Recently I had the opportunity to attend a Hopkins High School (HHS) basketball game at the Minnesota Boys State High School Basketball Tournament. Though I remember exactly who the opponent was, because of some unusual circumstances I won't be able to tell you the opponent. Let's just call them BHS. Hopkins (28-0, 4 players already signed to Division 1 universities, with their average margin of victory 32 points) against BHS (15-14, apparently slept with someone to get in the tourney). It wasn’t close – final 68-26, but loads of fun. Why?
1. A bit of hometown pride. Our guys looked like men against boys. I suspect there might be some Chemistry going on in the locker room instead of the classroom – Jesus these guys were big.
2. Finding the player who reminds me of me. BHS point guard, number 32, skinny, studious looking, good ball handler, textbook shooter. Scored 10 to lead his team. Also made good decisions, didn’t take a bad shot (though occasionally shot badly – more on that later). Solid, if unspectacular, defender – good positional defender.
3. The Hopkins fans. The Minnesota equivalent to the Cameron Crazies at Duke, complete with practiced chants. Some examples:
• The aforementioned BHS point guard shot an airball in the opening minutes. From that moment until the game became a joke just before halftime, the Hopkins fans taunted “Air-Ball!” every single time he touched the ball, which was often because he’s the point guard.
• When a HHS player shot an airball, the BHS crowd, of course, feebly retaliated with their own “Air-Ball!” chant. The Hopkins fans responded by chanting in unison, and much more loudly, [Clap. Clap. Clapclapclap…]“We… can’t… hear… you…”.
• Late in the game, with Hopkins emptying the bench, what I counted as the 3rd string Hopkins point guard stole the ball at mid-court and drove for an uncontested layup, the Hopkins fans chanted, [Clap. Clap. Clapclapclap…] “He’s… a… fresh-man…”. As if to say, "even our freshmen are kicking your ass."
• When a BHS player shot a free-throw, the HHS crowd, situated directly behind the shooter’s backboard, stood silent, facing away from the shooter. Yes, away from the shooter. And silent. This is in contrast to the typical opposing-free-thrower-distraction tactic of screaming and waving of hands. Again, the crowd is facing away from the shooter – and silent. Then, just as the shooter is going into his shooting motion, the crowd, in unison, spins around and yells, “Hey!” and waves, kind of like the flight attendants at the end of a flight.
4. Good basketball stuff. Like:
• Royce White – Hopkins stud #1, headed to the U of M in the fall, steals the ball, heads downcourt 1 on 3, stumbles, takes a fadeaway 12-footer, hits nothing but air, and gets pulled from the game immediately on the next whistle. White sits and listens as the head coach gives him what I consider to be very direct feedback on his decision making. No one is above sitting down after making a selfish play.
• Michael Broghammer – Hopkins stud #2, headed to Notre Dame in the fall, steals the ball and heads downcourt for a breakaway, 2-handed dunk and very obviously travels. The game is still relatively close at the time – Hopkins up 17-6. The BHS head coach explodes, gesturing very specifically that he believes that traveling should have been called. This being high school basketball, not the NBA, not only is there no make-up call forthcoming, the BHS coach gets called for a technical foul.
• The center from the Hopkins last string team (and by last string I mean that these 5 guys were literally sitting in the last seats on the bench, next to the 2 Rubenesque female team managers, and that these 5 look like the offspring of the starting 5), in the game all of 5 seconds, gets fouled on the defensive end while rebounding. Apparently not realizing that Blaine is in the penalty, he lingers on the defensive end of the court, and you can see the reluctance in his eyes as he heads down to take the foul shots. He makes the first shot by banking it in on the fly – a shot that in “H-O-R-S-E” doesn’t count unless you called “bank” before taking the short – and immediately smiles and relaxes while receiving a congratulatory fist bump from what I imagine to be his best basketball friend, the skinny last-string point guard. Now completely relaxed and composed, he hits nothing but net on the second shot.
• Five minutes into the game the score is Hopkins 4, BHS 0. On the surface this appears to be a close game. But if you were paying close attention you would have noticed that Hopkins had already missed 4 free throws and several make-able jump shots and layups and BHS had yet to draw iron. Literally. When Blaine gets the ball it takes their starting point guard 8 seconds to advance past midcourt – and that’s just being guarded man-to-man – Hopkins doesn’t begin employing a full-court press until 5 minutes left in the half.
• Hopkins top 9 players – any mix of them – will win the tournament. They are head and shoulders better than any other team. The drop-off to the next 5 guys on the Hopkins bench is pretty small. Hopkins players 9-13 outplayed BHS’s starters. Hopkins has a scary level of depth.
It was a great time for me. I actually had to blink back tears when I thought of how much my father-in-law would have enjoyed this outing. I guess that in the winter, my 'field of dreams' is a basketball court.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
I'm Sorry, But I Don't Remember Who You Are
I am new to the Facebook phenomenon, and need to share something with the many, many people for whom I’ve confirmed ‘friendship’ on my Facebook site:
For those of you I know through my high school connection, I probably don’t remember very much about you.
To be honest, the great majority of you (my high school ‘friends’) have not entered my thoughts in the 24+ years since we were in high school together. There’s also a really, really good chance you didn’t enter my thoughts while we were seniors together either – unless I had you in a class or you were a very, very pretty girl (and I think you know who you are, or were at the time -God knows what Father Time has done to that unblemished high school skin, taut high school bottom, or those blossoming high school breasts). So in that case, it’s been 25+ years since I even recognized your existence.
Here’s the other funny thing. When I joined Facebook, it wasn’t with the expressed purpose of finding all those chums from high school that I’d been missing for better than 2 decades. Not only was it not an expressed purpose, it was neither a secondary nor tertiary purpose. It was whimsical at best when I decided to look for old ALHS buddies. And with the exception of a very (very, very, very) small proportion of my confirmed ‘friends’, I wasn’t looking for you.
Wow, so now what? I’ve reacquainted myself with this group of people who I barely knew, if at all, in high school, and I’m struggling with some fundamental questions, like – if I didn’t hang out with you in high school, why would I want to hang out (virtually) with you now? Once we get past the re-introduction (which often includes a run through the yearbook looking for a face to match with the name), sharing of marital and reproductive status, and a sharing of educational and occupational histories, just how do we continue with an awkward electronic relationship? Or do we at all?
Please understand that I mean no malice by any of this. Had I written this in high school, from what I recall of myself, I likely would have intended much malice. Because one thing I’ve learned about myself is that my recollections from high school, and oddly, there are few, are mostly of all the truly crappy things I did to other people. Or of thought-crimes committed against other people. These actions, if perpetrated by my own offspring, would elicit scorn, scolding, ‘the eye’, demands for apologies and some sort of punishment. But I totally got away with all of these things in high school, though some might argue that I didn’t get away with anything, because I continue to burden myself with shame.
What have we established so far?
