Without Wings

There is really no excuse for my absence, so I am not going to attempt to make one.  But I am going to make a better attempt at posting more often.  The past few weeks have been busy with work and kids and relatively uneventful.  We recently had a large software release at work and my team is gearing up for two big projects, so yesterday was the perfect time to take a break and blow off some steam. 

A coworker of mine, AKA the target of my April Fool’s prank, has been trying for several weeks to organize a team outing that would make use of his jet skis and a boat.  Due to some scheduling conflicts, a lot of our team couldn’t attend, and due to a system issue, our boat captain was not going to be able to provide the boat.  Hoping to salvage the trip, our dauntless organizer tried to find anyone willing to sacrifice their Friday to spend it out on the water.  My boss, one of the guys on my team and myself were willing to make that sacrifice. 

The cruise organizer, we’ll call him Julie for now (in fact that’s what we called him all day anyway), had everything scheduled down to the minute.  The plan was to arrive at his house at 10 AM, fuel up the jet skis and be in the water by 11 AM.  Everyone arrived on schedule, and we were in the truck and ready to roll by 10:30.  We stopped to get gas, some drinks and snacks for the trip.  As we were pulling away from the gas pumps the driver’s side fender of the trailer clipped the steel bumpers they put at the corners of the gas pump island.  There appeared to be only a minor dent in the fender, so we headed off.  As we drove down the street, the fender looked like it was rubbing the tire.  So we pulled off into the next gas station and jumped out to survey the damage.  I immediately reached down and pried the metal away from the tire and got a little more than I expected.  Let me describe the scenario with a little more detail.  Rubber tire, steel fender, constant contact for about a quarter of a mile at about 35 miles per hour.  If you still don’t get the picture, the fender was goddamn HOT!  In fact, it was hot enough to give me a 2nd degree burn in the less than ten seconds that I had a hold of it.  A huge blister immediately formed on my pinky. 

No big deal, I have had worse.  We all jumped back in the truck and drove off to boat ramp.  We were in the water by 11 AM, exactly as Julie predicted.  The water was perfect, warm and flat as glass.  The weather was perfect.  We headed off to Hart-Miller Island on the Chesapeake Bay.  We beached the skis and unpacked our gear.  We had a couple of drinks and shot the shit.  Andrew had brought along a ball that he had picked up on a trip.  He said the advertisements claimed that the ball would bounce on water.  We all headed out into the water to test it out.  And it WORKED!  The ball really did bounce on water.  The flatter the trajectory of the throw the more it skips and the faster it goes.  I found them on Amazon as soon as I got back, they are called the Waboba Ball.  I am definitely picking one or two of these.

We had a good time tossing the ball around, but I wanted back on the jet skis, I wanted to get back on the water.  I tried to explain my love of the water before and being right there on the beach was amazing, but to be out on the water is something completely different.  So I left my companions on the beach and headed out for a solo run.  I had never driven a jet ski before, but I have driven a boat.  I took the first five minutes to make sure I knew what I was doing and to make sure I knew how to control it and to make sure I wouldn’t kill myself.  After that, I just opened it up.  I don’t have pretty words to describe the feeling of doing 50+ MPH over the water with nothing separating you from the water but a little fiberglass and a foam seat cushion.  I imagine that it’s a lot like flying but without wings.  If you have never done it before, do it and do it now. 

The water was still very calm and I could just skim across with the throttle wide open.  That suited me for a little, but then I started hunting down passing boats.  I had some fun cutting across their wakes.  It wasn’t until a crabbing boat came along that was pushing a lot of water that I found out how awesome it could be.  The first time the jet ski and I left the surface of the water, I knew I was in love.  I don’t know how much time I spent out there, but I figured I needed to head back in to give someone else a turn.

When I got back we all headed out to the other side of the island where the water was a little rougher.  Since there were four of us and only two jet skis, we would take turns driving.  About ten minutes into the trip we had our first plunge into the water.  I was riding passenger with Patrick, AKA Julie, on the lead ski, Andrew and Hudson were following behind.  My job was to 1) hold on, 2) keep looking back to make sure the other two were keeping up with us.  The first job was simple enough, you just lock one hand under the vinyl strap on the seat and you are good to go.  The second job also proved easy enough too, until we both noticed the other jet ski to be driverless and saw the two heads bobbing up and down in the bay.  We turned around to lend a hand in rescuing our companions from the water.  My third and newest job proved to be a little more difficult.  I was supposed to grab the riderless ski, which was right-side up which is a good thing and pull it over to the two stranded in the water. 

I learned a few things during our rescue mission.  Thing number one – there is no really good place to grab a jet ski.  Thing number two – the more I lean, the more the jet ski leans.  Thing number three (and the most important thing) – if you lean too much and you are about to roll the jet ski, let the hell go of the other jet ski or just jump in.  So I rolled Pat and I and our jet ski over.  We weren’t doing 50 MPH or jumping waves or slaloming between crab pots, we were sitting still in.  So now all four of us were in the water and one of the jet skis was upside down (usually not a bad thing, they are designed to recover from stuff like that).  BUT I managed to still hold on to both of the skis.  Everyone recovered, two pairs of sunglasses lost, but everything else was fine.

Back to the holding on thing.  Apparently if you hold onto the seat strap with your palm up and your knuckles against the seat, you can wear away a nice chunk of skin from your knuckles.  At one point I looked down at the seat and the strap I was holding was covered in blood.  I hadn’t heard of any sharks in this part of the bay, so I didn’t worry too much about it.

We drove around a little more and decided to break for lunch at a restaurant.  We sat down exactly at 2 PM, exactly as Julie, I mean Pat, scheduled.  After a big lunch we rode around some more, with only one more unintentional dive into the ocean and then spent an hour digging for clams.  I think they managed to grab about 150 nice sized clams.  We made it back to Pat’s around 6 PM and I was home and showered by 7:30. 

A big thank you to Patrick for an amazing day!

Unearned Suffering

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said that “unearned suffering is redemptive.”  Pain and suffering can take many forms and be caused by any number of  sources.  Sometimes others inflict pain on us, sometimes we do it to ourselves.  A good example is when I happen upon a movie that plain sucks, the plot, the acting, the story, the special effects, etc., you name it, it blows, but once I start watching it, I continue to the end in the hope that it will magically get better by the end.  This happened Saturday.  I noticed that Surrogates was now in the my Instant queue on Netflix.  The kids are away and I could actually watch something that I wanted to watch.  I am sucker for science fiction, so I thought this would be a good choice.  I have been a Bruce Willis fan ever since his days on Moonlighting (FYI- my all time favorite episode was the Taming of the Shrew one), so this was another plus.

About fifteen minutes into the movie, I began to see the error of my decision.  The premise of the movie was awful and really farfetched, the dialog was lame and the editing was atrocious.  But I am a closet optimist (don’t tell anyone) and I stuck with it.  And when it started to get worse, I just couldn’t bring myself to turn it off.  There are 72 other movies in my instant queue that I could watch, but for some OCD-driven reason, I suffered through it.  I even stayed up until 2:30 AM to finish it.

I think in all of my 36 years, I have only turned off five or six movies because they were bad.  Let me rephrase that, when I am taking about watching a movie, I mean that I choose to sit down and watch a movie from the beginning.  There are several movies or shows that may be on TV that I catch parts of but never finish, but only five or six that I have sat down with the intention of watching beginning to end that I have stopped watching.  I am the same way with books.  There are only two books that I have put down mid-way through and never finished.  I just can’t do it, I get a sick feeling in my head, like I am quitting or something.

Unlike the mental pain of watching a bad movie, there is also physical pain.  While weed-eating the other morning, I actually hit my leg with the weed-eater (don’t ask how, because I am still trying to figure out how I could do something so stupid) and left a two inch gash in my shin.  I scared some young woman walking her dog when the string hit my leg and I yelled “Dirty Whore!”  I looked up from my bleeding shin to see her wide-eyed stare and gasping mouth as she hurried her dog away.  Then later that night, I was playing with my daughter.  One of her new favorite games is to pull the hair on my head and act like she is making a pile of the pulled hairs on the floor.  While this is painful in a dull, throbbing way, it was not nearly as painful as when she was grabbing my nose and accidently shoved her thumb into my left nostril and pinched.  She didn’t let go as she pulled her hand away from my face.  Her razor-sharp baby finger nails lacerated the inside of my nose and left my already allergy-beaten nose in a bloody mess.  She smiled and went on with her business as I hurried to the bathroom to stop the flow.

