Bodies Revealed!

If you have the time, and can handle looking at cadavers, go and see Bodies Revealed.
It is truly amazing. I was a little concerned at first because I was bringing along my daughter, who wanted to go to get extra credit for Science class. I wasn't sure how she would handle it, and given that she wants to be a doctor, I didn't want to freak her out and ruin my chances of medical care for life, but she handled it like a champ. She will be a great doctor. Didn't freak at all.
I have always been amazed at the complexity and synergy of the human body and all it's systems. This exhibit shows all the systems- sometimes integrated, and sometimes stand alone. The most amazing display was of the circulatory system. An entire circulatory system laid out where it would be- alone in space encased in clear resin. All the arteries, veins, and so on down to the fine capillaries, all suspended in space as in a transparent body. Surreal.

There are some drawbacks to the whole experience. For one, I have had the whole BBQ rib experience ruined. I don't think I can look at a rack of ribs without thinking "where's the lungs?". Nor will I able to eat beef jerkey again. Too similar to the "exploded views" presented to show the shoulder joint and how the muscles interact with the bones.

But man, are we amazing beings, or what?

Props to the old man

My mother gave me a copy of my father's resume from 1968 when he was impacted by a layoff.
She wanted me to have a copy of a good resume for me to model mine after. Times have changed- resumes look much different today, but it was an interesting look into the work that my father did.

He never talked much about his work, and now I know why. He held top secret clearance and worked on all sorts of missile, satellite and astronautics programs. Facinating reading. Later in his career he worked on disk drive systems and engineering management, but the early stuff reads like a cold war biography- Minuteman, Advent, Syncom, Intelsat III. Did you know the US put effort into protecting our Apollo spacecraft from nuclear blasts? Talk about paranoid. Protect the people on earth first.

He wrote and presented papers all over the world, and even wrote textbooks. I hope when my wife hands my son my resume he is equally impressed. Puts pressure on the next job to have relevance...

On "Vacation"

I was "impacted" by a reduction in force at work. I now am at home full time. But I was at home full time before, so it's kinda weird. You know how your not supposed to hang around after you get laid off- well, as a "home assigned" employee, I sort of have to.... My staff is just as uncooperative- they didn't listen to me when I was employed, so they have kept that up now that I am a stay at home dad. Great.

I dove into the homework process with gusto- I organized Pat's binder, with tabs and inserts and clear protective sheets, along with pocket inserts and the like. I was so proud. Pat was horrified. "Geez dad! Might as well just put a pocket protector in my shirt and send me off with the geeks!" When he came home the next day (ok, I went to his classroom and picked him up, which turned out to be uncool, until the other kids saw I was their coach from NFL Flag Football and suddenly it was ok). Pat was both mortified and relieved. I had shoes on, so he didn't have a "slob dad", and I wasn't his mother, who tends to talk a lot and make the kids look at him funny, but I still did show up at his class, which isn't exactly cool. I now have a great lever for cooperation....."if you don't do your homework, I'll come pick you up at your class...".

He messed up his binder. "Had to- didn't look cool all neat and stuff". Resistor. Don't worry- I have plenty of time.

I use a version of that technique with the Princess: " do what I say or I'll come chaperon the dance; and I will DANCE in front of your friends!" Too bad Iran doesn't have dances, Uncle Sam could use that instead of invading.....( you know it's coming, don't you?)

The strange thing is that I still get up in the middle of the night and go check my Sunray for email..... sort of the high tech way of stalking I guess.

"Hello!"

I forgot about this picture. We went to Maui over Thanksgiving, and one of the things we like to do is go to Hana. There is a twisty windy road that takes a couple of hours to traverse (what else do you do when you have 4 kids? ROADTRIP!) and there are several cool places to stop and let one kid or another vomit by the side of the road. Or look at waterfalls, or catch wild birds. OK, the bird is about as domestic as you can get- the handler just placed him in Connor's open hands ( no animal in it's right mind would let Connor play with them of their own volition... too dangerous- for the animal) and let us snap a picture. OK, I paid for the pictures, but still they were worth it.

After the bird settled in to C-man's outstretched hands, he looked up at him and said "Hello!"
Connor was delighted and agast! Ever since then he says hello to every animal. Every animal. Regardless of whether the animal can see or hear him. Even inside the car. It lost it's charm a LONG time ago.

Here's the Princess- Beauty and the birds.

SOOOOO much FUN!