1. I wasn’t looking to find my high school classmates.
2. Now I’ve been re-connected with those classmates.
3. I am compelled to air quote our confirmed ‘friendship’, thus questioning its legitimacy.
4. I have a nonspecific, negative, almost aching recollection of my own behavior in high school.
Perhaps now would be the time to put forth a blanket apology for all the things I did in high school that offended you then or, in hindsight, offend you now. Please know that I apologize for:
• any actions, activities, or pranks that may have caused physical injury;
• any condescending remarks, sexist or lewd statements, unfiltered or insulting quips that may have caused you psychological suffering;
• though it really seems like a victimless crime, targeting you in my masterbatorial fantasies;
• adding you to my “if-I-were-Mr.-T-for-a-day,-I’d-kick-your-ass” list, though again, victimless crime;
• mocking you or humorously exposing any one of your physical limitations, including but not limited to your height, weight, speech impediments, inability to play team sports, etc.;
• any other offense I for which I have no specific recollection.
That said, one thing I’m unclear about is why all you people want to be my ‘friend’. For as much as I didn’t hang out with you in high school, you also did not hang out with me. I assume that was your choice. Perhaps you are playing the “collect-as-many-friends-as-possible-in-Facebook” game. I do not understand this game. I desire meaningful contact in my relationships, and the CAMFAPiF game does not achieve that end.
Perhaps you are just reaching out to be … I hate to use this word … friendly. Okay, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that. But you should know, if that’s the case, I’m not going to be a very good friend. Chances are, unless you live fairly close to me, I’m going to perturb neither my schedule nor my expense budget and make a special, long-distance trip to see you. I probably (99% probability) won’t invite you to stay in my house when you’re travelling through my area. I probably (again, 99% probability) won’t send you anything more than a ‘wall-to-wall’ shout-out on your birthday, even though Facebook will give me ample notice of such events.
So what, then, are we achieving with this electronic relationship? Having written this much (me) and read this far (you), I believe we’re both feeling sort of hollow about the whole thing. I search for meaning in our electronic daliance and come up short. Here’s how my search always ends: I know what happened to you since high school and you me. Assuming our profiles are truthful, we’ve answered the long-standing question, “Whatever happened to XXX?”
“Wow,” I wonder, “is that it?”
I suggested on Facebook that now, because I’ve connected with all these high school classmates on Facebook, I won’t need to attend my 25th reunion this August. This was met with comments that I’ll be missing out on all the fun, etc. What fun? I ask. I submit that the primary reason for attending high school reunions is to find out “Whatever happened to XXX?” Secondarily, we all want to know who got fat? Who went bald? Who took care of themselves? Who succeeded wildly? Who failed miserably? Who married whom? And finally – who will scrape up the nerve to show up?
Disclaimer: I attended my 10 year HS reunion. I didn’t attend the 5 year, 15 year, or 20 year. I’m assuming similar behavior at the ones I didn’t attend and the ones I have yet to attend. At my 10 year I participated in many superficial ‘my-occupation-is-my-identity’ conversations followed closely by a resurrection of all the old HS cliques. Sure, it was nice chatting with the old clique again – what few of us there were in attendance. I’ve stayed connected with precisely 1 person from that reunion, and that only through the annual exchange of holiday cards.
Will my Facebook participation alter my HS reunion participation? Now that I’ve connected with you, read your profile, scanned your “25 random things about me” posting, will I make a more meaningful connection with you if we both attend our reunion? Hmm, let me envision the conversation…
Without Facebook
Me: So what do you do?
You: I sell Mary Kay products.
Me: [nodding] Cool.
You: And you?
Me: I’m in IT at Target.
You: [nodding] Cool.
With Facebook
Me: [having read your profile, I already know you sell Mary Kay products] So how’s that Mary Kay deal working out in the recession?
You: Really good. Beauty products sales traditionally spike during a recession. I think women find it an inexpensive way to improve themselves.
Me: [nodding thoughtfully] Cool.
You: [having read my profile, knowing already that I work for Target] Still hanging in there at Target?
Me: Yep. Times are tight, but we’re still profitable.
You: [nodding thoughtfully] Cool.
So you see how much less awkward and more meaningful this human interaction was, and all because of Facebook. Wow! Technology really does make life better.
One Last Thing
So far we know:
1. I wasn’t looking for you, and you weren’t looking for me, but we’ve connected anyway.
2. I’ve addressed my nonspecific negative feelings toward my behavior in high school by issuing a blanket apology.
3. I’ve figured out how to use Facebook to make our next face-to-face experience slightly less awkward.
I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out the last thing that needs to happen. You see, I frequently (usually) begin writing my posts not knowing how they’ll conclude. They usually begin as a nagging feeling that I’m only able to address through writing, and the act of writing helps me sort through the feeling toward some conclusion. I finally figured out the conclusion.
4. I need to issue blanket forgiveness to you for any slight you imparted on me.
That’s it. It’s that simple! We essentially agree to forgive each other our trespasses. We drop the petty, childish, sophomoric baggage from HS that we’ve dragged all through our adult years. You forgive mine; I forgive yours. If we can enter into this agreement, we can enjoy our company at the reunion this summer.
Now – who’s in?
For those of you I know through my high school connection, I probably don’t remember very much about you.
To be honest, the great majority of you (my high school ‘friends’) have not entered my thoughts in the 24+ years since we were in high school together. There’s also a really, really good chance you didn’t enter my thoughts while we were seniors together either – unless I had you in a class or you were a very, very pretty girl (and I think you know who you are, or were at the time -God knows what Father Time has done to that unblemished high school skin, taut high school bottom, or those blossoming high school breasts). So in that case, it’s been 25+ years since I even recognized your existence.
Here’s the other funny thing. When I joined Facebook, it wasn’t with the expressed purpose of finding all those chums from high school that I’d been missing for better than 2 decades. Not only was it not an expressed purpose, it was neither a secondary nor tertiary purpose. It was whimsical at best when I decided to look for old ALHS buddies. And with the exception of a very (very, very, very) small proportion of my confirmed ‘friends’, I wasn’t looking for you.
Wow, so now what? I’ve reacquainted myself with this group of people who I barely knew, if at all, in high school, and I’m struggling with some fundamental questions, like – if I didn’t hang out with you in high school, why would I want to hang out (virtually) with you now? Once we get past the re-introduction (which often includes a run through the yearbook looking for a face to match with the name), sharing of marital and reproductive status, and a sharing of educational and occupational histories, just how do we continue with an awkward electronic relationship? Or do we at all?
Please understand that I mean no malice by any of this. Had I written this in high school, from what I recall of myself, I likely would have intended much malice. Because one thing I’ve learned about myself is that my recollections from high school, and oddly, there are few, are mostly of all the truly crappy things I did to other people. Or of thought-crimes committed against other people. These actions, if perpetrated by my own offspring, would elicit scorn, scolding, ‘the eye’, demands for apologies and some sort of punishment. But I totally got away with all of these things in high school, though some might argue that I didn’t get away with anything, because I continue to burden myself with shame.
What have we established so far?
