17 April 2010

Once again today, I showed up early. Well, technically, I wasn’t early; but I was earlier than nearly everyone else.

I’m not sure, exactly, what happens in my mind that puts me in a different time zone than everyone else, but it goes something like this: I get an invitation to go to someone’s house at 5:00. So, thinks I, it will take me a half hour to get to their house, plus maybe another ten minutes in case I need gas or in case I make a wrong turn and have to turn around. So I plan to leave the house at 4:20. But wait! I’ve learned through the years that no one shows up at someone’s house exactly on time, so I give myself some leeway: I’ll leave at 4:40.

So all day I’m looking at the clock: It’s 2:00, do we have time to run to the grocery store first? It’s 3:00, maybe I should go inside and take a shower. At 4:00, I’m pretty much ready to go, so I sit down and read a book or check my email. Around 4:30, I stand up, put my shoes on, encourage everyone else in the house to meet me at the front door (as appropriate) and, at approximately 4:38, I am turning the key in the ignition.

It turns out, I DO need gas, so I stop and pay at the pump. Then I’m on my way. I knock on the door at 5:04 – for an event slated to begin at 5:00 – and, guess what? I’m the first person to arrive. This wouldn’t be so bad except the host wasn’t even expecting anyone yet – they’re still vacuuming, or their waiting for their spouse to get back from a last-minute errand at the corner store. So I stand in the kitchen with the host and chat, and maybe help get things ready. At about 6:15, other people finally begin arriving, and no one seems to care that all involved have been so woefully incompetent. Except me.

If you don’t want me there until 6:15, then SAY 6:15. I, apparently alone among my peers, have my life in order.

18 April 2010

Today, we attended the First Unitarian Church in Minnecrapolis. This, I think, is the fourth time we’ve attended their services (it’s also where I delivered my presentation on the Winter Solstice back in December). Jennifer arranged for us to visit a couple of closer (READ: not in Minnecrapolis) Unitarian Churches last summer but, apart from that, we pretty much only go when we’re invited.

As far as churches go, they have the smallest percentage of crap. By a wide margin, actually. There’s a hymnal book made up of Yusuf Islam tunes (as far as I can tell), many rituals that leave me privately asking WTF? every five minutes, and the occasional references to Him,  but, otherwise, it’s fine.

Today, their main discourse focused on evolution and the importance of caring for our planet. I think it was a tie-in to Earth Day. Regardless, it was interesting, inspiring, and a kick-ass substitute for the “Special Talk.”

The thing is, I don’t get it. As my friend Ryan once said, the Unitarians welcome people of all faiths and religions, but as I retorted: if you do belong to another religion, wouldn’t you attend that religion’s services instead? Also, if these people have accepted the facts about life and don’t ascribe the unknown to a whiny deity, what’s with the religion? Why not just get together and have lectures?

As always, we were love-bombed upon entrance. Even before we could check to see if our friends had arrived yet, a greeter at the door was handing us packets of information and encouraging us to enroll our son in their Sunday School Program – a program that continues into his teenage years. We took the paperwork, but I was more concerned with showing Owen the playroom than with setting up a 10-year plan for his religious education. The religious education program, incidentally, calls for a Bible literacy program from 3rd through 5th grades. I personally think my son, at that age, will still be a bit young to read a book of such wholesale violence, sexuality, and immorality. Conversely, the program “Dealing with Death” is set to begin with 6th grade, which is, evidently, eight years too late for Owen.

Anyway, I don’t mean to knock the good folks at the Unitarian Church. If you need religion, go there.

19 April 2010

Have you heard of Facebook? It’s like, all the rage. It’s kind of like MySpace, only it doesn’t take 15 minutes to load a single page, and it does not assault you with poorly encoded images and sounds.

Facebook is another thing that I don’t get.

Okay, so I get the appeal – it’s fun to check my page and see who has posted new things lately: who has a new job, who found a cool new site, who is getting married – stuff like that.

But it’s become this weird thing. When I first joined, I sought out a few of my good friends. Then “friend requests” started coming in from more peripheral people: cousins I hadn’t seen in years, ex-coworkers, and even people I’ve never actually met in person. The first time this latter request occurred, I wrote back saying, “Hey, no offense, but I have no idea who you are.” He replied with a few facts that ‘proved’ why he and I were relevant to each other, and so I figured I’d friend the guy. But when he posts things like “Cruising to Onamia to check on Kathy,” I have no clue what sort of benefit that’s conveying to me.

Then there’s the idea of commenting on and “liking” someone’s post. It seems weird that our interaction with each other has become so artificial, that we don’t even have to type “That’s cool” any longer. We can now just click a button that does it for us – as if we are just THAT busy.