That, my friends, is an electric fully automatic airsoft machine gun. It is probably the best 17.50 I have ever spent (except for the round of drinks that night at the Oasis, when I impressed a then to be future wife I had just met). It is just what every boy wants. It shoots like a madman. It has a clip that holds 250 pellets. That's right boys, no fumbling around to get the friggin pellets into the breech. (especially since I have twins, so I had to arm both of them equally- cold war child, you know) . The dog turns tail and heads for cover when these bad boys come out. Fact: airsoft pellets will shatter the glass in mom's beautiful Calypso lanterns. Fact: Calypso lanterns make a distinct sound when you mow 'em down with a machine gun. Fact: Moms HATE machine guns.

Fact: Dad plays with the guns when the kids are asleep.

Some cast-offs

I was cleaning up the garage the other day and found the box of casts. These ones belong to the flying squirrel. It would seem that there have been two distinct phases. The early " I think I'll break my left arm" phase, and the more recent "it's time to break the right arm" phase. I am waiting (praying, actually) for the " I think I'll think before I jump" phase.

I do have a supply of the waterproof casting material; I'm a realist.

It's been a long series of vacations....

So much activity...the mind reels. I have a lot of snipets to post, but here is one that just screams to be posted:
We were in San Antonio at the Hotel Contessa, riding in the elevator. The elevator had a voice that would announce the floor as the elevator arrived. Patrick keyed in on it and mused "must be for deaf people". I know, a huge disability disconnect, but it gets better. Joe chimes in, "NO! If it was for deaf people, it would be YELLING!" Connor, 6, had the best response "it's for blind people because they can't see out the window" ( the elevator goes up the inside of the hotel, and they are those glass bubble kind, so those of us with altitude issues can get the full experience).

But wait- there's more. Stay tuned.

Slap Boxing

The Jack Russel loves to play. She likes to bite my hands, so the sessions always turn into slap boxing bouts. She was just in my office and nipping at me, so I started a round. She got a good grip on my hand but she lost it, and instead of pulling away I went to the inside....just as she opened up wide and lunged at me. Did I mention she likes to play after she has had her breakfast?
Breakfast time is around 10 when one of the children gets around to doing the chore of feeding her.

I jabbed my finger down her throat. Quite far.

She Yak'd on me.

No more slap boxing in the morning.

Government acknowledges my children are potential threats.....

We were in Orange County over the weekend for a fundraiser for Cystinosis. On the way back we had a little incident at the security checkpoint. One of the items we sent through raised a ruckus with the folks viewing the x-ray machine. After a few minutes of conferring (and several suspicious glances at us...) three security folks came over and announced that they needed to conduct a search of one of our bags. Which one, you might be asking yourself- was it the bag I was carrying with all the electronic gear? Or perhaps the daughter's bag with God knows what in it? Perhaps it was the mysterious make up and beauty implement bag that the wife had- all sorts of suspicious and torture related looking items in there... but no.

The bag in question was Connor's. That's right- the Thomas The Tank Engine backpack carried by the 6 yr old. Seems he had committed TWO cardinal sins of air travel: he was smuggling open containers of water. AND he had left it unattended and his evil brother had added HIS open water bottle. I found it amusing, but am thankful that they caught it. It's their job, and even though it looked sorta odd, they did what they were supposed to do. Given terrorist propensities to play on our fears and look for advantages or weaknesses they can exploit, I am glad that they won't be able to exploit children in this manner.

Six years old, and already an open containers charge. Thank God he wasn't driving.

The apple never falls far from the tree.

A little mini vacation for me....

I indulged myself a bit the last two days. I took two days off of work. We didn't go anywhere, the kids weren't off school, there was no event that required time off. I took time to relax while the kids were at school and the house was quiet. I got some things done that needed to be done- clean the pool filters, clean the spa, trim bushes and plants, dig post holes for a gate that needs to be moved by the addition, finish the hardwood floors, put down pads and rugs, etc. The kinds of things that don't take a long time, but are hard to get done when the kids are around and the family activities are making their time demands. It felt good. I was reminded of the great lazy days of early marriage where there was peace and quiet in the house, when I could go and do whatever I wanted.

OK buddy, snap out of it.

I don't mean to sound like I don't love my life as it is now. I live my life with intention. All that I have and all that I do are by choice. I have exactly what I want, and I am free to change things when I want; hence the little break for daddy. Even designers enjoy a lazy boy recliner.
Even chefs indulge in a big mac and fries.

It's all good.

