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.

09 April 2010

I won a $25 gift card from my credit union today. And do you know how? Well I’m gonna tell you anyways: I scored the highest score in the NCAA brackets.

Yes, that’s correct, you read that right: I, someone who doesn’t even know what “NCAA” stands for, and has never once watched a college basketball game in person or on TV, performed better than any one else.

How did I do it? you ask. First, I used what little knowledge I do have about the College Basketball World Series (NCAA): I’d heard that this guy Duke is supposed to be pretty good, and I know that any team from Minnesota must surely be a disappointment. Then, I figured that if I’d never heard of the college, their team must also be pretty lousy. Then I wrote down my picks. I achieved 73 points; three points higher than 2nd place.

When I picked up my winnings, I asked for my bracket sheet, and I took it around to my co-workers, gloating, saying: “Do you want to see what a winner looks like?”

Yeah, they’re pretty sick of me at work.

10 April 2010

This morning, we visited Crosby Lake Regional Park, which is still flooded, but not nearly to the degree it was last week. The Happy Trails Nature Club organized a park clean-up for today, and we arrived with our thermos of water and grabber. The Club coordinator had donuts waiting, bags, gloves, and free copies of the Blue Sky Guide, which my wife tells me is like the Happenings book, only for hippies.

We started off down the path, kind of going a different route than most of the other people (what’s new?). Everything had signs of having recently been deluged by mud. The paved path had caked mud on it, and the bottom two feet of the trees and signs were dirty. Nearly all the garbage we found was dirty, which may sound redundant, but what I mean is: imagine taking an empty bag of Doritos and then burying it in mud for a few days, then pulling it out and setting it on the sidewalk – that’s the kind of stuff we found.

Owen seemed to enjoy scavenger hunting for anti-treasure. He was so proud of himself when he found a piece of garbage, at one point even spending ~3 minutes diligently digging out a plastic bag with a stick; “Like excavating in the Cretaceous time period,” he said. Sometimes, we found larger items, and we all seemed to feel a weird kind of satisfaction in locating such big pieces of trash.  Occasionally we’d find areas of heavy trash-concentration, and this, too, was somehow exciting. Our bag eventually weighed ~30 pounds (I’m guessing, it could’ve been more like 14 kilos for all I know). In between collecting refuse, we saw woodpeckers, earthworms, geese, ducks, and squirrels. Afterward, we lunched on a picnic bench near a fire in the pavilion’s firepit.

Items we found included:

-A foot-long rubber tube

-2 beer bottles and two beer cans (Michelob and Budweiser…typical)

-A condom wrapper

-The innards of an audio cassette

-The handle and first 12 inches of a fishing rod

-A Snapple bottle

-Several spent cigarettes

-Three tennis balls

-A maxi-pad

-4 lighters

-Those little orange flags that electrical company employees stick in random places to show their patriotism to Orangeland

-A perfectly clean, sharp, new pencil (in such good condition that we brought it home)

-Lots of plastic bag pieces

-Empty potato chip bags

-A human skull

Okay, so I’m kidding on that last one.

But seriously: nothing gets us out exploring the  metro area’s parks like this nature club. If you live within, say, 30 miles of St. Paul and you have at least one kid <12 years old, you should join the mailing list. The activities are free, fun, and good exercise. They’re free, too. Here’s Owen at Spingbook Nature Center during an outing in late November, which was a great opportunity for us to get out of the house:

You can join their mailing list right on the home page. Also, they have a Facebook group, too.

07 April 2010

Back on March tenth, I mentioned that my wife and I went to the theater to see the film The Lovely Bones. This entirely mediocre film was required viewing for my class. We sent Owen off to his grandparents and drove into my least favorite city in the metro area. We paid for two tickets, and we sat and watched this appropriately neglected mish-mash of superfluousness.

When it came time to read the book upon which the film was based, I paid special attention to the differences; I intended to fashion my essay on this foundation. I mean, it worked well with A Raisin in the Sun: I read the play and watched the film, and I wrote my essay on a contrasting of the two media. (At least, I think it went well – I haven’t received my grade for that yet.)

