Am I Wearing Pants?

I started a new job about 3 months ago. Though the employer emphasizes flexible scheduling for their employees, the rule of thumb is more 8-4:30, with an emphasis on the 8am. This has been quite an adjustment for me for 2 reasons: 1) though I arise early every morning, I enjoy a morning workout before beginning my commute, which I've had to truncate each morning because 2) it takes longer for me to get to work now because I "park and ride".

When I get on the bus I am frequently not quite awake, even though I've driven about 3 miles to the park and ride site. One particularly bleary-eyed day, I was sitting in my usual spot (I suspect there will be a posting someday about the unwritten etiquette of public transportation) on a morning which I felt particularly chilly. A rather fetching young woman got on and, since the bus was full and chivalry is dead, she stood holding on to one of the handrails. I noticed that she was wearing a skirt - a knee-length straight skirt probably matching a blazer hidden underneath her winter coat. My thoughts, in the order they occurred:

1. Ooh, a skirt. It's pretty cold for that.
2. Oh my god, her legs are bare. No pantyhose? In this weather? That's got to be cold!
3. I wonder what this cold air (about 20 degrees that day) feels like on bare skin?
4. Does cold air go up the skirt? Of course not, you idiot! Cold air sinks. Warm air rises.
5. I don't feel my pants touching my legs.
6. Am I wearing pants?
7. [I rub my hand on my thigh to verify that I did, indeed, don pants this morning.]
8. These pants are too thin for this weather. I'm cold.
9. I should sort my pants in the closet so that all the thin ones are together, so I can remember not to wear them when it's cold.
10. I'm not wearing these pants again under 30 degrees!

Scary, eh? Later, as I was walking the 2 outdoor blocks from the bus stop to the door where I enter the skyway system, it occurred to me that, for the briefest moment, I found it plausible that I had gotten all the way to the bus without wearing pants. "How silly of me!" I thought.

I've had this story on my mind for a couple of months, only now am I writing it down. As I write I ponder why this story is sticking in my mind. What's the point? I need to sleep more? I'm exhausted? Is it the reason why I detest public transportation - for this never occurred while I was driving to work?

Why?!?

[An afterthought - this might be a fun party game. It's called "My thoughts, in the order that they happened". Probably best after a couple of mixed drinks. Everyone gets a turn.]

You Mean They Want to Get Rid of Autism!?

A conversation with my boys driving home from a school event one evening:

Me: Now remember that we have the Steps of Hope walk on Sunday morning.
Jackson: [whining voice] Aaarrrgghh!
Owen: What's that?
Me: Jack, I just wanted you to know that we'd be going out again this weekend. [Side note #1: we have to give the boys plenty of warning with changes to their regular schedules. Jackson, if at all possible, will not even change out of his pajamas on Sundays.] Owen - Steps of Hope is a charity walk for Autism Research. Remember? It's the one where we walk around Ridgedale mall.
Jackson: Research for what?
Me: Autism. You know, Asperger's syndrome is a form of Autism. [Side note #2: Katie just purchased a picture book about how cats have Asperger's syndrome, just like the boys. They've each read it and are aware they are Aspy's and are proud of it.] They are doing research to try and stop people from getting it.
Owen: You mean they want to get rid of Autism!? [There is anger and fear in his voice.]
Me: That's not what I ... [Lost in the din.]
Jackson: Why would they do that? There's nothing wrong with us.
Owen: Yeah, my brain is just wired differently.
Jackson: Yeah, our brains just work differently.
Me: Okay, guys, hold up a second.
Owen: You mean they want to get rid of us?
Jackson: Is that why we're all going to the same place on Sunday?
Me: No - dear God no. That's not it at all. Look - you guys are just fine. There are other kids with Autism. [I pause for a few seconds, trying to think of an example they won't twist for their own purposes.] Jack - think of your worst day ever.
Jackson: Okay. I'm thinking of one.
Me: Now imagine that every day is like that. Because that's what it's like for a lot of kids with Autism. Every day.
Owen: Whoa! Every day?
Jackson: Really?
Me: Yes, every day. The research will teach us how to teach them to make every day better.
Owen: You mean we're doing the walk for them?
Me: Yes, Owen, we're doing the walk for them.
Jackson: I suppose that's okay then. Can I bring my Gameboy?

