Sunday, 13 February 2011

Today we had another visit from Tami Tripp. She a baby photographer, and she first came to our excessively humble home back when Isla was 10 days old.

For some reason, Isla seemed a little freaked out by the photographer. She usually smiles all the time (Isla, I mean) and without any apparent good reason. Not today. She decided to be stone-face baby. As soon as Tami left, Isla began smiling again, as if she had been holding it in all day. Thank Isla, thanks a lot. I guess that’s better than getting pooped on.

Here’s her blog showing off pictures of Isla: CLICK THIS FOR EXTREME CUTENESS. Damn, we make some good-looking kids.

Monday, 14 February 2011

Valentine’s Day is yet another in a long line of holidays that I could just take or leave. I don’t feel compelled to buy my wife flowers or chocolates just because a bunch of Catholics decided to co-opt yet another pagan holiday. And, despite what the relentless commercials try to tell me, I don’t think it’s a perfect to buy my wife a ring. In fact, I think going out to buy my wife a ring is a bit condescending: she can pick out the stuff she wants to wear. Besides, if I bought her a ring for every pissant holiday that came around, her fingers would’ve been covered in precious metals long ago.

We already have a day to express our romance. It’s called our anniversary, and I prefer it over St. Valentine’s Day because it doesn’t make me think of a Christian martyr or a Hallmark store.

Don’t get me wrong though; I’m fine with people having the holiday and I’m fine with Owen’s class exchanging Valentines. And in fact, one year I bought my wife some flowers on February 14th just because I could (Watchtower be damned).

Oh – and speaking of Owen, he came home with a bag (that he decorated) of Valentines from his classmates, along with some candy. Cute. He’s a lucky, lucky boy.

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

So, I’m at that point in the semester now where I’m counting down the number of days remaining. It’s not that I dislike being in class, it’s just that it’s such a big hassle – I gotta drive there and then park five blocks away (’cause I’m too cheap to get a parking permit), then race out as soon as class is over and drive straight to work, then make up for the time I lost by staying at work late… Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you don’t want to hear me whine.

Today the professor passed back assignments #1 and 2. I got two out of two points on both of them. On one he wrote “very insightful,” which, I guess, is probably the best I’m gonna get since it appears the faculty at Hamline has a thing against putting smiley faces and stickers on assignments.

I also got another assignment: make a chart. Yeah, that’s right: a chart. God, I don’t think I’ve made a chart for a class in about 10 years. It’s gonna be good. I’ll probably use some glitter.

Saturday, 12 February 2011

Owen asks a lot of questions about religions. He seems completely baffled that people buy into that stuff which, I guess, is to be expected if you grow up in our home. Whenever he asks why certain members of our family acted in a crazy way, or why he has this Monday or that Friday off of school, or why this story is in the news, the answer is always religion.

In an effort to explain to him how these religions – from decent to bat-shit crazy (a.k.a. “The Buddhist to Scientology Continuum”) – came about, I checked some books out of the library. Four of them, actually. All written by a women who goes by the name “Demi.” Her biography notes that she started writing on walls by the age of two, so you know she’s well qualified to write children’s books.

The books I rented are: Muhammad, Jesus, some Lao Tzu book with a long title, and Buddha Stories, a book with dark gold lettering on black pages that render it nearly impossible to read if not in direct sunlight.

Okay, here’s the good part: the books look beautiful. They are lavishly illustrated, almost as if every page is a work of art. This even goes for that Buddha book (at least, for the 10 minutes during which the sun shines through our sliding glass door). The pictures are obviously the work of someone with great talent, someone who probably wrote on walls as a two-year old.

Here’s the bad part: the wording is more suited to a 10 year old. I think Owen was frequently lost during our reading of Muhammad. By the time he’s 10, though, he’ll probably look at books like these as too simple.

Another bad part: Okay, I would think someone who wrote about religious leaders from all the different major religions would do so in a strictly biographical way. I mean, Demi is Buddhist (it’s hard to see how someone of any other faith could so even-handedly write about the founders of many other faiths), so I didn’t think she would get tripped up in the the supernatural mysticism surrounding these enterprising hucksters.