And to top it off- Pat had a great game yesterday. Joe did well too, but Pat hit a double, scored two runs, and had a session as catcher (with the sun in his eyes from the sun setting right over the pitcher's head, no less) where only two pitches got by him. Even he was proud of himself, and he NEVER brags or hardly even mentions his performance. It was one of those times I will remember when I am old.

I was ripped off as a child.

I had this as my state of the art war toy:


My son has this:

No doubt about it- I got ripped off. I am probably going to need (more) therapy for this. I think that a nice bout of impulse spending should about do it. Hmm...what toys should I buy myself?

This reminds me of my train phase. This is ongoing, but I have not had space in the garage to get set up lately because of all the boxes of hardwood flooring and tile (see: Wife's “remodel” phase). I got jealous of Connor for his wooden train set, so I went on a binge. I have 8 locomotives, including a really cool fully equipped ARMY train set- complete with a red locomotive with the ARMY insignia (because it needs to be red so the enemy can see it better....(WTH?), tons of track, and enough power requirements to dim the house lights when everything is in motion.

God, it's great being a kid with a checking account!

So far overboard it made it back into the boat....

OK. I can sleep tonite. It's all ok now that “the Waltons” has been released on DVD. Who needed this? I have to admit the storylines were compelling (in a “little house on the prairie” sort of way), but really... I think there are more important things to get onto video..er...DVD.

One more thing....

Seem to have a flury of posts today. Snippets and pics that needed posting that I had not gotten around to. Anyway, one more thing.

RED SOX!

Did you see the game last night! Whoa BABY! Not one, not two, not THREE, but FOUR Dingers in a ROW! Eleven pitches, four hits, four runs! I was sort of watching the game, and when the b*****ds (excuse me, yankees) went ahead by three I figured it would be a good game, so I sat down at the top of the third to watch a good inning and see how the Sox would respond. Mannie came up to the plate with that wild look of his, and I thought he would smack it good. Boy was I right! Then another. Then ANOTHER! I was in hog heaven! The fourth was icing on the cake. I had the brains to back it up and Tivo it, and I am going to dump it to DVD and watch it over and over. And man, can Dice K bring the heat! I saw two dozen pitches from him in the mid 90's and at least one was 98 mph. And he had at least 6 pitches that i could see. He had a decent night against the best lineup he will face this year. Was he worth the money? Time will tell.

We can always sell him to New York.

Those are some STYLIN' shades!

I think the glasses they give out are some sort of Optometrist inside joke. The wife was diggin' these- it meant she could go outside in the light. The surgery was a success! She can see 20/40 now! "and the blind shall see".

"I see you left out the milk...."
"I see you left your dirty clothes on the floor...."
"I see you left the seat up....".

Yup. She's a visionary.

It takes a certain level of self confidence.....

This is Sheila, Hell Dog of Rocklin. She is clearly comfortable sleeping in this position. She is also confident that I will let her sleep in this position. Because I am not in bed. See, the wife loves animals, so she lets them sleep with her. This means they also sleep with me, because I will be damed if I will sleep anywhere else (and the wife would not dream of kicking the dog out of bed "it would be cruel- she is so helpless...") while some little rat takes all the covers.
The dog has tried this position while I am in the bed. It doesn't fly with me. I push her to the edge of the bed under the covers slowly, and then I eeeeaaaaasssseee her ever so gently over the edge and PLUNK! she hits the floor, where she belongs. She doesn't stay there though; she is a Jack Russell Terrier. She can jump over the fence in the yard, so jumping back into bed is no problem. She learns quickly, but she tests the limits all the time. Sounds familiar.

Anyway, while I am working, and the rest of the brood is off at school, she lies on the bed and sleeps. She snores. She also dreams. I know this because she will start barking and running in place ( really funny when she is in the position above). She always has a confused look on her face when she wakes up from a dream- I guess reality looks the same to her. Not to me.

In my dreams there are no dogs in my bed.

Pretty sad when you think about it.

Lucky me

It is an odd turn of events that cast me as the voice of reason in our household. He who thinks that starting the fire pit with huge fireballs by squirting blasts of lighter fluid onto the ebbing kindling is now the one that two combatants look to for some rational thought. I am, of course, referring to the wife and daughter.

