Saturday, 11 June 2011

Howdy.

So, I’m writing today – June 11, 2011. As you can tell, this is not the next consecutive day in my blog posting, but I’m taking a breather here.

Of course, I have plenty I could write about – such as an excerpt from my book being accepted for publication in a magazine & my son’s first loose tooth – but I’m too stressed out right now and not in the right frame of mind. I think I need to curtail a couple of activities that, despite what I may like to believe are not, in fact, priorities (e.g., this blog).

Since my last post I have had a very busy week at work. Came home on Monday to a sick son. His fever was high and the heat (>100 degrees) and humidity weren’t helping any. I began my accelerated summer class at Hamline on Monday and, as I drove there at 6:00 PM, I received a call from my wife telling me I was needed back at home. Owen’s fever was getting higher. I eventually made it to class (even one absence in an accelerated class is enough to significantly drop a grade) ten minutes late. Got back home that evening, nearly killed a family of birds, then took Owen to the emergency room. Got home at midnight, couldn’t sleep due to heat + worrying about my son + worrying about the new class + concern for the birds.

Owen missed school Tuesday, too. This, plus the medicine for strep was really stressing him out. I missed work on Tuesday & had no time to do my homework. Laid around in 100+ degree weather trying to stay cool. Failed. The only relaxing part of the day was when I was at the dentist.

Wednesday: Owen began developing blisters on his face and extremities. Jennifer took him to urgent care where they declared he was allergic to the penicillin. Gave him different medicine. They got home at midnight. I got about four hours of sleep.

Thursday, rushed to finish some homework. Jennifer took Owen to the doctor’s again, as he was not clearing up. Turns out he never had strep and never needed the medicine that they prescribed. Instead, he had hand, foot and mouth disease and told all that was needed was some time to heal. Told he was contagious and, thus, would have to miss school on Friday, too (his fifth in a row). I went to class, Owen, still sick, stayed home and missed the end-of-the-year picnic.

Friday: after about 5 hours of sleep, had a crazy busy day at work. During lunch, squeezed in some homework time. Came home to a stir-crazy son and feverish daughter.

Saturday (today): Owen is so stir crazy he’s entirely obnoxious (though he has channeled some of this nervous energy into drying the dishes and folding the laundry). He was invited to spend the day with a class mate but, of course, had to decline the invite. Isla has been whining and crying all day. Nursing doesn’t make her feel better, as her throat is scratchy, and this just frustrates her. I’m trying to read some homework, but I’m just not ‘getting’ it. Today being my birthday, Jennifer went out and bought me dinner, beer, cake, and lottery tickets.

Anyway, ask me in person if you want any more details on any of the above stuff (and there’s more, too, but I left out some of it). As I said above, I’m taking a hiatus. Unless something major and unexpected occurs in the next 18 days, I will commence the daily postings again beginning on June 29th.

My wife and son are preparing to sing me “Happy Birthday” and present me with a pound cake topped with candles. So…gotta go. Happy birthday to me.

Saturday, 04 June 2011

Today, the four of us ventured over to downtown Minneapolis and joined in with the Heart Walk. Despite walking for an entire mile, however, none of us were able to find a cure for heart disease. Oh well. Maybe next year.

“Hold on!” you say. Since when is James willing to drive in to downtown Minneapolis? That’s a great question, and I thank you for asking. The answer is that I did not drive into Minneapolis. Instead, we took advantage of the bus system’s generous offer to shuttle Heart Walkers around for free. That’s right, all I had to do was flash a print out from the AHA’s site to the driver, and they let all four of us board the bus for free.

I have to say, however, that attending and participating in the Heart Walk was pretty much an exercise in frustration and I therefore have no desire to participate again next year. For one thing, catching buses is always stressful. Where do I stand? Should I be on the other side of the street? Is it running late? Did it come early? What if I get on the wrong one? Is this my stop? When will this drunk guy stop talking to me?

When the bus dropped us off at Target Field (a place none of us had been to before), we did not know which direction to go. The bus was also about 10 minutes late so, instead of checking in with my team (where I planned to get four raffle tickets to win a Wii), we instead ran over to the correct section of the bleachers for a group picture. As far as we can determine, they never took the picture. Instead, there was a lot of grandstanding and rah-rahing going on down on the field. Some people spoke in a microphone but, as is typical at large events like this, the audio was unintelligible, so I can’t even be sure what language the announcers were speaking.

While this was occurring, I tried getting downstairs to check in. A few elevators were off limits, and there was no signage directing us. When we finally found the correct spot, no one was there. I later emailed my team captain to complain, and he said we had to be there by 10:00 to get the raffle tickets (we got there at ~10:15). Oh, thanks for telling me now. That’s great.

Finally, at 11:00, the walk began. As my wife astutely quipped, it was more of a heart dawdle, really, as there were too many people in too small of an area. The crowd made the walking so slow that there were times I had to come to a complete stop. Dumb.

