer.

But then I found out The Missus was rooming with three other girls, one of whom was Steenky and the bite marks still aren't totally healed from that whole State Trooper Incident last summer so I decided it wasn't worth the hassle. Sorry to get anybody's hopes up but The Mister will not be attending BlogHer this year. Too much estrogen anyway.

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Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Oh, The Things We Do

Tonight was supposed to be date night for The Missus and Miss O. The choir from her college was performing at a church in the city (Buffalo) and I was going to stay home with mah boys so they could go and revel. By the time I got home it had become a full fledged family affair as nobody wanted to be left home.

We drove an hour. We sat in the pews. The Missus and the Boys missed the first (amazing) selection in the bathroom. Then the Boys fidgeted so much that I felt like I had to take them out. I may have been quick on the trigger but I got up at four the last two days for work and I'm a little twitchy.

We went outside and I set them loose on the church playground. Five minutes later The Missus called my cell to find out where we were because Miss O had burst into tears and wanted to go home. Pile in car, buy chips and drinks, drive another hour, home again - home again - jiggity jog. (As my father used to say)

It was heartbreaking. I didn't want to go in the first place and then after I heard the first few notes I didn't want to leave. At most I heard three measures without interruption. Not even long enough for me to close my eyes and savor (Savour? it sounds more rolling around on the tongue-ish.) the most lovely sound that has caressed my eardrums in years.

On the drive home I couldn't even remember what they had sung. So I made their angelic voices sing Methodist hymns in my head instead. What a kick in the pants. Ahh well, I'll soon be up to my nernies in snow and raking in the overtime clearing it away at the hospital. This will shortly be just another "remember that time when...."

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Saturday, February 20, 2010

Drum Circle

Me and the boys gettin' our Saturday morning drum on!

Saturday, February 13, 2010

It's That Time Again

Ahhhh, the Olympics are here! I'm about to turn into a sports junky. It only happens for twenty days at a time every two years so The Missus is very forgiving. NASCAR and football and all those other sports the participants of which used to beat me up in high school can go whistle.

I grew up in the North. Wide World of Sports carried winter sports every Saturday growing up. My ancestry is partially from France and Scotland so I've got a bit in common with Canadians. (Did anybody else get goosebumps when the stage filled with fiddlers and steppers in tartan during the opening ceremony?)

This is my time. My time to watch athletes without sponsorships compete the way I used to. With friends. For the joy of it. To match themselves against the best and see how they measure up. This is my chance to use the magic box (TV) to teach my children about competition and fair play. Time to watch their eyes grow big seeing how people from other countries live, how they are so different yet so alike.

It's time to see if the curling finals turn into another nail-biting, jump up and shout style event. Time to watch they joyous straining of people doing their best. Time to get all choked up when deserving athletes take the podium. This is a sweet time.

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Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Laughing

A wise man once said to me, "Sometimes ya just gotta throw yer hands back and say, 'Fuck It!'"

Indeed.

I get a lot of comments about my sense of humor at work. I always explain it as a game I play called Laughing To Keep From Crying. The hospital people don't get it. The construction workers do.

In this life there's so much to be miserable about. I figure you ought to at least be mockingly happy about it when possible.

I thought about my marriage vows today and how they include better and worse, richer and poorer. It applies to everything. While my soul is wedded to this mortal body I think the two of them owe it to each other to at least ride it out with every possible chuckle in between the good times.

Keep your chin up.

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Thursday, February 4, 2010

Spam Calamity

So I pulled out my iPod today and the mail notification said I had 300 messages waiting. Great... spam. Oh but wait, it get's better. They were all notifications of comments on my blogs. Either this has been going on for quite some time now and I just missed the notifications, or I got hit hard last night.

So let's see... at least six comments (in Chinese) on every post, times close to 500 posts, equals:

Close to 3000 bogus comments to delete. It's relaxing though. Something about repetitively obliterating those comments is quite soothing in fact. And now a brief message to my new admirer.

堵塞在阴茎您一个害病的妓女的愚笨儿子。 我祝愿您在一个桶的秋天被传染的少女。 并且愿您的政治信仰起因在阵雨发现由您的政府,投掷在监狱和一再强奸的您由大人。

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Monday, February 1, 2010

Daddy Daycare

I found myself at home with the baby today on an unexpected day off. The Missus took the ambulatory short people on a field trip so I was left to my own devices. Since I know what's good for me that involves a good deal of cleaning before they return.

After loading the dishwasher and getting some laundry going I turned to some more difficult tasks that are generally impossible with a house full of people. We've got a flat top electric stove which was supposed to be the very pinnacle of modern cleanliness in the kitchen. What that really means is that any minuscule amount of spillage immediately bakes on hard as diamonds and resists all attempts to clean it.

The only method to safely remove this gunk is with a manufacturer approved scrubby pad and polishing compound. Well, the scrubby has long since disappeared and the little bottle is empty. Hence the stove top having a good deal more baked on gunk than ultra-modern sleekness showing. Not to be deterred I put the mind of a highly trained maintenance mechanic on the case (mine, smartass).

Well, it didn't take long for something to pop up. I grabbed a swatch of Scotchbrite from the truck which is almost, but not quite, identical to the manufacture approved scrubby pad. The warranty is done with anyway, what could possibly go wrong I ask you. Now for the polishing compound. Toothpaste folks. It works wonders. In ten minutes I had that stove looking the very picture of minty freshness (and likely with a greatly reduced probability of cavities as well!).

And the angelic chorus did sing, and a heavenly light did bathe the cook top. And The Missus shall smile upon her heroic knight upon her return to a somewhat more sparkley castle.

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