Xmas 2006 Newsletter

Presenting the 2006 Non-denominational, Generic, Holiday-type Newsletter of the Gonzalez Family

2006

Didn't Make the Cut

It's done, finally. I finished it last night. Of course I'm talking about the Christmas letter. Now all that's left is making copies, addressing the envelopes, etc. And posting it on the blog.

But before I do that I'm posting (below) the extra stories that ended up being cut. Once you read them you'll see why they didn't make it. Here goes:

Like Robot Wars, But For Kids
Parents, kids excited, exhausted after grueling tournament
Area First Lego Leaguer Jackson Gonzalez, 9, greatly enjoyed his first year in Lego League (a competition for 4th though 9th graders surprisingly not sponsored by the Lego Corporation).
“We’ve had him enrolled in the Lego Brickmaster program since he figured out not to eat them,” states proud mother Kathryn. “This was the next logical step.”
The competition consists of 2 parts: a research project and presentation based on a topic chosen by league representatives; and the design and construction of a robot to perform several tasks on a pre-built table.
The theme this year was nanotechnology. “Did you know that the frame of this year’s winning Tour de France bike weighed less than a kilogram of pasta, which happens to be my favorite food, because of advances in nanotechnology?” states the avid young builder.
Jackson’s team finished 5th out of 16 teams in the regional tournament, narrowly missing advancement to the state tournament.



Area Model Blurred, Removed from Advertisements
Hours of stop-motion posing result in blurry image
Local model Phil Gonzalez, 40, appeared in ads for medical equipment and buffalo wing sauce this year, but you won’t be able to recognize him.
“In the Olympus (a medical equipment manufacturer) ad I appear as a frenetic sales representative running from doctor to nurse to the nurse’s station. I’m completely blurred as if in constant motion.”
“We decided to blur him,” states photographer and Phil’s brother-in-law Joe Paczkowski, “as soon as the art director saw his face. Pretty easy decision, really.”
“In the other Olympus ad I play a nurse during an endoscopic procedure. I’m almost completely covered in that one too, with a mask, and hat and surgical scrubs.”
“Again we blurred him, even though you already couldn’t see his face,” states Paczkowski.
“The ad for Buffalo Wild Wings sauce I didn’t even pose for. They used an old family photo and had me digitally removed.”
“Again, it’s his face. We needed it to match someone else. No offense, but Phil’s just not going to get a lot of modeling work where his face is involved,” says Paczkowski.

Ghosts of Xmas Letters Past

Well, here it is, the complete collection. Click on the thumbnail to read the letter. You'll need Acrobat Reader to read them.

1993	1994
1995	1996
1997	1998
1999	2000
2001	2002
2003	2004
2005

Generic, non-denominational, holiday-type newsletter update

Those of you who receive my yearly newsletter know that I take more than just a few minutes creating my family's yearly news update. I thought this year it might be interesting to share my creative process in this blog. I guess I'm flattering myself to think anyone would care what this process is. So if you aren't interested please just skip these postings.

PROCESS
1. In 14 years of doing this I have never started writing until a day or two before Thanksgiving. That allows time for stuff to happen.

2. I usually start this process completely blocked and spend a few days worrying what I'll do when I run out of time. I almost always start with an article about how shitty this year's newsletter is. Then, as articles accumulate, I cut it. Perhaps some year I'll compile all the "shitty newsletter" articles into a newsletter of their own.

3. Katie and I review events of the last year and highlight one or two for each family member. I come up with headlines for the articles first, then let them stew for a while in my brain.

4. While stewing I go back and read all of the previous newsletters (I'll publish them on this blog shortly, when I get to that point), looking for year-to-year running jokes and trying desperately not to use the same joke twice. Some of my close friends will ping me if I use the same joke twice. During this period I will also page through other inspirational material, such as Created in Darkness by Troubled Americans (where you should definitely check out the stories entitled "On the Implausibility of the Death Star's Trash Compactor" and "Fire: Sharp Stick of Tomorrow?") or The Onion.

