24 February 2010
Today I attended class for the fourth time this semester. I think I finally got it right this time, though.
For the first two class periods, I stayed late at work and then drove straight to college. This made for a couple of very long days (especially ’cause I was sick, too). Last week, I went home after work, but I didn’t get home until 4:00, and since I had an appointment in the writing center at 5:30, I only got to be home for an hour. Today, though, I got home at 3:30, and I didn’t have to leave again until 6:00. Granted, it was still a long day, but at least I had a decent break at home for a while.

25 February 2010
Today, my mom picked up Owen from preschool. I’m glad she did; we finally got it to work right. See, last week, she was supposed to pick him up, but he was very sick that day so, instead, she came over to our apartment and had to sit with a sick boy all day. It made me feel bad, because I knew Owen had been excited to have his Grandma come pick him up from school and I knew my mom was looking forward to seeing Owen for the first time since mid-October.
Anyway, today things proceeded more smoothly: my mom arrived at Owen’s preschool a half-hour early (she’s like that) and, after he came out of class beaming with happiness at seeing his Grandma, the two of them lunched at Mickey’s Diner which, I think, is Owen’s favorite place to eat (well, it’s in his top five).
I’m starting to view Thursday evening as the beginning of weekend lately. All three of us are done with our classes by Thursday afternoon and we all sit together and watch Survivor before going to bed. True, I still have to get up and go to work on Friday, but that’s a lot less stressful than school.

26 February 2010
Today, several co-workers and I took our lunch break at Qdoba, where we met up with a former co-worker (she quit about 2 years ago). She had a baby recently, and so well all got a chance to see it. I felt bad that she had the baby strapped into the car seat (even though she was awake and alert) when we first got there. I figured it must’ve been really boring for her to stare at the ceiling. So, I got my lunch quickly, set my food down at a table, then ran back up to the line and asked to take the baby. Of course, the mom was pleased, as this allowed her to get her food without having to deal with baby and car seat.
I set the car seat down on the floor and immediately unstrapped the baby. I set he on my lab and held her with one hand while I ate lunch with the other. Her mom asked I minded holding her, and I said: “Well, she’s not crying, and she doesn’t smell like poop, so I don’t think there’s a problem.”
On a side note, I think it’s funny when I ask a question like: “Why did you name the baby _______?” And the parent answers: “Because my great-aunt (or whoever) was named _______.” Because, from my perspective, that’s not answering the question. That’s answering the question: “How did you become aware of this name?” which is not the question I asked. It’s as if they are only giving me a partial answer and I’m supposed to know the rest. For example…
Q: Why did my parents name me James?
Partial Answer: Because my Dad is named James.
The rest of the Answer: And my parents decided that ‘James’ was a pretty good name and that, by naming me after my Dad, I would be forced to honor him.

21 February 2010
We went out to dinner with my mom tonight. She said her husband complained she was spending too much money on her visit to Minnesota, so we paid for her, though she insisted on covering the tip.
We ate at the Olive Garden. I have an ambivalent attitude towards that place. I don’t have anything against it, really, but I don’t really have anything for it, either. I’m not a fan of Italian cooking. Spaghetti, throughout my whole life, has been the de facto dinner-to-make when we don’t feel like making anything interesting. Essentially, spaghetti is to dinner as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is to lunch. And ravioli? Nothing special. Oh – and I pretty much detest lasagna. It’s one of the few food items that I will not touch, even if we’re invited over to someone’s house explicitly to eat it.
And, really, if we are going to go to an Italian chain restaurant, Tucci Bennuch, Macaroni Grill, and Buca all outrank Olive Garden in my mind.
So why did we go? What can I say? My mom loves the place, and the unlimited salad and breadsticks mean my son can eat all he wants at no extra charge.

22 February 2010
This morning, I found out one of my articles got accepted in The Secular Nation, which is the magazine for the Atheist Alliance.
That was pretty much the high-point of my day. I really had a tough time bringing myself to care about anything today. I did what I had to do at work, but I kept staring at the clock waiting for it to be over. During lunch, I made a cursory attempt to revise the paper that’s due in class this Wednesday, but I didn’t make much headway. As I was leaving work, I discovered my Pop-eye figurine – which had been sitting on my desk at work for over five years – was gone. Unless a co-worker hid it as a lame practical joke, or I somehow misplaced it, I’m gonna guess it was stolen.
Tonight, after Owen went to bed, I still didn’t feel like doing anything. I didn’t feel like surfing the web, updating this site, working on my schoolwork, reading a book, watching a movie, or even making myself a snack. So I went to bed.
So…bottom line: apart from some cool news @ 9:10 this morning, this was a completely bland day.