Hell hath no fury like a fourteen year old adolescent who has had her cell phone privileges revoked. I pity the fool who prods the dragon in such a manner. Unless it's the mama dragon. Not that these two are dragons. Just women. Or, woman and “woman lite”. This whole round (think multi round prize fight) is about respect. The little woman wants respect (in the form of undergarments from Victoria's Secret). The other one (notice I did not say older, or bigger, or anything else) wants respect in the form of...well, respect. Why should the little one get Victoria's Secret when the wife gets granny pants from JCPenneys? Which pretty much means that I don't get Victoria's Secret....

But I digress.

This is going to be a long round. Having spent a fair amount of time sparring the last couple years, I can only relate that some three minute rounds can seem like an eternity. That, I think, is how this round is going to play out.

Yay for me.

Ellis Island!

My daughter is on an east coast trip with her school over the break. She is now on Ellis Island in New York. She has called us all excited and bubbly because she found one of Mary's relatives on the wall. Mary's mother had contributed to the memorial and one of the perks was to get your relative's name on the wall.

She is usually not a fan of history, or architecture, or anything not involving shopping or boys (she almost cried when she found out the Capitol Mall in DC did not have an Abercrombie- or any other stores at all). Imagine our excitement when we got the call, and her glee at this new look at history. The trip was expensive, and it is not a comfortable feeling to send your daughter off for 9 days, but I think in the long run she will be a much better person for having done it. She is exposed to history and culture in a way she never would in school. She has all her friends ( the trip has a good grade requirement, which means not a lot of boys go. Mostly girls), she has close supervision, and she has an itinerary that would not be possible with just our family. Plus, she is getting out into the world and seeing things while still being sheltered. Many kids just leap out into the world after high school and they succumb to all the distractions available- some good, some bad. Overall, I am really pleased. Score one for the 'rents.

All Geared Up!

It's that time again. Another hooligan takes to the field in full battle dress. This one, unlike his brother, is much less interested in the game, and more interested in the gear. During a recent stint as catcher, he spent most of the time during a grand slam standing off to the side of the plate admiring the stitching on his mitt. It was a watershed moment for him. He seemed to come to the realization that the glove is constructed of leather, and sewn together with strips of leather.

Later, at dinner, he asked where leather comes from. Pat, ever the educator, informed his young sibling that it comes from "cow". "just like your hamburger. That's cow too".

Connor no longer eats hamburgers. Or cows in general, for that matter. He likes chicken though. "I like cows. they are nice. Hard to like chickens though. They talk too much". Good to know. Plus, they make good nuggets.

The rest of the story....

Lest you think all was well while Mary was down with pirate patches on her eyes, let me relate a sample dinner story.

I took the kids out to Island Burger for burgers (duh). I brought my mom with me for back up- she still has the stare that stops them in their tracks. Or at least she used to.

I cannot confirm that this actually happened as related to me because I was in the bathroom trying to convince Connor to come out of the stall he had barricaded himself in, but here goes.

I was in the restroom (see above), leaving Nana, Joe and Pat at the table- Nana and the Joester on one side, and Pat across from Joe on the other. Pat looks at my mom and says something to the effect of " So you came along so that when dad has to go to the bathroom with one of us the rest aren't left alone to get in trouble, huh?" Mom says "yes, but you are such good boys I don't think there was anything to worry about". Sigh. NEVER EVER say anything that could even remotely be construed as a challenge. You can guess what happened next. Pat leans up and over the table and pops Joe in the face. Dead on. Joe submarines under the table, and proceeds to give Pat a nutcracker. Then they both return to their positions.

I return with the little one to find a serene scene thinking I should have stayed at the table and sent my mother to coax him out. Boy was I wrong.

The wife can see!

Mary had Epi Lasic. What an ordeal. It is different from regular Lasic in a couple of gruesome ways. I was able to watch (without retching!) so I will enlighten you.
First they drugged her. She was loopy. Quite alluring, I have to admit; reminded me of...well, never mind. Anyway. Then they clamped her eyes open. Very Clockwork Orange.
Then they have this arm come out and SCRAPE away the cornea. Ugh. I would have been out of the chair at that point, but then again, I can hold my meds.... Then another little machine comes into play; it clamps onto the eyeball and draws out the lens via suction. Literally. Then the laser comes on and sculpts the lens. Mary said she could smell her eyeball burning. We paid good money for this, BTW. Then they put drops and finally, a protective contact lens.

I drove her home after meeting with the doctor again. He stressed taking all the meds for pain, swelling (not a pretty mental image there...think Gene Wilder), and infection.

I have been managing the children for 5 days. I have actually done a pretty good job, but I am bushed from the wake up every 6 hours to medicate the Joester thing. I have to admit that I didn't get him his meds till 7:30 this morning. I had to sleep.