And then there is that deep, soul-wrenching suffering.  That anguish that is so persistent that no matter what you do or where you are, it is always present like a tooth-ache in your mind.  Something so insidious that you often lose your concentration, become irritable and snap at those you love.  This suffering can only be caused by one thing, something so innocent yet so vile, when you get a stupid goddamned song stuck in your head and you can’t get rid of it.

You see, it all started with this:

My wife and I have a habit of being silly, sometimes downright dorky at times.  A few months ago when we harvested our first crop of lettuce from the garden, we started eating a lot more salads.  And a salad is not complete without good croutons.  After working our way through several brands, we found Mrs. Cubbison’s Seasoned Restaurant Style Croutons.  Here’s where the silly (and covertly evil) part comes in.  My loving wife, while preparing salads for the family for dinner, came up with a catchy little ditty.  It goes something like this, “And here’s to you, Mrs. Cubbison, people love your croutons more than you can know. (wo wo wo)  God bless you please, Mrs. Cubbison, restaurant style on salads they will stay (hey hey hey)…” (sung to the tune of “Mrs. Robinson” by Simon and Garfunkel).  There are other lines and various versions of the chorus, but you get the point. 

Now any time that box comes out of the cupboard, I am singing that friggin’ song.  My wife sings it, the kids sing it, I am singing it right friggin’ now.  I catch myself humming it at my desk, in the car, in the shower.  You just want to grab a big spoon and belt it out like you are on stage.  It becomes the punctuation to every sentence, to every thought.  “Oh, it’s Shark Week, and here’s to you Mrs. Cubbison…”  “Well that was a short meeting, People love your croutons more than you can know…”  It’s like an itch that you can’t scratch, like getting a wedgie while standing in front of a lot of people, you know you can’t dig it out, you just have to keep grinning and bearing it.  Like getting a pebble in the toe of your shoe or that bug that gets in the car and flies around your head while you are driving.  When I see homeless people on the street, talking to themselves and swatting at invisible objects, I know that in their minds they are singing some stupid song that happened to get stuck there many years ago that they couldn’t get rid of.

So now you know of my pain.  And it ain’t the least bit redemptive.

Edge of the World

I’m back!  It was a relaxing vacation, as relaxing as it could be with three children under 8 years old, including a one year old.  We spent four days at the beach, soaking up the sun, swimming in the ocean and the pools, and having fun on the boardwalk.  The kids had a blast doing what they love to do, swim, stay up late, play games, and acquire junk which to them equates to treasure.  I was almost completely unplugged the entire time.  I had my Droid of course, but I used it for finding places to eat and amusements.  I have to admit I did have to spend some time on my brother-in-law’s laptop, trying to solve some issues with his iTunes.  For the record, I am not an Apple hater, I own an iPod, my son has an iPod Touch and my wife has a Mac, but I am not their biggest fan either.  And the hour I spent dealing with iTunes just heightened my distaste.  I never solved the problem, I don’t even think I got close, but I tried.

Other than seeing my wife and kids have a good time on vacation, the highlight for me is always the ocean.  I know this will sound cliché, but I am enthralled by the ocean.  I could sit for hours doing nothing but watching the waves come rolling into the shore.  I don’t need a book, an iPod, or a fishing rod, I just need to be there.  The crash, the roar and the hiss of each wave is like music to me.  The endless reach of the water out into the horizon makes me feel like I am standing at the edge of the world, and the rhythmic pulse of each wave is the world’s heartbeat.  I would stand in the surf and let each wave pound into me, feeling the pull of the current and feel so insignificant, so tiny compared to the power of the ocean, yet never felt so much alive than at that time. 

Wherever we went and whatever we did, I always tried to be in a position where I could see the water or hear the water lapping up against the side of a boat or pier.  We had a chance to get out on a boat during our trip and it was amazing how such a short time out on the water could make me feel so at peace.  The gentle roll of the deck and a southerly wind erased all stress and worry.  It’s hard to even write about it because I lack the words and the memory of it, I just “existed” there.  Even now, I think a small part of me is still there.  I hope to hold on to that feeling until I can return to the water again.

Thanks to my in-laws for providing such a great escape.  I enjoyed myself immensely, and I know my wife and kids did too.  Thank you again! 

Cooler But Still Complaining

The thermometer on my desk reads 76.6° and 30% humidity.  There is an eerie silence about the house.  There are no running fans or portable air conditioners.  There are no shocking temperature changes when you walk from room to room.  The fifteen days of living in Satan’s ass crack are over.  Yesterday the new A/C and furnace were installed.  It took the guys almost nine hours to get the job done but when they were finished it was bliss.  The new system is silent, inside and out, but you can feel the effects throughout the house. 

I have said before that my world is in complete balance, I cannot have the good without the bad.  While karma was tallying up all of the benefit from the new heating and cooling system, it decided to give me a wonderful sinus and ear infection.  How else would I start my first real vacation since Christmas?  So along with a bathing suit and beach chairs, I am packing a box of tissues and antibiotics for our trip to the beach.  I moped around the house today, packing up all of the portable A/C units and getting stuff together for our trip to the beach, stopping every few minutes to sneeze ten times and blow my nose another ten times.  I am considering going the Lord Valdemort route and having my entire nose and sinuses removed.  I really don’t need or want them anymore.

Yesterday, I really didn’t have much to do except sit around, blow my nose several hundred times, and wait for the guys to finish working around the house, so I caught up on some TV viewing.  I have been reading about the new SyFy series, Haven, for a few weeks now, but I haven’t watched any of the episodes.  Yesterday, I got a chance to see both episodes.  The series is based on Stephen King’s story, The Colorado Kid, and takes place in, where else, a small town in Maine named Haven.  Haven looks like the typical New England coastal town with pine trees and lobsters, but there are some weird things that are happening.  I won’t go into detail or divulge any spoilers, but overall the two shows that I have seen have been enough for me to want to see more.  The acting is pretty good, with the dialog being more on the humorous side.  The special effects are cheesy, but I can deal with that. 

I also got to catch up on some movies that have been sitting around since the A/C broke.  My wife and I watched Shutter Island the other night.  It was very good.  I had not had a chance to read the book yet so the story was very surprising.  I am finishing Inglourious Basterds tonight, so far it has been amazing.

I don’t know if I will write anything while at the beach, I think I want to be computer-free for a few days.  Talk to you when I return.

The Gentle Art of Making Enemies

Chatty Kathies, Gadflies, Chatterboxes, Klingons, Stalkers.  You know what they are.  They are those people that stop by your desk everyday, IM you, call you, email you, and just won’t leave you alone and have no legitimate reason for being there other than to shoot the shit.  It doesn’t matter what you are doing, what time of the day it is, all of a sudden this person appears.  They ask you innocuous questions, “How’s your day going?”, “How’s the family?”, etc.  They start telling you about their day, their kids/pets/house plants/bed sores, and you didn’t even ask.  If you don’t know one, then you might be one.  There is nothing harmful in that, there is nothing bad about chatting with a friend.  But when it happens every day and begins to occupy the time that you have reserved for something else (like work), then it becomes an issue.  What do you do?

I have run into this situation several times in my personal and professional life.  Sometimes if you ignore the person long enough, they will go away.  But if they don’t get the hint, you have to take more extreme measures.  I did a little research on the topic when I was confronted with a particularly bad situation a few years ago.  At the time, there was a person from a different development team at work who would come over and plop right down at my desk every day and strike up a 45 minute conversation.  In the first two weeks, I learned more about his personal life than anyone who was not his spouse, doctor or clergyman should know.  I didn’t want to ruin my work relationship with this person and I didn’t want to cause any issues, so at first I just smiled and listened.  But then it started to interfere with my work and I found out later that it was also effecting this person’s performance, and it had to be dealt with. 

