A bomb in my back yard (basically......)..

This is yet another reason why science, in the wrong hands, can be dangerous!

The first episode of "Deconstructed" on the Science Channel, was on the TV while my boys and I were clowning around in the bonus room. The item they were going to tear apart was the BBQ. The speaker was giving general information about the typical BBQ when he made the statement "it's basically a bomb".

All three little heads snapped to attention, and focused on the TV. They heard nothing before that statement, but after- complete rapture.

Later that day I looked out the window to see, to my horror, all three gathered around the BBQ checking it out. Pat even had a crescent wrench. He has no idea what to do with the wrench, but he's fiddling around with the tank. All of a sudden they all sort of cringe and squint while Pat ( the leader in all mechanical mayhem) applies the wrench. Maybe in cartoons those evasive actions help, but when a BBQ explodes, I assume they would have little effect. I busted up the little party, but now I have nightmares about the BBQ while I am not within eyesight.

The wife is NOT happy that we now have a BBQ in the master suite.

This calls for a family meeting.

Agenda:

1. No one sets off the BBQ but me.
2. If you get any ideas about setting off the BBQ, see item #1.
3. Pending shooting of "Survivor Man" at our house. Seems they want us to take out some insurance on the star of the show- otherwise the home environment is too risky for them....

Hey Favre! I'm thinking about reinstatement too!

He's a trend setter all right. And I, for one, am on board. I myself am thinking of petitioning for reinstatement. No, not for football. I suck at football. But I also "retired" from something, and I still think I can play, and I want "back in the game" so to speak.

I want to rescind my vasectomy. That's right. I "retired" a bit too early, and I think I have some game left. I certainly can start again around here. Hey, there's no "heir apparent" or anything like that. So why not? Let me outline the options.

Like Brett, the coach around here would have to decide what to do with me. I could show up "ready to play" so to speak, and force a decision. But the options are fewer, and in some ways, more severe.

Like the Packers, the wife would have to decide to play me, trade me, or release me. We are not into "trades" so that's out. A release would be extreme, even around here. So I would get to play. OR, OR, she could threaten to do what the Packers have threatened to do to Brett: Individual drills, all season long. We all know what that means in the context of my situation. I can hear it now... "Don't even come near me with that thing! Off in the corner, honey" Not what I was thinking. Gotta read the fine print.

And there's the process itself. Not appealing. I had a friend undergo it and he ended up with a couple months of the wrong equipment in the bag (swollen to baseballs, rather than, well, you know). Or so I heard- I didn't have any interest in verifying.

Goin' to DC!

Evil genius that I am!

I have always wanted to spend a week at the Smithsonian. Always. I am a huge lover of collections of stuff. Stuff you can't use, but is SOOOOO cool to look at. But unless you live near DC, and you have no kids to chase around, the opportunity is almost non existent. But since the Little Princess is going to DC, and she would like me to be around but out of sight, I figured I would go and hang. I am almost giddy with anticipation.

Gonna see the Hope Diamond, the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum, and of course, the Air and Space Museum.

This is the sort of thing that old people do. Maybe my mom wants to come with...

What a dork, huh.

Check your settings

It seems there is a gremlin in the system. For the children of the eighties, a ghost in the machine.

Somehow, comments were turned off- it seems to happen every time I log out.

Maybe it's Skynet's way of not encouraging me.

Dissed by my el machino.

How would you like to have these accomplishments?

There was a professional basketball player who had these stats, but still considered himself a success:

MISSED over nine thousand shots
LOST over three hundred games
Missed twenty six shots designed for him during the last seconds of a game, loosing those games

Was this guy a success?! You be the judge.

His name is Michael Jordan

I mention this because my Minors team had a great game yesterday, and yet they lost. I felt so bad for them; some of them made great plays- great catches, great throws, big hits, awesome steals, clutch pitches. One of my sons made a base clearing sacrifice triple (the look on his face broke my heart) and the other pitched a tough inning from one of those fake pitcher's mounds and still was proud of himself. It was all I could do to not run out and hug him (SO not cool, dad!)