1. I wasn’t looking to find my high school classmates.
2. Now I’ve been re-connected with those classmates.
3. I am compelled to air quote our confirmed ‘friendship’, thus questioning its legitimacy.
4. I have a nonspecific, negative, almost aching recollection of my own behavior in high school.
Perhaps now would be the time to put forth a blanket apology for all the things I did in high school that offended you then or, in hindsight, offend you now. Please know that I apologize for:
• any actions, activities, or pranks that may have caused physical injury;
• any condescending remarks, sexist or lewd statements, unfiltered or insulting quips that may have caused you psychological suffering;
• though it really seems like a victimless crime, targeting you in my masterbatorial fantasies;
• adding you to my “if-I-were-Mr.-T-for-a-day,-I’d-kick-your-ass” list, though again, victimless crime;
• mocking you or humorously exposing any one of your physical limitations, including but not limited to your height, weight, speech impediments, inability to play team sports, etc.;
• any other offense I for which I have no specific recollection.
That said, one thing I’m unclear about is why all you people want to be my ‘friend’. For as much as I didn’t hang out with you in high school, you also did not hang out with me. I assume that was your choice. Perhaps you are playing the “collect-as-many-friends-as-possible-in-Facebook” game. I do not understand this game. I desire meaningful contact in my relationships, and the CAMFAPiF game does not achieve that end.
Perhaps you are just reaching out to be … I hate to use this word … friendly. Okay, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that. But you should know, if that’s the case, I’m not going to be a very good friend. Chances are, unless you live fairly close to me, I’m going to perturb neither my schedule nor my expense budget and make a special, long-distance trip to see you. I probably (99% probability) won’t invite you to stay in my house when you’re travelling through my area. I probably (again, 99% probability) won’t send you anything more than a ‘wall-to-wall’ shout-out on your birthday, even though Facebook will give me ample notice of such events.
So what, then, are we achieving with this electronic relationship? Having written this much (me) and read this far (you), I believe we’re both feeling sort of hollow about the whole thing. I search for meaning in our electronic daliance and come up short. Here’s how my search always ends: I know what happened to you since high school and you me. Assuming our profiles are truthful, we’ve answered the long-standing question, “Whatever happened to XXX?”
“Wow,” I wonder, “is that it?”
I suggested on Facebook that now, because I’ve connected with all these high school classmates on Facebook, I won’t need to attend my 25th reunion this August. This was met with comments that I’ll be missing out on all the fun, etc. What fun? I ask. I submit that the primary reason for attending high school reunions is to find out “Whatever happened to XXX?” Secondarily, we all want to know who got fat? Who went bald? Who took care of themselves? Who succeeded wildly? Who failed miserably? Who married whom? And finally – who will scrape up the nerve to show up?
Disclaimer: I attended my 10 year HS reunion. I didn’t attend the 5 year, 15 year, or 20 year. I’m assuming similar behavior at the ones I didn’t attend and the ones I have yet to attend. At my 10 year I participated in many superficial ‘my-occupation-is-my-identity’ conversations followed closely by a resurrection of all the old HS cliques. Sure, it was nice chatting with the old clique again – what few of us there were in attendance. I’ve stayed connected with precisely 1 person from that reunion, and that only through the annual exchange of holiday cards.
Will my Facebook participation alter my HS reunion participation? Now that I’ve connected with you, read your profile, scanned your “25 random things about me” posting, will I make a more meaningful connection with you if we both attend our reunion? Hmm, let me envision the conversation…
Without Facebook
Me: So what do you do?
You: I sell Mary Kay products.
Me: [nodding] Cool.
You: And you?
Me: I’m in IT at Target.
You: [nodding] Cool.
With Facebook
Me: [having read your profile, I already know you sell Mary Kay products] So how’s that Mary Kay deal working out in the recession?
You: Really good. Beauty products sales traditionally spike during a recession. I think women find it an inexpensive way to improve themselves.
Me: [nodding thoughtfully] Cool.
You: [having read my profile, knowing already that I work for Target] Still hanging in there at Target?
Me: Yep. Times are tight, but we’re still profitable.
You: [nodding thoughtfully] Cool.
So you see how much less awkward and more meaningful this human interaction was, and all because of Facebook. Wow! Technology really does make life better.
One Last Thing
So far we know:
1. I wasn’t looking for you, and you weren’t looking for me, but we’ve connected anyway.
2. I’ve addressed my nonspecific negative feelings toward my behavior in high school by issuing a blanket apology.
3. I’ve figured out how to use Facebook to make our next face-to-face experience slightly less awkward.
I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out the last thing that needs to happen. You see, I frequently (usually) begin writing my posts not knowing how they’ll conclude. They usually begin as a nagging feeling that I’m only able to address through writing, and the act of writing helps me sort through the feeling toward some conclusion. I finally figured out the conclusion.
4. I need to issue blanket forgiveness to you for any slight you imparted on me.
That’s it. It’s that simple! We essentially agree to forgive each other our trespasses. We drop the petty, childish, sophomoric baggage from HS that we’ve dragged all through our adult years. You forgive mine; I forgive yours. If we can enter into this agreement, we can enjoy our company at the reunion this summer.
Now – who’s in?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
"Good to See You" Takes on New Meaning
The company that I work for laid off 9% of its staff from the corporate headquarters yesterday. As a veteran of many, many layoffs, I have to say that they did it in the most humane way possible - or, as one executive I used to work for would say, "If you have to eat a turd, do it fast."
We all received an email yesterday morning just after 8:30. Or at least it appeared we did. Little did we know there were 2 emails. One set of people got an email telling us to come to a meeting at 9:00am at an unspecified location on our floor. The other email (this one I did not receive) directed its recipients to a meeting room at 8:45am. The poor souls who received the 8:45am invitation were laid off.
When we congregated for the 9am meeting, we were told that our company was blah, blah, blah poor economy, and blah, blah, blah difficult decisions and that affected team members were notified at 8:45am. They read that part twice - about the affected team members were already notified at 8:45am. In other words, if you didn't already know, you were safe.
Whew!
What's that saying about the best laid plans? As I returned to my cube, still processing what I'd just heard, I noticed a figure pass my cube and head for the cube of a group manager (that's a manager's boss in our company's management food chain) across the aisle from me. From the corner of my eye (an aside: I think I was afraid to look - I guess I knew deep down inside what was about to happen) I noticed said group manager follow our department director (that's 2 levels up in the management food chain) down the aisle and into an unoccupied conference room.
Holy sh*t! They're still laying people off! I know they said they were done, but they're not! F*cketty, f*ck! Then I started cataloging all the reasons they could be coming for me - the executives don't know me, I'm expensive compared to all these young whippersnappers around me, I offended someone and I didn't realize it, etc. I felt trapped and helpless - I want to run, but it would be of no use.
Every pitter-patter of footsteps in my aisle caused my pulse to double. I began emailing everyone I knew to see if they'd survived. Literally the first person I contacted replied "...everyone's fine - except me". I wanted to scream.
Shortly thereafter, the aforementioned group manager returned, nearly teary eyed, and began the humbling process of boxing up his personal items. He later shook my hand and said goodbye. It was sad for both of us.