I can’t find the websites that I originally referred to on the subject, but I have found plenty more that say the same thing.  I found one that has some “professional” tips for resolving the problem.  Many of the experts will tell you to be direct, but gentle.  I started out by telling the person they only had 10 minutes talk and then I had to get back to work.  When 10 minutes were up, I would end the conversation and resume working.  When that was established, I moved on to “scheduling” time to talk with the person, by saying things like “I can’t talk now, but if you come back at 2, I can give you 10 minutes.”  When that sunk in, I began giving the person things to do, like “Hey while you are here, I need you to do this.”  That pretty much took care of that.  The person eventually stopped by once every few days and only stayed for a few minutes.  We were still friends.  All of these suggestions are great and I can attest that they do work.  But what is the fun in that? 

In today’s digital, work-from-home age, the interruptions are a little different, but they still have the same impact.  People can’t come and waste your time by stopping at your desk unless they physically come to your house, which has happened.  But that doesn’t mean people can’t reach out to you through instant messengers, email or even the phone.  It’s now not a problem of physical presence, but one of the ever-flashing IM window, or the cluttered inbox, or, gods forbid, the ringing of the phone. 

A friend of mine at work, we will call her “Ren” to protect her identity, told me a few weeks ago about klingon that she currently has, we will refer to the klingon as “Stimpy”.  Everyday Stimpy IM’s Ren, asks about her family, her baby, etc. and the two have never even met in person!  Worse than that, they only had a few brief conversations a few years ago while working on a project.  What one person took for a work conversation, the other took a life-long bond of friendship.  Now Stimpy won’t stop talking.  And it’s not the daily contact that is the issue, it’s that the questions are personal, referring to Ren’s baby as “her little niece”, asking about her life, and such.  It sounds like Stimpy could show up at her front door one day and ask to spend a few days with her while she is in town!  What do you do?

The first attempts at ignoring the gadfly failed miserably.  Soon Ren was greeted with replies in IM of “Why is my friend not responding, is something wrong?”  Blocking her in IM causes Stimpy to send emails of “I see you are offline, is everything ok?”  My advice – have fun with it.  Here are my suggestions.

Reversal Method:  Start asking her about her family, her husband, etc. but don’t stop there, get really personal.  Ask her what her man looks like, respond with “yum he sounds delicious.”  Ask if he is a top performer - wink wink and go from there.

Flood Gate Method: Don’t just respond, attack!  Launch a denial of service campaign against her.  Stay up late, get up early, don’t stop chatting all day long.  When you can’t be around, ask someone to log into your IM account for you and have them carry on the campaign. 

Disturbing Method: “How’s my little niece?”  “What, oh the baby, yeah, haven’t seen her all day.  I wonder if her water bowl is full.”  Or “OMG that kid is driving me NUTZ! Sometimes I could just smother her with a pillow.  haha j/k ;(”  Stop short of a criminal investigation.

Gross Method: “BRB gotta go, got the runs today.”  And then follow it up 15 minutes later with “Phew!  You better be glad you are not around here!  That smell could gag a maggot!  I mean, can I get a courtesy flush?  Boo-ya!”

Even Grosser Method:  “Stimpy, this is weird, but do you ever get that not-so-fresh feeling?”  Feel free to elaborate in detail about your least fresh day.

Captain Oveur Method: “Have you ever been in a cockpit before?  Have you ever seen a grown man naked?  Stimpy…have you ever been in a Turkish prison?”

Grosser still method: “Eeewww, there are short hairs all over my keyboard!  I wonder how they got here, they don’t taste like nose hairs.”

Henry's Chat Method:  Respond with only obscure movie quotes and music lyrics.  “How’s your day?” Response - “Is this to be an empathy test?  Capillary dilation of the so-called blush response?  Fluctuation of the pupil.  Involuntary dilation of the iris.” (Blade Runner)  Or for “How’s my little niece?”  Response - “She's like thirteen years old, and if you even look at her funny, I'm gonna stick an umbrella up your ass and open it.” (Last Boy Scout)  Or “What’s up?”  Response - “Now is the time, for me to rise to my feet, wipe your spit from my face, wipe these tears from my eyes!” (Hatebreed – I Will Be Heard)

Institutionalized Method: “Stimpy, do you hear them?  The voices?  Some people can’t hear them, but I can.  Sometimes they ask me to do things for them.  Sometimes they ask me to do bad things.  Very bad things.  Shush, shush, don’t say anything, don’t you hear them.  They are like butterflies in my head, so soft, like wisps of smoke.  They get angry when I don’t do what they say.  They make me hurt myself. DON’T YOU HEAR THEM?”

Old Spice Method: I won’t go there, I think they covered that one enough.

Haulin’ Ice and Talkin’ Moons

I’m exhausted, I don’t know how I am still able to function right now.  My wife along with a few others from the labs on her floor hosted picnic at a local state park today.  My job was to play sherpa, loading, unloading, loading and unloading the truck.  During the first unloading, Lucille tried to smash my 6 YO’s head into the pavement by catching his shorts on the tailgate as he jumped down and up-ending him (and she has been behaving so well lately).  He was fine, and ended up ripping his shorts to shreds and only suffered a small scratch on his leg.   

I am not complaining about my role today, I actually enjoyed the work.  The temperature over the past few weeks has limited my outdoor time, since there is nothing to mow or trim.  Today gave me the opportunity to stretch my legs a little and I get bored and cranky when I don’t have something to occupy my time.  I don’t know many people from my wife’s work, and I am not the mingling type, so I stuck to the sidelines, helped serve the food and tried to keep myself busy.

I learned another weird fact about myself while the party was going on around me, I don’t like to relinquish control.  I know I have a heightened need for order, but this went beyond my normal bounds.  I had this weird feeling that I needed to take control of the setup, cooking and cleanup.  I don’t think anyone minded, everyone was there to have a good time.  And I had a good time, trying to allow everyone else a chance to unwind.  Cleaning up trash as soon as it hit the tables, reorganizing the coolers so they performed at optimum thermodynamic capacity, sorting the buns*, and standing ready at the grill in case my wife’s boss needed anything.  I hope I didn’t step on anyone’s toes.

The shirt I was wearing caught the attention of two young girls, both looked about my sons’ ages, who were the daughters of one of my wife’s coworkers.  Since most of my wardrobe consists of t-shirts and most of those shirts have been purchased from shirts.woot!, it’s typical that I get at least one comment when I wear one.  Today, I chose the “I hope you brought a lot of baggies” tee because it is one of my favorites and it is a light color so I didn’t bake in the sun. 

One of the girls approached me and asked what my shirt meant.  I asked her if she knew the names of the planets on my shirt.  She knew Earth, but didn’t recognize Saturn.  I explained that if each natural satellite was like a little puppy, then Saturn would have a really hard time controlling all 62 of hers, while Earth only had Luna.  I think I told her that only 49 of Saturn’s moons had names, but now that I think about it, 52 of them are named.  I explained that since Saturn was so large, she attracted a lot of moons around her, while tiny Earth only has one.  Her and her sister listened and asked questions while I talked about the planets and moons and then she surprised me by saying that the Earth should not have a moon that is so big.  I agreed and told her that based on the size of Earth, she has no right having a moon that large.  In fact, Luna is the fifth largest moon in the solar system and it is still a mystery why Earth has attracted such a large natural satellite.  I love when children get interested in science, even when it is from a silly t-shirt.

As the eating and talking wrapped up, we loaded everything back into the cars.  Everyone headed to the beach that was adjacent to the pavilion we were in.  By the time we finished, my wife and I were exhausted and the beach was packed.  I also didn’t feel comfortable with leaving the truck unattended, while the bed was filled with all of the party gear, i.e. pack and play, coolers, chairs, food, etc.  So we headed home, much to my sons’ disappointment.  We promised a trip to the pool after we unloaded everything at home. 

My sons, our neighbor’s daughter and I headed to the pool for a few hours after everything was unpacked and put away.  The water was warm and very relaxing and we arrived at the perfect time, just as everyone was heading home for the day.  We swam for an hour and a half and then enjoyed an ice cream while we dried off.  Today was a good day.

* The whole situation with the buns was driving me crazy.  They were placed out on the table in a heap of bags, hot dog buns mixing with the hamburger buns, white and whole grain and potato buns all together in a mish-mash.  I attempted several times to sort them appropriately, but I was not getting any respect for the sense of order this situation required.  Alphabetically seemed most fitting: hamburger + potato, hamburger + white, etc. but I thought this might work better: long + potato, long + white,…,round + whole grain, since not everyone was eating a “hamburger” and some were having veggie or turkey burgers.  And the opening of a new bag while there were still buns of the same type in an already opened bag!  I don’t know how many times I had to step in and consolidate.  I was even considering putting the buns away and only doling them out upon request, but there were so many other things that needed my attention.  Damn biologists!

