Saturday, 26 November 2011

The American Family Association has released their yearly “Naughty or Nice” list. This is an extraordinarily helpful list; elegant in its simplicity.

The AFA gives retailers a color rating. Green is the best – like the stoplight, Green mean GO, as in, “go shop there.” Yellow indicates caution is warranted when shopping at the retailers, and Red means stop shopping there.

Both box and online stores achieve one of these colors by their attitude toward Christmas. Green, for example, indicates the company is “for” Christmas.

“But wait!” you say. “How can the AFA determine a company’s attitude toward Christmas?”

Oh, that’s easy, they simply calculate the number of times the company uses the word “Christmas” in their advertising and other forms of communicating. A store like Menards, what with its Christmas Wonderland in each store, thusly scores a green. (Modestly, the AFA awards their own online store a green rating, too.) A store that does not use the word “Christmas” is given a red rating a deemed to be “AGAINST Christmas” (capitalization theirs).

Hm. So, let’s say I open a new store and I decide to use what’s going on in the community to help me sell my trinkets. In August, for example, I tout my store’s school supplies. In May, I set out my selection of Mother’s Day cards. In December, I naturally set out evergreen wreaths and plastic baby Jesuseses and on the door I write “Hallelujah, He is Risen! Give Praise for Jesus’ birthday arrives!”

So far so good. The AFA would probably rate me bright green.

But then, I notice some men with silly hats and pigtails walking down the street. And then I notice what looks like a headless Darth Vader (but is probably just a woman in a burka) moving in across the street. So, thinks I, “How can I get their business, too?”

So I tell my employees to stop saying “Merry Christmas,” and to instead say “Happy Holidays.” I also wipe off the Christian sentiments on the door and draw some snowflakes and snowmen.

In my savvy haste to make my store more inclusive and to remain competitive in the marketplace, the AFA will now rate me Red. Since I no longer use the word “Christmas” in my ads, I am defaulted to being AGAINST Christmas.

Using this logic, I can’t help but wonder what else I am AGAINST. Of course, I don’t own a store, but I do own a house (well, I have to pay the bank lots of money every month to say that, but I think you know what I mean). So as I look around my house, I am forced to ask: “What, dear self, am I obviously AGAINST since there’s no signage to indicate otherwise?”

First, I am AGAINST gay rights. You can tell I am AGAINST gay rights because my house is not painted pink, and I don’t have a “Homos are awesome” neon sign in my window.

Second, I am AGAINST a cleaner environment since I don’t assign my children shifts to stand outside and hug our tree and my kitchen floor is not made out of soy-free gluten-free reconstituted reclaimed cork.

Third, I am AGAINST democracy, since my children did not duly elect me to be their father. Also, my garage door is not styled as an American flag.

Finally (since this post is already too long), I am against dogs since I do not own any canines, I do not want the neighbor’s dog to poop on my lawn, and we have no time pieces in our home that accurately measure the passing of dog years.

Yes, AFA, peg me Red on all these counts.

Wednesday, 23 November 2011

So…here’s a fun family situation:

My mom will be visiting the Great State of Minnesota in December. Since her move to the Rocky Mountain State, she has visited several times…but never during that time period betwixt Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day. The problem (if you could call it that), is that our home – which she will surely want to see since we just moved in – will be all decked out for the Holidays…Kwanzaa, the Solstice, that Jewish holiday with, like, twelve spellings, and that one that celebrates the rebirth of the Sun God Ra.

It’s a tough situation, because I have no designs to take down the decorations, but my son is nervous about how grandma will react. Hmm. I don’t know. Back when I was a Witness, whenever I visited homes that were decorated for the holidays, oh…wait…I guess that never happened because all those people were horribly wicked and I wouldn’t have been caught dead at their Satanic lairs.

I suppose the best course is to tell my mom. I could just say something like, “Hey, when you come for a visit, keep in mind that we’ll have some holiday decorations set up, so don’t freak out.” Or maybe I’ll try to phrase it a little better.