Anyway, they took the lens off today and she has 20/40 vision. She had 20/1000 before. Legally blind. Sort of explains me being in the picture, huh. I was in that semi panic but have to deal mode all weekend because there was a risk of her going blind...er. But all is well. She is SO happy. She was an incubator baby because she was a twin and they were premies. that's what they did in the 60s, and it messed up her eyes. She has been waiting for years for technology to catch up with the severity of her condition, and as soon as it did she was all over it. I am proud of her.

Are you smarter than a Fourth Grader?

I have the distinct pleasure of having TWO at the same time. And so we can get some efficiencies of scale on the homework front. That said, it really does matter who does what with them. Mary rocks for the history and social studies stuff. Not that I am a slouch in that department, but she just absolutely loves those subjects. And since she has such passion for them she does not seem to mind the blank stares- it just gives her an opportunity to repeat herself. Not that there is anything wrong with that.

Here is my problem. She gets so excited about things that she then treads into waters that are too deep for her, and where she clearly cannot swim. I'm talking Mathematics and Science. Here is an example: Fractions. This whole subject is lost on her. Converting to decimal, making comparisons, reducing to their simplest form, etc. Not her bag. And don't even get me started on Science.

OK. Here's an example: The oldest is off to the east coast for a school trip over the Easter break. She has to pack her own suitcase. There is a weight limit. For a guy, this is not an obstacle- bring less stuff. For a girl, it is a mountain to be climbed. There is easily 10 lbs of beauty related products. Net of the electrical appliances that MUST go with her.- hair dryers, hair curlers, hair straighteners (WTH?). The wife's solution is to use those bags that you put clothes in and then roll up to get the air out. "This will give her more room and reduce the weight; after all, air is weight" the wife says with glee, with the junior female in the backround nodding in agreement.

Let me repeat that for you in case you didn't catch it: "Air is weight".

Clearly, in the Science arena of her Circus, she is working without a net.

The dog is wearing out her welcome

The new dog is getting a little bit too comfortable in my bed. She seems to think that she is the primary user of the bed. This includes the pillows. My pillow, to be specific. I don't mind the dog in the bed- we have always had a little footwarmer in bed with us- but this one does not understand her place. The phrase "foot of the bed" springs to mind. All the other dogs have wrapped themselves around our feet (with some occasional exceptions) but Sheila seems to think that she is a hat, and that she belongs on my head. I do not enjoy being growled at because I shifted the orientation of my head during the night, nor do I enjoy the long stick legs that sometimes greet me when I open my eyes in the morning because she is draped over my head. I am sure that dog lovers would disagree, but I am compelled to express my displeasure at this. I am a Red Sox fan, and if I want to wear a hat, it will have a B on it, and it will not have a face.

Speaking of Red Sox, Connor is a Yankee this season. I am one of the coaches, so I have the joy of picking up a Yankee jersey and wearing it on opening day tomorrow. I am not happy about that. I may wear my Red Sox hat. Then again, I may not. Bastards.

Continual Partial Attention Syndrome

I am concerned. A while back I read about the affliction our kids are suffering from: Continual Partial Attention Syndrome. I was originally concerned because I have two with ADD. Then I spent some time observing the oldest. She can argue with me, do homework, listen to music, and, AND, text on her cell phone WITHOUT LOOKING AT THE PHONE. But so much of all the things she is participating in go over her head-in one ear out the other- (OK, probably only things related to me...) that it is causing problems (again, mostly for my issues with her).

I then paid attention to my own life- specifically my work practice. I suffer from this horrible disease also. Ugh. I tend to be on con calls, doing some email, dealing with paper on my desk, sending and receiving text messages (I am old and need to look at the phone), and listen/deal with family stuff. And I am not feeling particularly successful at any of them. So I am going to make an effort to silo things. Go old school and start to schedule tasks and do one thing at a time. How sad that it has come to this; the nuns were right. I will work on a plan and post it for comment. When I get around to it amongst the many other things I am doing.
Right.

Yet another one for the list....

Maybe it's just me, but I have been keeping a list of things I never thought I would yell. I have had a great laugh over the years at some of the responses I have had to what transpires around this house. I added another one yesterday.