5. I write. I usually think of funny stuff during odd moments of the day or night - and try to remember it until I get to a computer. I will write during my lunch hour at work and email it to myself. Whatever it takes to get the story to my home computer. This process almost always calls for liberal use of a thesaurus, which I'm guessing most writers would feel guilty admitting. I, however, am not a writer.

6. I cut, and cut, until it fits onto 2 pages. Cutting is not as hard as writing.

That's pretty much it.

As of today, I have nothing. I started last night and I have only the headline for my shitty article story. I'll keep you updated as I progress.

Update on Dad

As I get older I find myself referring to my father by his first name much more often. I wonder why that is?

Anyway, since the last post on my father's health, here's what's happened:

*Spent a few days recovering in the hospital, where it was learned that his right carotid artery was 90% blocked. According to the vascular doctor, this is a condition that accumulated over time, not a sudden onset. This blockage has been restricting blood flow to his brain for a period of time measured in years, not months or weeks. This doctor theorizes that a piece of that blockage broke off and caused the stroke. His recommendation: wait for his condition to stabilize for a couple of weeks, then bypass the blockage.

The cardiologist added that Eli's heart is doing fine and that from a cardiology perspective (anyway) Eli would survive the surgery.

The neurologist was concerned that the sudden increase in blood flow following the surgery could cause swelling in the brain, causing further damage. The neurologist also suggested that a piece of the blockage could come loose during the surgery and cause another stroke.

Eli's everyday doctor demurred to the specialists' contradicting opinions. No help there.

*Eli recovered to the point where he was released from the hospital to a nursing home - a pretty bad nursing home (the Edina Care Center on 62nd and Xerxes in Edina). Even though the orders were clear that he could not walk on his own and was to have a bed alarm should he decide to try and walk on his own, Eli got out of bed to run to the bathroom (even though he was catheterized) and fell, ripping out his catheter. Luckily he wasn't injured in any other way. As far as we could tell, Eli got very little of the care that was ordered.

*On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving Eli went in for surgery and it was a resounding success. By Thanksgiving day he was reading a newspaper in bed and had in general made a remarkable recovery.

*On Thanksgiving day Eli was released to the Masonic home in Bloomington - a much better care facility. He is convalescing there today.

No life lessons today - just an update.

Perhaps the last?

11-19-06 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.

Two weeks since the last fatality. I think dead mouse season is just about done. This season's death toll: 14.

My Dad is a Sith Lord

An interesting premise, yes?

To begin, one must understand the Star Wars universe. Judging only by the 1977 film A New Hope, one would think Mr. Lucas sees the world as black (evil empire, Darth Vader) and white (Luke Skywalker, Jedi - aka the Fightin' Monks). It's really much more complex than that, though you don't necessarily see it in the movies. But you do in the novels. Anyway, the Jedi (the good guys) feed off the positive energy of the Force. The Sith (the bad guys) are fueled by power and feed off the negative energy of the Force. The Sith feed off anger and hatred.

Which brings me to my father.

My father is 88 years old. He has 12 children (10 still living). He lost his wife 9 years ago and lives with his youngest son, my little brother. A year and a half ago my father had a heart attack. He survived and until recently he continued to walk the neighborhood for exercise and read from alternative news sources (like the Weekly World News and the National Enquirer) because he didn't trust the mainstream media. He read all kinds of nutrition literature because he didn't trust the medical establishment. I repeat, my dad does not trust the medical establishment.

On Saturday my father had a "significant" stroke. (I quote the word "significant" now, because it's a few days later. At the time, we weren't sure what the heck was going on.) My little brother found him unresponsive in bed, called 911, and off to the hospital we went.

Eric (my brother) and I arrived at the emergency room and after a few minutes a nurse ushered us into a family room to wait for the ER doctor. We waited in awkward silence, broken only with Eric blaming himself for not noticing sooner and by my seemingly ineffective consolation. We were finally joined by a Dr. Schneider, who, after introducing himself, broke the news in most considerate way possible. "Your father has had a significant stroke. He has paralysis in both legs and his left arm..." His tone was similar to a parent telling his child that the dog just isn't going to make it. "The convalescence will be measured in weeks and months, not days and weeks."

