Sunday, 15 January 2012

I’m sick.

Well, kind of.

In fact, I’m just slightly sick. The sort of sickness where it’s enough to bug me, but not enough to justify staying home from work or even going to bed early.

Isla, actually, has been sick far worse and longer than me. She’s been waking up every half hour or so during the night and crying and coughing. Every morning for the past week, she’s spent the first hour coughing nonstop. Poor girl.

So, I’m not complaining about my lot here, I am just wondering when will be the next time I wake up in the morning without feeling my throat constricted and having to blow my nose every fifteen minutes.

At least I don’t have to worry about staying healthy to perform a wedding.

Also, check this out. Here’s what happens when you put kids in a stark white room with nothing to use for decorations but polka-dots CLICK HERE. I suspect doing this to adults would yield similar results, too.

Monday, 16 January 2012

I didn’t have to go to work today. Something about it being King Day, I think.

Today, for at least the second time, Isla looked out the window, saw a squirrel, and shouted “bear!” It’s rather cute that Isla sincerely believes there are wild bears roaming residential Pig’s Eye. Still, I feel it was incumbent upon me to gently break it to her that not all mammals can be categorized as “kitty,” “puppy,” or “bear.”

This afternoon, while Jennifer and Owen were out and about, I took our quiet time together to have a heart-to-heart with Isla. I showed her this video of polar bears playing with dogs. It was pretty funny, really. During the first few seconds, she kept pointing to the huskies saying “puppy, puppy, puppy,” which, you know, is correct. But then I pointed to the polar bears and said, “bear.” The first time, I don’t think it clicked. But the second time, she stopped saying “puppy” and devoted her attention to the bear.

“That’s a bear,” I said.

Isla then turned around and gave me a look that said, “Holy shit, I have been grossly incorrect regarding the label I have been giving those tiny mammals that run up to our door and eat our decorative corn!”

“Yep,” I reiterated, “that’s a bear.”

I think she’s got it now. Next time she sees a squirrel, she’s not gonna know what to call them.

Later, I was organizing my books, and Isla saw the spine of the book Modoc. She pointed to the image on the spine and said, “bear.”

“No,” I said, “that’s an elephant.”

She gave me a funny look, unsure of the word I just said.

So I pulled the book off the shelf and turned to the pictures inside. She began laughing because, I guess, when you really think about it, elephants are funny looking. In order to enhance this extemporaneous learning experience, I took her over to my computer and showed her some videos.

First we watched this video of Baby elephants at play.

Then, this one of Elephants playing in water. This one made Isla laugh pretty hard, and she kept pointing to her nose saying “nose.” Again, I sympathize with her, because if you’ve gotta sum up the appearance of elephants in one word, “nose” is a rather strong candidate.

Then we watched this video of a Baby elephant playing with a beach ball.

Finally, we watched these two short films, which I will simply call Newborn elephant and more newborn elephant,

The whole time we were watching these videos, Isla kept saying “elephant,” only she would pronounce it as “fat-phant.” Ha! How funny. I think that’s a great term for elephants.

Finally, on the topic of animals, my sister’s property is providing a great roosting area for a couple bald eagles (perhaps they will nest there later this year?). Here are a couple of pictures she took today:

Saturday, 14 January 2012

Well, this morning, I found myself at Lowe’s again.

If you read THIS BLOG POST, you’ll see my first experience with Lowe’s was less than stellar. But if you read THIS BLOG POST, you’ll see that things kind of worked out okay.

It turns out, Lowe’s hosts these “Build and Grow” events on one or two Saturday mornings a month. I learned about them when I read THIS BLOG.

Owen and I had a fun time. We showed up with our completed entry form and the employees gave Owen an apron, a pair of safety goggles, and a kit. We then sat down on overturned buckets (I loved that!) and ripped open the kit.

While Owen created a little castle out of wood (complete with drawbridge), I watched him and helped out when he asked. Mostly, he couldn’t get the nails started unless I was holding the wood in place for him, but otherwise he managed on his own. I pointed out that he installed the door backwards, but that turned out for the better because then the Lowe’s insignia is hidden. He also put the window stickers on differently than the instructions showed. I didn’t even notice this until Owen showed me, but then I told him he was free to put windows where ever he desired.

Some of the other parents were total helicopters. One dad even sat behind his daughter and held her hand in his as he hammered in the nails. He must have said, “Here, let me do that,” about five times. Another parent walked up to the front and requested a replacement kit because their kid had nailed one of the walls to the floor in a kittywampus fashion. And yet another parent meticulously applied the window and brick stickers just right.