Take This Bottle

Today, I had my first alcoholic drink in over six months.  In fact, I had two!  And the first came only five minutes past noon!  After the past several weeks/months, I felt like I needed a little something extra during lunch today, to ease the pain.  I don’t think it improved my work load any or will make me work any faster, but it sure felt nice and cold going down.  Today was one of those rare occasions when I actually got to leave the house and have lunch with adults.  I met a few of my fellow work-from-home coworkers at a local restaurant.  We try to meet at least once per month, but it always ends up being once every two or three months.  I arrived before everyone else and got to sit in a quiet room off the main dining room waiting for everyone to arrive.  There was no one else in the room, there were no TVs on, no computers, no email or instant messages, and no kids.  I felt it was only appropriate to celebrate this blessed moment of silence with a cold beer.

I decided to quit drinking when I was 19 years old.  I can assure you while I was still two years under the legal drinking age, I had many gallons under my belt at that point, and they was just what I could remember.  I did not quit entirely, but just stopped doing the “binge” drinking that was very prevalent with my peers.  At the time, I understood the effects of alcohol and when I drank, I drank with one purpose in mind, to get drunk.  I never saw a point in drinking to be sociable, or for the taste, or for any other reason than to get to that point where my mind stopped functioning coherently and go completely past it.  I had fun, I got in trouble, had more fun.  But by age 19, I decided that I didn’t like the “me” that I became when I drank too much.  I didn’t like not having control over what I did or said (I have a big mouth when I am sober, and it gets even bigger and louder when I have had a few).  I also noticed a big flaw in my head that would allow me to quickly become addicted to this type of thing.  So I quit.

Over the next 16 years, I have had times when I wanted to celebrate and allowed myself to cut loose.  But after those occasions, I went back to my “Coca-Cola drinking, sit on the sidelines and watch the other drunk fools” lifestyle.  About once or twice a year, I will have a beer or two, but I don’t allow myself anymore than that.  I don’t condemn anyone that drinks (only when it does harm or can potentially harm someone else), it doesn’t bother me when other people drink around me.  I am not trying to preach or get up on a soapbox.  It can be fine for other people, I just know it is not for me. 

In fact, I like being the only sober person at a party, you won’t believe the crazy shit I have talked people into doing, portraying the little devil on their shoulder.  I once talked a friend of mine into letting me draw a version of the da Vinci’s Last Supper on his back in permanent Sharpie marker.  When I was finished, it went from shoulder to shoulder, from the hairline on his neck to his waistline.  Don’t ask me why the Last Supper, I think it had something to do with the conversation at the time.  But I can tell you the next morning he was really pissed, but also impressed by my artistic rendering using only red, black and green markers.

So on this extended holiday weekend, drink responsibly and have a great weekend.  I doubt I will post anything tomorrow, since I will be in Philly for the Faith No More concert.  But I will try to have some pics and possibly some video for you when I return.  Sunday, we will head out to the annual Independence Day Parade and Fireworks. 

Happy Fathers Day

Happy Fathers Day to all of the fathers out there.  I had a great weekend.  We started it off by getting family photos taken by one of the moms from the elementary school.  She is just starting her business and I had seen some of the work she had done in the past and came highly recommended.  We had the photos taken outside in a beautiful park, so the boys could run around and play in between shots.  The kids behaved and smiled in all of the right places.  I can’t wait to get the pictures back next week.  And just in case you were wondering, none of the photos will end up on AwkwardFamilyPhotos.com.    When we got back, I spent the rest of the day working outside. 

I made the first official harvest from the garden yesterday.  The Romaine lettuce was preparing to bolt (forming a seed stalk), so the boys and I cut it down, washed it and bagged it.  We ended up with 6 one gallon freezer bags of lettuce.  We have so much lettuce in the house right now, I don’t know what to do with it all.  We are having salads at every meal and sometimes the salad is the meal.  I never thought that I would ever say something like that, I am not a “salad == meal” kind of person.  The amount of fiber that we are consuming is tremendous.  I have considered converting the shed into a curing house and drying the leaves, like they do with tobacco.  I can sit out on the deck and enjoy a nice pipe of Romaine, but I think I will stick to just eating it for now.  If only I had the forethought of planting a Ranch Dressing Bush or a Crouton Tree, we would be in business.

Since we busted out all of the weekend chores on Saturday, Sunday was truly a day of rest.  Of course, a day of rest would start out by being awakened at 6:49 AM ET by my boys.  They presented me with my cards and my gifts.  I got a chef’s apron and a Toblerone bar.  The latter was a reference to a running joke that I have with my wife that the turd wedges that you find in the baby’s diaper always remind me of a Toblerone bar.  But regardless of what it looks like, it is still pretty tasty. 

We went to church in the morning and then spent the rest of the day at the pool that we had just joined.  It was nice to soak my sore legs and back in the pool all day.  The kids had a blast, even our little 11 month old.  She had a great time in the water with mommy and daddy and laughed every time one of the boys popped out of the water next to her.  She earned the nickname “Richard Swimmins” for the day.

The boys are both timid around water, the same way I was at their age.  Neither one can really swim, so we hung around in the shallow end the entire time.  At one point, I was sitting on the edge of the pool and the boys were playing in front of me.  My 6 YO started to swim out towards the middle of the pool and abruptly stopped, spun around and headed back to the edge.  The look on his face told me something was wrong and I was just about to hop in when he got back to the edge.  Instead of calling or reaching for me, he grabbed his brother by the shoulder and pulled him close.  He began whispering in his ear.  I was beginning to get alarmed.  First of all, I didn’t think my 6 YO knew how to whisper and whenever the two boys get that close, they are usually conspiring to do something stupid. 

They broke apart a few moments later and headed in opposite directions along the wall.  I called to my 7 YO, because I knew he would spill the beans.  The 6 YO would get embarrassed and might start crying if I interrogated him and I didn’t want anything to disturb my calm. 

Me: “What’s going on?”

7 YO: “Oh, nothing, Ashley’s here.”

And that’s when I saw her, a little 6 YO girl from my son’s kindergarten class.  She was swimming with her sister on the other side of the pool.  That’s what caused my youngest son to turn tail and run.  He has admittedly “loved” Ashley for almost six months now.  He even tried calling her on his first day of summer vacation.  But gods forbid he talk to her now, when she is right in front of him.  There is also a rumor that my 7 YO likes or is liked by Ashley’s older sister, but my 7 YO denies it vehemently.  But I guess that is something they also inherited from me.  I sat and watched in amusement while my 6 YO swam around, avoiding even looking in the girls’ direction.  He wouldn’t say hello or even acknowledge that the girls were even there.  I tried coaxing him into going to talk to her, but his face would just turn a brighter shade of red and he would swim away.

My wife and daughter appeared a few minutes later and I explained the situation to her.  We both started working on him to just go say hello to them.   

Me: “Ashley looks like she is a really good swimmer, maybe you should ask her to show you how to swim.”

Wife: “No don’t do that, you’ll sound like a wimp.  Just swim over to her and say, ‘How you doin’?’” (said in a Joey-esqu fashion)

Nice, I am trying to develop him into a sensitive polite gentleman and she wants him to be a Playa’.  The boys eventually did talk to the two sisters.  Hopefully they will become less shy as they get older.  I wanted to explain to them both how in a few years they will be begging for those girls to talk them, but then I realized that I really didn’t want to encourage my boys to start chasing girls just yet.  They are moody enough now without having to deal with all of those emotions.

Long Weekends – Revisited

Long weekends are great.  Long weekends allow me to have two days to enjoy my family and spend extra time with my boys, if I rush around on Saturday and complete all of my chores.  The downside of a long weekend is spending extra time with my boys.  Please don’t misunderstand me.  I love spending time with my kids, I really do.  We play games, watch movies, go hiking, etc.  But it doesn’t matter what you do, what cool activities you have planned or how many things they have to play with, as time goes on the more their boredom level rises and the harder they are to please and the less time they will spend doing any one activity before wanting to move on to something else.