Anyway, I mention all of this because the course syllabus clearly states on its April 7th entry: “The Lovely Bones: Be sure to see the film version by now.” In class today, the professor asked who had taken time and money out of the busy schedules to go see the assigned flick. Only five people raised their hand (~15%).

This was fine with me. Actually, it was great: trumping my classmates is kind of my gimmick. But then – get this – the professor announces she didn’t see the film yet. And since it’s no longer playing in any metro area theaters (and not on DVD yet), she ain’t gonna see it before the semester’s end.

So she said to just forget about the film when it came time to construct our essays. Really?

08 April 2010

From age five to, oh, age 15, there were four toys that I liked best (I’m using the term “toy” quite loosely here):

-Toy cars. You know, the Hot Wheel and Matchbox variety.I had >200 of them; including a couple little cities.

-Board Games. Card games were fine, too. I had nearly 100 board/card/dice games at one point.

-Legos. I actually wasn’t much into building “sets” (e.g., Star Wars, the Eiffel Tower), but instead preferred freestyling.

-Viewmasters. You know: like those old stereoscopes that you held up to the light.

Funny thing: I still have many of those items. I gave Owen most of my toy cars, but I kept a few for myself. I still own some of the same games (the EXACT game) from when I was a kid: Sorry, Push Over, Battleship. Clue. And I have never purposely discarded any Legos. What started in a shoe box, grew into a larger cardboard box, then expanded into five plastic bins and is now in one large, Rubbermaid bin. Owen and I take them out often, and I can still identify which Legos I had from when I was a child. I think, besides money, Legos are the one thing I’ll stop to pick up if I see one on the ground, regardless of how dirty it is.

Anyway, today I’m gonna talk about my Viewmasters.

In the beginning, I had a modest collection. My parents bought me a set of Charlie Brown, Batman, Donald Duck, Spider-man, Winnie the Pooh, and others when I was a kid. I kept them all in a bin in my closet. Just scattered about, some in envelopes, some in Zip-lock bags, some just loose.

When I was around age 12, one of my Dad’s friends said he had some old Viewmasters I could have. And he wasn’t joking: he had stuff from the 1950s! Until that day, I thought Viewmasters were all kid-themed reels, but he presented me with a reel of Mt. Vernon, another one of Shenandoah National Park, and a few others. This beefed up the collection in my dusty bin.

Shortly after getting married, my wife convinced me to throw out my viewer, which had broken years earlier. The next time we were at Target, we purchased a new viewer, and a projector. Re-energized to take care of my collection, I walked through Office Depot one afternoon and came up with a brilliant idea: I bought sleeves that were intended for floppy disks and put them in a 3-ring binder. This has worked out perfect ever since: each reel is housed in its own pocket and smaller pockets, beneath each reel, identify what’s in the adjacent reel. I printed out a cover for the binder, and, on the back, I printed out a list of all the Viewmaster reels I owned. This list also helped to clue me in to what I was missing (a few reels had gone AWOL in the intervening decades).

My idea was so brilliant, my wife’s grandmother asked me to similarly sort her ample collection of reels – giving me, as payment, I suppose, the option to take any duplicates I found. This further enhanced my collection.

Later, in an effort to get my antsy son to lay his head on the pillow, I began showing him Viewmasters – some over 50 years old – projected onto the ceiling. For over four years now, we occasionally polish off the day by spinning a few reels.

Today I received a Viewmaster reel in the mail: a Mighty Mouse reel arrived, via eBay, completing a set that had lied incomplete since the 1980s. This is a good thing.

The bad thing? My book is full…and they’re not exactly selling floppy disk holders on every corner anymore.

05 April 2010

I left Cub Foods empty-handed today, despite two attempts to make a purchase.

I’m not entirely sure why I visited their University Avenue location. It’s surely the trashiest Cub I’ve ever had the displeasure of patronizing. I mean, I knew I had stop and buy cat food on the way home, but I should’ve stopped at the Maple Grove location, near my job, which offers at least a modicum of customer service.