Shortly thereafter, Eric and I were led into my father's ER space. A bearded male nurse was shouting commands at him (shouting because my father is pretty much deaf and at the time not wearing his hearing aids) - raise his hand, wiggle his toes, etc, none of which my father could perform. The nurse introduced himself to us and continued with his neurological assessment. Eric and I watched silently.

Nothing. Well, not much. That's what my dad could do. He had quite a grip with his right hand. We watched as both the nurse and the ER doctor tested his grip strength - each man had to forcibly remove their fingers from my father's right hand. My father's left hand literally dropped lifelessly.

Soon Eric and I began to see a twitch here, a twitch there. I asked the nurse, whose back was turned to the twitching, if the movement in my dad's left knee was some sort of spasm, and was that why he was disregarding it.

"What twitching?" he asked, shocked. But my father never twitched when the nurse was watching and barking for him to move something. "Mr. Gonzalez, raise your left leg," he'd shout. Nothing. But the second he'd turn around Dad would start twitching again. It sort of became a joke with Eric and I. We'd giggle whenever he twitched because, invariably, the nurse's back would be turned.

Later, by only a few minutes, my father began to respond orally, a single syllable at a time - yes's and no's only. By this time a room had been located for Dad and the ER nurse was prepping him for admission. Soon after, a woman who I assume is some sort of administrator stopped in the room to fill out some admission forms. Does he have dentures? Glasses? Hearing aids? That type of stuff. We spoke in normal tones - we definitely weren't yelling, shouting, or even speaking loudly. In fact, since it was somewhat personal information about my father I was trying to keep my voice down because this was such a public area.

"Has your father had a flu shot?" she asked. I looked to Eric. I shrugged. Knowing my father, abso-f*cking-lutely not. I think he believed that inoculations were some sort of government plot to keep the masses in line. But who knows? Eric also shrugged.

"Eric," I said, "you take him to the doctor. Did he get a flu shot?"

The best Eric could remember was no, he hadn't. The administrator asked us if he wanted one. Being the medical power of attorney on site (I'm actually the backup - another of my brothers in Madison is the primary), I had full authority to answer for my father given his incapacitation. "We don't have to decide that now, do we?" I asked. The administrator agreed that we didn't, so we moved on.

Meanwhile, the bearded male nurse was converting all the tubes and monitors hanging off my dad to a battery powered portable unit for transport, signaling we were ready to go up to his room in Neuro Special Services. Suddenly my father became agitated and started stringing words together. The bearded nurse looked startled, as if maybe he had accidentally unplugged a vital machine. He couldn't understand my father's words, so he hurriedly asked Eric to come listen. Eric told Dad to repeat and listened closely.

"No flu shot". I think he said, "No flu shot." Once Eric said those words, my father settled back down.

I looked to the administrator and said, "I guess he doesn't want a flu shot."

This is when I realized my father is a Sith lord. He's laying in the emergency room, unable to speak more than a single syllable per breath. His only working limb is stuck in "kung fu grip" mode. He's 88 years old, frail, mostly blind, mostly deaf, completely immobile, and only chooses to muster the strength to communicate with us by summoning his rage at the medical establishment by refusing a flu shot. This is a man definitely powered by the dark side of the Force. Definitely a Sith.

Lest you think I may have misinterpreted my father's "no flu shot" request - after all, it occurred to me later that he may have just been indicating that, no, he hadn't already had a flu shot - on Sunday my father was much more lucid and I asked him. He said, "I don't like the preservatives they use in vaccine." Not a bad sentence for a man less than 24 hours after a "significant" stroke, eh?

I must again assert - this man is a Sith lord. He is primarily fueled by negative energy, usually his own rage. He is practically on his deathbed refusing a flu shot. I still can't get over that.

The moral of the story? Don't be a Sith lord. Or remember this story the next time you find yourself using negative energy to motivate yourself. Find passion through joy and happiness, not anger.

Another One

11-5-06 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.

That's the first dead mouse in quite some time. It brings the seasonal death toll, for those of you keeping score at home, to 13.

Part 2 - Phil's Catalog of Metaphors, Similes, Analogies, and Stupid Sayings

Of course I missed some of my "phil-isms" in my previous post, so here I will add to the list. Again, please add ones I've missed in the comments.