Instead of quasi-walking for an hour, I think the Heart Association would be better served by trying to get people to actually work for an hour. Yeah, that’s right, if they want my energy next year, instead of hassling over bus rides, listening to a program on a terrible audio system, and shuffling down main street, I’ll just go to work for one hour and allow my employer to pay the AHA instead of paying me.

The offer’s on the table, guys, just let me know.

Sunday, 05 June 2011

So now we’ve come to that time of the year where I complain about the weather.

God I hate the summer!

The sun so completely sapped my energy from yesterday’s walk, that I pretty much laid around for the rest of the day. Today, we tried going to the Y to go swimming but, halfway there, Owen declared that he felt nauseous, so we turned around and headed back home. So, again, I was too tired to do anything. Later, we even went to the local co-op, a place so close that we almost always walk there. But with the sun reaching Florida-crazy level by 5:00 this evening, we lazily boarded our car for the five block trek.

This evening, I paid a visit to our garage where, I think, I could have died if I stayed in there much longer. I had to remove a storage bin and the heat was so bad I had to stop twice just to catch my breath.

After the sun set, I concocted an ice-cold beverage for Jennifer and I to drink. Sitting under the ceiling fans helped a little. Before going to bed, I checked on Owen. He was sleeping under his heavy quilt. I peeled it off of him lest he have heat stroke in the middle of the night.

Here’s to September: the month I used to despise for 12 years thanks to school, and then for five years more thanks to pioneering. Now, however, I consider it among the best of the year. I eagerly anticipate your arrival, September.

If I seem like I’m in a bad (worse?) mood during the next 90 days, now you’ll know why.

Wednesday, 01 June 2011

So, I had to update two of my lists this morning: “Books I’ve Read” and “Motion Pictures I’ve Seen.” To the first list, I added the book Born to Be Giants, a book I read to Owen the other day in preparation for a TV show program I will be hosting tomorrow (see below). The the latter list, I added the films Bartleby and Black Swan. In both cases, I noticed something.

It turns out that the 87 of the 789 books on my list have titles that begin with the letter S. This is to be expected, I suppose, as more English words begin with S than any other letter (although T wins out if we consider word frequency). Guess what letter is second place on my list? No, it’s not P. Or C. Or D, M, or A, which fall second to sixth place according to Michael Quinon’s program. It’s the letter B, with 54 books. Huh. I never would have guessed that.

Now onto the motion pictures list: S again comes out first, with 136 out of 1,290 films. Second place…once again…is B, with 96 entries. Why is this? Can anyone explain? In both cases, B is in a comfortable position – at least 5% ahead of third place. Weird. According to THIS LINK, B is the eighth most popular letter for starting words. T and A are, respectively, first and second in popularity. I suppose we could argue that they often get ‘chopped’ off the alphabetical listings (due to the words “the,” “a,” and “an”), but I bet they’re still pretty popular letters even without those articles and, even if we ignore those letters, B is still sixth place.

The movie Babel is currently #3 on our Netflix queue, and sometime this month I’m gonna have to read Brokeback Mountain for my college class, so B is in no trouble of losing its position anytime soon.

Thursday, 02 June 2011

Today was a full, but great day. First, I took the day off of work. This is the second Thursday in a row that I’ve done that and, I gotta say, a person could get used to that pretty quickly.

This morning, I volunteered as a chaperone for my son’s Kindergarten class on their field trip to the Ordway. I’ve wanted to be a chaperone on one of his field trips all year, but last fall I just kept putting it off, then I missed out on a couple of opportunities, then I declined one opportunity when the teacher wrote back and said they already had the required number of chaperones. I could’ve gone with them, but I decided to save my chaperoning skills for another occasion.

Anyway, today – nine months into the school year – I got to be with Owen’s class during their trip. Another boy’s mother was there (I had met her before), and the two of us sat in the back of the class during morning circle time. The teacher assigned each of us some friends to sit next to during the show, and then we boarded the bus.

At the Ordway, we sat in the second row (great seats!) and watched a presentation of Corbian the Dinosaur. It was amazing! The theater was very dark the entire time, and all we could see on stage were these animals made out of lights – like those Yuletide rope lights. In fact, click here to see images of the play, because that will give you a better idea of what I’m talking about (you can even watch a short video about it). Oddly, the creators’ homepage titles the play Darwin the Dinosaur, while the staff at the Ordway introduced it as Corbian the Dinosaur (and, in fact, that’s what they call it at their site). Not sure why the difference. I wrote to the Ordway to ask them but, as of yet, no response.