Children are amazing creatures.  They could have every toy imaginable, but they would rather play with a cardboard box or dig a hole in the dirt.  They could have ten kids to play with within a fifty foot radius of the house, but they don’t want to play with any of them.  You could run them all day long, but their energy level never drops, they just become more difficult to please and to deal with. 

I have begun work on a mathematical theory to calculate a child’s or a group of children’s behavior at any given moment. Since their behavior is directly proportional to their level of boredom and also their brazenness, you can use this equation to solve for either of them as well.  The theory is not complete and there are many more factors involved, but this is what I have so far. 

Henry’s Law of Childhood Behavior:

As you can see, the longer the time between when school ends and the time it begins again, the worse their behavior gets.  You can attempt to lessen the effects by spending more money, but as time goes on, you are screwed.  I am sure I will have much more data in the next few months on which to expand my theory.  I wonder if they will give me something to write with in my padded cell? 

Here is an example of the formula in action.  We promised the kids we would break out the water guns and water slide on Monday.  So, I spent 30 minutes filtering through two 40 gallon Rubbermaid storage bins filled without outside toys to find all of their water guns, of which they had about ten last summer.  They, of course, wanted to play with every other toy that I took out of the bins.  Once everything was put away back into the bins, I tested each one out.  I found one that worked.  The rest were so packed with sand and rocks that they triggers were completely disabled.  I cleaned them out the best I could, but to no avail.  Others were missing vital pieces, like the water reservoirs.  Luckily, the 6 YO had gotten a brand new one for his birthday, so they each had one.

I filled a large 20 gallon tub with water and let them loose.  This was supposed to buy me some time to dig out the water slide and get it set up.  I stepped out of the garage ten minutes later with the water slide and all water gun play ceased immediately and they began to hover over me like vultures.  The set up, which would normally take about ten minutes, took more like 30 because I constantly had to step around children.  And then my children started to multiply.  I no longer had two kids up my butt, now I had five.  I felt like I was Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams, if I built it, they would come.  Water slide inflated, water on, let the fun ensue and my leisure time begin.

Thirty-two minutes later, they were done with it.  Thirty-two minutes!  It took longer than that to set up!  I hadn’t even had time to sit down yet.  And then they had to the balls to say, “You know what I want to play next?  The eating lunch game!”

I have never beaten my children, nor have I beaten a neighbor’s child, but I must admit that I came very close to clubbing them each over the head with an aluminum baseball bat and swearing under oath that they all received blunt trauma to their heads from jumping off the water slide, which, your Honor, I told them specifically not to do several times.

My wife graciously played short-order cook, and served up ten hot dogs with a side of Flavor Blasted Xplosive Pizza Goldfish.  I got the part of waiter and busboy.  After the meal, they all lounged in the sun while I broke down the water slide.

Life is good.

Later that night, the very fabric of reality began to rip.  The boys prepared for their showers, complaining that they didn’t need showers because they played in water all day.  My wife and I were shouting orders because they some how forget how to undress themselves, bathe, get dressed again, etc.

Child: “Do we really have to?”

Other Child: “He goes first, I went first last night.”

Wife, shouts from the baby’s room: “Make sure you put your clothes in the wash basket.”

As clothes hit the floor, nowhere near the wash basket, Me, growling: “Did you hear what I just said?”

Wife: “I said that.”

Me: “Said what?”

Wife: “To put their clothes in the basket.  You didn’t say it, I did.”

Me: “Oh, yeah maybe you did. But to them, anything that passes from our lips should be treated as the word of God and it shouldn’t matter who really says it.”

In other news, my wife and I made a pretty good meal on Sunday.  We made Slow Cooker Pork Cacciatore from AllRecipes.Com served over whole wheat spaghetti.

My rating:

• Taste: 4 – very hearty, flavorful meal, probably better suited for a chilly fall or winter day.
• Prep Time: 2 – the recipe says 15 minutes, but it took me about 30-45 (this may be due to the fact that I had a golden retriever follow me with every step I took around the kitchen), and it takes at least 8 hours to cook in the slow cooker, so it not something that you can just whip together.
• Health: 3 – moderate calories, fat and cholesterol
• Cost: 4 – The pork and the mozzarella cheese were the only things I had to purchase that I didn’t already have in the kitchen.  The recipe calls for 28 ounces of diced tomatoes, I only used 14.  I also used two peppers instead of one.
• Kid Friendliness: 2 – yup, too many weird looking things floating around in the sauce.  Tried bribing them with s’mores, no reaction.  They ate some of it, very reluctantly.  They typically eat the pasta at least, but the whole wheat spaghetti did not look right to them.  If we dare make it again, it would be wise to have a back-up plan.
• Overall: 3

Long Weekends

I seem to always be surprised when I get a long weekend.  I am organized, I live by my Outlook calendar, but sometimes getting an extended weekend just creeps up on me.  I get that revelation at some point on Saturday or Sunday that I really don’t need to go back to work until Tuesday.  I spent almost all day working outside on Saturday.  My lawn is a mess.  It has been completely overrun with weeds.  If I weren’t so picky, I would be able to enjoy my beautiful crop of clover in the south quarter and my hearty bounty of wild strawberries blooming in the north.  I also have some weird vine-like weed that is filling in the spaces in between the clover and strawberries.  I put down a strong layer of weed and feed hoping that will put a dent in it. If this doesn’t work, my only recourse maybe to kill everything and start over.  I really hope it doesn’t come to that, with three kids and a dog, I need a backyard, not a mud pit.

The garden, on the other hand, is growing like crazy.  I already have a few small peppers sprouting and the tomatoes look like they are going to need 2X4’s to support them soon. 

The boys helped me weed all of the flower beds.  Of course I had to bribe them.  I offered them $1 per 5 gallon bucket of weeds.  I honestly didn’t think they would last past a bucket or two, but they stuck with it.  We were done in about 90 minutes and I am only out $12. 

I had to run out to local home improvement stores to pick up a few essentials, like fertilizer, duct tape and para-cord.  I think I moved up a few notches on some federal agency’s watch list after that purchase.  My wife suggested I pick up a fire pit while I was out.  We have been putting off getting one since we were waiting to install a new stone patio off to the side of the deck and have one built in.  I don’t think that is getting done this year, so we figured we might as well get one now. 

I found a nice one that was reasonably priced.  My wife picked up marshmallows, Hershey’s bars and graham crackers.  We promised the kids that if they ate their dinner we would roast some marshmallows and make some s’mores later that night. 

I pondered the genius that first created these lovely confections.  I wondered if this person ever had children or had considered the effects that this would have on them.  Let’s look at the steps making a s’more:

1. Ignite a marshmallow on the end of a sharpened stick (I think the Mongols conquered most of Asia with similar weapons)
2. Watch as it gets waved around like a flaming white meteorite (yet another medieval siege weapon, flaming pitch)
3. Attempt to squish the molten marshmallow between two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate
4. All of this happens around a fire

After the first round of s’mores, these steps get played out in hyperspeed as the roughly 500 calories of sugar per s’more gets quickly introduced into the child’s bloodstream.  This is a GREAT treat right before bedtime.

There were no injuries although the dog almost waved his tail through the flames a few times.  He could not understand why we were all outside in the dark and not in bed.  If he is not on his dog bed by 8 PM, he starts to get really weird.  He kept coming up to my wife and I and then turning towards the house as if to say, “um, hello!  It’s bedtime.  Follow me and I will show you where we need to be.”

We decided to go on a little hike after church on Sunday.  We packed up the kids and headed out to a nearby state park.  We got one of those backpack carriers for the baby.  Secretly I wanted to test out the My Tracks application on my phone.  We picked a bad place to start.  The beginning of the hike was a 600 feet increase in elevation over 2,000 feet walking distance.  That is about a 30% upward grade. 

20 lbs of baby + 7 lbs of backpack + my lard ass + 600 feet climb = imminent heart failure. 

I survived.  Unfortunately I hit something I wasn’t supposed to on the phone and turned the My Tracks application off midway through our hike, so I never got complete stats.  We all had a good time and it was a beautiful day to be outside.  The boys definitely want to come back to this same place again without their little sister, so I can take them exploring a little more.