1. Polishing the turd. I first heard this in a software development context. At a previous employer (whose acronym might stand for Amalgamated Diversified Corporation) there was a group of rogue software developers who were considered by the IT group to be a bunch of hacks. This rogue group had developed a relatively simple document management system which they themselves considered technology similar to the 1969 moon landing in complexity and scope. And they kept adding goofy little features to it. So the IT group referred to this incessant need to accessorize their system as "polishing the turd".

I've extended - er, generalized - the term in many ways. For example, when you have a task that you are 90% finished with, that last 10% can be a real pain in the ass to finish. So I refer to the last 10% of a long, tedious task as "polishing the turd". Or if you're in a team environment, and you start a task then hand it off to someone else to complete, they are "polishing your turd". If you're creative you can work it in to many situations.

2. If you have to eat a turd, don't dawdle. Replaces "let's get this over with" in a much more colorful way.

3. Drinking from a firehose. Pretty commonly used these days, though I don't believe it used to be. Just another term for being overwhelmed. I have also heard the variant, "I'm drinking from a firehose - not getting much and what I do get hurts".

4. You ask him what time it is and he tells you how to build a watch. Also heard this one first at good old Amalgamated Diversified Corporation. This is a typical response you get when you ask an Engineer a question about something in their field of expertise - especially if you show even a hint of interest. I guess they (we?) just can't help themselves (ourselves). Yes, I'm an Engineer. Many Engineers suffer from Aspberger's Syndrome, so they won't notice the glazed eyes of their poor listener. I guess you have to sacrifice something to withstand 3 years of calculus and physics.

5. I'd rather slide naked down a 50-foot razorblade - or I'd rather stick an icepick in my forehead The former is from a Matt Groening book; the latter I made up (I think). Expressions used when wanting to escape from a bad situation - usually group meeting related.

Death Toll Update

10-21-06 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.

10-23-06 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.

Well, the pace is slowing a bit. I'm down to 1 dead mouse every other day. That brings this season's total to 12. Last year I killed about twice that.

Phil's Catalog of Metaphors, Similes, Analogies, and Stupid Sayings

In my job I am frequently called upon to explain fairly complex technology to laypeople. It is because of this that I share with Ross Perot the penchant for reliance on metaphors, similes, analogies, and frankly, silly sayings. It is my intention to try and capture these sayings in this post. So what follows, in no particular order, are as many of these "Phil-isms" as I can think of. If I've missed some, please add them in the comments.

1. If the only tool you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. This one has many uses. If you find someone stuck in a creative rut, it may help them to break free from it. As often happens in the technology world, developers find what they think is the niftiest tool ever and use it for everything, even when it is clearly not warranted.

2. Sometimes you're the bug and sometimes you're the windshield. Used as a bring-down for someone who needs to be reminded about humility. Conversely can be used to cheer someone up when they're down.

3. Sometimes you need to burn the ships. A reference to 16th century Spanish conqueror Cortez, who found that his men fought harder if the ships they'd sailed to Mexico in had been burned, thus cutting off any possible retreat. This is frequently used with bravado during organizational process change, to communicate that there is no going back so don't fight us on this one.

4. That's a solution in search of a problem. Technology is frequently developed without a business problem in mind, so a problem is invented to sell the technology. Best example - digital cameras in phone. Customer: "Wow, I didn't even know I wanted a camera in my phone." Designer: "You don't, but it fit and marketing thought they could sell it."

5. Boiled frogs Ah, the parable of the boiled frog (perhaps a French proverb?). Maybe this is from the bible. I don't know, frankly, where this came from. I found the most succinct description on allaboutfrogs.org. If you put a frog into a pot of boiling water, it will leap out right away to escape the danger. But if you put a frog in a kettle filled with cool pleasant water, then gradually heat the kettle, the frog will not be aware of the threat until it is too late. Al Gore uses this story in An Inconvenient Truth.

The point? One must be aware of gradual dangers just as one must be aware of sudden dangers. It depends on how big you want to go with it. It could be the gradual erosion of worker's rights and benefits. Damn those giant corporate monoliths! It could also explain the catatonic expressions of workers in America's cubicle farms. It's enough to make you grab any random rush hour driver and scream "Jump out of the pot! Before it's too late!" Thinking of the boiled frog makes me want to kill myself. Or change jobs.