I was out cleaning out the inside of the Suburban. It needed it. God did it need it. Two full carpet shampoo basins of awful colored water. Yech. Anyway, I was listening in on what goes on in the court so as to head off any mayhem, and to have a good description of what happened for any paramedics or other uniformed officials that might arrive on the scene. I have taken to just belting out commands without a second thought when the situation calls for it. So here it is:
"NO ONE rides to their doom in the Chariot of Death without a helmet!" *Why? Cause if you are on any wheeled device in MY court, you have to have a helmet on. Even if you are NEAR one, put your hat on. If you look like you are thinking about it, put it on. As a matter of fact, if you are outside, wear your helmet.* Joe was giving rides "to your doom" to the neighbor kids. He has a broken arm, you see, otherwise he would be doing it himself. Believe me, he tried. I stopped him. Anyway, the Chariot of Death ride is a quick pull down the steep driveway next door followed by an immediate release of the handle of the old rickety big wheeled plastic playschool wagon with the wheels that turn independently in the front. But wait, there's more. Obstacles. Low, wheel course changing obstacles. Otherwise, it just isn't a Chariot of Death. Oh- they had to do it with their hands in the air. Why on earth would you want to wear a helmet for that?!

Joe's response?- "Chariot of FIERY Death, dad! Get it right!"

Oh. I stand corrected. Carry ID so they can identify the body.

There's nothing for breakfast!

Ungrateful little trolls! RRRR! I make them Belgian Waffles (mix, not toaster style!),

and then, when they don't like those, I make OMLETTES!

Do they like them? NOOOOOO! "WE WANT CANDY!" Well, forget it. I ate it all last night! HA!

The irony here is that I will probably get the "you need to give your children breakfast before you send them to school" lecture at parent conferences this month.

And now, off to my happy place.

Happy Happy Joy Joy!

My hot tub is back in operation! I had to bring it down for all the construction, but now that the work is all done I was able to run my conduit and fire it up. I marinated last night like a big white Maine Lobster! Whhhoooooyyyyaaaa! It felt good after my workout to go sit in the tub and
relax with the stars above. It started to drizzle about 11PM, but that actually makes it better.
Cold air, cold rain, Red Sox cap, hot tub. Giddyupp!

Now, back to work. It's great working for a high tech firm- blogging is actually working! What a country! Take THAT BORAT!

A poetic response

One squirrel
two squirrel
black and blue squirrel.

You cannot fly
my little squirrel
so do not climb
and do not hurl.

You cannot fly
from on the roof
you will land hard
you will go "oof!"

You cannot fly
from on the couch
you will crash land
you will go "ouch!"

You should not try
to reach the grass
you will fall short
upon your A**

All these things
that you have tried
you have not succeeded
but have not died.

But once again
you have a cast
and this, I fear
is not the last.

And you cannot help
your brother fly
you'll make mom mad
and he may die.

For catapults
they are medieval
and your little plan
it is pure evil.

Our next door neighbors
like their fenced yard
the do not want Connor
flying in, and landing hard.

He will be crying
when the authorities come
so no more history channel
for you, my son.

Ground Hog Day

We got another one of those great calls from school. The Joester broke his arm again. Actually, I should rename this post "Flying Squirrel Day" because one of the previous events involved an attempt to imitate a flying squirrel. Unsuccessfully.

So once again, we spent a 6 hour stint in the emergency room. Fortunately, we have friends there because of all the time we spend there. One of the advantages of having a bunch of boys is that you get to know the people in the ER. It gets you the good meds. Man, I need some good meds. But that's another story.

I love the questions they ask. "How did this happen?". "I'm a kid. These things just happen".
My son, Plato (or, more appropriately, Playdoe). The proper question should be "How did this happen again?".

Clearly, the flying squirrel thing is a myth. I think the guys at myth busters should do an episode.

Since he had not eaten since breakfast, we took him out to eat at 8:30 when we got out of the ER. His choice, since he was the injured party. Anywhere. Where did we go you ask? Osaka Sushi. That's right. 45 bucks of raw fish. I didn't know squirrels ate sushi. Maybe just the flying ones.

What a way to spend the weekend!

Took the monkeys on an overnighter with the Cub Scouts. We spent the night on the USS Hornet, which is now a museum in Alameda, CA.

What a great way to get to know some history. It was our fourth trip to the Hornet- and I am looking foreword to next year already. Not that I get any sleep, but I am basically a 10 yr old with a checking account, so when we get to go do these kinds of things I get excited.

They have a rule on the ship- no running, shoving, or horseplay. If you get caught, then you have to do 2 push ups. Second offense, 4 pushups, etc. The twins got up to 6 push ups. Suffice to say, they don't learn quickly.