I’m not sure why these parents were creating more work for themselves. I mean, who cares how the castle turns out? For one thing, it’s just a toy. If Owen was, say, helping me install a new bathroom cabinet, I would be a little more insistent that he did the tasks “right,” but a toy? Come on. For another thing, it’s free. Free people. Jeez.

Anyway, I don’t mean to whine. All in all, we had an excellent experience. The Lowe’s employees presented Owen with a certificate and a patch to put on his apron (yeah, he got to keep the apron and the goggles). During the drive home, Owen reiterated his happiness with the event and he expressed a desire to go there again tomorrow, only this time with a friend.

Look! Owen and the castle have the same expression!

Here’s the website for signing up for the Build and Grow sessions. If you have an elementary school child, I encourage you to take them. It was fun, free, and lasted about an hour. Maybe I’ll see you there…

Friday, 13 January 2012

I officiated a wedding ceremony today.

It was absolutely gorgeous – the ceremony was held at the Walker Art Center’s Sculpture Garden. We were in a greenhouse; and it was amazing to see the cold snow falling outside while were were warm surrounded by tropical plants. The music was fun (Cindy Lauper provided the prelude), the guests sat on park benches, and the bride wore these striking velvet red shoes that really matched the uniqueness of choosing to be married on a Friday the 13th.

Here’s how my day started, however…

I showed up at work at 6:00AM in my full suit. Yep, jacket, tie, dress shoes – everything.

I used to live my life like that: stupidly dressing in a suit while working at Lenscrapters all day (company policy – it was completely asinine and sexist, but I’ll save that for another post), then wearing the suit in the evening when I went to the Kingdom Hall. On the days I had off of work, or worked in the evening, I went out door-to-door where, again, I dressed in a suit. I didn’t want to, but that was the rules.

I really hated wearing those clothes. Itchy socks, a restrictive collar with a phallic noose around my neck that gave me mild claustrophobia all day, hard shoes, and uncomfortable pants. I couldn’t wait to rip those stupid clothes off every night. In fact, there were many times I’d come home from work, change into jeans and a t-short, only to have to get dressed back into those horrid clothes a mere 45 minutes later. My wife thought I was silly for doing that but, goddammit, that was my time.

Anyhow, I think I’ve been away from working in retail and being in a cult long enough that wearing a suit doesn’t bother me so much. Today, therefore, I decided to have some fun with it.

Everyone had to comment on my unusual apparel.

One co-worker, after learning I was mere hours away from performing a ceremony, asked it I went to church often. I said no, and before I could add any more, this other co-worker laughed and said, “He doesn’t need to go to church – he’s already a man of the cloth!”

Later, another co-worker gave the sign of the cross as we passed in the hallway (purely in jest).

Another male co-worker waved his eyebrows at me as we passed, as if to say, “Don’t you look nice today.”

One lady asked why I was dressed up, and I told her and then, later, she saw me again, and this time she was walking with a recently-engaged co-worker. She said, “Did you know James is going to perform a wedding this afternoon? You should have him do your wedding.” The other lady quickly and curtly said, “Um, no,” as if the very idea was repulsive.

Later, another co-worker laughed at me and said he couldn’t get used to seeing me all dressed up; he kept thinking I was some new manager. I told him to get back to work. Later, he came into my cube and asked me absolve him of his sins. I told him sins aren’t real and that he needs to get back to work.

Then another co-worker said, “James, you look good today.” And another female co-worker complimented me on my apparel, which I considered high praise as she, on occasion, has shown up for work in fancy attire. Another co-worker thought my “story” of performing a wedding was merely a cover for what I was really going to do. Still another co-worker, when learning that I was hours away from performing a wedding, asked if I was very religious. I assured him that, to the contrary, I was quite sane.

Oh – and about five people asked me if I was going on a job interview. Ha ha. Very funny. No, really, it is funny. But if I was going on an interview, no one would know. I would covertly change into my suit in the side bathroom than slink out the side door.

May peace be upon you all.

Tuesday, 10 January 2012

Here is the list of my “Word of the Year” words for every year since I started having a word of the year in 1999:

I’ve decided that my word of the year for 2011 is DUNNAGE.

It’s an appropriate word, for one thing. I had never heard of the word until 2011. Basically, it’s the junk that gets inserted into a box so that the important stuff doesn’t slosh around during shipping.

It’s probably the least glamorous word I’ve ever selected, but, like I said, it’s appropriate for 2011. Since April, I have been working in the packaging department at my job and, soon after starting in that new position, I began hearing the word and seeing stickers that read DUNNAGE slapped on the side of boxes. I didn’t pay much attention to it for a while, but then, one day, I figured it must have meant all that paper we shoved into the sides so that the product did not become damaged. I looked it up on an online dictionary just to be sure. But, yeah, that’s basically it.