The Lao Tzu book, for example, says he lived to 160 years old. I guess I can overlook that as a possible exaggeration, but the Jesus book says he raised the dead, got himself resurrected, and then went to heaven. Bullshit. I’m not buying it, and neither should my son. The Muhammad book is even worse, trumpeting his faithfulness and downplaying his bloodlust. Funny thing: the book kowtows to Muslim’s no-picture-of-Muhammad tradition, saying on the first page: “In keeping with Islamic tradition, the Prophet Muhammad and his family have not been depicted in this book.”  However, Muhammad is depicted on every single page. He’s just show as someone made entirely out of gold (like Shirley Eaton in Goldfinger). Also, there’s this little curlicue that follows every use of the word Muhammad in the book. It was very distracting. After reading the book, I discovered that this doodle is some sort of blessing, kind of like if you had to say “The one and only” every time you said my name.

Yeah…anyway, Owen is welcome to read the Koran and the Bible and the book of Morons one day when he’s old enough. In fact, I hope he does. Until then, I won’t be sharing any “my first cult indoctrination” books with him.

Thursday, 10 February 2011

Several months ago, someone from our apartment complex put an old stereo and some speakers down by the trash. They didn’t put them in the trash, just next to it…as if to say, “hey, we don’t want this stuff anymore, but maybe someone can get some use out of it.”

So, I took the stereo to work that morning and tried to see what worked. Well, nothing, really. Not the tape deck, not the CD player. The radio appeared fine, but we already have two radios in the lab. So, I took the stereo down to our electronics recycle bin.

However, I put the speakers on Craig’s List. I sold them today for $10. I know, it’s awesome.

Friday, 11 February 2011

This evening, I showed Owen a few old films. And by “old,” I mean “as old as possible.”  We watched a few one shot films from Paris and London. These were recorded in the 1890s.

We also watched The Great Train Robbery. I gave Owen a big preface in which I explained that this was the most popular film of 1903, that it was among the first films to feature cuts (as opposed to just a camera sitting on a tripod the whole time), it was among the first films with a storyline, possibly the first western, and that this was probably the longest movie most people had ever seen up to this point. I explained that it was a silent film – why that was and what it meant. I showed him what a film reel case looked like and explained how films were really on film at that time, and not digital. I explained that cuts really were physical cuts made to the spool of film.

Owen enjoyed the film and said he wanted to see more action films like that. He talked a lot during the movie, but that’s okay in a silent film.

I next showed him a couple of Billy Whiskers films. These are among the rarest films I own. Unfortunately, I don’t know a whole about the series. In fact, all I can provide here is a link to IMDB, which doesn’t offer a whole lot of insight, either: CLICK THIS. I’m not sure if these gems from 1920 are even on the internet anywhere.

Anyway…

Owen got very upset at the film in which Billy saves a baby from a burning building. Of course, the movie had a happy ending, but Owen was very nervous that a baby would be trapped in a burning building. After he got off my lap to go brush his teeth before bed, he came back crying and told Jennifer that it made him worried about Isla – that we might forget her in the event of a fire.

Jennifer reassured him that such a thing would never happen – we would definitely grab Isla and get her out of a dangerous situation like that. I explained to Owen that most movies have some sort of peril like that so that we get caught up in the plot and the action (yes, I referenced Star Wars…again), and that the footage of the baby might have been filmed miles away from where a house – specially built just for the movie – was set on fire and filmed.

I didn’t think a 1920’s silent film about Billy whiskers would cause anxiety…but I guess I should never underestimate Owen.