I also don’t get the level of interest shown to certain comments. Here’s a rough breakdown of the four types of comments, offered as archetypes, with accompanying estimates on the number of comments each will receive (and, yes, there are exceptions):

1. BIG DEAL: I will be performing on stage at the State Fair on Sunday, if anyone wants to support me. (0 comments)

2. KIND OF A BIG DEAL: I bought a new car today. (2 comments)

3. NOT A BIG DEAL AT ALL: It’s raining out and I don’t feel like cleaning today. (4-10 comments)

4. SOMETHING I DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW: I just farted. (12+ comments)

And then there’s this “defriend” option. It’s kind of a way to diss someone without offering any reason and without requiring the backbone to say “I hate you” in person. First, this one person I knew from my teenage years requested my ‘friend’ship. So I accepted. About a month later, I made a post, she commented, I responded, and then she evidently felt that was reason enough to conclude our rekindled virtual friendship. We weren’t even arguing. Then another guy asked to be my friend, I accepted, but then he defriended me, only to re-friend me some months later. We had no contact – in person or electronically – during that span of time.

Last week, another person I knew from way back asked to be my friend and, again, I accepted. A few days ago, she said she was gonna be having dinner with her Dad, so I commented “please give him my regards.” Now, her Dad is a Witness, so he probably wouldn’t want to hear from me, but I have nothing against the guy. Also, his daughter is not a Witness, so she couldn’t have been offended at my comment. Still, today, whilst checking Facebook, I see she has de-friended me. I’m not sure if it had anything to do with the “say hi to pop” comment but, if so, wow…touchy. If not…then what?

But do I really care? I mean, it’s cool to see pictures of people I knew 20 years ago, to see how they’ve grown, who they married, how many kids they have, and where they live…but do I really need them back in my life? What’s more, if they are someone who IS in my real life (such as my coworkers, my close friends, and my wife), then do I really need to ‘connect’ with them on Facebook?

I tried to check Facebook again about a half hour ago. It said I need to put in my password. I did. It said that my password was incorrect. It says this everytime. Sometimes I just have to type it in like 5 times before it accepts it. Tonight, I didn’t retry.

15 April 2010

Today, the three of us ventured to the Como Planetarium. Jennifer, having lived her childhood only about a mile from the place, had been there on field trips through school, but for Owen and me, this was a first. When I was at the science museum one day in my pre-teens, I picked up a flyer that talked about the planetarium, and I stuck it on the fridge for months, asking my parents if we could go to one of the shows. They never did.

So, now, since my son is interested in astronomy, we went. And…it was decent. The teacher heading up the program had plenty of enthusiasm, an broke concepts down so that even the youngest in the audience (Owen?) could understand. He kind of had a Bill Nye-ishness about him. Unfortunately, we we far back in the line, and so, once we gained admission, there was no place to sit but in the front row. The seats reclined, but we still had to tilt our heads back 90 degrees. I kept contorting my neck in all sorts of crazy positions to see overhead. People who came in after us had to sit on the floor, which might have actually been better, because then they could lay down or turn around as needed.The full-capacity crowd was due to the subject: planets.

It took the teacher a while to get around to the planets. He first used a TV screen up front that showed an image of the planets to scale. He detailed their names and composition, and when he asked what Pluto was made out of, Owen shouted out the answer, which boosted his self-confidence to a level that still has yet to renormalize.

After this into, the teacher turned off the lights and projected a reproduction of last winter’s night sky. He spent about a half-hour discussing various constellations. Yes, I agree, it’s good to know where the zodiac is, so as to find the planets, and, yes, all the constellations are useful, but I get tired of the whole: “See that star there? It connects to that one, and then to that one, and that one, and that forms a lion!” No, it doesn’t. Let’s just say that this particular group of stars is Leo and leave it at that. Taurus does not look like a bull; Virgo does not look like a young maiden; Cancer does not look like a crab. At least, not to someone who abstains from LSD. The big dipper looks like a dipper, the stars in Orion’s belt form a straight line, and that’s it.

Finally, about 50 minutes into the program, the teacher took us out to a planet. We checked out Mercury, Venus, zoomed into the Valles Marineris and ‘landed’ on Olympus Mons on Mars, then went out to the outer planets. We visited one Galilean satellite, flitted above and below Saturn’s rings, saw a quick shot of an artist’s conception of Pluto, then zoomed out to the Oort Cloud. No Neptune or Uranus…I was bummed. My father-in-law, who is a fan of Uranus in the most juvenile way possible, would have likewise been let down.

Lastly, we sped out to the edge of the universe, and then came back and ‘landed’ on Earth, near the Twin Cities.

I’d like to go again sometime – get some better seats, maybe, and see if he spends more time on lesser-known Solar System objects. Maybe we need to wait until Owen gets a bit older, though, he was a bit freaked out at the room’s darkness.