It wasn't until about 11am that I found my boss and confirmed that everyone had indeed been notified. None of the managers knew anything - the criteria for selection most notably. The management layer 3 slots above me were the only ones that knew Tuesday was an "event" day and who would be laid off. So it was a surprise to even the managers, which is actually kind of scary when everyone is panicking. (The managers tried to look calm, like parents in a thunderstorm, but most of us could see through the facade.)
Here's what really happened (at least in many cases): the emails were sent just after 8:30, and then for what I can only assume were security reasons, the user IDs of the "affected" employees were deactivated. Immediately. So they couldn't read the message telling them where to go for the 8:45 meeting. Many, my friend included, prairie-dogged out from their cubes and asked of cubemates, "Hey, did you guys get this meeting invite for 8:45? Where do we go?" I realized later that the group manager across the aisle was having the same problem, but just followed the rest of us to the 9am meeting.
I understand the strategy employed - the company wanted the affected employees to know first, even before their managers. But it wasn't executed as planned and caused extra dismay.
Today work resumed. Affected teams met to devise how to make up for the lost co-workers. We all quietly mourned those affected, vowed to help them any way we could, then moved on to the business at hand.
And in the elevators today, whenever you saw someone you hadn't seen in a while, you said, "Hey - good to see you." And we meant it.
We all received an email yesterday morning just after 8:30. Or at least it appeared we did. Little did we know there were 2 emails. One set of people got an email telling us to come to a meeting at 9:00am at an unspecified location on our floor. The other email (this one I did not receive) directed its recipients to a meeting room at 8:45am. The poor souls who received the 8:45am invitation were laid off.
When we congregated for the 9am meeting, we were told that our company was blah, blah, blah poor economy, and blah, blah, blah difficult decisions and that affected team members were notified at 8:45am. They read that part twice - about the affected team members were already notified at 8:45am. In other words, if you didn't already know, you were safe.
Whew!
What's that saying about the best laid plans? As I returned to my cube, still processing what I'd just heard, I noticed a figure pass my cube and head for the cube of a group manager (that's a manager's boss in our company's management food chain) across the aisle from me. From the corner of my eye (an aside: I think I was afraid to look - I guess I knew deep down inside what was about to happen) I noticed said group manager follow our department director (that's 2 levels up in the management food chain) down the aisle and into an unoccupied conference room.
Holy sh*t! They're still laying people off! I know they said they were done, but they're not! F*cketty, f*ck! Then I started cataloging all the reasons they could be coming for me - the executives don't know me, I'm expensive compared to all these young whippersnappers around me, I offended someone and I didn't realize it, etc. I felt trapped and helpless - I want to run, but it would be of no use.
Every pitter-patter of footsteps in my aisle caused my pulse to double. I began emailing everyone I knew to see if they'd survived. Literally the first person I contacted replied "...everyone's fine - except me". I wanted to scream.
Shortly thereafter, the aforementioned group manager returned, nearly teary eyed, and began the humbling process of boxing up his personal items. He later shook my hand and said goodbye. It was sad for both of us.
It wasn't until about 11am that I found my boss and confirmed that everyone had indeed been notified. None of the managers knew anything - the criteria for selection most notably. The management layer 3 slots above me were the only ones that knew Tuesday was an "event" day and who would be laid off. So it was a surprise to even the managers, which is actually kind of scary when everyone is panicking. (The managers tried to look calm, like parents in a thunderstorm, but most of us could see through the facade.)
Here's what really happened (at least in many cases): the emails were sent just after 8:30, and then for what I can only assume were security reasons, the user IDs of the "affected" employees were deactivated. Immediately. So they couldn't read the message telling them where to go for the 8:45 meeting. Many, my friend included, prairie-dogged out from their cubes and asked of cubemates, "Hey, did you guys get this meeting invite for 8:45? Where do we go?" I realized later that the group manager across the aisle was having the same problem, but just followed the rest of us to the 9am meeting.
I understand the strategy employed - the company wanted the affected employees to know first, even before their managers. But it wasn't executed as planned and caused extra dismay.
Today work resumed. Affected teams met to devise how to make up for the lost co-workers. We all quietly mourned those affected, vowed to help them any way we could, then moved on to the business at hand.
And in the elevators today, whenever you saw someone you hadn't seen in a while, you said, "Hey - good to see you." And we meant it.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
So I'm Reading This Book, Part 2
One more post, then I'm caught up.
Look Me in the Eye - My Life with Asperger's by John Elder Robison. Nonfiction.
About: The older brother of writer Augusten Burroughs (Running with Scissors), Robison describes life on the Autism spectrum.
My thoughts: Robison describes growing up unknowingly on the Autism spectrum. A fabulous book - one that I shared pieces of with my own little Aspy sons. Robison wasn't diagnosed until the age of 40, so he can share how he really felt as a child, especially with the benefit of hindsight.
I highly recommend this book to any parent of a child on the Autism spectrum. It is required reading!
Look Me in the Eye - My Life with Asperger's by John Elder Robison. Nonfiction.
About: The older brother of writer Augusten Burroughs (Running with Scissors), Robison describes life on the Autism spectrum.
My thoughts: Robison describes growing up unknowingly on the Autism spectrum. A fabulous book - one that I shared pieces of with my own little Aspy sons. Robison wasn't diagnosed until the age of 40, so he can share how he really felt as a child, especially with the benefit of hindsight.
I highly recommend this book to any parent of a child on the Autism spectrum. It is required reading!
So I'm Reading This Book...
Earlier this year I tried (not-so-valiantly) to catalog the books I've read this year on this very blog. Of course I lost track. Now I'm trying to catch up in one long post. Keep in mind - this list is all I have record of - library books have long been checked back in and forgotten. In no particular order:
What is the What by Dave Eggers. Nonfiction-sort of.
About: the account of one of The Lost Boys of Sudan, or the story of a Darfur refugee, told in an autobiographical voice by an American author.
My thoughts: Wow, where to begin. Do I start with a gimmicky device where Mr. Eggers writes an "autobiography" for Sudanese refugee Achuk Deng? Eggers' distinctive style only broke through a few times.
No, I think I will always remember the incredible, unspeakable things Deng witnessed all before the age of 12. Village burned, separated from family, literally running for his life at the age of 10. Walking with 300 other boys across the desert to Ethiopia. Seeing friends die of exhaustion, dehydration, and starvation. Living among 40,000 others, unwelcome, in a refugee camp in Ethiopia. With 5 other same-age boys, burying the dead in the camp. Fleeing from the gunfire of Ethiopians into alligator infested waters of the Gilo river. Seeing fellow refugees become the center of said alligators in feeding frenzy. All this and not quite halfway through the book. Then it just gets worse. Friends captured and turned into slaves. Slaves! In the 1990s! I could go on but I won't.
A great, great book. I was spent when I finished it.
Eats, Shoots & Leaves by Lynn Truss. Nonfiction.
About: grammar.
My thoughts: Yep, a book about grammar. By a militant grammarian. She was utterly appalled by the title of the film Two Weeks Notice. "Where's the apostrophe?" It's a charming little book about proper punctuation. I really liked it.
The Road by Cormac McCarthy. Fiction.