After the play, I returned to Owen’s school with him. I was invited to stay for lunch, which was likewise a fun event. During the three hours I was with his class, I was referred to as “Owen’s Dad” about 20 times, given a ‘snake bite,’ had to let five kids try on my sunglasses, had to tie one boy’s shoelace and another girl’s shawl, told I had something on my shirt, played the see-if-you-can-slap-my-hand game, and informed that I was white. That’s the sort of stuff that just doesn’t happen if I go to work on a Thursday.

This evening, as mentioned above, I hosted another episode of Atheists Talk. I interviewed (or maybe “headed up a discussion with,” is a better choice of words) local librarian Mindy Rhiger on her suggestions for:

1) Great books to read to your children about religion/belief/death (without indoctrinating them)

2) Great books to read to your children about science/exploration (without boring them)

For each part, she discussed her top ten books. Nearly all of the books were designed for 3-8 eight year olds – you know, the kind of 32- to 40-page books with beautiful illustrations that you read to your young kids before bedtime.

The episode appears to be quite a hit – already I’ve received requests for Mindy’s book lists, and everyone involved with the show agreed it was one of the best in quite a while. I’ll post a link to the program once it appears on the WWW.

Monday, 30 May 2011

Today we walked to Mississippi Market for dinner. They have a dining area there and we seem to able to eat quite healthy and cheaply. This is a great combination, only exceeded, in fact, by the combination of great tasting + free.

The wind was particularly obnoxious today, though during the time of our walk it had abated somewhat. The real problem, though, was the ticks who decided to hitch a ride on us.

Owen noticed the first tick right as he took off his knee pads in the garage (he rode his bike). He immediately set to panicking, claiming there was a bug on his knee. At first, I thought it was just his temporary tattoo, but it turned out it was actually a tick. All told, I think he had three ticks. I had one as well, and so did Jennifer. Isla appeared to come out of the event unscathed.

Next time we go for a walk, I’m gonna suggest we walk down the middle of the road so as to maximize our distance from foliage.

Tuesday, 31 May 2011

Last night, Jennifer and I watched the Little House on the Prairie episode “He Was Only Twelve, part one.” This evening, we watched part two. I realize that 2 out of my 3 readers here probably don’t care one bit for that show, but if you just stick with me here, I think you’ll find I have something interesting to say. For once.

I had seen this two-part episode before. In fact, just seeing the episode title on the Netflix sleeve brought back the memories. The two parts form the final two episodes of season eight which is, arguably, the final season of the show.

Here’s the thing: these are two really strange episodes. I’m not sure exactly when Little House jumped the shark, but surely if it hadn’t already, then this is the moment when it did. (And you really should click on the “shark” link above and let me know if you can spot the connection between that clip and this Little House episode I’m discussing.)

Now for the basic story (SPOILER ALERT!): While on a business trip to Sleepy Eye with his father Charles Ingalls, young James enters a bank to deposit money he just received for his birthday. (Guess how old he turned?) Alas, a bank robbery was in progress, and James became part of the collateral damage. The bullet lodged near his spine, causing massive blood loss and a grim prognosis. This sets in motion two threads of the story:

1) Those robbers need to be brought to justice!

2) Will James survive his injury?

The two parts answer the two questions, respectively. In part two, Charles and his wife Caroline care for their invalid son (he’s now in a coma – ’cause that’s what happens when you have a spinal cord injury), they carefully feed him broth via a pipette, and periodically bathe him. Charles continually tells himself that James is getting better, and even lashes out at Dr. Baker when he says that there’s no change in James’ condition. Later, Charles has a crisis of faith – he wonders why God doesn’t either heal James or let him die so he can be in heaven. Charles becomes convinced that God will perform a miracle and heal his son, provided he bring James near a mountain and pray like the dickens. The local reverend tries to reason with Charles, and even admits that, in his 30+ years of being a preacher, he has never witnessed a miracle. Even a psychiatrist pays Charles a visit and tries to politely explain that he’s going crazy (therapy was still in its infancy in the 1880s).

All of this is pretty standard fair for Little House, really. The main characters are devoutly religious and, even though I am not, I can sympathize with them. The grief, the denial, the desire to try even the most far-fetched idea all make sense in the context of a dying child. I can’t fault Charles for his emotions of his subsequent actions – especially considering that his god actually does perform miracles. Miracles, incidentally, had been implied before on the show: Laura requested her brother be resurrected (God said no), Adam was saved from certain death by a fortuitous fire, and Almanzo’s paralysis went away once he stopped being an asshole. However, this episode marked the first time I can recall a miracle being explicitly, unequivocally performed for a character.

But, you might be asking, what happened in part one? Ah, yes, there’s the oddness. What would you do if you were hours from home and your child lie dying? Well, if it was me, I would first ensure they had the best medical help I could find. Then, I would stay by their side. Charles does the first item, but not the second. Almost immediately after the doctor provides Charles with a prognosis, he decides the best thing he can do is bring the criminals to justice. He leaves his older son Albert some cash and tells him to get a hotel room (!), then rounds up some of the local citizens in an attempt to form a posse (!!). When Charles becomes exasperated that no one will help him, the local lawman speaks up and says that the sheriff has jurisdiction over the area and that Charles should defer to him. Charles ignores this and continues to plead with the crowd, who all turn away, explaining that they do not wish to go up against armed professional criminals.

So Charles heads out (with no clues) in search of the four men. His best friend Isaiah accompanies him even though he has made it clear he does not agree with Charles.

The episode devolves from there. In what is usually touted as a family show, we see a dead body being carelessly dumped into a grave, then dug back up later when Isaiah rifles through his pockets. One of the criminals goes half-insane claiming that the dead man is staring at him. Yikes! Brutal stuff for a family show.

Later, Charles holds a gun point blank towards one bandit, then gets his hands (literally) on the lead bandit and chokes him with his bare hands. Charles – the same devout Christian who only a few minutes later will be fervently praying to God for a miracle – has every intention of killing this unarmed man and is only stopped when Isaiah (an alcoholic with anger management issues) screams at him to stop. Did I mention Charles does this in front of his teenage son Albert?

The whole time I was wondering: Why don’t you just let the law handle this? More importantly, why don’t you go be with your dying son? Or at least get him and your other son back home to mom before you go out vigilante-ing all over Hero Township.

Funny thing, despite Charles’ uncharacteristic behavior, tv.com users give part one a rating of 7.0, while they assign part two an aggregate score of  3.5 – the lowest ranked episode of the season by a margin of 0.4 points. In fact, I could only find five episode from the entire series (of 10 seasons!) that ranked lower than Part Two.

Saturday, 28 May 2011

We own a charcoal chimney. When I first began using this device to assist in firing up the grill, I didn’t know what to do with the chimney once I was done with it. A few times, I set it on the deck, but the heat of the chimney burned holes in our all-weather carpeting. Later, I tried setting it on the table and on the deck’s ledge, but this just burned the wood. Finally, I decided the best thing to do with the super-hot chimney was to set it atop the air conditioning unit that juts out from our living room and overhangs onto the deck area.

It turns out that an empty charcoal chimney, high above the ground, yet protected by the roof of the apartment building, and within five feet of a never-ending supply of food, is an absolutely perfect place to start a family. If you’re a small bird, that is.

A pair of birds nested in the chimney last summer, too, but I’m not sure they successfully reproduced, as I never heard the chirps of baby birds and the nest appeared to be vacated too soon to raise the next generation from egg to fledgling.

Here’s the male bird, working real hard to bring food to his children:

And here is the loving couple dining together:

Here is the best shot I can get of the nest, without disturbing the goings-on inside. Notice the sticks jutting out – they birds have created a long, narrow nest, about 6 inches in diameter and 14 inches deep. I’m not sure if they feel these are the ideal dimensions for their summer home, or if they are just “making due” (what with the housing market the way it is).

Today I managed to record the baby bird doing what they do best: crying for mom or dad. Here’s the audio: Chirping like crazy.

Sunday, 29 May 2011

Unable to make it to Owen’s birthday party a couple weeks ago (thereby breaking their perfect attendance record), my sister and her husband stopped by for a couple of hours today to give Owen their gift.

I asked my sister where and when we planned to meet for the Gay Pride Festival on the 26th of next month. She expressed surprise that I planned to join up with her and her husband, but I told her, “Well, you told our dad we were going, right?” She laughed and said she had.

Here are the details: ten days ago, when my Uncle died, my sister decided it would be a good time to engage in a lengthy theological debate with my father. At one point during the conversation, in what was evidently and attempt to show my dad how “wicked” his children had become, my sister pointed out that she was going to Gay Pride this year and that “James and Jennifer are coming, too.” This is a marked difference between my sister and me: for while I try to avoid mention of anything I know will upset my Witness parents (i.e., pretty much everything but my job and the weather), my sister will go out of her way to talk about such stuff. This makes it all the more funny to me that my family shuns me but not my sister but, as my wife has noted on several occasions, my logical refutation of their worldview surely scares the shit out of them, while my sister’s citation of recent nights bar-hopping and getting tattoos simply makes them think, “Man, see what happens when we leave Jehovah?” Of course, my dad replied that he doesn’t hate gay people, he just hates their actions.

Anyway…

So we’re gonna hook up with my sister and brother-in-law to attend the Pride Parade and then scope out the festivities (such festivities are, similar to the State Fair, like walking around a mall, only worse). My sister said she was considering joining in with the Dykes on Bikes group in the parade. She said she declined, though, as she is too scared to take her bike on the highway (another pointed difference from her brother: I think I’d be more scared to drive around those Minnecrapolis streets than a wide, spacious interstate). I told her we could all hop in my car and join up with the Queers in Cavaliers, but none of us were certain there was such a group.