This chick wouldn’t get off my back the whole time, her first lesson in becoming a wife:

State of euphoria from lack of oxygen:

mom and her two mountain boys:

mountain men:     

He Shall Be Known as 6

My 5 YO shall henceforth be known as my 6 YO.  His real birthday was ten days ago, but his big party was today, so to him he wasn’t officially 6 until he was surrounded by eleven kids screaming happy birthday.  That works for me and I am sure there are a few people out there that would agree with that logic as well.  Who wouldn’t want to delay or even skip getting a year older if there wasn’t a party to mark the event. 

We had the party at one of those places with all of the inflatable slides and moon bounces and obstacle courses.  The kids had a great time and I had a pretty good time too.  I acted like one of the kids and tried out a little of every thing.  I even held a little how-to session in one of the moon bounces on doing front and back flips.  I called it quits after a few of each when I under rotated a front flip and rattled my teeth and jarred my spine.  Maybe I should start skipping birthdays too, this old age stuff is beginning to hurt too much.

I had one of those proud geek/father moments when I passed by the 12 kids all sitting down to engorge themselves on pizza and chips and soda.  I overheard this snippet of conversation.

Little Girl: “Don’t drink your soda so fast, your belly will explode.”

My 6 YO: “That’s totally BUSTED, your stomach would not explode.”

My 7 YO: “Yeah, you would burp first and release the gas.”

6 YO and 7 YO together: “Busted.”

I had to step out of the room because I was getting all misty.  My two boys, ahem, men, busting urban myths before my very eyes.  I have been catching them using “plausible” and “confirmed” in conversations for the past few weeks and their eyes lit up a little yesterday when I broke out the duct tape to try to seal up the top of the heavy bag.

We are planning our own Mythbuster-esque experiment this summer when the weather gets a little warmer.  We are going to test out the non-Newtonian properties of a corn starch and water solution.  The only problem so far is trying to score a 100 pounds or more of corn starch or enough to fill a turtle shaped plastic sandbox (shh, don’t tell my wife that we are planning this, she has forgotten all about the sandbox I have hidden in the shed).  If anyone out there knows where I can get that much corn starch, let me know and I will teach you how to walk on water.  Of course we are going to start small scale and build up to the main event once we get the proper water to corn starch ratio right.

Bustin’ Myths and Getting Older (my 6 YO is the one drenched in sweat with the little red arrow above his head):

Happy Birthday big guy!

Tlatho-Shaba, Tlatho-Shaba Lama Sabachthani

Tuesday, Tuesday why have you forsaken me.  I really jinxed myself by reporting that Tuesdays are good days.  The past two weeks have proven me wrong.

My Tuesday morning consisted of browsing through a pile of emails telling what is currently broken or appears to be broken.  I don't consider myself a bad developer, but I consider myself incapable of pleasing everyone all the time or some of the time, most times I just want at least one person to be happy.  Deploying applications on thousands of desktops across the country used by various users with various levels of knowledge intelligence skill to be used in thousands of different scenarios is not easy.  It is much easier in a corporate environment where conditions are somewhat controlled, I cannot imagine what it would be like to have to build something used in the outside world.

Last week was all production support and now that I am done my monthly “on-call week”, it is a little quieter, but there is still a lot to do.  Last week left me severely behind on at least six different projects and playing catch up is hell.  Everyone is looking for a piece of me, every time I start on something, someone else is knocking on my door looking for an update.  I understand that I dig my own holes, but sometimes I wish there was a reset button or a way to file workload bankruptcy, hell a pause button would be nice.  I think I am incapable of working the hours that I used to.  I burn out around 11:30 now and even the hours before that don’t seem to be as productive as they used to. 

I got to leave work behind me early today (which is not a good thing being that I am already behind), because I had a doctor's appointment.  It was my yearly visit to the dermatologist.  Right after the appointment I had robotics, so I needed to take all of my robotics gear with me.  That means I couldn't take the truck.  I pulled the Subaru out the garage right after my wife left this morning and it sat in the sun all morning long.  When I got in to head to the doctor’s, the windshield was covered with pollen, sawdust, and a mass of other crap.  So I hit the windshield washer button and POP!  The cool windshield washer fluid on the hot windshield caused a 10 inch long crack right down the middle of the windshield.  I know this is in retaliation for not driving her for a month, but at least she could have given me a warning before self-mutilating herself.

I don’t think the patients in the dermatologist’s waiting room were too pleased with me when I arrived.  I sat there for 15 minutes and must have sneezed at least 40 times.  They all looked at me like I must be in the wrong office.  I just smiled at them between sneezes and wiped away the snot.  I got to meet my new doctor, he appears to be at least 14 years old.  I then came to the realization that I am at the point in life where my doctors can actually be younger than me and that I am truly old.  He gave me the all clear sign, which is good.  He asked me if there was anything else and I began to inquire if they offer any euthanasia services, but figured our health insurance probably wouldn’t cover it, so I said “No” and went on my way.

On to robotics.  I arrived a little late and had to park about 1/4 mile away.  Everything was going smoothly until my cell phone started blowing up. 

“you didn’t load the new such and such data last night”

“i did”

“no, you didn’t”

“I know I did because it took forever, it was like 9 million rows of data”

“well it’s not working”

At this point I realized that while I might have started the job to migrate the data last night, I don’t recall checking on it before I went to bed, so it probably threw an error at some point and never finished.  I called into the “Henry F’ed up Party Line”.  It was right at clean up time for Robotics, which is the loudest point with all of my kids asking how to save their Scratch projects and complaining because they didn’t want to clean anything up and running around screaming so I don’t even recall what was said on the call or what I might have said.  I know I promised to look at the issue as soon as I got home.

As soon as I got home, I realized that I had to make dinner quick or we wouldn’t be eating until late.  I went the pasta and meatballs route to save time.  Everyone was fed and I headed down to the basement to fix what I had broken the previous night.  I was right, the job failed to complete and I caused an outage, wonderful.  The good news was that I found an easier way to run the job that went much quicker and the problem was resolved in about 30 minutes.

What a way to spend Star Wars Day.  Lost was good, but sad. Fitting.

There’s a First for Everything

Saturday was my oldest son’s First Holy Eucharist mass at church.  For my non-Catholic readers, the First Holy Eucharist is when Catholics get communion for the first time (not sure how you guys do it in your particular sect), kids receive it when they are in second grade or older.  For my non-Christian readers, in Christian religions, our god asks us to eat his flesh and drink his blood in a weekly ritual ala Bram Stoker. 

Our god’s son, who is also our god, not another god, the father god and the son god are the same god, he just talks about himself sometimes as the father and sometimes as the son, and sometimes he talks to himself as the father or as the son (not really sure how that all works, but we take it on faith that this is the way it works.  There is also third part to the god and he goes by the name Holy Ghost or Holy Spirit, and he shows up when the god wants to appear to people and tell them to kill someone or get them pregnant).  Anyway, the father part sent his son part down to Earth and was letting his son part get tortured and killed to make a point about sin and forgiveness, and the night before the son part was about to die, he had a meal with his followers.  At the dinner, he pretended that a piece a bread was his body and the wine was his blood and had his followers eat and drink it.  The next day he was nailed to a cross and died.  Three days later, the son pulled a Romero-esque comeback and rose from the dead.  So every Sunday, we go and celebrate this, and today was the first time my 7 YO got to do it.

We got up early and prepared.  My 7 YO got a new suit for the occasion and my 5 YO wanted to be part of the action so he put on a sports coat.  After getting dressed, my 5 YO said to his brother, “Wow, that suit makes you look 8.”

We had to slick his hair back with a lot of gel and then layered on some hairspray just to keep it in place.  It lasted for almost four hours before it busted out into an unruly mop.

(I am the tall dorky one on the right)

We went for lunch at the Mountain Branch Grill and Pub.  They served some of the best fried calamari I had ever eaten (the best I have ever had and possibly the best meal ever was at Roy’s) and an amazing blackened ahi tuna sandwich.  We got to sit outside and enjoy the wonderful weather and watch the golfers on the practice green.

We discussed the interesting fact that even though we celebrated mass that morning, we were still obligated to attend later that day or on Sunday.  I had never heard this before and I was not about to head back to church this weekend, according to my Cathlometer (that’s the little needle in my head that measures my current afterlife outcome and wavers between “Playing a Harp” and “Roasting with a Pitchfork”, I am sure after writing this post, roasting will probably be my only option), I was holy enough for the week, but according to church law, we did not fulfill our weekly obligation.  My argument to this is that it must be 5 o’clock somewhere in the world (in fact, it was around 5 PM in Rome (GMT + 2) when we were at mass (GMT – 4)), I figured if it works for having a beer, it should work for communion.  The consensus we reached was since they didn’t pass a collection plate, it doesn’t count as mass.