About: A father-son journey through post-apocalyptic America
My thoughts: Another wow! Two wows! This is possible the most affecting book I've ever read. I changed my view of life after reading this book. Stylistically spartan - just like the surroundings described inside. A man and his 10 year old son journey to the sea during a nuclear winter following what was apparently the war to end all wars. No food, no animals to kill, vegetation dead, the surviving humans feed off each other. An amazing journey. Do not read this book if you are depressed.
Everyone is Entitled to My Opinion by David Brinkley. Nonfiction.
About: a collection of Brinkley's one minute signoffs from his Sunday morning TV show.
My thoughts: November 6, 1983 - two reports on greenhouse gases suggest that climate change is 100-200 years away. If only we knew then what we know now.
September 13, 1987 - Presidential candidate Joe Biden is accused of plagiarizing a speech from a British Labour Party candidate. However, Biden credited the author several times during the speech. So, contrary to popular belief, Biden is not a plagiarist.
The Dilbert Future by Scott Adams. Nonfiction.
About: the future, according to Dilbert.
My thoughts: A mostly uninteresting rehash of strips. Except...
In the last chapter, Adams shares what he really thinks. There is one theory of note. Gravity doesn't exist. We are just part of a universe in which every piece of matter is doubling in size every second. Wacky.
Cartoon History of the Modern World by Larry Gonick. Nonfiction.
About: a graphic novel history book.
My thoughts: I really enjoy the cartoon history series. A great way to bone up on history.
What is the What by Dave Eggers. Nonfiction-sort of.
About: the account of one of The Lost Boys of Sudan, or the story of a Darfur refugee, told in an autobiographical voice by an American author.
My thoughts: Wow, where to begin. Do I start with a gimmicky device where Mr. Eggers writes an "autobiography" for Sudanese refugee Achuk Deng? Eggers' distinctive style only broke through a few times.
No, I think I will always remember the incredible, unspeakable things Deng witnessed all before the age of 12. Village burned, separated from family, literally running for his life at the age of 10. Walking with 300 other boys across the desert to Ethiopia. Seeing friends die of exhaustion, dehydration, and starvation. Living among 40,000 others, unwelcome, in a refugee camp in Ethiopia. With 5 other same-age boys, burying the dead in the camp. Fleeing from the gunfire of Ethiopians into alligator infested waters of the Gilo river. Seeing fellow refugees become the center of said alligators in feeding frenzy. All this and not quite halfway through the book. Then it just gets worse. Friends captured and turned into slaves. Slaves! In the 1990s! I could go on but I won't.
A great, great book. I was spent when I finished it.
Eats, Shoots & Leaves by Lynn Truss. Nonfiction.
About: grammar.
My thoughts: Yep, a book about grammar. By a militant grammarian. She was utterly appalled by the title of the film Two Weeks Notice. "Where's the apostrophe?" It's a charming little book about proper punctuation. I really liked it.
The Road by Cormac McCarthy. Fiction.
About: A father-son journey through post-apocalyptic America
My thoughts: Another wow! Two wows! This is possible the most affecting book I've ever read. I changed my view of life after reading this book. Stylistically spartan - just like the surroundings described inside. A man and his 10 year old son journey to the sea during a nuclear winter following what was apparently the war to end all wars. No food, no animals to kill, vegetation dead, the surviving humans feed off each other. An amazing journey. Do not read this book if you are depressed.
Everyone is Entitled to My Opinion by David Brinkley. Nonfiction.
About: a collection of Brinkley's one minute signoffs from his Sunday morning TV show.
My thoughts: November 6, 1983 - two reports on greenhouse gases suggest that climate change is 100-200 years away. If only we knew then what we know now.
September 13, 1987 - Presidential candidate Joe Biden is accused of plagiarizing a speech from a British Labour Party candidate. However, Biden credited the author several times during the speech. So, contrary to popular belief, Biden is not a plagiarist.
The Dilbert Future by Scott Adams. Nonfiction.
About: the future, according to Dilbert.
My thoughts: A mostly uninteresting rehash of strips. Except...
In the last chapter, Adams shares what he really thinks. There is one theory of note. Gravity doesn't exist. We are just part of a universe in which every piece of matter is doubling in size every second. Wacky.
Cartoon History of the Modern World by Larry Gonick. Nonfiction.
About: a graphic novel history book.
My thoughts: I really enjoy the cartoon history series. A great way to bone up on history.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Friday, January 02, 2009
Lycra Shaped People
I started working out a bit more this summer, adding some biking trips (rule: get bike to a path, ride in a single direction as hard as possible into the wind for 1 hour, then return) to my regimen. And I also started running 1 to 2 times a week, no more than 1 hour at a time. And I lost some weight (15-20 pounds depending how you account for it).
I decided that, because of my propensity for profuse sweat, I needed to start layering my workout uniform. Thus began the search for those spandex/lycra/nylon-lyra-spandex-mix shirts that those runners/cyclists wear. Folks wearing those clothes never look like sweaty pigs. Sweaty pigs like me.
I found and purchased a particular shirt that appeared to be my size. I didn't try it on in the store for a number of uninteresting reasons, but when I got home I threw it on just before dinner (and a later workout that night).
It's a tight shirt. It's tight enough that it cannot be removed without reversing it. It's not ridiculously tight - it doesn't leave marks on my skin or anything.
My appearance at the dinner table drew double-takes from both my wife and teenaged daughter. "Wow," my daughter gasped, "it's kinda wrong when your dad is chiseled." My wife scanned me like a construction worker scans a pretty office blond and added, "Wow, you are looking good."
Bolstered by this unsolicited praise, I checked myself in the mirror after my workout that night. With the shirt on - yeah, I'm kinda chiseled. Not quite ready for the Body Armour ad, but there's definitely a muscular, manly shape there.
Then I removed the shirt. "Hey, where'd it go?" Suddenly all the flabby parts covering my six-pack abs re-appeared. My chiseled-ness had vanished.
"Oh my God, I'm an idiot. It's the shirt." The shirt shapes my body, tightening in the right spots, nudging the malleable flesh into areas that then appear muscular. It's like a push-up bra for men!
Then I began noticing just how common this phenomenon is. Because of my wife I know that there are about 72 kinds of underwear for women that "shape" their bodies. Now there are for men too. And when I began to really look for the lycra-shaped people, there they were, all around me. I'd never noticed before.
We have become a society of lycra-shaped people, well on our way to becoming the morbidly obese, amorphous blobs featured in the Pixar film Wall-E.
I decided that, because of my propensity for profuse sweat, I needed to start layering my workout uniform. Thus began the search for those spandex/lycra/nylon-lyra-spandex-mix shirts that those runners/cyclists wear. Folks wearing those clothes never look like sweaty pigs. Sweaty pigs like me.
I found and purchased a particular shirt that appeared to be my size. I didn't try it on in the store for a number of uninteresting reasons, but when I got home I threw it on just before dinner (and a later workout that night).
It's a tight shirt. It's tight enough that it cannot be removed without reversing it. It's not ridiculously tight - it doesn't leave marks on my skin or anything.