We slept in bunks like they did when the ship was active duty. I was up top because there was a bit more headroom, but that isn't saying much. The hooligans were stowed below. We stayed up till midnight to hear the ghost stories. It turns out that the Hornet is the third most haunted place in the country: Alcatraz, New Orleans, then the Hornet. Creepy.

The quote of the day came when we were discussing the "Special Weapons" area of the ship. The Hornet was one of the first to carry nukes, and they had a special area to deal with them. The docent explained that the area was closed off, and that the weapons had been removed. Joe piped in " where'd they take them? Can we go get them?" OF course not son. Then the best line " so where could a 9 year old boy get some if he wanted them, hypothetically?"
The docent gave me a look of pity. "You can't get them. Besides, your father wouldn't want you to have them." "oh, don't worry...we won't tell him. He can get his own."
North Korea, Iran, and now my house. Yay for me.

I'm not complaining....

I've been working from home on a full time basis for a couple of years, and I have a couple of peeves about the work practice. Don't get me wrong; I love the fact that I have this incredible freedom in my work life. I pity those poor folks who don't have the ability to work from home.
They don't know what they are missing. But it does have a peculiar set of disadvantages.
The one that hits me the hardest centers around participation in meetings at odd times. I have a standing call at 6:30AM on Fridays. I like the people on the call, and I get a lot of good information by participating, but I have a hard time both getting up for the call, and then because I have 4 kids, I have a hard time balancing the call and the management of those kids as we try to get them up, presentable, and off to school. I drive them to school, along with two neighbor kids, in one of those massive Suburbans. Yes, some of the folks who have them actually use them as they were intended. We have the nine passenger version, and I would say that two or three times a week we have it full- all nine seats filled.
Thank god for mute. I sometimes call in to the meeting on my cell phone and mute myself. I listen in, but I am sure I miss some things because of the tyrany of the present- some little munchkin will be doing something that they shouldn't and distract me.

EEEK! There's a DRAGON in my bed!

At least she looks like a dragon. See, there's a cold going around. When the wife gets said cold, she takes to pushing Kleenex up her nostrils to totally block the passages. I know. She's a woman; I too do not understand their ways.... So the tissue gets spun to a point (genetic disposition to weaving?) and then, um, inserted into the nostril. Ditto for the other side. The effect is comical.
This time, the tissues are reddish. The overall effect is that of a snoring dragon. It's particularly humerous when she is sitting up in bed reading. Picture a dragon propped up by some pillows peering over her glasses into a book. It sends up all sorts of alarms for me because the books are flamable.

Oh, and the dragon is wearing fuzzy slippers. No doubt made from the skins of victims past.

And MAN is it cranky. Geezzomann.

We have the cold going around.

The whole crew. Except for the wife and I. Yay for us. The school had over 70 kids call in sick, and the have been sending more home all day. Ours were sent home, one at a time. There is nothing like having all the kids home sick. It's peaceful and at the same time, sad. They are just lying around doing nothing. Based on that criteria alone, little miss teen attitude has had a cold for about two years. But she doesn't. Just has an attitude- and she's not afraid to use it.

The littlest one had a tooth pulled this morning. I didn't go because I was working, but when he came back he was like a drunken sailor. They had to knock him out to get it because it was an erupted tooth that came through the palette. Nothing is EVER simple with these kids. Anyway, he wanted to play game cube. He was having a ball and was laughing because he had two of every guy (lego star wars characters). I thought he was just high, because I have never seen the game give a player two of the same character. But lo and behold, he did! The meds enhanced his gameplay. Does not bode well for the future- I can hear it now..."but dad, it enhanced my test taking experience!? Should make for an interesting story for the principal as I walk the kid out to the car for the ride home to serve out his suspension. See what the future holds for me? Lucky me.

And the daughter is watching over my shoulder gently reminding me that I am also lucky to be able to get her a new computer. Because the old one overheated the mother board, because she wouldn't shut it off like I told her a million zillion times.... times infinity. Ugh.

A tool too far...