23 February 2010
I picked up Owen from my sister-in-law’s home this afternoon. Another obnoxious drive through Minnecrapolis (I’ll spare the details this time). I asked my sister if I could borrow her big book of baby names. Like my wife, she’s also pregnant, so I didn’t want to wrest the book from her unless she didn’t need it. She said she already had names picked out, so she didn’t need the book.
Technically, though, I don’t think I borrowed it so much as I asked for it back. Once she handed it to me, and I flipped through it, I realized it was the same exact book as Jennifer and I had purchased years ago (long before Owen). Jennifer must’ve given it to her sister to look through during her prior pregnancy.
Anyway, the book is called A World of Baby Names. I love this book! It divides names by ethnicity – so there’s a chapter of Czech names, a chapter of Native American Names, a chapter of names from mythology, and so on – 31 chapters in all. The cool thing about it is that I immediately know which chapters to skip (I’m not giving my kid a Biblical name). With other chapters, I read a few names and see if I like the ‘style’ of that nationality’s names, and then I continue (or discontinue) reading as warranted.
Thus far, I’ve only reached chapter seven (“English Names”), and I’ve discovered that I basically just hate nearly every name on the planet.
Funny fact: the author dedicates the book to her children: John, Brian, Joseph, and Anne. Do I really want to find a name from a woman who chose those names? Thankfully, almost apologetically, she quickly adds that her children were named before the book was written.

19 February 2010
It seems our VW Jetta is about due for retirement. A loud knocking noise caused me to bring it into the machanic’s shop last night, and today they called saying the repair would cost over $600. Admittedly, this isn’t a lot of money compared to some car repairs but, for one thing, I am really sick of my cars breaking down every time I get my tax refund. How do the cars know that I suddenly have an influx of money?
But secondly, and more importantly, screw that fucking Jetta. We bought that thing five years ago, believing we were so hip and cool for having a German car. And, for a while, I did like it. It’s definitely fancier than my Cavalier. But the thing needs repairs at least twice a year – repairs costing several hundred dollars each time. I agree that Volkswagen makes a better quality car than General Motors, but who can afford the upkeep? Maybe we just bought a lemon…who knows?
All I know is: a new car is looming in our future, and it ain’t gonna be a People’s Vehicle this time.

20 February 2010
Today I ventured over to St. Anthony Main Theaters for a screening of Waiting for Armageddon. Although it was a little dry, and didn’t seem to have any message, I suggest it to all my readers (both of them). My reason for attending was not, however, simply because I wanted to see a film about apocalyptic cults, but because I had been invited to take part in a discussion panel following the film.
There were four people on the panel: one woman (a representative of MFA who served as moderator), me, and two other men – both in their 60s and both pastors at churches. One was the pastor at an evangelical church who viewed each question as an opportunity to ramble, Abe Simpson style. The other was a pastor of Grace Lutheran Church in Apple Valley.
The discussion was very interesting, I thought. The moderator asked us questions mostly concerning our impressions of the film. She then took questions from the audience. I learned that, contrary to what I imagined, most people in the audience were not non-religious, they were actually made up of mostly Christians who came to find out about even wackier versions of their faith.
At one point, this question was asked: “How do you feel that having the world-view that Armageddon is coming influences a person’s life?”
The two pastors both answered that such a view can help bring a person closer to Jesus, and that it helps to give a person focus. My answer was basically that it fundamentally alters every normal action the person would otherwise have. This was immediately argued by an audience member who countered that many of his relatives believe in an imminent rapture, and he doesn’t feel that they are traumatized. I then spoke for about five minutes about how traumatizing it is, culling mostly from my own life, but also referencing the film and pointing out that if I was to convince the audience that the end was coming exactly ten years from now…wouldn’t it greatly influence how they live out those ten years? I also noted that most of the trauma isn’t consciously observed by the cult member until they have excused themselves from that belief.
Following the discussion, that audience member came up and shook my hand, saying he enjoyed my comments. Two young Christian men came up and talked with me about the Witness mentality for about 10 minutes and were surprised to discover that a person would actually remain in a religion after (to use their words) “leaving God.” I guess they assumed that most people leave a religion, and then fall away from God. Sorry, not in my case.
Oh – and on the way out the door, another Christian handed me a free copy of a book he had written. I always get a kick out of the way Christians love to pass out literature. I politely took the book… penance, I guess, from all my years doing the same to other people.