My appearance at the dinner table drew double-takes from both my wife and teenaged daughter. "Wow," my daughter gasped, "it's kinda wrong when your dad is chiseled." My wife scanned me like a construction worker scans a pretty office blond and added, "Wow, you are looking good."
Bolstered by this unsolicited praise, I checked myself in the mirror after my workout that night. With the shirt on - yeah, I'm kinda chiseled. Not quite ready for the Body Armour ad, but there's definitely a muscular, manly shape there.
Then I removed the shirt. "Hey, where'd it go?" Suddenly all the flabby parts covering my six-pack abs re-appeared. My chiseled-ness had vanished.
"Oh my God, I'm an idiot. It's the shirt." The shirt shapes my body, tightening in the right spots, nudging the malleable flesh into areas that then appear muscular. It's like a push-up bra for men!
Then I began noticing just how common this phenomenon is. Because of my wife I know that there are about 72 kinds of underwear for women that "shape" their bodies. Now there are for men too. And when I began to really look for the lycra-shaped people, there they were, all around me. I'd never noticed before.
We have become a society of lycra-shaped people, well on our way to becoming the morbidly obese, amorphous blobs featured in the Pixar film Wall-E.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Has it been 8 months already?
Dear Weblog
Obviously it's been an embarrassingly long time since my last post. I contemplated starting a completely new blog in shame. Here are some of the things that have happened since we last spoke:
1. Went to a Packer game at Lambeau field in Janary. Gametime temp: -3 with -33 windchill. There's a whole post in there somewhere, maybe someday I'll get to it before I forget all the good details.
2. There was cancer in the family.
3. There was more cancer in the family.
4. There was a death in the family.
5. I started working out more often and lost some weight.
6. I read a whole bunch of good books, the best of which was What is the What by Dave Eggers, about a refugee from the Darfur region of Sudan.
7. I completed a thrilling treetops course at an environmental camp that I attended with my son.
8. I decided to dial back the amount of energy I expend at work.
I'm working on the family Christmas letter now, so hopefully that will spur on some other blogging.
Phil
Obviously it's been an embarrassingly long time since my last post. I contemplated starting a completely new blog in shame. Here are some of the things that have happened since we last spoke:
1. Went to a Packer game at Lambeau field in Janary. Gametime temp: -3 with -33 windchill. There's a whole post in there somewhere, maybe someday I'll get to it before I forget all the good details.
2. There was cancer in the family.
3. There was more cancer in the family.
4. There was a death in the family.
5. I started working out more often and lost some weight.
6. I read a whole bunch of good books, the best of which was What is the What by Dave Eggers, about a refugee from the Darfur region of Sudan.
7. I completed a thrilling treetops course at an environmental camp that I attended with my son.
8. I decided to dial back the amount of energy I expend at work.
I'm working on the family Christmas letter now, so hopefully that will spur on some other blogging.
Phil
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Book Update
Books I've read since the last book post:
A History of Pi by Petr Beckmann. Nonfiction.
About: the history of my favorite constant, pi.
My thoughts: Written in the 1970's, updated in the 1980's, a history from the beginning of time about who figured out how to calculate pi, and how accurate they were. This books combines 2 of my favorite subjects - history and math. As my friend Tim aptly observed, "Sticky pages - lots of sticky pages for Phil."
Lasting Image: The Romans were thugs. Sir Isaac Newton had a larger impact on the scientific world than Einstein. In fact, after centuries of inadequate definition by dozens of mathematicians, Newton mathematically described pi as an afterthought, needing it to prove one of his laws of physics. Think of that - after dozens of brilliant folks labored untold hours, Newton said "Oh, by the way, here's pi". And it sat in his desk for nearly a decade until a colleague convinced him it was worth publishing!
Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris. Nonfiction.
About: a collection of short stories themed around Christmas.
Lasting Image: 1. David working as an elf in Macy's Santaland. A group of severely retarded visitors came one day, and David realized afterward that he could no longer differentiate them from the "normal" visitors.
2. Perhaps the most wickedly funny holiday newsletter I've ever read.
A History of Pi by Petr Beckmann. Nonfiction.
About: the history of my favorite constant, pi.
My thoughts: Written in the 1970's, updated in the 1980's, a history from the beginning of time about who figured out how to calculate pi, and how accurate they were. This books combines 2 of my favorite subjects - history and math. As my friend Tim aptly observed, "Sticky pages - lots of sticky pages for Phil."
Lasting Image: The Romans were thugs. Sir Isaac Newton had a larger impact on the scientific world than Einstein. In fact, after centuries of inadequate definition by dozens of mathematicians, Newton mathematically described pi as an afterthought, needing it to prove one of his laws of physics. Think of that - after dozens of brilliant folks labored untold hours, Newton said "Oh, by the way, here's pi". And it sat in his desk for nearly a decade until a colleague convinced him it was worth publishing!
Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris. Nonfiction.
About: a collection of short stories themed around Christmas.
Lasting Image: 1. David working as an elf in Macy's Santaland. A group of severely retarded visitors came one day, and David realized afterward that he could no longer differentiate them from the "normal" visitors.
2. Perhaps the most wickedly funny holiday newsletter I've ever read.
Coming up for air
The project that has been consuming all my resources (mindshare, time, energy, happy disposition, etc) went into production today. Thank bleepin' god that's over with. I hope to have time and energy to catch up on my posts.
Expect a flurry.
Expect a flurry.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Book List
Just for giggles I've decided to keep a list of books I've read. As you'll see, I'm not the world's fastest reader.
2008 (so far)
The Worst Hard Time - the Untold Story of Those Who Survived the Dust Bowl by Timothy Egan. Nonfiction.
About: people who didn't leave the Dust Bowl.
My thoughts: Wow! Books like this remind me to be grateful for all that I have. The Dust Bowl and Great Depression were events almost unimagineable to us younger generations. Also, an event almost completely human-made. A good read for those who don't have an understanding of man's effect on the environment.
Lasting Image: the "dusters" - incredible black storms caused by high sustained winds and loose topsoil. Sometimes achieved zero visibility. Also caused blindness and "dust pneumonia" - and death
Candy Girl - A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper by Diablo Cody. Nonfiction.
About: an ordinary woman who decides to become a stripper - in Minneapolis!
My thoughts: I first saw this book reviewed in Entertainment Weekly magazine. It got high marks and sounded interesting. But I'd forgotten about it until I learned the author had also penned the screenplay to Juno, so I went back and got it. Diablo Cody is a fantastic, original, and very clever writer. She bares all in the book (and as a stripper). It was fascinating but at the same time, not at all surprising. A fun read. Short book.
Lasting Image: the clientele from her time working in "the box" at Sex World - especially a certain --- Licker, and her first foray into baring all at the Skyway during Amateur night, particularly the use of the word "staunch". Eww.
2007 (in reverse order as far back as I can remember)
A Death in Belmont by Sebastian Junger. Nonfiction.
About: Junger, author of A Perfect Storm, also a Belmont, Massachusetts native, coincidentally was a wee child when one of the contractors who built an addition on his house turned out to the Boston Strangler. Or not.