I was talking with my ever helpful sister today, and she says that her plans are to decorate for Xmas (something she normally doesn’t do) with the express purpose of annoying my mom. Not sure if she really means that, but it certainly wouldn’t be out of character.

Anyway, I’ll let you know how it goes. The clock’s ticking…she’ll be here in a few weeks.

Thursday, 24 November 2011

Thanksgiving today.

In 2007, 2008, and 2009, we celebrated Thanksgiving with my family, which consisted of my sister, her husband, his brothers and his mom, and her boyfriend. In 2010, we went to Jennifer’s great aunt and uncle’s house in Wisconsin. The Wisconsinners were elsewhere this year, so we went to Jennifer’s parents’ house, which is a lot closer.

Here’s what I’m thankful for:

I am thankful that I do not have to work today or tomorrow – for my employer or for the capitalist machine. Yep, that’s right. I am not going to any stores today or buying anything online. Same goes for tomorrow.

I am also thankful that my wife and I no longer have to spend Thanksgiving at the Kimballs’ with my sister-in-law and other assorted friends where we talk about how great we are for abstaining from that sinful holiday of Thanksgiving in which families get together and have dinner.

I am also thankful that the beer brewing in my basement tastes way better than this canned foam I’m swilling right now.

I am also thankful that I live with awesome people in a sweet house in a cool city in a clean state in an affluent country on a beautiful planet in my favorite quadrant.

Friday, 25 November 2011

Priority #1 today was getting the new garage door opener to work correctly. It wasn’t priority #1 in that it was the absolute most important thing I could possibly spend my time on today, but it was priority #1 in that accomplishing this task would open the way for other tasks to be completed (figuratively and literally). It’s kind of like putting on pants in the morning. It’s not that putting on pants is the most important task you will do all day, but it will allow you to get other things done.

I assembled and installed the garage door opener last weekend. The task required about 2 hours one day and 2 hours another day. This, apparently, was quite amazing, as a couple of my co-workers expressed that they were impressed with my ability. I told them it wasn’t that big of a deal because, 1) I installed a garage door opener once before and 2) the door still was not opening correctly.

When I pushed the button, the motor kicked on and the chain began moving. It proceeded about 6 inches, then stopped and reversed. Last week, I checked out the troubleshooting page of the instruction manual which, typical of such manuals, was completely useless. Here’s basically what options it laid out for me:

1) Is the power connected?

Um, yeah, otherwise it wouldn’t work at all.

2) Do you need to increase the force?

Well, I hope not, I have it set at maximum.

3) Are the sensors aligned properly?

Yes, otherwise the chain wouldn’t move at all. Regardless, the two sensors are sitting about 2 inches apart facing each other and the “ready” light is on, meaning they are aligned.

So…that’s it. The only other help offered was to call the manufacturer. So that’s what I did during my lunch break back on Wednesday. Here’s how the conversation went:

Press 1

Press 3

Press 4

Press 3

Press 1

Press 1

MANUFACTURER (SHE): Hello sir, what’s the model number of your garage door?

ME: I don’t know, but it’s either…

SHE: Well the number is located under the light bulb fixture. Do you have one or two bulbs?

ME: One.

SHE: Yes, it’s under the bulbs.

ME: Oh, but I’m not home right now.

SHE: Well then how do you expect me to help you?

ME: I figured I would just tell you what’s wrong and you would give me some options. But if that’s too much trouble for you…

SHE: No, sir, it’s not too much trouble. But it’s just like when you call the doctor’s office. They can’t help you unless you can describe the issue accurately to them.

ME: Yeah, and that’s what I am prepared to do right now.

SHE: If you think you can, then go ahead.

ME: (lots of info about the above problem)

SHE: Okay, here’s the problem. The opener thinks your door is open right now, so it tries to close the door, but doesn’t sense any weight. You need to loosen the chain and manually pull it down the other end.

ME: Okay, thanks.

So that’s what I did. Problem solved.

Monday, 21 November 2011

Back in 1989, I won a go-kart. Yep, honest to Eric Clapton, I really did. Of course, living in a mobile home, without a garage, and with no property of our own, my parents quickly decided to sell the go-kart. I made a request that I first get to ride it (or at least ride in it). They said no.