16 April 2010

So, I was informed yesterday that my cousin Amber when in for her scheduled c-section to have baby #2 extracted from her belly. My mom told me this coupled with a grave voice that quickly led into details of Amber’s preeclampsia. I was told my cousin was so sick that she was not allowed to be near her baby, and that only her husband could be with her. My mom left out some details that were  filled in by my sister’s call an hour later…

Turns out, my cousin’s liver had swollen and she was losing blood. Lots of it. This is bad news because…(drum roll)….Amber is a Jehovah’s Witness and therefore believes that receiving a blood transfusion is against god’s wishes. In a study last decade at St. Sinai Hospital in New York, Jehovah’s Witness women were found to die in childbirth at a rate of 512 per 100,000 live births due to obstetric hemorrhaging. This is 44 times the general population rate, which died at a rate of 12 per 100,000.

My sister called me primarily because she was mad at the religion. She had learned that a pack of elders had arrived at the hospital to “support” Amber. As my mom pointed out to my sister (via text messaging), they are just doing their job in supporting Amber’s wishes…which is true, as a Witness, Amber is committed to abstaining from whole blood – but their presence at the hospital certainly serves to ensure she complies with organizational wishes. Think of it this way: if Amber and her husband were alone at the hospital, they could discuss the risks/benefits of transfusion and make a decision in private. With 5+ elders on hand, however, it’s not likely she’d agree to a transfusion regardless of how dim her recovery prospects are.

Today, my sister called again to further vent about “our mom’s family.” In a sharp exchange of text messages, my mom said: “No matter what Amber chooses, we’ll still love her.” My sister, not always the best wordsmith, replied: “I’ll still lover her – can you say the same about your family?”

My sister is especially distraught, as Amber is her favorite cousin. And with good reason: alone of our dozen Witness cousins, Amber alone does not shun my sister. She was one of the few family members to attend my sister’s marriage to a non-Witness (back in 2002), and, when my sister was remarried in 2005, Amber was the maid of honor. Besides my immediate family, Amber was the only one of my relatives to visit us in the hospital at Owen’s birth.

I am writing this several hours after I last spoke to my sister; no word yet on Amber’s condition.

If you want to learn just how ridiculous, inconsistent, and arbitrary the Watchtower ruling on blood is, CLICK HERE.

14 April 2010

Evidently, there’s a big wide world out there in cyberspace. Today, in particular, I found – and was shown – a few amazing sites on the ol’ WWW:

First off, check this out: The Miracle of Transubstantiation. After finding this from another site I was visiting, I forwarded this on to two of my co-workers; one came over to my desk and said: “I’m not religious, but I even find that offensive.” He then shrugged and said something about it being an accurate depiction of what Catholics must believe.

Second: Does anyone want to go in on a case of Sink the Bismarck with me? As the world’s most alcoholic beer, the price tag is a little steep and, anyway, if I drank the whole case myself, I don’t think I’d ever wake up again. Or maybe we could just share a bottle of Tactical Nuclear Penguin.

Third: This was one awesome short film. At 2.5 minutes, I actually wish it was longer, which, I think, is about the highest praise a person can give to a film. Heck, I even stuck around to watch the credits.

Fourth: I had no idea Mike Huckabee was such an asshole. I mean, I knew he was super-conservative, and I knew he was a man of faith, but I didn’t know he was also stupid. What a dangerous combination. Let’s just look at a few of his points:

He says: “There are people who believe in polygamy, should we accommodate them?”

I say: Sure. Why not? All of his favorite bible characters (Abraham, Jacob, David) were polygamists, so what’s the problem? If a man wants to have two wives – or more – that’s just fine with me. I would add, however, that the arrangement must be consensual for all, so that the existing wife/wives must agree to the addition of new a new wife and, essentially, they would all be married to each other.

He says: “The burden of proving that a gay marriage can be successful rests with the activists in favor of changing the law.”

I say: Bullshit, asshole. Heterosexuals are under no compulsion to prove their marriage will be successful upon applying for a license to marry. And, in fact, half of them are not successful. Or maybe Huckabee is in favor of banning divorce?

He says: “I do not believe we should change the traditional view of marriage.”

I say: Why not? We change it all the time. Back when Huckabee’s favorite book was written, the traditional view was that polygamy was okay. So were child brides. In this country, interracial marriage was once prohibited. Does Huckabee feel we should criminalize interracial marriages and nullify such existing marriages?

Lastly, here’s a great video a co-worker sent my way this morning. Sagan never fails to inspire, and here his words are set first to thought-provoking imagery of the Earth’s place in space, and then to movie clips that demonstrate the expanse, beauty, and insignificance of the human struggle.