The other team had one of those freak 6 run innings and that gave them the win 8-5. Props to them for the rally. It sucked that it happened in our game, but every kid deserves to be part of one of those. Our time will come.

Great things I have yelled!

In the course of everyday life we all say things that sound fine in context, but when reflected upon, don't exactly sound right. I have taken to collecting these statements as a reminder that my children are indeed making me crazy. Take a look:

Don't go outside without your underwear!

You have to wipe ALL the brown off!

STOP! Lift the toilet seat! Let your brother pull his head out!

Put your eyes back the way they are supposed to be RIGHT NOW!

NO SHOOTING BB GUNS IN THE HOUSE!

Poo is NOT fingerpaint!

WHY is the dog YELLOW?! WHY?! WHY?!

Please don't put the sand crabs down mommy's bathing suit!

Put down Nana's chain saw!

Put down that chain saw NOW!

Don't pull the legs off the frogs!

The refrigerator is NOT a place to keep bugs!

You CANNOT bring guns to school!

I don't care if you have your helmet on! No riding your motorcycle with a broken arm!

Which one of you has the other half of the lizard?

In the toilet, not ON it! Great! it's on fire! What's your plan now, Patrick? What's your PLAN?

WHO peed in the trash can AGAIN?!

I do not care what the DMV says, you cannot drive now that your three year probation is over! You are 10! I do NOT want to smell your fingers!

For the last time- DON'T pull your own teeth; DON'T pull Pat's teeth. PULL NO TEETH!

The next one to shoot something out of his nose EATS IT! (was not a good idea- they all commenced to, well, you know...)

Do not cook tropical fish in my nonstick cookware!

Do you really think he wants that up his nose? Silence! It was a rhetorical question!

Each one of these statements has a great story behind it.

Trust me.

"Scared Straight" for young women

Don't they look happy.

These young women are my daughter and her friends. Those are not real babies- they are animatronic dolls that simulate real babies. They are programmed to cry at specific times for food or to be changed or just to be annoying. Just like real life. This photo was taken at around 6 pm. They are happy because they think that this is a piece of cake. The babies have been sleeping and just had a feeding, so they are cooing and happy. They think this will last.

HA.

The rest of the story: It didn't last. They were up all night. every hour or two the babies would wake up and cry. Because they all slept over at our house (genius move by the other moms BTW) they woke each other up taking care of their babies. Sadly for me they also woke ME up. And the wife. WE have been through this. WE have a note that says we are done. We have four and DID NOT enjoy this experience. WE don't even get extra credit for it.

The girls would not let me take an after photo. They were NOT smiling. They went to school in their pajamas. One night of this kicked their little tooshies. They WILL NOT be getting pregnant in the next couple of years. Boyfriends take note- if they do, I will bring the babies to YOUR house. YOU will live this dream FOREVER, not ME. I will make sure of that. But the girls will explain all this to you the next time you get frisky. If not, then we can talk while I clean the shotgun.

"I -state your name- do solemly swear..."

One of my least favorite phrases that my children utter (whine actually) is "why does he/she get to _______ when I don't get to?! It's not fair!" Well, it's my turn. Why does my daughter get to go to the Presidential Inauguration when I don't?! Perhaps being able to spell it is a gating factor....no, then our current president wouldn't have been able to attend (MIGHT have gotten it right the second time if properly coached) and it would look bad if the guy who is being inaugurated couldn't be there.... Anyway, she received an invitation due to her attendance at a previous Junior National Young Leaders Conference. I am so proud of her for all her achievements- she just charges ahead and does well in whatever environment she gets thrown into; I am happy to send her. I just wish I could go. I am actually a bit jealous of her. That and she can eat anything she wants and she doesn't gain weight.

BTW here is the entire text of the oath of office:

" I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of the President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States."
United States Constitution, Article II, Section 1, Clause 8.