My thoughts: Junger reviews events surrounding the killings of the Boston Strangler, how the man who confessed to being the Boston Strangler may or may not be accountable for a murder that occurred in his neighborhood. It was a great premise but I found the book disappointing due to the complete lack of resolution. Sometimes you have to accept that you'll just never know.
Lasting Image: Just inside the front cover there is a family photo showing Junger as a child, in his mother's lap, and in the background are the contractors who'd just finished the addition on his parent's house. One of the contractors is the Boston Strangler.
Carnival Undercover by Bret Witter and Lorelei Sharkey. Nonfiction.
About: everything you wanted to know about amusement parks, travelling carnivals, etc.
My thoughts: it's pretty light fare, but hey, who doesn't want to know how to win those big stuffed animals at the State Fair?
Lasting Image: remembering to cut a hole in some plywood so I can practice the softball-in-the-milkcan game.
Thunderstruck by Erik Larsn. Nonfiction.
About: how the murder of a woman and low-speed getaway pushed the fledgling "wireless" radio into public consciousness.
My thoughts: if not for the Titanic, everyone would know this story. It rivals O.J. Simpson's low-speed getaway on that famous Friday night in 1994.
Lasting image: a doctor, who had murdered his pathetic faux-debutaunte wife, escaping across the Atlantic on a luxury liner with his mistress disguised as a young boy, is captured when recognized by a fellow passenger. Because of the new "wireless" radio communication, the ship's captain is aware of the impending capture, which is then leaked to the press, so that the whole world is left waiting for the ship to arrive in North America for the arrest.
Lasting Image: Marconi had no scientific training. He stole the idea, which was only theory at the time, and worked tirelessly using only trial-and-error to build the device. He was also part P.T. Barnum - quite the marketing guru.
2008 (so far)
The Worst Hard Time - the Untold Story of Those Who Survived the Dust Bowl by Timothy Egan. Nonfiction.
About: people who didn't leave the Dust Bowl.
My thoughts: Wow! Books like this remind me to be grateful for all that I have. The Dust Bowl and Great Depression were events almost unimagineable to us younger generations. Also, an event almost completely human-made. A good read for those who don't have an understanding of man's effect on the environment.
Lasting Image: the "dusters" - incredible black storms caused by high sustained winds and loose topsoil. Sometimes achieved zero visibility. Also caused blindness and "dust pneumonia" - and death
Candy Girl - A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper by Diablo Cody. Nonfiction.
About: an ordinary woman who decides to become a stripper - in Minneapolis!
My thoughts: I first saw this book reviewed in Entertainment Weekly magazine. It got high marks and sounded interesting. But I'd forgotten about it until I learned the author had also penned the screenplay to Juno, so I went back and got it. Diablo Cody is a fantastic, original, and very clever writer. She bares all in the book (and as a stripper). It was fascinating but at the same time, not at all surprising. A fun read. Short book.
Lasting Image: the clientele from her time working in "the box" at Sex World - especially a certain --- Licker, and her first foray into baring all at the Skyway during Amateur night, particularly the use of the word "staunch". Eww.
2007 (in reverse order as far back as I can remember)
A Death in Belmont by Sebastian Junger. Nonfiction.
About: Junger, author of A Perfect Storm, also a Belmont, Massachusetts native, coincidentally was a wee child when one of the contractors who built an addition on his house turned out to the Boston Strangler. Or not.
My thoughts: Junger reviews events surrounding the killings of the Boston Strangler, how the man who confessed to being the Boston Strangler may or may not be accountable for a murder that occurred in his neighborhood. It was a great premise but I found the book disappointing due to the complete lack of resolution. Sometimes you have to accept that you'll just never know.
Lasting Image: Just inside the front cover there is a family photo showing Junger as a child, in his mother's lap, and in the background are the contractors who'd just finished the addition on his parent's house. One of the contractors is the Boston Strangler.
Carnival Undercover by Bret Witter and Lorelei Sharkey. Nonfiction.
About: everything you wanted to know about amusement parks, travelling carnivals, etc.
My thoughts: it's pretty light fare, but hey, who doesn't want to know how to win those big stuffed animals at the State Fair?
Lasting Image: remembering to cut a hole in some plywood so I can practice the softball-in-the-milkcan game.
Thunderstruck by Erik Larsn. Nonfiction.
About: how the murder of a woman and low-speed getaway pushed the fledgling "wireless" radio into public consciousness.
My thoughts: if not for the Titanic, everyone would know this story. It rivals O.J. Simpson's low-speed getaway on that famous Friday night in 1994.
Lasting image: a doctor, who had murdered his pathetic faux-debutaunte wife, escaping across the Atlantic on a luxury liner with his mistress disguised as a young boy, is captured when recognized by a fellow passenger. Because of the new "wireless" radio communication, the ship's captain is aware of the impending capture, which is then leaked to the press, so that the whole world is left waiting for the ship to arrive in North America for the arrest.
Lasting Image: Marconi had no scientific training. He stole the idea, which was only theory at the time, and worked tirelessly using only trial-and-error to build the device. He was also part P.T. Barnum - quite the marketing guru.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Next Phase
Katie and I reached a new phase in our lives Friday night. We probably reached it earlier but we didn't know until Friday night.
I'll set the scene - a darkened movie theater, credits rolling (for Fred Claus, a steaming pile of feces on the holiday movie list). Katie, the kids and I are donning our winter coats to head back out to the van.
Owen says, "What if there was a Santa Claus?"
I looked to Katie, who was deflating like a stuck balloon. No, it was more like her puppy had just been assassinated. She was the embodiment of disappointment.
When he saw his mother's disappointment, Owen tried earnestly to backtrack. But the damage was done. It was too late. We finally had the proof that our children no longer believe in Santa Claus.
We knew Megan no longer believed in Santa. I don't remember the exact age she stopped believing, but it's been a while (she's 14 now).
We also knew Jackson no longer believes. It's been well more than a year for him (he's within weeks of his 11th birthday). We did ask him not to tell Owen, who we thought still believed in Santa. He's 9 and probably should have figured it out long ago.
But in our naive desire to keep our kids young, Katie and I spent the entire season pretending that Owen still believed. We covertly carried "Santa's" gifts to a secret hiding spot after purchase. We spoke in hushed tones about which gifts were Santa's and which would be from us. We threw stern looks toward the older siblings every time they mentioned the myth of Santa.
All for naught.
I personally do not remember ever believing in Santa Claus (thank you very much, 10 older siblings, for ruining that for me!). Katie and her younger brother believed for quite some time - deep into elementary school. And even when they no longer believed, they hid that fact from their mother because, they reasoned, it might reduce their Christmas bounty.
Katie and I spent much of Saturday in a subdued state of mourning. After Santa evaporates, this becomes a pretty cruel world, doesn't it? What's next? I guess we won't be sneaking money into their tooth fairy pillows the nights after teeth fall out.
Ugh. They grow up so fast.
I'll set the scene - a darkened movie theater, credits rolling (for Fred Claus, a steaming pile of feces on the holiday movie list). Katie, the kids and I are donning our winter coats to head back out to the van.
Owen says, "What if there was a Santa Claus?"