We also discussed what happens if you should throw up the host (the bread aka the body of god) at some point after communion.  One idea was that you have to have a priest dispose of the emesis properly (bury it in sacred ground, burn it, etc.).  Again, I have never heard this before, so I did a little research.  The only clear reference I could find was here and here.  So if you have to blow chunks, make sure you catch it in something you can hold on to until the priest gets there.  Luckily, everyone held on to their communion and their lunches.

Worse Than Pulling Teeth?

Today I got to go to the dentist.  It was a routine cleaning, nothing major.  Before we got started, the hygienist informed me that they needed updated x-rays.  The entire dental industry needs a make-over.  All of their tools and techniques need to be improved so as not to scare the shit out of people.  The whole idea of one or more people sticking sharp metal devices and mechanical equipment that emits high pitched, irritating noises into your mouth frightens most people. 
I don’t mind the high speed drills, I don’t mind the teeth polishing tool, even the high pressure water jet, Mr. Suction, and the stainless steel picks don’t bother me.  I hate when they have to take x-rays.  It’s not the fact that they are bouncing high energy radiation off my face, it is the medieval plastic and metal ring apparatus that they insert in my mouth.  And what makes it worse is the concertina wire edged piece of film that you are required to bite down on and hold for several seconds.  With all of our research in medical and material sciences, how can we not have come up with a better solution to this process?  Could they soften the edges a bit?  Could they make it less like clamping down on a razor blade with the roof of your mouth? 
After all of the teeth clenching, polishing and picking, I get to see the actual dentist for roughly 15 seconds.  He appears to count all of my teeth and then murmur, “you’re all set.”  Seriously?  Couldn’t I have just brushed really good and sent you a few digital pictures if that was all you were going to do?  I could have done that from the privacy of my basement stronghold and not have left the house today.  Damn you, preventative dentistry, you got me again.
But it’s Tuesday, it should be good, have I already broken my streak?  In the past two days I have spent over 13 hours on the phone trying to solve production issues at work, seven yesterday and six today.  I was up until 2 AM this morning.  My ears itch from wearing a telephone headset for this long.  I am now two days behind on an already overwhelming project load.  Why does stuff break on my on-call week?
Production support in a large corporation is very much like a circus, any issue effecting a significant number of users involves getting about 20 different people on a conference call because no one person has the access, the authority or knowledge to do what is necessary to fix the issue.  You get a help desk technician, production support contacts, users, server administrators, network administrators, firewall administrators, proxy team, application owners, vendor contacts, and various other dingleberries that just cling on because they think they can be useful. 
No one gets on the call at the same time, so every time someone comes online, you have to rehash the entire story and everything that has been done to that point.  Not only do you get to go through every fact, but you have to justify the reason for the call.  It’s like they don’t believe you that there is indeed an issue.  The best part is after having spent three hours going over every possible cause and discussing every possible resolution, the issue resolves itself mysteriously without anything changing at all, or at least nothing that anyone will admit to.  Sometimes you hear that “Ooohhh… um… nothing” on the conference call and then 20 minutes later the issue disappears.  I am still hopeful that someone will develop a way to deliver a throat punch through a VOIP line.
Everything can’t be all bad today, it’s Tuesday, Lost is on tonight.  Huh?  You’re shitting me, a rerun?  I quit.

Long Overdue

It has been almost a week since I last posted an update and I apologize.  I have been busy with work and home life and at the end of the day, when I sit down to write, I am either too tired or have something else that needs my attention.  This week all of my nights have been spent finishing up work projects, solving production support issues and spending time with the kids. 

This weekend was no different.  There was a birthday party on Friday night that kept me occupied until 9:30.  When I got home, all I wanted to do was stop my eardrums from bleeding and relax and not look at a computer.  I ended up watching Manchurian Candidate with Liev Schreiber and Denzel Washington.  It was a good remake of the original and put a modern twist on the original novel.  I have to admit that I am not a fan of Liev Schreiber, his eyes always make me think he is about to cry.  I also got to see The Men Who Stare at Goats.  It was humorous, but I really didn’t think too much of it. 

I spent about 30 minutes tonight re-ordering my Netflix DVD queue so that the Battlestar Galactica series comes next.  I have been putting it off long enough.  I can’t wait any longer.  I know, I know, how can I call myself a nerd and not have seen Battlestar Galactica?  I was not able to see it when it first came out and I vowed that I would not start watching it in the middle.  It wasn’t so much of a vow, it was more like an OCD thing that I could rationalize into a vow.

I scored a minor victory in getting the kids to watch Serenity with me, or making them believe that they wanted to watch it.  I tried getting them to watch it a year or two ago, but they weren’t interested.  I hope to leverage this into getting to watch Battlestar  on movie nights for the next several months.  The only downside is trying to get the kids to not walk around using the word “frack.”

We worked our butts off on Saturday.  The 5 YO and I went out to get the finishing touches for the veggie garden as soon as I was done the yard work.  He helped pick out all of the plants, loaded them on the cart and kept a mental count of everything we had.  We ended up with:

• (3) Bradley Tomatoes
• (1) German Queen Tomato
• (2) Roma Tomatoes
• (1) Husky Cherry Tomato
• (1) Pink Queen Tomato
• (3) Red Bell Peppers
• (3) Green Bell Peppers
• (1) Anaheim Pepper
• (1) Sweet Chili
• (6) Banana Peppers
• (1) Cubanelle Sweet Pepper
• (2) Zucchini
• (4) Blue Diamond Watermelons
• (6) Romaine Lettuce
• (6) Iceberg Lettuce
• (6) Buttercrunch Lettuce (which didn’t make it to the garden because I didn’t space things out properly)

This will be a butt-ton of produce if this works out.  We might have to build another bed next year or expand the existing bed if we get good results. 

The thunder is rolling and the rain is pounding down as I write this and I am wondering if our little garden will make it through this storm.  I really hope the morning sun does not reveal an empty 10’ X 12’ wooden box.  I am leaving it up to the gods of agriculture to ensure my garden doesn’t wash away. 

I figured the raised bed would keep the rabbits out until I had the defenses installed, but I didn’t plan on the Golden Retriever being a threat.  I was wrong.  He began eating the 12 cubic feet of garden soil (you know, that intoxicating mix of dirt, manure and compost) that we purchased as soon as started spreading it.  No wonder his breath smells like the ass of a dead skunk (we have some other very colorful descriptions for his breath, but I decided on the one least offensive).  I can’t wait to see what he does when something actually starts growing in it.

The boys and I spent a few hours planting everything and then rushed in to get showers.  I figure if each plant yields at least four vegetables or fruits we will have made our money back on the investment in the first year.

On Sunday, we installed the post caps to spruce up the garden a bit.  They are purely decorative and I think it makes it look less like a big wooden box.  We also added a few wooden signs to designate the different veggies planted in there.  I have one last addition before it is complete, but I didn’t get a chance to finish it.  More on that when it is done.

 

 

We also planted the replacements for the holly bushes that we dug out last weekend.  We got a small assortment of different shrubs from a local nursery and spent an hour after church planting them.  I don’t know how much longer the boys will be willing to help me out with all of the little projects that I have.  I hope it is not too soon, they are actually getting pretty good at it.  I might be able to rent them out and make a profit on it.

Right before dinner, we got to witness a great and scary thing, our 10 MO crawling for the first time.  Well, it wasn’t exactly crawling, but the ruling on the field was that she was on all fours and there was forward progress, enough to capture a toy a foot and half away.  It only happened once and by the time we were done clapping and coaxing her to do it again, it was time to eat.  By this time next week, I will have installed baby locks on all of the cabinets that don’t already have one and put up the baby gates on the stairs.  We had a great dinner tonight, Montreal Salsa Chicken on the grill.  I can’t remember where we got this recipe, but if anyone is interested in it, let me know and I will dig up a link.