Anyways, after grabbing the bag of cat food, I went to the self-checkout counter. After scanning the item, I selected “I have my own bag,” and then pressed the appropriate button to pay. However, the computer kept insisting there was an unknown item on the bagging area. There wasn’t, but I couldn’t get the computer to allow me to pay. So I walked away and went to an express lane.

There was one man ahead of me in the express lane (whom we’ll call “Hobo”) and, once the cashier finished scanning his items, she walked away from the register. I watched her walk away towards the customer service counter, but I was unsure what she was doing. I contemplated going to a different lane, but there were, by this time, two customers behind me, so I couldn’t get out.

After two minutes, I asked Hobo if he knew where the cashier had gone. “Yeah,” he said, “she went to get me some cigarettes.” Another minute went by, and the cashier returned, had a brief exchange with Hobo regarding the availability of his desired cigarettes, and then she walked away again. I turned around and saw the two people behind me were getting agitated, too. They were talking to each other, confused as to what was taking so long, and why the cashier had left her station. It seems to me that the cashier should have instructed the man to venture over to the cigarette counter following his food purchase to obtain the cigarettes himself. If you’re going to smoke, the least you can do is walk over (while you still can) and buy your own goddam death sticks.

I left my item on the belt, scooted out around Hobo’s cart, and exited that Cub. I went across the street to their competitor and purchased the item there.

Later, Owen and I went out to Ray’s Mediterranean Restaurant. I have only visited this place one other time, over a year ago, where I ordered take-out and brought home a scrumptious meal to my family. I really should go there more often. The lone employee working, co-owner and wife of the the other co-owner, was very friendly to Owen and me. She helped me pick out food that the whole family would enjoy and actually had an intelligent, thoughtful conversation with both of us – while preparing our meal. I told her we had recently tried to visit Hot City Pizza (see my March 9th rant for details), but left due to their unkind disposition. She agreed that they were not nice people, adding that “they think they know how to make pizza, but they do not.” She then explained that, having lived in New York for 15 years, and having been raised on the Mediterranean, she knows how to make pizza.

I’m not sure why I didn’t notice this before, but she’s right: all the best food comes from countries on the Mediterranean: Spain, France, Italy, Greece, Israel, Egypt, Morocco… Ah, the tastebuds long for more.

06 April 2010

So, my wife has been complaining about her glut of homework lately. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but her homework levels are really ridiculous. (Incidentally, I have misgivings about assigning students to read more chapters out of a book than can reasonably be discussed in the next class period.) Last week was spring-break, right? – and Jennifer still had a bunch of work to do. She seems to have piles of work; her teachers assign her multiple projects at once.

One assignment was to select a contemporary artist and write about their life. So my wife picked one and then notified the teacher as to which one she was selecting. I guess the reason for this is because the teacher didn’t want any student to select the same artist as any other student (I didn’t say it was a good reason). This paper wasn’t due until this week, so my wife kept postponing it until it finally reached the top of the priority pile. But then she realized the artist she selected has almost no available biographical information from whence to glean a paper. And this is by design: the artist claims she doesn’t want the attention (um…then don’t sell your artwork) and goes out of her way to avoid dispensing personal information.

Wow…a pretentious artist. That’s so original.

Of course, not having anything to say about this woman, and not even sure she liked this artist anymore, my wife decided it was best to switch to another artist. The problem is, to do that, she’d have to notify her teacher, and that would be an implicit confession that she hadn’t been working on the paper for the last few weeks.

So, she talked to her teacher today, and was thus given permission to switch to a less-jackass artist. Of course, he teacher was surprised that she was only coming to her now, mere days before the assigned due date, to seek an alternative. I asked Jennifer if she explained that she’d had a lot of homework and other things going on in her life, but Jennifer said: “No, it doesn’t matter anyways, they all act as if their class is the only class you’re taking.” At St. Kate’s, at least, this appears to be true.

Catholics. Go figure.