Friggin' ECS Motherboards!

Twice. Twice! The eMachines computer survived three years with the daughter. Given the record of that particular vendor it was impressive. Then it made a "sad sound" (her term) and passed away. Motherboard- but given she had a printout of the new machine she "had to have" in order to keep her social standing, I am still a bit suspicious. Anyway, so I replaced the MB. The first board survived for oh, 20 minutes until it smoked and passed away. The Fry's guy was understanding, and gave me another. It seems these boards have a "history" at Fry's. I should have dug into the pile; I would have noticed all the Fry's discount labels, which means someone returned it. Anyway the second one worked well. Until now. It too has expired. Turns out the 10 year old, who will remain nameless, had "overclocked" it. Did you know what that was when you were 10? I would have thought I was late getting home for dinner (6PM SHARP! Any day, any season, no excuses). I now have to build a machine for the little guy from scratch. He has a list. A printed out list of items needed from Newegg. Complete with prices. I am beginning to see a pattern here.... possibly a sibling transfer of best practices.....

Friggin' ECS Motherboards!

Twice. Twice! The eMachines computer survived three years with the daughter. Given the record of that particular vendor it was impressive. Then it made a "sad sound" (her term) and passed away. Motherboard- but given she had a printout of the new machine she "had to have" in order to keep her social standing, I am still a bit suspicious. Anyway, so I replaced the MB. The first board survived for oh, 20 minutes until it smoked and passed away. The Fry's guy was understanding, and gave me another. It seems these boards have a "history" at Fry's. I should have dug into the pile; I would have noticed all the Fry's discount labels, which means someone returned it. Anyway the second one worked well. Until now. It too has expired. Turns out the 10 year old, who will remain nameless, had "overclocked" it. Did you know what that was when you were 10? I would have thought I was late getting home for dinner (6PM SHARP! Any day, any season, no excuses). I now have to build a machine for the little guy from scratch. He has a list. A printed out list of items needed from Newegg. Complete with prices. I am beginning to see a pattern here.... possibly a sibling transfer of best practices.....

The cell phone - pool connection

Today is going to be a very good day.

I always take it as a good omen when something happens that could be a disaster but turns out well. Dropping my cell phone into the pool fits into this category nicely.

I was out by the pool talking on the phone (job search networking activities) when helldog started barking. I had locked her out with me because the cleaners were coming and she annoys the heck out of them. When they arrived I knew she would let me know even though I could not hear the doorbell where I was in the yard. When she started barking I ended my call and got up to go get the door. In the process I snagged my foot on one of the chairs, and in my usual graceful way I executed a lovely tumble and recovery that ended up with me standing at the edge of the pool. I did not fall in ( unlike past occurrences) because I had repositioned the sitting area after the first "performance" in anticipation of future mishaps (big feet...). While I didn't go into the drink, the phone somehow was jettisoned into the air. It plopped into the pool, landing on it's end. the downward force drove it under water, and the air trapped inside the case (Palm Treo 700) popped it back into the air like a submarine breeching the surface. I made that futile grasp after it launched toward the pool, so I was hovering over the edge of the pool, at first aghast at my misfortune, and then overjoyed when it popped up and I was able to snatch it from midair before it made it's final dive to Davey Jone's locker. To my amazement the thing still worked. I opened the battery cover and there was only a drop or two of water around the seams! No matter what else happens today, I already have one small victory for which to be thankful.

Yay for me!

Snow!

I went cross country skiing last weekend (or was it the weekend before....) and was fortunate enough to get a good dusting of snow. Skiing on fresh powder is great, but sometimes the cost isn't measured in tickets, but rather, dents and time lost. I dented the wife's truck a tad (I needed 4wd vs the lowered G35 "snowplow") when I tried to power through a snow bank that turned out to have a post embedded in it. Fortunately, the plastic piece was easy to pop back, and I doubt that anyone will ever notice the slight deformity. Besides, I have some local hooligans I can blame it on. I don't even need to go outside, I can just round up the usual suspects around the house!