So…a word I’d never heard before, and one that represents a major transition I made during the year. What more could you ask for in a word?

Wednesday, 11 January 2012

I found a dime today.

This brings the total amount of money I’ve found so far this year up to $5.18.

“Whoa!” you say. “How did you find that much money in less than two weeks?”

Yeah, I know, it’s crazy. It took me months to reach the five dollar mark in 2011.

But last week, I found a five dollar bill on the ground. I brought it up to the Lost and Found. I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing to do, or a weird thing to do. See, five dollars seems like enough money to where someone would notice that they lost it, but it’s also a low enough amount to where that same person might just shrug their shoulders and figure it’s lost.

Anyway, I handed it to the lady and she said, “You can keep that. No one ever comes up here looking for a five dollar bill.”

So I did.

So that, plus a nickel, some random pennies, and today’s dime brings the total up to the aforementioned $5.18.

I think it’s gonna be a great year.

Thursday, 12 January 2012

With great trepidation, I tuned into NPR today. After about 20 interesting seconds of news, they segued into the Republican Primaries for the duotrigintillionth time (yes, it’s a real number), so I switched channels. About fifteen minutes later, I tried again. Once more, there was some bit on Mitt Romney’s favorite breed of horse, or some such shit that I can’t believe anyone really cares about. So I switched channels.

During my lunchbreak, however, I inadvertently switched over to NPR again and, in what surely must have been the only five consecutive minutes all calendar year, they were not talking about Newt Gingrich’s planters warts. Instead, they were discussing the number of planets in the universe.

Okay, if you’re like me, you’ve just always assumed there were boatloads of planets out there. But it’s never been proven. But now there’s new evidence, thanks to the Kepler Space Observatory, that planets outnumber stars.

READ THIS ARTICLE (I promise you, the link won’t take you to NPR).

This only makes sense, I think. I mean, as the spinning disks gather accretion that eventually becomes a star, it stands to reason that the new star does not capture 100% of the dust. This remaining dust gathers separately as planets.

For the past five years, we’ve claimed to have only eight planets orbiting our star and, I suppose, by definition that is true. But the real number of objects that orbits the sun is way, way higher, including some objects that are larger than the planet Mercury.

These are indeed exciting times in the field of astronomy. Let’s hope some of these planets have life on them. And let’s hope at least one of those lives runs for office.

Sunday, 08 January 2012

Today, after laying on his stomach on the living floor for about 15 minutes and writing and drawing random sketches on his little white board, Owen presented me with his picture of – as he called it – puffy math symbols. He explained that he first drew the images like normal, then traced around them so they were “puffy” and then deleted any ink that remained on the inside. He quizzed me on if I could correctly identify all of the symbols (I got one incorrect, otherwise I was spot-on), and then returned to the floor to doodle some more. That’s when I grabbed the camera and took a picture of his work.

Here it is:

Ignoring the blacked-out doodles in the lower-right corner (which he added after quizzing me), the images are (clockwise from top-left): plus, minus, times, division, a lemniscate, pi, phi, and square root. Those are all math symbols, by the way.

He asked if he forgot any symbols. I told him there were others, but I couldn’t recall how to draw them correctly. I was thinking of the summation symbol when I said that. Of course, there are also e and i and parentheses, but since those are more closely associated with writing, I didn’t know if Owen would find them very interesting from a mathematical perspective.

Maybe I was wrong.

Monday, 09 January 2012

Today, about three miles into my drive to work, I pulled off my stocking cap and began itching my scalp vigorously in one specific spot. I quickly realized that I had a thick, solid clump of something in my hair. I couldn’t get it out – not without sudden acute trichotillomania, anyway.

What was that thing?

Was it shampoo? I wondered. No, shampoo doesn’t clump like that.

Was it soap? Hm. Maybe. But my bar soap never meets up with my scalp and, even if it did, I’m sure I would have remembered cleaving off a piece of the soap and grinding it into my head until it stuck to my hair.

After playing with the clump for a few more seconds (yes, I realize that’s an unfortunate choice of words), I smelled my fingers. They smelled like sap. Tree sap.

Then the memories came flooding back. You know, those long lost memories from ten minutes earlier. Turns out, this morning, I had hoisted up our Holiday Tree and carried it from the living room, around into the dining room, through the kitchen, and out Door Beta (yeah, we need names for our doors). At some point, the live tree, which brushed along my left side as I carried it out to the deck, must’ve decided to bequeath upon me a lovely parting gift.

I washed the affected hair upon arriving at work. The sinks at work are all motion-sensitive, so I had to keep waving my hands around while I cleansed the offending area.

I was a little disappointed that none of my co-workers commented that I had a wonderful, rugged, outdoorsy scent about me.