Monday, 07 February 2011
Tonight, as we were lying in bed, Owen asked me if I ever wanted to travel back in time. We had talked about time-travel once before, about a week ago, when Jennifer and I were discussing its popularity in the Star Trek Universe. But tonight, he must’ve wanted to broach the topic again.
“Sure,” I said.
“Why?” he asked.
“’Cause, maybe I’d like to go back and fix some mistakes I made or try to do some things better.”
Owen said nothing for a moment; I could tell he was thinking. Then he said, in the most astonished voice ever, “I didn’t know you could change stuff!”
“Well, yeah,” I said, “I mean, of course it’s all hypothetical, but usually in stories when someone goes back in time it’s because they want to change something.”
This took us into a conversation about what are some things that characters have tried to change in such stories, as well as a few examples of things I would like to change. Owen didn’t quite get it, so I explained it this way: “Well, you know how you left your light-saber at Grammie’s house the other day?” He said yes, so I explained that, wouldn’t it be nice if he could go back to that time and tell his younger self to not forget it.
I kind of wish the conversation hadn’t gone that way, because I would have rather discovered what it was that Owen found so fascinating about time travel. I mean, if he didn’t want to alter the past in some way…then what? Did he just want to observe events like a fly on the wall? Because, in that case, he could just watch some home videos. More likely, he probably wanted to return to happy times and relive those moments.
And I think that’s a pretty good outlook on life: instead of desiring to go back and fix things, he just thinks it would be cool to experience the best times a second time.
…Unless I’ve ruined it for him now.

Tuesday, 08 February 2011
Day two of my new semester at Hamline.
I had that feeling again where I think, “What the heck am I doing here?”
It’s easy to see how I get that feeling – most the students look younger than me. Unlike my last two classes at Hamline, I’m pretty certain that I’m the oldest student in the class; and probably by several years. There are posters hanging on the walls advertising internships…there’s nothing wrong with that it’s just that I already have a job. I’m sure several of my classmates also have jobs, too, but they probably just look at their jobs as temporary measures to give them some spending money. My job is more of a career – I needed a degree to get my job, and I don’t have parents paying my tuition or for my dorm. In fact, I don’t’ even live in the dorms, I live off campus, with a wife and two kids. Is anyone else in the class even married?
In my other two classes, we went around the room and introduced ourselves. I liked doing that because I enjoyed hearing other students say that they were married, or that they are returning to school after an absence – stuff like that. We haven’t done that in this class. Oh well.
Our first two assignments were due today, too, and I’m hoping for a couple of A’s to kick off the semester.

Wednesday, 09 February 2011
Today was an extraordinarily busy day in which I got to work later than I wanted to, then hit the ground running at work. After working through lunch, then attending a Toastmasters meeting, I left early to get home to pick up my wife and kids (and my mom – she’s in town staying with us right now) so that we could get to the optometrists’ office by 3:30.
Owen and I were both seen by Dr. Pat Wellik. The whole experience was very draining for Owen. He was nervous the whole time, even after I assured him it was better than going to the dentists’ office (“I like going to the dentist,” he said. Who says that?). He watched me get my eyes examined first, then he sat on my lap while Dr. Pat examined his eyes. He was not very cooperative at first, but Dr. Pat knew how to get Owen to be a little bit accommodating. He let Owen play with the remote control for the eye chart, then let him hold the special ‘flashlight’ and shine it into my eyes first.
Owen tried very hard to get all the right answers. He studied the images through lens 1 and lens 2 before making his decision on which one is clearer. One time he even asked the doctor to go back so he could double-check his answer. Dr. Pat said, “Wow, his answers are very consistent.” Later, when Dr. Pat said, “Tell me when these two images line up,” Owen sat very still and then finally said, “I think they’re lined up like this [he gestured] but they’re not perfectly lined up.” Dr. Pat laughed and said that was good enough.
The worst part was the bright light the doctor used for looking at Owen’s macula. Owen absolutely hated the bright light and I could tell he was mustering all his reserves to keep his composure.
Following a magic trick that the doctor performed well but was not received well by Owen, and a prize pencil, Owen went back out to Jennifer (who had finished her exam by then) and began crying. I gotta say, Dr. Pat did an excellent job dealing with Owen’s anxieties, but Owen just couldn’t handle the pressure of the ‘tests’ and the bright lights. We went out to eat afterward, and Owen needed to sit on our laps practically the whole time. He ate about a quarter of his meal, and after we got home, he just wanted us to hug him. At 7:30, he said he wanted to go to bed, and he fell asleep by 7:45.
Man, you know Owen’s exhausted when he can’t even outlast Isla.