We didn’t even have a place to store the go-kart, so my parents had to haul it to a friend’s house. I stayed home while they did that and, when they got back home, they told me their friend, a guy named Roger, decided to pour some gas in the go-kart and drive it around the street for a few minutes. Then my dad took a turn. My dad told me this as if it was the greatest five minutes of his week. I got mad and told him I wanted to ride in it and they never let me, even though it was MY go-kart.

About a decade earlier, my mom would occasionally dress me in this incredibly uncomfortable stiff outfit that resembled lederhosen. She made me wear it to the meetings, which was absolutely bizarre, since Bavarian costumes were not properly sanctioned dress for Witness males.

Above: I looked about this stupid.

I hated that outfit. I begged my mom to let me wear something else. At the meetings, I was embarrassed and I longed for the day when I would outgrow the outfit, hoping with all my might that she wouldn’t go out and buy a bigger one.

For these and about 20 other reasons, I’ve always felt keenly aware of giving my kids the autonomy and respect that they deserve as people. There must be a mentality difference: in my parents’ wonderful religion, children are viewed as wards – charges from God to train up in a bible-thumping manner. But as non-delusionals, my wife and I observe a more egalitarian approach to living with this small people.

I bring all of this up because Owen has always fought going to sleep. As a baby, we just rocked him or danced with him, or nursed him (okay, so my wife did that part) until he finally gave up and dozed off. But as he’s grown, he’s expressed his displeasure at being ‘forced’ to go to bed.

I understand his frustration. I, too, would often lie awake for hours in bed, wasting my life away, until I finally fell asleep. The next morning, I got up with the alarm clock just fine. Even as a preteen, I seemed to only need about 6 or 7 hours of sleep.

So, yesterday, we tried something. Owen selected four books from his bookshelf, and then got in bed to look at them quietly. He’s done this before, but this time, I told him that he could stay up as long as he wanted, as long as he didn’t bother us for frivolous concerns, stayed quiet (so as not to wake his sister), and turned off the light when he was tired. He agreed.

I sneaked up to his door about a half hour later, and I saw he was still quietly reading. I checked again after another half hour, and his room was dark and he was snoring.

This morning he told me he actually fell asleep with the light on, and then woke up a few minutes later and realized his gaffe. He got up, shut off the light, then went back to bed.

So, tonight, we tried the same procedure. Success again!

I like the idea of Owen determining when he needs to fall asleep. As long as he’s quiet (for his sister’s sake) and not bothering us with silly concerns, I think it’s good to let him make the call as to when he needs to rest. Like giving Isla a real glass to drink out of (and then laughing when other older kids dump water all over their faces), I think if we give our children the latitude to act responsible, they often rise to the occasion.

Also – I said I would post a link to my friend Ryan’s review once it was posted online. HERE IT IS. Doesn’t exactly make you want to run out and buy the book, does it?

Tuesday, 22 November 2011

Today, I am slightly cooler than I already was. Want to know why?

It’s because my very own Micro Machine version of the SS Botany Bay arrived in the mail today.

My collection of Star Trek Micro Machines grows at a ridiculously slow pace (no faster than one-quarter impulse, I’d say). In fact, I have only added two pieces to the collection since the millennium began. If you’d like to see my collection, come to my job, ask them to page me, then I’ll come up and greet you and escort you to my cube, whereupon you can gaze upon my coolness.

Anyway, now I’m up to 18 pieces. The two pieces I most want are the Voyager and the Enterprise-E. If you see those around for a decent price, pick it up for me and I’ll reimburse you.

In other news: today marks the 48th anniversary of, as Billy Joel so eloquently put it, “JFK / Blown away / What else do I have to say?” This, of course, means that Obama has now served as President longer than Kennedy.

Here’s a Wikipedia page to prove it.

Saturday, 19 November 2011

Today, Owen and I went to the U of M campus for their Math and Science Family Fun Fair. We went along with one of Owen’s classmates and that classmate’s dad. The four of us had an enjoyable time.