The drive home was dicey. At one point there was only about 10 feet of visibility. At one point I almost thought I might have been lost and stranded. Wouldn't that have been a hoot- another hapless tourist lost in the Sierras. I sat there imagining the news story at home, and how the kids would fight over all my toys. That motivated me to survive. I wouldn't do well on "Lost". I would go crazy imagining the boys running my trains off the track, or playing with my hot wheels, or even staging fights with the dog and the rc dinosaur.

Hmm..... that last one has merit.....

Real men eat Quiche

I remember back in the eighties there was a book titled "Real men don't eat Quiche". Hell with that! The authors obviously never had the right recipe. I and my whole clan love it! I can't get away with making just one- we need two minimum, and three is preferred. The whole experience at our house demands a serving for breakfast the following day. If it's all gone, then the natives get restless and we end up being cranky all day. Score one for the French. It sort of explains why Parisians can be so...well, French. Perhaps Quiche is the answer to world peace. If so, we're gonna need more chickens.

The point I stress most is that real men don't THROW Quiche. With that as a measure there is only one real man in my house.

Count the things wrong with this picture....

I really don't know where to begin. OK. Hmmm. Helmet; check. Motorcycle; check. Broken arm; check. Gloves? Chest protector?

Get back in the garage and get the rest of your gear NOW.

Just kidding.

Oh... NO RIDING THE MOTORCYCLE WITH A BROKEN ARM! Seriously.

AGAIN?!

Perhaps I did not make myself clear: "DO NOT JUMP FROM THINGS ONTO OTHER THINGS!". I don't think that is difficult to understand, even for a 10 yr old. Anything that is not a person is a thing. Do not jump from things (or people, but that is a whole different lecture, and don't think for a minute we have not had that conversation either....).


This makes seven. You read that right. SEVEN. Three more and we get one free (kidding- nothing is free in the medical world.....). I just can't believe that he did it again. I know it hurts- he had to get a morphine drip the night it happened- and the pain would be a deterrent for me, so why does he do it?

To complete the picture, let me tell you that baseball tryouts were the following day. He still went- wouldn't dream of missing that- and did pretty good considering his throwing arm was in a cast. His throws looked more like grenade tosses than anything else, but you gotta give him credit for trying. The little league folks were concerned- they didn't want to let him try out because he might hurt himself.

We are way past that point. To get where we are now you have to go past that, drive all night, and when the sun is high in the sky, you will be where we are now.

So where's my drip?

Cannonball Run!

I took this from the chairlift. The snowboarder is one of mine. Believe it or not, the redhead is lapping me! I am trying in vain to keep up with him, but he has no respect for my constant cries of "slow down!" and "Carve a little bit". This is the kid who has broken his arm SIX times. I posted a pic of him with all his casts a while back, so I am not making it up. He does not turn. He justs points himself down the hill and takes off. I can't catch him. Thank god there aren't many people on the slopes, or he would be picking off people right and left. He did take out a fellow snowboarder on his first run- he just tucked into a ball and took the dude out at the knees. From behind. The kid's face was priceless! He was cruising along all hot stuff, and then he is looking at the sky!

What was he thinking?!

For true home entertainment if you are 6 years old, you only need a couple of things:


a 6 yr old (duh.)


...some water, preferably to be delivered in some kind of gun form...



...and this. This is the hair iron his sister, my charming daughter, leaves out every morning. I repeat the same thing every day: "clean up the bathroom and your room and make your bed before you leave for school". And every day the bathroom counter is a mess with war paint and various implements of torture (in the name of beauty...), Cheer central (her room) is a mess, and the bed is not made.

The little guy's impulses finally got the better of him. He took the squirt bottle of water and sprayed the hair straightener until it popped the fuse. It took a while. Unfortunately, the hair straightener still works. So what does the princess do? Leaves it all out AGAIN! What does the little one do? Well, the foundation of good science experimentation IS repeatability.......