16 February 2010
I got lost in Minneapolis again today. I had to drop my son off at his Aunt’s house this morning. She watched him while Jennifer and I were at school and work, respectively. The ride there went smoothly, even though part of the directions called for me to “make a left on Cedar Avenue” and then “make a right on Cedar Avenue.”
The trip there to pick him up this afternoon was a different story. I’m not sure why, but MapQuest had me get off the freeway ~2 miles north of my destination, which, in Minneapolis makes no sense. I had to drive through downtown, then curve around the Metrodome, then, according to the directions, take the 35W exit and then – without getting onto 35E – take the 11th street exit. Nevermind the nonsense of that, I couldn’t find either exit despite the fact that I was driving ~10mph and was at the exact spot where the exit(s) should’ve been.
I ended up following University Avenue into St. Paul, then doubling back on I-94 (through horrid traffic) thereby reenacting the same route I had taken this morning.
When I got to my sister-in-law’s house, there was no place to park. I drove in a 3-block area looking for a spot…but there was nothing. Anywhere that looked like a spot was, instead, a dumping ground for snow. I even tried to fit into one spot, but was unsuccessful (though it did get me honked at!). I finally just called my sister-in-law and told her to bring my son out into the middle of the street where I would be waiting, blocking traffic.
Minneapolis. I hate that city.

17 February 2010
I stopped at my college’s writing center this evening before class. Thanks to car trouble and traffic, I was ten minutes late for my appointment. When I arrived, before I could even tell the student at the front counter my name, he said: “Just for future reference, if you’re more than 5 minutes late, we cancel your appointment.”
I looked at the clock and saw I was 8 minutes late, and I explined to him that it wasn’t due to negligence on my part. He repeated his prior statement.
“Well, did someone else take my place?” I asked, figuring another student must’ve walked in and was being assisted in my stead.
“No,” he said, “I was just letting you know…”
I cut him off. “Oh, well can I still have my meeting?”
He said I could. I don’t know what his problem was.
Anyway, it didn’t matter. I knew more about the style and documentation questions I had than did the student who was helping me. I mean, she was friendly, and it was nice of her to fit me in when I was a whopping 3 minutes past the deadline, but she couldn’t help me very much.
Two hours later, I turned in a draft of my first college paper in years. I’m expecting a C.

18 February 2010
Last night, recounting car troubles, bad weather, three weeks of sickness (it still hurts so bad to swallow that the pain wakes me up at night), a crashed computer, looming lay-offs at my job, too much schoolwork, and other assorted inconveniences, I said to my wife: “This has been the most miserable month we’ve had in a long time.”
She didn’t agree, but only because she claims she doesn’t rank the months of her life in discreet, tidy packages like I do. Man, sometimes I wonder what her deal is.
Anyway, in the middle of the night, Owen came into our room to sleep in our bed. This isn’t a big deal. He does it often. But tonight, about ten minutes after crawling into bed with us, he puked. A lot. And it was all egg yolk, becuase that was the last thing he ate before bed. So, since eggs already smell like vomit, things smelled pretty bad. I picked him up off the bed, and he puked again. Meanwhile, the bucket we had set next to his bed (where the vomit was supopsed to go) was still just sitting there, doing nothing.
So we had about a half hour of giving Owen a 2:00am bath, rinsing off sheets, pillowcases, pajamas and mattresses, and then taking the clothes down to the wash. And, of course, we didn’t have enough quarters to then run the dryer.
After putting mew sheets on the bad, and getting Owen back to sleep in his room again (with orders to NOT come into our bed), I set up my bed on the love seat. Jennifer’s coughing keeps waking me up, so for the past six nights I’ve either slept on the floor in Owen’s room or on the sofa (which is about 5 feet long). I began to set my alarm for this morning and Jennifer came in the living room for some reason. “Can February get any worse?” she asked.