Friday, 04 February 2011

So, I really like the books I had to get for this semester’s class (so far). They compose a chronological anthology of American writings. Not just stories, but letters, poems, political writings, journals, stuff like that.

I’ve begun reading some of the assigned texts for the next class and I’ve come across a few creation stories. And here’s my two-word synopsis of these creation stories: They Suck. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying reading them from historic and literary perspectives, but they’re just stupid.

I’ve read several ideas and theories on why the Genesis creation myth has survived to this day and is the most popular and the most widely believed creation myth (besides reality, that is). Some speculate that the reasons for its survival can be attributed to the Hebrews insistence on having a written record, or their strong sense of national identity, or their unique monotheism. But here’s my theory: the Genesis account has survived because it’s the least bizarre.

Yeah, that’s right: some big powerful guy just creates it all. He starts with light (so he can see what’s going on), then sets up his workspace, then hones in on the details. It’s not unlike how I might make something in my woodshed.

Other creation myths…yeah…they’re just weird. They introduce all these unnecessary and arbitrary elements. Instead of giving examples from my assigned readings, I’ll just create me own myth. Right here. On the spot. And I promise it will be every bit as good as most other creation myths…

A long time ago, a rabbit farted. A pigeon was flying by and smelled the fart. She landed and said to the rabbit, “Greetings, my name is al’a’onea’awihea’a’a’a’.” To which the rabbit replied: “My name is Bob. Why have you landed in my path?”

Just then an eagle swooped down and ate the rabbit. This startled the pigeon, who ran for cover under a raspberry bush. And the bush grew to become the world, and the feather that the pigeon lost in her hurry to hide became man.

Later, a turtle crawled up and sat next to the world. And she laid a high number of eggs. And when they hatched, they became the animals.

Ta-da!

Saturday, 05 February 2011

Today we stopped at the Goodwill to look for treasures (where “treasures” is defined as “stuff we need at prices we can afford”). I wanted to get a couple more jeans. I don’t know what happened, but suddenly I’m low on pants. So I bought two.

Also, I was looking for an updated version of the game Outburst. Jennifer and I own two versions of the game, but they’re both over ten years old and are getting seriously outdated. For example, when we played the game a few weeks ago with some friends, one category was “People You Love to Hate,” and the answers were Linda Tripp and Leona Helmsley and others who have faded from the spotlight long ago. I kid of wish that Outburst’s creators wouldn’t put such time-sensitive topics in their game, but I suppose it’s a case of planned obsolescence, in which case I say: good job, Hasbro!

Anyway, I didn’t find a copy of the game at Goodwill. I likewise turned up empty-handed at Target a couple of days ago. A quick search on Amazon reveals there are newer editions, but, yikes, they’re pricey. Perhaps what I’ll do is go through the cards and throw out ones like “Big News Stories of 1995” and leave in “Items Found in a Kitchen Drawer” and combine my two Outbursts into one.

Sunday, 06 February 2011

Today I went to my in-laws’ house to celebrate Superbowl Sunday. I had a vested stake in the game, being this close (I’m holding my fingers really close together) to winning $50 from my credit union. I picked the Steelers to win and the total combined points to be 43.

“43!” you say, “why 43?”

I’m glad you asked.

First, I listed the combined score of every Superbowl game, and averaged them out. Then, I took the combined score of every Packers game and every Steelers game from this season and averaged those out. Next, I found the average of the total score of every game the Steelers and Packers have played against each other since 1975. Finally, I favorably weighted any Superbowl in which the Packers or Steelers appeared by adding in the average of those games a second time. I then determined the average of all of those average. This gave a total of 42.something. I don’t remember. Anyway, I rounded it up to 43.

The game’s total combined score was 56. Didn’t matter anyway since the Packers won. Thanks Packers, thanks a lot. I still think you have the second-dumbest name in all of pro football.

Oh – best commercial: