07 February 2010
I found myself very bored on this, my least-favorite holiday of the year (Super Bowl Sunday). In the past, I’d been invited to Super Bowl parties at people’s homes, but I think everyone finally got the hint that I really don’t care about football. Actually, there were a few times that people would say things like: “Oh, I don’t care about the Super Bowl either. We’ll just watch the commercials.” I’m sure their intentions were good, but here’s a rule-of-thumb: when people invite you over on Super Bowl Sunday and claim they’re just gonna watch the commercials, they’re lying. See, they don’t actually watch the commercials. They do what they do whenever commercials are on: they talk to each other, get up and refill their beverage or empty their bladder. More importantly however, is that a good commercial is kind of like a good cup of coffee: it’s still tastes like dirt to me.
So with my wife and son sick, and my homework done for the week, I got very bored. My friend Ryan emailed me with some updated footage for a filmlet we’d been working on called Flattened. He then called to see if I liked the footage. I said I did, and then he said the only thing remaining would be for us to get all the audio and video together onto one computer. He said I was welcome to go to his place. To Jennifer, this was great news, as she hates having a bored, antsy husband around the house.

08 February 2010
Today, I uploaded the completed version of Flattened onto YouTube. YouTube is one of the least intuitive, most frustrating sites I visit, but since that’s where everyone puts their videos, that where I have to put my videos if I want people to see them. I actually uploaded the filmlet yesterday, but then discovered that there was a glitch. So, I immediately removed the video and corrected the problem. I was going to re-export the filmlet, but this takes about a half hour and I was too tired. So I did it today.
And, in fact, I had to do it twice today. I successfully uploaded it once, this morning, only to have one of my co-workers point out that I had two audio tracks slightly out of sync with each other. The reasons why this happened are really boring, so I won’t go into it here, but at least I knew how to fix it. I promptly opened up my laptop, corrected the problem, and set the filmlet to export for a third time.
But my laptop ran out of battery power.
And, no, I can’t just plug it in because, you see, my wife and I only have one functioning plug between our two laptops, and the plug was at home with her. I even pulled out the defective cord and stripped the insulation and retwist the wires in an effort to get my old cord to work again. This worked for about 15 seconds, during which time my computer went from 0% to, well, still 0% power, and then the wire short-circuited and my cube smelled like ozone for a while.
So I finally got the video up on the web tonight. Here it is:

FLATTENED

09 February 2010
I never would have expected to discuss a trip to the gas station here on this blog, but that’s what’s about to happen:
As I drove into the Super America lot this afternoon, I noticed a pick-up truck pulling in ahead of me. The truck’s license plate read “Jimmy Z.” I laughed, thinking to myself, ‘hey, that’s what my license plate should say!’
The truck pulled up to a gas pump on the opposite side of the island, and it was then that I noticed the wood chipper they were towing. On the sides, it read: “Zimmerman’s Tree Service.” So then I thought: “Wow, that guy’s name is probably James Zimmerman. That’s my name, too!”
A minute passed, and he and I were standing about ten feet apart, each waiting for our vehicle’s tank to fill. He looked to be about 60 years old, about my height, wearing a camo jacket and a baeball cap. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days.
I walked over to him and said: “Is your name James Zimmerman?” Admittedly, this was a long shot. I mean, just because someone works for Zimmerman Tree Service does not mean that they themselves are the namesake.
“Yes,” he said, sounding as proud of it as he damn well should.
“That’s my name, too,” I said, and he smiled real big and stuck out his hand to shake mine.
We talked for a couple of minutes, instant kin due to our names. He mentioned there are a lot of Zimmermans in Minnesota, and I agreed. He explained that he and his partner (the guy sitting in the passenger side of the truck, presumably wondering how it is we made such fast friends) had just gotten back into town from Oklahoma. They volunteered their services to go help with the large branches that had fallen onto homes due to a recent snow storm. “There’s a lot of poor people in Oklahoma,” he noted, sounding somber.
The conversation returned to our names, and he mentioned – get this – that he named his son James, too.
“Oh, hey,” I said, “My Dad and I are both named James.”
“Yeah,” he continued, “But my son and I have different middle initials. I’m a ‘D’ and he’s a ‘P’.
“No way,” I said, sounding way too astonished. “My Dad’s middle initial is P, and mine is D!”
The old guy laughed. There he and I were, two James D. Zimmermans, who were father and son, respectively, to two James P. Zimmermans, just contemplating the coincidence. I was going to shake his hand again, but I was afraid we’d cancel each other out and open a wormhole, or something like that.

In other news: Ryan sent the link to our filmlet to PZ Myers, a noted evolutionary biologist and proprietor of one of the most popular science blogs on the web. Dr. Myers was impressed, evidently, or maybe just amused, because he saw fit to post it on his blog, which is RIGHT HERE. Thank you, PZ! Our little film has garnered over 2,000 views in the 28 hours it has been on the internet.

04 February 2010
The semester has gotten off to a rocky start this time. On Tuesday, our baby-sitter cancelled, and today, Owen had pink-eye. Jennifer called me this morning (I was already at work) wondering what we should do. I decided to come home and be with Owen while Jennifer went off to her classes.
Jennifer called Owen’s pediatrician and he was kind enough to simply call in a prescription to the pharmacy for Owen’s eyes. Around 1:00, Owen and I went to pick up the prescription. The technician who assisted us said she had no record of our insurance or prescription coverage. She asked me a bunch of questions (date of birth, social security number, etc.) and entered it all into her computer. She took our insurance cards and said: “I’ll have to call in to your provider and get some information, so can you just have a seat and wait for a while?”
I told her that, instead, that we would go take care of another errand and then come back.
When we returned, I pulled up to their drive-thru window and was assisted by a different person. He knew nothing of our story and had to keep walking away to speak with his co-worker. Eventually, he said they couldn’t find any information on our prescription coverage. He just kind of left the conversation hanging, so I asked: “Well, can I just pay for the prescription out of pocket?” I figured that if he said anything less than $50, then I would just pay for it and forget all the hassle that comes with insurance companies. He said: “Sure, but that will cost you $14.99.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, “here’s my check card.” As he was ringing up the bill, he kept telling me I was welcome to return with the correct provider information and that he would then credit my account. I just nodded politely but, really, what a waste that would be. I’m sure the co-pay for the medicine would be $10, so I only spent an extra five bucks. And since I can submit it for reimbursement through pre-tax dollars…I don’t think it’s worth the hassle of returning to Walgreen’s.
Is going to Walgreen’s ever worth the hassle?

05 February 2010
Today was a good day. First, it was payday, which always makes for a bittersweet occasion, but I also got reimbursed for last semester’s college class. Wow, it’s hard to believe. I took a class at Hamline University, and my employer paid for it. Wow. Just wow. Jennifer also received a check in the mail for some of the work she’s done for the Mama Campaign and she got a letter in the mail congratulating her for being on the Dean’s list at her college.
We celebrated by going out to dinner at Macaroni Grill, where we both opted for the “create your own pasta” meal and Owen entertained us by using practically the entire table cloth as a canvas for his crayon drawings. Then we went to Target and bought a pop-corn machine.

06 February 2010
This morning I spent about an hour and a half sending out fifteen emails. I was trying to clean-up my in-box and take care of all sorts of stuff. I sent out emails regarding troubles with the photo quality in the MN Atheist newsletter, my membership with the Minnesota Home-Brewers Association, a short film that my friend Ryan and I began about two years ago that I’m finally trying to wrap up, the possibility of taking a class on documentary film-making, the possibility of getting a minor in history, some boring stuff relating to book-publishing, and even correspondence with my cousin commiserating on my grandfather’s rudeness towards his non-cult-member grandchildren.
Later, we went to Cub Foods. Cub has got to be one of my least favorite stores that I actually go to. I mean, I pretty much hate shopping anyway, but I can usually avoid the stores I really hate: Wal-Mart, Best Buy, Sears…these are stores that I have been to three or four times in the past decade. But Cub (and Walgreen’s – see above), is one of those stores that keeps calling me back. But it’s dirty, crowded, smelly, the customer service is, well, nothing that even qualifies as “service,” and there’s nothing particularly note-worthy about the store itself. We only go there because it has everything. Well, not everything, but some of everything, I should say.
When it comes to buying groceries, I much prefer Trader Joe’s, Mississippi Market, and Valley Natural Foods.

01 February 2010
This morning I woke up feeling kind of sick. My throat was tight, and I had to blow my nose more often than I care to do so. I was tired all day, and this culminated in me emailing my supervisor to tell her I’d be taking a sick day tomorrow. This actually works out quite well, as my wife is going back to college tomorrow, and the baby-sitter we had lined up (her sister Roberta) cancelled on us.
I did the taxes tonight. The final piece of paper we needed arrived in the mailbox this afternoon, so there was nothing stopping me. I am pleased with the results. At one point, I closed up the booklets and announced to Jennifer that we’d have to pay to get them done, but after looking on line to see the exorbitant costs places like H&R Block charge, I decided to go back through it more closely. I figured it out. Each year it gets slightly more complicated: one year I had to account for rent, later I had to figure in college tuition, then mortgage, property taxes, 401k donations, and then a child. Basically, I just copy from each year, but add in whatever has changed. Now I just need to rewrite everything in pen.

02 February 2010
Jennifer is back in college today. She was gone all day. I woke up pleased to discover that, though I was still weak, I was not as sick as I thought I’d be.
I picked Owen up from preschool today. When I got to his classroom, I saw these projects made out of construction paper taped to the door. They kind of looked like rats emerging from eggs. But, on the way home, I asked Owen about them, and he said they were groundhogs, and the black oval shaped on the bottom half were their shadows. Ah yes…Groundhog Day! How could I forget?
I bottled my other batch of beer this evening. So things are looking good for my semester (which starts tomorrow): I have about 60 bottles of beer waiting for me. Whatever I don’t finish before the semester’s over, I’ll drink the morning before the final exam.

03 February 2010
My college semester begins today. I’m only taking one class at a time and, this sememster, that happens to be a class called “Textual Studies and Criticism.” The title of the class is a baffling to me as it is to you. The professor already sent out an email a few days ago with two short stories attached as PDFs. I read them during lunch today…so I guess that takes care of the ‘studies’ portion of the class, now I just have to go and criticize. I’m hoping that comes as easy as it sounds.
I’m not too excited about a night class that goes from 6:30-9:30. In a way it’s good, because I can easily get in my 40 hours at work each week. On the other hand, it’s gonna make for some long Wednesdays. I just counted on the calendar, though, and it’s only 15 Wednesdays, so that can’t be too bad.
I plan to get there an hour before class starts as I plan to meet with my advisor. I want to ask him about the possibility of getting a minor in history, which was suggested to me by last semester’s professor.
So we’ll see how this all goes…

30 January 2010
A few days ago, I solved the problem of our eye-sore bookshelf.
You see, we bought the bookshelves you see pictured here nearly two years ago. I boldly declared that I would ensure all our books would fit onto this shelf and, that should we acquire new books, I would get rid of old ones to make room for the new ones.

So this assertion fell flat on its face. We simply own too many books, and the number constantly rises. Soon, the shelf you see here featured books laying on their side stacked on top of the original books. Very ugly.
But then I had the lamest epiphany in the history of epiphanies: I can stack the wicker baskets on the top shelf, thereby freeing up room for books up there. Then I can reorganize my books the proper way.
What you see here is the end result. I took our set of stone bookends, placed them on the top, and removed thirteen “general knowledge” books from the shelves (think Guinness books and almanacs). My wife insisted they be placed in size order for aesthetic reasons, so I complied even though I saw no rationale. Then, with about 12 inches of freed-up space, I set to work organizing my books once again, as they had been two years ago. My wife go in on the action, and together we pulled about a dozen more books off the shelf to be taken to Half Price Books, where the cheap-skates there will probably give me 75 cents for the books.
Today, I finished the project, including realigning our secondary shelf off to the right (that one houses fiction and cookbooks, so I generally shy away from that one).
In case you’re wondering, I keep the books in order of subject, like the Dewey Decimal System, only better. My books are in order of importance. By “importance,” I mean: if aliens came down to our planet and wanted to know what we knew, they could start at the top of my shelf and work their way down. Or, put better: if I forgot everything about the world in a horrible (but strangely appealing) freak accident, I hope my wife would have the good sense to say: “Well, all you have to do is read these books, beginning at the top left and working your way down to the bottom right.”
The ranking (from most- to least-important) is as follows:
General knowledge
General science
Mathematics
Physics
Chemistry
Cosmology/Cosmogony
Astronomy
Geography
Biology
Zoology
Baby/Child Care
Language/Etymology
History
Biography
Art: Painting/Sculpting/Drawing
Art: Photography
Art: Film
Television
Music
Computers
Humor
Religion
Fiction
…Okay, okay, I know you can make solid arguments here, such as that music is more important than TV, but besides ranking by importance, I also try to flow from one topic to the next. For example, drawing kind of flows naturally into photography, which flows naturally into film, which flows into TV, relegating music to a lower position than it should have. Also, I agree that a book on taking care of a human baby should trump a book about black bears, but in that case I work up the “ladder” – books about plants come before those about fish, which come before those about mammals, which comes before humans.
Don’t like it? Don’t worry. I don’t let people borrow my books anyway.

31 January 2010
So here I am at the end of the first month of the year. This is, for me, nearly a repeat of the final day of last month: my wife and son went to bed unusually early, and I am staying up late taking care of selfish pursuits.
Today started off rather slow. Owen and I watched some videos on YouTube. Then we had breakfast. I finished reading a book I just obtained a few weeks ago (try finding the gap in the books above to determine the subject of the book I was reading). Around 11:00, Jennifer said it would be a good day to get some work done around the apartment. So, since I guess we’re gonna live here for a while more, we rearranged some things in Owen’s room; we moved his chalkboard and his kitchen, and made room for a shelf that had spent the last year in our room. We organized some stuff in our room, too, and got to vacuum some areas that hadn’t seen a vacuum in a while.
We left the house around 4:00 and drove to Mississippi Market. There, we bought a few things to use with dinner this coming week, and I finally purchased this cool handmade wallet I had been coveting for about a month now. We next went to Cub, which is always such an unremarkable adventure I’m not sure why I’m wasting such a long sentence discussing it. Then we went to a Minnesota Atheist meetup. Today’s meetup featured an all-you-can-eat spaghetti buffet, which we attended partly because we had nothing else to do and partly because our friends Chad and Mindy would be there. I’m glad we went – our friends showed up, we met some other cool people, reconnected with some people we’d met at the Children’s Museum a few weeks back, ate a lot of food, and let Owen tire himself out running around with a bunch of other little heathens.
There you have it. One month down, eleven to go.

27 January 2010
Between yesterday and today, I’ve been checking out houses for sale. My wife finds houses that look decent, and then sends me the links, and I tell her what I think of them.
We’re gonna try to buy a house this spring. While I like the idea of living in a house, the whole process of getting approved for a mortgage, finding a realtor, driving around looking at houses and making offers on houses is very unappealing to me. I’ve done it too often; more than I thought I would have. One reason why it annoys me so much is because we always seem to be scraping the bottom of the barrel. To put it in simple terms, it’s as if all the good houses are at least $150, but we can only get approved for $100. So we look for houses, and see that there’s nothing nice for less than $120. So we make an offer, which gets rejected. I hate it.

28 January 2010
Tonight, I went into Owen’s room to say goodnight to him and he immediately stared crying, saying that he wished our cat Oliver hadn’t died. This was somewhat of a repeat of last night, when he said that he was worried that he was starting to forget what Oliver looked like.
Oliver and Owen were pretty much best friends; we have lots of video and photos of the two of them playing together. While our other cat initially viewed Owen as an outsider competing with her for the attention of the adult humans in the home, Oliver warmed right up to Owen and accepted him as just another person in the family that could pet him.
Oliver died last June, not quite making it to his seventh birthday. Owen’s sadness regarding this loss has recently been renewed, I think, because our other cat, Emmaline, has suddenly decided to start sleeping on Owen’s bed. Oliver used to do this all the time, and Owen felt very special because of it. I’m not sure what made Emmaline suddenly decide to pick up where her littermate left off (cold weather?), but when she hops up on Owen’s bed, it immediately reminds him of Oliver.
I told Owen he could pretend that Emmaline is Oliver when he feels her down by his feet in bed like that, but he pointed out that Emmaline doesn’t stay on the bed as long: “She only stays on my bed when other people are here,” he said, which is his way of noting that Emmaline sometimes jumps off his bed when my wife or I leave Owen’s room for the night.
Owen says he wants another cat, and I feel the same way. The problem is, cats are expensive at first, and there’s a good chance Emmaline won’t like the new cat, or that the new cat won’t sleep on Owen’s bed, either.

29 January 2010
Remember the other day when I whined about our bad timing regarding all major life events? Well, this morning, as I was leaving for work, I picked up my cell phone and saw that I had a voicemail. It was the woman who we’ve been working with to get our mortgage. She said that she took a closer look at our paperwork and realized that our short sale was only two years ago. “You need to wait three years after a short sale before buying another house,” she said.
This really took the wind out of my sails, to use a cliche’. As my wife pointed out later when I spoke to her on the phone, there is no way this mortgage lady didn’t know about this before; in several email and phone conversations, we had told her the date of our short sale, and she said nothing to correct us.
This pisses me off because, ironically, after complaining about our bad timing in a previous post, my wife said that at least our timing in buying a house is good this time around.
Well, if it seems to good to be true, it is (sorry, I just used another cliche’). Interest rates are low, housing prices are low, I have ample vacation time to use, and a new home would be the perfect place for Jennifer when she has the new baby.
Now it looks like we’ve gotta wait another year. I’m sure the interest rates will double in the next year, and housing prices will soar, meaning 12 months from now we won’t be qualified to buy anything nice. And is it possible to have a home birth in an apartment? I guess I shouldn’t care if we make a lot of noise on that day, none of our neighbors seem to care about their volume.
So what’s gonna happen next? I don’t know.