12 April 2010

Today my wife told me that my son has expressed interest in going hunting for dinosaur fossils in Utah. I looked online, and I presume he means this place called U-Dig Fossils. Yeah, so…a trip to Utah. That’s something I never thought I’d do.  Not sure how we’d afford something like that, what with the plane fare, hotel room, and even the admission fee to the dig site. U-Dig offers free admission to visitors under 7 years old, so that’s good.

Their webpage offers detailed descriptions of trilobite species, which leads me to conclude there are not a whole lot of pachycephalosaurus skulls out there.

Despite the price – and the location – I guess I should just be glad my kid wants to dig for dinosaurs in Utah rather than visit Disneyworld. ‘Cause, man, that place is expensive. Also, they have princesses there. Princesses!

13 April 2010

Today marks the end of an era: After 6 years, 1 month and 10 days, we are no longer the owners of a Volkswagen. The old blue Jetta (affectionately named “Winnie” by the previous owners, but rarely referred to as such by us) was finally pulled into port this evening – complete with its broken muffler, bad shocks and struts, malfunctioning blinker, and cracked windshield (all problems that developed this year alone).

We originally purchased the Jetta from the original owners back in 2004. Owning it for 73+ months means that we paid <$100 a month for it, which is kind of a goal we have for ourselves. Even the interest we paid on the loan was minimal: we had the car paid off within 5 months of purchase. In the 6 years since we first took the car home, we managed to slightly more than double the miles, bringing it from 81,000 to 165,000.

Though the Jetta marks the 6th car I’ve gotten rid of, it’s actually only the second time I’ve sold a still-functioning vehicle. Four of the other five cars I owned were no longer operative, and had to be towed to their final resting grounds. Only one car, an Oldsmobile Cutlass, was sold with the capability of being driven away.

We drove off with our new Saturn today. I hope it was a good purchase. So far, I like the car. The muffler was quite, the miles were lower, and we were given a good deal thanks to the dealers being good friends with Jennifer’s family.

Incidentally, owning that Saturn means that still – having owned eight vehicles in my life – I’ve never owned more than one of any make of car. I’ve owned one each of the following: Chrysler, Oldsmobile, Buick, Hyundai, Chevy, Toyota, VW, Saturn. This hasn’t been done on purpose, honestly. In fact, we even test drove a few cars that would’ve meant repeat performances…but it was not meant to be. One more interesting tidbit: the Saturn is the first vehicle from this millennium that I’ve owned.

As we’d owned the Jetta since before he was born, Owen was understandably rattled that we had to say farewell to our Jetta. I let him close the last door on it as he said goodbye. He seemed very nervous about all the tiny little differences between the Jetta and the new car, though he did seem pleased that the new one is named after a planet.

11 April 2010

Know what I hate?

Oh, you do?

Okay, well here’s one more thing to add to the list: people’s behavior at community laundromats.

Today, I walked down to our apartment’s laundry room (our building has three laundry rooms; I visited the closest one), and there was a  loads of clothes in each of the two dryers. I figured this wouldn’t be a problem, as I still needed to run mine through the wash, and I was sure those dryers would be empty when I returned.

But they weren’t. So I went back a little later, and they still weren’t. So then I went back later still and, this time, I took my neighbors’ clothes out of the dryers and placed them in piles on top of the machines.

When I came back an hour later to get my clothes, those piles were still sitting there.

Okay, so that’s nothing to get upset about, right? I mean, it’s baffling to me how people can begin to do their laundry (in a public place) and then just forget about it for so long. And this happens all the time – every time I go down there, I have to remove someone’s clothes from the laundry.

This happened in our last apartment, too. Jennifer came back upstairs twice, complaining that all four washers were full with someone’s clothes. Finally, she went back a third time and took the clothes out and set them on top. When she went back to retrieve our stuff later, guess what? The owner of the long-forgotten clothes was there, and she yelled at Jennifer for touching her clothes.

So then Jennifer was nervous to go do the laundry (she was a little more timid back then). I even started going to the laundry room with her, so that she wouldn’t be yelled at again by that woman. We repeatedly were forced to delay our laundry because her clothes were spending the weekend in the wash.

One evening, I went downstairs with Jennifer, and that woman’s clothing was in the washing machine again. And still there an hour later. Needing the clothes for the next day, I said: “This is ridiculous,” and pulled the woman’s clothing out. Jennifer was not really on board with this, so she left me to my own device.

We went back down an hour later, and guess who was waiting for us? She yelled at us, but I yelled back – actually, I didn’t yell. I was firm, and I used some good ol’ fashioned logic.

After that, the woman was extremely pleasant to my wife, even holding the door open for her and helping her unload the groceries one afternoon and carry them into the building.