6. Bucket of crabs I just recently learned this one and have just begun working it into my repertoire. This story is this: you have a bucket of crabs, and one of the crabs on top tries to crawl out of the bucket, the others below it will pull it back down. I heard this one in a class purportedly on how to implement organizational change. The message? If you want to implement change, people will try to drag you down? I thought that was pretty dumb. I see this as more of a "watch your back" kind of thing. Success breeds jealousy. In many cases, it holds leaders back. They don't want to be the crab dragged back to the pack. That's why it's hard to be a leader. If it was easy to be a leader, everyone would do it. And there'd be no one to lead.

7. Shut off the water. This is a story I heard while working at a previous employer. An executive, we'll call him Dave, inherited a group of managers whose previous boss, beloved by all, had been "downsized". We'll call the downsized executive Jerry. Jerry was a tyrannical micromanager - so much so, that none of his direct reports - all managers themselves - was capable of making a decision without Jerry's input. In other words, Jerry was making all the decisions.

These managers were responsible for a continuing operations process that was in disarray. And every minute it continued to be in disarray, it caused the company to lose even more money. While Dave explained the gravity of the situation to these managers - layoffs, plant closings, etc - they didn't seem to understand. So he said, "Look, it's like you come home from work and there's water all over the kitchen floor. The kitchen sink is clogged and the faucet is running. What should you do first?"

After a short silence, one of the managers quipped, "Get a mop," which elicited laughter from the rest of the managers. But not Dave. Dave said, "No. You shut off the g***amn water."

So what's this one good for? I'm not really sure, I guess. I guess this is one that may mean more to me than anyone else. To me it means that bad business processes need to be stopped ASAP. Cleaning up while the mess is still being made is a waste of energy.

8. If you want to run with the dogs, you can't play with the puppies. This sounds like it came right from the mouth of Ross Perot. It didn't - well, I didn't hear it from him. I heard it from one of my older brothers - though he doesn't remember saying it. So maybe I made it up. Who knows?

To me it means - "if you want to be considered an adult, you have to act like one." Or, if you want to be a leader in your industry, don't act like one of the little competitors.

9. The one-eyed man in the kingdom of the blind. Reference to a short story I read in 8th grade by H.G. Wells entitled The Country of the Blind. Usually when I refer to it I mean it to be having a partial skill that no one else around you has. However, in the story, a perfectly sighted man arrives in a place where everyone is blind. Only the concept of sight has no meaning to the people, so they think he's nuts. While he works to show them his "better way", they only become more resolute. It's probably a topic for an entire blog posting.

10. My pants are tenting! An obviously vulgar expression of excitement over an idea or situation. Used entirely in social situations. Not useful in a work setting. And only useful for men, until the running joke is established with a group of women. Once in on the joke, it's very funny coming from a woman.

Death Toll Jumps to 10

10-18-06 - 2 dead mice found in basement, heads crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetraps. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.

10-19-06 - 2 dead mice found in basement, heads crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetraps. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.

When will it stop?

Death Toll Rises to 6

10-17-06 - 2 dead mice found in basement, heads crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetraps. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.

There seems to be no end to these little b*stards. More later.

Missing Trap Update

Found it. No super mice. Cats must have toyed with carcass after death. Rotting corpse still not stinky.

10-15-06 - dead mouse found under ping pong table, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.

The Missing Trap

10-13-06 - dead mouse found in hallway to bedrooms, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.

But even more problematic, one of my Better Mousetrap brand mousetraps is missing.

Some background: I have 2 traps that I set out, about 12 inches from each other, in the basement. I will frequently arrive to find 2 dead mice, one in each trap. Which makes me wonder about the intellect of the 2nd mouse. The loud crack, followed by the motionlessness of his buddy, wasn't that a good indication that these darn traps may just be lethal, or at least injurious? Like they say, mice just cannot resist peanut butter. But who can? Really.

This morning one or both of the cats had dragged one of last night's kills to the hallway. But what of the other trap? Three thoughts come to mind:

1. The cats dragged it somewhere I haven't found yet. This might be okay, because eventually the smell of the rotting carcas will reveal its location. I just hope it's easy to reach.