The Math portion of the fair was a bit slight – there was only one table dedicated to strictly math topics, including one woman who would ‘magically’ guess your birthday if you told her which cards had your number on it. Owen wasn’t very impressed. Another guy demonstrated the use of secret codes. Owen wasn’t impressed at all.

The other demonstrations were far more intriguing, however. There was a demonstration of gravity’s effect on orbiting bodies, color spectra, persistence of vision, optical illusions, chemistry (where the boys had the opportunity to mix two chemicals to produce ‘artwork’ made of foam), and ROBOTICS!

Owen loved the robots; he drove them around the floor and, for some reason, thought that the best thing you could tell a robot to do was to hit daddy in the shins.

We also attended a program on physics. The hosts blew themselves across the stage using a fire extinguisher. They also collapsed a steel drum using temperature differences, and did the ol’ pull a tablecloth out from under a table setting trick.

Owen and his buddy also got to try their hand at one student’s Gridlock Game. In fact, I think Owen would still be playing it right now if I hadn’t convinced him that the student gave me a card with the web address on it and we could go home and play it anytime so let’s go look at other stuff.

Go play the Gridlock Game HERE. It is fun.

Sunday, 20 November 2011

Besides farting around with a frustrating new garage door opener, and buying plywood to nail up in the garage, I’d have to say the highlight of my home-improvement day was replacing an electrical outlet.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, the outlet was not broken or cracked in any way, and the electricity was properly connected to it…it’s just that, there was this one weird shaped outlet. Instead of two typical ‘surprised’ looking outlets:

Above: Two typical ‘surprised’ looking outlets.

Yeah, instead of that, this particular outlet had one surprised face, and one ‘angry’ face. Here’s a picture of it:

What’s with that? Has anyone ever seen this before? I haven’t. Not even in Europe, where they do everything weird.

Please let me know if you’ve

A) ever seen this type of outlet before

and

B) what type of appliance gets plugged into it.

Anyway, I replaced it with the ho-hum typical model today. So now the value of our home just went up by 0.00001%. Yay for us.

Friday, 18 November 2011

I am employed at a corporation that promotes a culture of lean. This doesn’t refer to promoting being fit (though my employer does promote that as well), but to eliminating waste, striving for efficiency, and saving money. They encourage us to look for ways to make various aspects of our jobs lean.

Today, I pushed through a lean initiative that will now save each of my co-workers who utilize this aspect of the job 35 cents. It’s was a thankless task, but I am proud to have stayed the course and accomplished the goal.

Now for the details…

Earlier this week, I ventured over to the vending machines in the main cafeteria. Finding myself desiring a bag of Gardetto’s, I inserted a dollar, which was quickly devoured by the machine. I pressed the letter-number code for the Gardetto’s, and was surprised to see the screen flash “$1.25.” This was unexpected because the little label under the Gardetto’s said “$0.90,” so I was expecting not just my snack, but also a dime in change. Instead, the machine castigated me for coming up a quarter short. So I bought a bag of pretzels (costing 75 cents) instead.

As I passed the vending machines today, there was, coincidentally, a vending machine employee with the vending doors open and boxes of snacks sitting out everywhere. He was busy restocking, but I felt it incumbent upon me to say, “Excuse me, did you know that the Gardetto’s are lists as 90 cents, but when I put in a dollar, the screen tells me I need another quarter?”

He mumbled something, and then stood up and pressed the Gardetto’s code. Verifying that I was correct, he said, “Oh, I’ll have to correct the price. Thank you, sir.”

Yeah, he really called me ‘sir.’ Can you believe it? I can’t believe it. I’m not sure what, exactly, about me exudes the word ‘sir,’ but about once every other year (or so), someone calls me sir. It’s weird.

But getting back to the matter at hand:

I assumed the vending machine man was going to replace the signage so that the Gardetto’s were listed as $1.25. However, later in the day, when I again walked by the machines, I saw that he had kept the Gardetto’s at 90 cents. Out of curiosity, I punched in the code, and saw that they were now, indeed, 90 cents.

To all of my co-workers, including my bosses: You’re Welcome.