14 February 2010
Have you ever seen those signs near cash registers that read: “Your order is free if we fail to offer you a receipt”? They usually have this addendum, too: “Good at time of sale only.”
I’ve seen these quite often, and I’m not sure what the point is. See, if I pay with cash, I usually don’t care to have a receipt. If I pay with a check card, or if it’s a major purchase (>$100), then I ask for a receipt myself, without having to be prompted by the salesman. And even if no receipt is offered, so what? It’s not like I judge to quality of my purchase based on if I am offered a receipt.
I’m also baffled as to how this ‘guarantee’ is upheld. If I walk out of the store without receiving a receipt, and then return and say: “Hey, I didn’t get a receipt!” what proof do I have? Maybe I just stuffed it in my pocket. And how do the employees know how much to refund me? After all, I don’t have a receipt. I think that’s why the sign usually says “good at time of sale only.” But again, how do I prove this? I could stare at the cashier for a half hour and then, finally, declare: “Okay, well it’s obvious you’re not giving me a receipt. I want me money back.” But then the cashier can declare: “No, honest, I was just going to give it to you. Look – here it is!”
Well, today, I challenged this ‘guarantee.’ At the Mall of America, at Asian Chao today, my son desired a big plate of rice and noodles. I ordered that for him, and it immediately flustered the employees since it wasn’t one of their nice and easy meal numbers. The manager even had to make up a price to charge me. The cashier had no idea what to do, at one point even attempting to charge me over $300. Finally, I paid, and the cashier then offered me…water. So I accepted his offer. As he was getting me water, however, an earlier customer walked up to the counter and requested a refill on his beverage. This caused the cashier to absent-mindedly hand me the water and then move on to other customers. I stood their for about 10 seconds, then was squeezed out of the way by more customers.
Owen and I sat down to eat our food, but when we finished, I walked up with my empty tray and said: “I didn’t get a receipt, so I need my money back.”
“That is only good at time of purchase, sir.”
“Yeah, I know. At the time of purchase, you didn’t give me a receipt.”
“But I am only in training.”
“So? The sign doesn’t say it’s only applicable if I I’m being helped by experienced employees…”
So he fetched the manager, and the manager said: “Oh no, you walked away.”
“Yeah,” I argued, “But how long should I stand here? I paid, then he offered me water, then he even went on to helping other people. He had no intention of giving me a reciept.”
Seeing the waiting line of customers, who were whispering about my predicament, the manger relented and opened the cash register drawer, further confusing the new emlpoyee who was holding a $10 bill from another customer who was awaiting change.
Yes, I know, it’s not a big deal, but it only took me about 2 minutes of arguing to get my $3.20 back. So, unless you make over $3.20 every 2 minutes at your job (that equals $96/hour), then don’t get on my case – you routinely work for less.

15 February 2010
The three of us headed over to the local Goodwill today. I picked out five pairs of jeans, tried them on, and ended up buying four pairs of them. My son, meanwhile, found a bingo cage he insisted we buy. Yep, it’s exactly what you think it is: all these little numbered balls are in a cage, and you spin it to mix them, then spin it the other way to get one ball to come out. So far it’s netted us an hour of peace and quiet at home (apart from the sound of the balls mixing), so I think, ultimately, it was a good investment.
My mom called this yesterday to tell me she had to hole up for the night in York. That’s a city. In Nebraska. I’m not sure if she and her husband forgot to check the weather forecast, or if the conditions just unexpectedly changed in Nebraska today, but my mom planned to drive straight through from her home in Colorado to my sister’s home in southern Minnesota. But she got stuck in a white-out. She said her knuckles were white, and she couldn’t see anything but snow. At one point, she had to make a u-turn on the interstate, and the cop behind her closed the freeway. A phone call to her husband assisted her in finding the correct off ramp to York, where she obtained a simple motel room. The clerk told her Pizza Hut was across the street, but the visibility is so low, my mom’s not sure if she should brave the trek over there to get dinner. I told her to see if they deliver.
Anyway, she just called again to say the roads are cleared and she’s back in the car on her way to the Land of 10,000 Lakes.
I should’ve asked her if she got a receipt from Pizza Hut.