I looked to Katie, who was deflating like a stuck balloon. No, it was more like her puppy had just been assassinated. She was the embodiment of disappointment.
When he saw his mother's disappointment, Owen tried earnestly to backtrack. But the damage was done. It was too late. We finally had the proof that our children no longer believe in Santa Claus.
We knew Megan no longer believed in Santa. I don't remember the exact age she stopped believing, but it's been a while (she's 14 now).
We also knew Jackson no longer believes. It's been well more than a year for him (he's within weeks of his 11th birthday). We did ask him not to tell Owen, who we thought still believed in Santa. He's 9 and probably should have figured it out long ago.
But in our naive desire to keep our kids young, Katie and I spent the entire season pretending that Owen still believed. We covertly carried "Santa's" gifts to a secret hiding spot after purchase. We spoke in hushed tones about which gifts were Santa's and which would be from us. We threw stern looks toward the older siblings every time they mentioned the myth of Santa.
All for naught.
I personally do not remember ever believing in Santa Claus (thank you very much, 10 older siblings, for ruining that for me!). Katie and her younger brother believed for quite some time - deep into elementary school. And even when they no longer believed, they hid that fact from their mother because, they reasoned, it might reduce their Christmas bounty.
Katie and I spent much of Saturday in a subdued state of mourning. After Santa evaporates, this becomes a pretty cruel world, doesn't it? What's next? I guess we won't be sneaking money into their tooth fairy pillows the nights after teeth fall out.
Ugh. They grow up so fast.
More Dead
12-29-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
12-30-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
12-31-07 - 2 dead mice found in basement, heads crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
1-2-08 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
Death toll for the season: 12
Two items of note: 1) we've gone a few days in a row without a dead mouse; and 2) the squirrels are pulling the baggies of dead mice out of the garbage cans and leaving them in the driveway and yard.
Who knows what surprises are in store when the snow melts?
12-30-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
12-31-07 - 2 dead mice found in basement, heads crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
1-2-08 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
Death toll for the season: 12
Two items of note: 1) we've gone a few days in a row without a dead mouse; and 2) the squirrels are pulling the baggies of dead mice out of the garbage cans and leaving them in the driveway and yard.
Who knows what surprises are in store when the snow melts?
Friday, December 28, 2007
Infestation
12-24-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
12-26-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
12-28-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
Death toll for the season: 10
Don't know the reason for the sudden string of killings - I guess a family of the little buggers must have moved in.
Unfortunately one of my Better Mousetrap brand mousetraps broke so I can only kill one at a time. Guess I better get to the hardware store.
12-26-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
12-28-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
Death toll for the season: 10
Don't know the reason for the sudden string of killings - I guess a family of the little buggers must have moved in.
Unfortunately one of my Better Mousetrap brand mousetraps broke so I can only kill one at a time. Guess I better get to the hardware store.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Giving Blood Part 2 - Natalya Returns
First, read this post from 2006. It describes a less than fulfilling attempted blood donation.
Guess who was there to take my blood today?
After filling out the forms and answering the not-so-discrete questions about my travel and sexual history, a lab-coated Memorial Blood Center technician led me to a table with a left-armed drawing position (I prefer the left arm, thank you very much). The technician manning this and an adjacent, right-arm drawing table, was Natalya - she of the "oops" incident from a year ago.
Yikes! Was I actually going to have to ask for a different phlebology technician? I debated mentally.
"Look," I'd say, "it's nothing professional, but I just can't have you 'oops-ing' me again."
Then I thought - if she was that bad, would she still be working for them? After all, she appeared to have properly handled the woman next to me. No oops-ing today. No blood on the floor and alarmed stares from other blood donors. So far.
Before I really had much more of a chance to think, a different, much more experienced looking phlebologist approached and took care of me.
A one word response to all of this - "Whew!"
All went well, and I'm currently running a pint low. And I'm happy that 3 people will receive parts of my blood and help them (hopefully) return to good health.
Guess who was there to take my blood today?
After filling out the forms and answering the not-so-discrete questions about my travel and sexual history, a lab-coated Memorial Blood Center technician led me to a table with a left-armed drawing position (I prefer the left arm, thank you very much). The technician manning this and an adjacent, right-arm drawing table, was Natalya - she of the "oops" incident from a year ago.
Yikes! Was I actually going to have to ask for a different phlebology technician? I debated mentally.
"Look," I'd say, "it's nothing professional, but I just can't have you 'oops-ing' me again."
Then I thought - if she was that bad, would she still be working for them? After all, she appeared to have properly handled the woman next to me. No oops-ing today. No blood on the floor and alarmed stares from other blood donors. So far.
Before I really had much more of a chance to think, a different, much more experienced looking phlebologist approached and took care of me.
A one word response to all of this - "Whew!"
All went well, and I'm currently running a pint low. And I'm happy that 3 people will receive parts of my blood and help them (hopefully) return to good health.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Death Toll update
12-16-07 - 1 dead squirrel found in bottom of empty garbage can outside garage. No obvious external injuries. Cause of death: suicide.
12-19-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
Death toll for the season: 7
12-19-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
Death toll for the season: 7
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
2007 Non-Demominational, Non-Personalized, Holiday-Type Newsletter
Presenting the 2007 Non-denominational, Non-Personalized, Holiday-type Newsletter of the Gonzalez Family
 |
Friday, December 14, 2007
I Spoke Too Soon
12-13-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
Death toll for the season: 5
Wouldn't you know that as soon as I said "seems like it's going to be a pretty light year for dead mice" that I get another one.
Death toll for the season: 5
Wouldn't you know that as soon as I said "seems like it's going to be a pretty light year for dead mice" that I get another one.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Christmas Letter Update - I Got Nothin'
Every year I seem to hit this roadblock, but I'm more stuck than I've ever been. I'm gonna go ahead and blame my job. It's 9:53pm and I'm ready to drop. The thing I need most for creativity is extra brain cycles. Spare mindshare. And I don't have any. I leave for work by 7am and arrive home after 6pm. I'm in meetings 7 hours a day, and now I've taken over responsibility for a project because someone else is out on medical leave. I literally eat my lunch in meetings and go to the bathroom walking from one meeting room to another.
So don't be shocked if the Annual Non-Denominational, Holiday-Type Newsletter is a bit late this year.
So don't be shocked if the Annual Non-Denominational, Holiday-Type Newsletter is a bit late this year.
Dead Mouse Update
11-30-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement under ping pong table. Cause of death: toyed with to death by natural predators.
12-8-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
Death toll for the season: 4
It's been a light year for rodents and I'm not sure why. Don't really care, either. I'm just happy I haven't had to find one by smell. God, I hate that smell - the smell of rotting rodent. It's indescribable.
12-8-07 - 1 dead mouse found in basement, head crushed and stuck in Better Mousetrap brand mousetrap. Cause of death: sudden blunt trauma to head.
Death toll for the season: 4
It's been a light year for rodents and I'm not sure why. Don't really care, either. I'm just happy I haven't had to find one by smell. God, I hate that smell - the smell of rotting rodent. It's indescribable.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)