OR

2. The trap snapped on the mouse's tail or other extremity. Then the mouse limped off somewhere and escaped the trap. If this is the case, I'll find the trap eventually, probably in 30 years when we finally move out of the house.

OR

3. We are breeding some kind of super-mice, capable of surviving a sudden blunt head trauma. Not only surviving, but perhaps even thriving, wearing the trap as a hat, or in mouse civilization, an alpha-male symbol of dominance. It is as if this mouse is saying "I'm immortal. Nothing can hurt me. See - I'm so tough I'm wearing a mouse trap as head accessory! Take that, man!"

I suspect it was #1, but I'm not going to rule out #3 until I find the trap.

Death Toll Update from Murder-tonka

10-11-06 - 1 dead mousefound in basement. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head. Victim found face down in Better Mousetrap brand mouse traps. Status: closed.

Death Toll

Tis the season. Now that it has begun to get cold at night, I have visitors in my basement again. So I thought I'd use the blog to publish my seasonal death toll. Sort of the same way the media tracks murders in the cities. So here goes.

10-3-06 - dead mouse found in hallway to bedrooms. Cause of death: predator, probably house cat. Victim found face up - likely posed by murderer to look like a break-in gone awry. Status: under investigation, low likelihood of being solved due to apathy.

10-8-06 - 2 dead mice found in basement. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to heads. Victims found with heads crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mouse traps. Status: closed.

Keep watching for further updates.

I am the Fat Lady - part 2

I've ridden my bike to work 4 times this summer. It's about a 50 minute long ride. Now that I'm more familiar with this ride my body has adjusted. I'm less tired when I get to work and less tired when I get home at night. My conclusion: I'm getting in better shape.

My last ride was memorable for the sheer speed. I took a slightly longer but flatter route to get to the bike path that heads downtown. And I was cruising, blowing by the older morning walkers and even a few of the morning bikers. I also took full advantage of my mountain bike on each slight curve and bump, standing and absorbing the bumps and curves with my knees and elbows.

I looked cool and was riding fast. Even passing people.

There is a spot where the bike path takes a turn and runs parallel to train tracks that lead directly downtown. When you make the turn you can see the buildings and everything, even though they are still miles away. That is also the spot where the path turns straight and flat. It's all paved so you can make great time.

I decided to see if I could shave a few minutes off the ride. There was no one in front of me (an no need to look behind - I was flying!) so I switched gears for maximum speed. With each change of gears I could feel the acceleration - the added wind in my face and the slight decrease in control.

"Two to go," I thought - meaning only 2 gears left until, well, there weren't any more gears to change to. I was breathing hard but it felt good.

"One more." I'm mouth-breathing now, but still feeling strong. The sun's out and there's an autumnal bite to the air.

"There." The last gear. I am blazing down this trail. No one in sight. I physically CANNOT go faster. My feet are spinning so fast I can barely keep them on the pedals, and I'm in the highest gear that exists on my bike. I enjoy the moment - feel the speed - enjoy the fusion of man and mechanics. What a beautiful feeling.

I momentarily think of Leo DeCaprio in Titanic, standing with arms in the air yelling "I'm king of the world!". I contemplate how difficult, but not impossible, this feat would be to achieve at this moment, at this speed, on this bike path. Of course I'd have to compensate for my bulky backpack, and move to the middle of the path (I usually stay to the right because I'm usually the slower traffic). Plus this mountain bike is much harder to ride "no hands" than my old French 10-speed I had in high school.

I maintain my maximum pace. "I can do this," I think. I am so caught in the moment - the beauty of the morning and of me going fast. This is the best feeling ever!

Vroom.

That was the sound of a guy passing me on the left. He was polite about it - quietly chirping "On the left" as he blew by. He had a nice racing bike, a backpack, and a tennis racquet. A f--king tennis racquet. As if to say "Not only am I kicking your ass on this bike path, but I'm in such good shape that whenever I get where I'm going, I'm going to park my bike and play an exhausting sport. Then I'll do whatever it is that I do all day, probably better than what you do all day, and ride my bike home tonight. And I may even play some more tennis after that."

I still rode fast, and did shave about 5 minutes off my best time. I suppose if I bought a cool racing bike I could do that too. Oh well.