That’s all for now, ass-breath the dog just made his way downstairs, opening the bedroom door and the basement door by himself.  He doesn’t like when it thunders, I don’t think he is scared, I think he just wants to make sure that I am alright.  I would be better if he chose to breathe in the other direction.

Tuesdays Are Good

This is a day late, but it was only because I have been busy with work and home life to write until now.  Tuesdays are turning out to be one of the better days of the week.  Anything that follows Monday has to be good.  The morning started off as every other, get up, get kids to school, etc.  At 9:40 AM, a reminder popped up from the Outlook calendar on my work PC, a Google calendar event on my home PC, and a reminder on my Droid. 

What could be so important that it would warrant three separate, redundant alerts?  Billy Gould (@mrgould) and Roddy Bottum (@roddybottum) tweeting the fan club presale link and password for the July 3rd Faith No More concert, of course.  Credit card in hand, I waited for 10 AM to roll around so I could get my tickets.  I got four good seats at the Mann Center in Philadelphia.  Three friends and I will be seeing Faith No More for the first time in over 12 years!  Since I am getting older, I opted for assigned seating instead of the lawn, these old bones need somewhere they can rest every now and then.

Could the day get any better?  Why yes it can!  Shortly after ordering the tickets online, an email popped into Gmail mailbox.  I was being notified that Blockade Billy was officially released and I would be receiving my 1st edition hard cover edition shortly.  This book is extra cool because it is being published by Cemetery Dance, a small publishing company from right here in Maryland.  We are practically neighbors, the company is based less than four miles from my house.  You can read more about Cemetery Dance in an interview of Richard Chizmar by the Baltimore Sun here and also in an interview at Lilja’s Library.

Tuesdays are also my short day at work.  I get out at 3 PM so I can head over to the elementary school to run the Robotics Club.  As I pushed my hand cart down the hall to the media center to start setting up, my good day started to crash.  I saw a whole line of kids standing at the media center door that were not my robotics club kids.  As I got closer, I realized with horror that the media center was completely occupied by photography equipment.  Today was spring picture day.

I parked the cart by the door and tentatively walked in.  I made eye contact with one of the photographers.  I explained my situation, she explained how long it would take them to break everything done and leave.  45 minutes.  I understood that there was nothing that I could do about it.  I was not about to rush these women or give them attitude, they just spent 8 hours taking pictures of an entire elementary school, I could tell by the sweaty faces and thousand yard stares that they were not to be trifled with.  Put simply, with indifference to you Kent, it’s like lasing a stick of dynamite.

I refused to let this set back ruin my day.  What were we going to do with 40 kids between the ages of 5 and 11?  As part of the agreement with the school, we weren’t allowed anywhere else on the premises.  The kids could sense my distress and fear.  Snap off the lights, instantly freezes kids in a school setting.  Sucked for the photographers, who now were groping around in a dimly lit library, but there was a building crisis that needed to be averted.  We gathered the kids in the only open area in the library, a 12” X 12” walled off section used for reading circles.  I distributed some of the WeDo kits to the children and explained that the quieter and more well behaved they were, the quicker the ladies could clear out and we could get to business. 

To my amazement, they did just that.  They all sat down and started working.  I only had to use my Taser two or three times (Just kidding, I did not tase any of the children.  I may want to at times, but that was one of the rules I had to agree to before assuming leadership of the club).  The photographers broke everything down and left in 30 minutes, I think they were a little afraid too.  Every time I made eye contact with one of the photographers, they gave me a look like “You volunteer for this?  God bless you, you crazy sonofabitch.”  We all relocated to the tables and computers without any major issues, except for a few damaged robots.  Hey, they are Lego, they snap right back together.

To top everything off, Tuesday is also Lost night (post forthcoming).  Being the pessimist that I am, I don’t expect things to go my way, but today was one of those pleasant surprises.

Bravery Part 2

Seven years, ten months, and nine days ago, our first child was born.  He was perfect in every way, ten fingers, ten toes, bright blue eyes.  The day after he was born, my wife asked the nurse why he had a bright pink spot on his face.  It didn’t seem like a bruise or an injury from his birth.  The nurse said “Oh that’s his beauty mark.”

One of our pediatrician’s colleagues came to do the wellness check up.  He explained to us that our beautiful son had a port wine stain birthmark.  The mark covered his right cheek, temple and part of his upper lip. 

Our pediatrician, at our son’s two week check up, told us that the birthmark could be a symptom of Sturge-Weber Syndrome.  This syndrome involves the growth of extra blood vessels around the brain, which could cause developmental problems and along the ophthalmic branch of the trigeminal nerve, which could cause eye problems, specifically glaucoma.  Sturge-Weber Syndrome is usually indicated when the birthmark involves the upper eyelid and forehead.  Since our son’s birthmark did not involve that area, the doctor was hopeful that he did not have this.

This began a long series of visits with various specialists in different fields.  We met with a geneticist with the University of Maryland.  He examined our son and ruled out Sturge-Weber based on the location and coverage of the birthmark.  It was a huge relief to hear those words.

We saw a pediatric ophthalmologist to determine if there was any possibility of glaucoma.  Most people older than 30 have had a glaucoma test.  You know the one where they blast a puff of air into your eye to test the pressure.  When a child is very young, it is impossible to do this while the kids is conscious, so they can only do it under sedation in a hospital operating room.  Our baby was much too young for that so the doctor could only check his eyes with special lenses.

The next doctor we met was Dr. Bernard Cohen of Johns Hopkins.  Dr Cohen is one of the best doctors that I ever known.  He immediately reassured us that everything was going to be okay with our son.  Dr. Cohen explained that without treatment the birthmark, over time, would hypertrophy, or become thicker and harder due to the increased blood flow to the area.  This could cause issues with his vision, breathing and speech, because of the proximity to our son’s eye, nose and mouth.  He described how the use of a pumped dye laser can reduce the appearance of and prevent future complications resulting from the birthmark.  Dr. Cohen explained that it is not an immediate improvement but it is a result of repeated treatments at regular intervals that could start as soon as our son was six months old. 

Dr. Cohen explained everything thoroughly.  He explained in it in biological and medical terms that my wife could relate to.  He spoke of varying the wavelength and pulse duration and how that would effect the blood vessels, which is what I could understand.  And he spoke to us as parents.  It was still a scary prospect, subjecting your child to a being shot with a laser in the face.

Shortly after our son turned six months old, we went for the first treatment.  Dr. Cohen and his wonderful staff walked us through the entire procedure before they did anything.  Dr. Cohen actually allowed me to experience what the laser felt like on anesthetized skin and on bare skin.  On bare skin it felt like taking a rubber band, like the ones they used to put on newspapers, pulling it back all the way and snapping it on your skin.  On the anesthetized skin, it felt like a someone flicking you with their finger.  Dr. Cohen explained that once they started everything would go very quickly, so they could complete the procedure and have our son in our arms again in less than 5 minutes, the actual procedure itself will take less than 2 minutes.  They do this so the child is not put under too much stress and get them back in the warm arms of their parents as quickly as possible.

I didn’t believe it until I saw it happen.  Dr. Cohen and his staff moved at lightning speed, 180 laser pulses in 180 seconds and our son was back in our arms.  He cried for a minute and then was back to normal.  There was no residual pain.  You could touch his cheek and it was like nothing had happened.  You could see the slight swelling and bruising caused by the bursting of the irregular capillaries, but after the procedure there was no pain.  We had to repeat this every three months for about five years.

Our son completed his 23rd treatment today.  At almost 8 years old, he is well aware of what is happening and the reasons why he has it done.  He understands and accepts that this is something that is for his health, but he is still a little anxious the day before.  He hops right up on the table, holds my hand and doesn’t even flinch. 

I am astonished every time at his courage and his will power.  I know there are people and children out there that have to face much greater challenges and pain, and my heart truly does go out to them, but I do not ever experience that first hand like I do the treatment of my son.  So when I think of bravery, I think of my 7 year old boy hopping up on the examination table knowing that he is going to get snapped in the face 100+ times.  I think of his happy, confident smile.  I feel his hand tighten around my fingers and the return of that smile when it is over.

Our son is at the point now where treatments are 6 months to a year apart.  His birthmark is nearly invisible now.  His next treatment will probably be his last for several years.  He may have to continue maintenance treatments later in his teens or older to get some of the spots closer to the eye lid that are difficult to get to, but that is something that only time will tell.