I am a huge fan of tools. I buy many many many tools I will only use once, or will only use once when the right situation presents itself. That said, there should be limits. I bought a blood pressure tester because that's the kind of number I have an interest in tracking since my brother in law had bypass surgery . I started using it and was getting alarming numbers. 160/99 and the like. So I was pretty sure that I was going to die, and I began searching for an urn that fit with my design sensibilities. My wife, left to her own tastes, would end up pouring me into some ghastly country chic thing. I would die a thousand deaths. I want to be in something industrial- something that screams "toxic waste"- but would look good on the mantle.
Thankfully, Mary fell down the stairs...
...because she had to go to the hospital, and I had to drive her. While we were there, they took her blood pressure. I thought "Hey! I can get a real good idea of how long I have to live if I have a professional take my blood pressure reading! Then, if they gasp, I know I'm done for!" Or something like that.
Anyway, turns out even with all the stress of the aforementioned accident and fire drill to get to the hospital, I have a bp of 130/80. Pretty darned good. Looks like I have to continue to pump money into the 401k.
Oh, the wife has a broken ankle and will be immobilizedl for a couple weeks. Looks like I will be feeding the kids for a while.

Prayers for my brother in law

My brother in law is the first of my "peers" to suffer serious heart trouble. He had a quadruple bypass yesterday. It has had a significant effect on my life (though not nearly as much as on his life. Duh) I didn't have any ice cream last night. Don't get me wrong. I WANTED to have ice cream. I could hear it's muffled cries in the freezer. But all I could think of was the operation. They cut open your chest, split and prie apart your ribcage, and stop your heart. Then they work on it, swapping parts from your leg (arteries), splicing them in, and then they restart you. I have a project car in the garage that is undergoing a similar process. I have my doubts that I can restart it again (first time required a total rebuild of the engine). Clearly there are laws that prevent me from doing open heart surgery. If I was allowed, I would have started with the recently expired frog the boys had. Both boys. They each had about half of the frog in their respective pockets, give or take a limb. But that's another story. Anyway, I didn't have the ice cream. I am not on a health kick. I am changing course. I am one who, having learned expensive lessons from my own experiences, am totally willing to learn from the experience of others. I also have been on enough six sigma projects to know that sometimes there is a perfectly good process in place somewhere else, and I don't need to go and invent my own.
I am going back to Body For Life.

I had a lot of success with that approach years ago, but I drifted away. Now is the time to get back on track.

"TADA!"

I was working on the addition over the weekend, and I was at the point of puting in furniture. I wanted to get the screen in the window before one of the kids decided to jump out- just for fun; that kind of stuff goes on here. I was on the bed leaning over trying to pull the screen into place. I should probably mention that the bed in the upstairs room is on wheels, and I have installed slick laminate floors. So, as I am leaning over and sort of hanging out the window, I felt the bed slide out from under me. I did a slow motion header out the window. I had placed the ladder outside the window because I wanted to scrape some stucco off the window frame, so I placed my hands on the top of the ladder. I sort of rolled over my hands and did a reverse sit up and landed feet first on the ground. It sounds good, but I really hadn't planned any of it. Needless to say, it was a truly spectacular exhibition of gymnastic skill on my part.

When you do one of these sorts of feats, it is customary to do the Nadya Komenich "pop the chest out, fling the hands up, and yell 'TADA!'" move (it's a 70's thing). I was feeling pretty damn smug, so I did the little hop, popped the arms up, and was about to go "TADA!", but was rudely interupted by the ladder, which apparently thought it too deserved some credit. Instead of a triumphant finish, I was squished onto the lawn by the ladder, which had followed my momentum and fallen over onto me.

Fortunately, I still have some time to train for the next Olympics.

Here little fishie...

We did a lot of snorkling around Maui. There are some incredible places to go and swim around and look at all the amazing fish. I took to going down to the beach by our condo every morning to go for a swim. I had bought a bunch of snorkel sets so we all could go if we wanted, and for the most part everyone did. The big exception was Pat.

his first time out he was beside himself with glee. He had a blast swimming up to the fish and staring them down- sometimes they would freak, and sometimes they would be facinated by this giant blonde kid. This went on for a long time, until we encountered a really odd looking fish. It looked like it had horns, and the fins it came with didn't look like they could power it very well. Pat zoomed up to it and blasted a bunch of air out of his mask and made his usual goofy face. The fish reacted by puffing up. It exploded to about 10 times it's size, and was all spiney and angry looking. And then IT charged PAT. It was Pat's turn to freak. He jumped up out of the water and climbed onto the only thing around. Me. He was completely on my back, and he was trying to stand up. A surfboard I am not. I tried to get him off, but he was having none of it. He let me know he was done, and he was done right then and there. Paddle in please dad.

I now know why some Orcas at ocean themed parks eat their trainers. It is no fun having someone on your back riding you like a boogie board while you try to swim and not drown.
And no, I will not jump through the hoop.