http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
I promised a K-19 review and you shall have it.
As the opening credits roll it says "Inspired by true events." It made me more nervous than a Russian reactor would. I'd read the book, and expected some dramatic license, but "inspired by?" As it turned out any similarity between the book and the movie was coincidental. Harrison Ford plays Captain Vostrikov, put in charge of the Russian's first nuclear attack sub. His character is cold-hearted and he walks around trying to look like a bulldog with a pout. The counter to Ford is Liam Neeson, who plays Comrade Schindler, the deposed Captain kept on as XO who is kind and paternal to the crew and tries to protect them from the evil Captain. Eventually the cold, ruthless Captain is guided into being the nice, ruthless Captain by Mr. Schindler.
The foreshadowing is just a little heavy-handed. How many times does that seaman have to tap the gauge until we finally figure out There's A Problem? Once would have been plenty, after all, we already know there's going to be a problem. And there's a running gag where a doctor handing out wetted towels has the tray of towels knocked out of his hands by crewmen rushing during an alert. It wasn't funny the first time, it never got funny, so much for comic relief.
The Russian navy has a roster of disasters too big for any rug to hide. The sub itself really was a disaster waiting to happen. The quality control during construction was nearly non-existent. They were just trying to get it built on time according to the Plan. Russia was a workers' paradise as long as you got with the Plan. That was the theory anyway. Poor materials, shoddy workmanship. The submariners were at the mercy of Mother Russia's bureaucrats, and they didn't have any.
It was touching when the Captain sent topside the men who would be repairing the reactor "to get some fresh air." He was just giving them a last look at the world before they willingly walked into a radioactive execution chamber. Magnificent acts of heroism. One thing they did get right was the men coming out of the reactor vomitting a yellow foam. Kind of strange to feel sorry for people going on station to possibly nuke New York City or DC. Unfortunately for them and their families, their graves did fit under Mother Russia's rug.
In contrast to feeling sympathy for the submariners, the viewer becomes quite uncomfortable when the Americans come into view during the calamity. As seen through the eyes of the Russians the Americans appear like vultures waiting to feed on the carcass. Certainly the Americans would want to get pictures of the sub while it was afloat, intelligence is part of the military game.
The lurking Americans become the antagonists of our heros in the sub. It would have been better if they'd trash canned the wet towel sequences and given us a few moments on the bridge of the American destroyer. The audience could have been treated to an American Captain concerned for the crew of an enemy ship in distress. The Russian Captain would have appeared to have been that much more wrongheaded to expose his crew to more radiation.
The movie opens with a shot of the sub in drydock, scaffolding, welding. It was probably an awesome shot on the big screen. There's another shot where the sub is in the background after breaking through the polar ice cap. The men are playing soccer on the icepack. Another terrific big-screen shot. But those shots are just moments out of 137 sleep-inducing minutes. Get an editor as ruthless as Vostrikov is portrayed and this thing could lose 30 useless, repetitive minutes and it could be a film worth repeating.
I'll never watch it again.
The Publicserf
Saturday, May 10, 2003
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Ms. Pikachu managed to pull her own tooth yesterday. The wife asked her what the tooth fairy should bring her. First she said Pokemon cards, or course. Then she decided on a dollar. Trainboy complained that he tooth fairy didn't bring him anything the last time he lost a tooth. Whoops, major mistake, how did we miss that? So the wife asked him what he should have gotten. He said, "A dime. A golden dime." Hard price. She countered with, "How about a golden dollar?" Sold to the highest bidder. He was thrilled. So excited he slept with his head under his pillow. Which is where the coin would usually go, but he got it. He carried his Sacajawea dollar around with him all day.
I tried to check e-mail when I got home. Ms Pikachu was on the computer, scanning her latest Pokemon drawings. When I walked in the room she was doing a sing-song "yeah-yeahh, yeah-yeahh, yeah-yeahhhhhh, poopy." Sometimes there are just no words. Sometimes it becomes obvious why Dad walked around shaking his head. Have kids of your own and you start to understand your parents.
The wife slipped into her SuperNurse uniform and off she went to save lives.
I grabbed the bills, the checkbook, sat on the frontporch swing, and wrote checks. It was pleasant. There were the lilacs, a cardinal singing, and the occasional car rushing by.
After a few minutes the front door opened, and out stepped Train Boy. He smiled and asked, "Did I just hear you laughing?" I said no, just writing checks, nothing funny out here. A few minutes later, again the door opens, again, "Did you just laugh?" I said no, maybe it was Ms Pikachu upstairs. He turned and opened the door. Then he exclaimed with the excitement of a great epiphany, "Maybe she farted!" Sometimes, there are just no words.
After finishing the bills I took them inside. Trainboy applied the stamps and address stickers because he likes to do that. I asked Ms Pikachu if she wanted to go along to Target and the Post Office. She declined, she was busy posting Pokemon drawings on the web. Train Boy said he'd go if the next 'Ed, Edd, and Eddie' wasn't the one where they get married to the Canker sisters. Yeah, that was a good one, I'd stay home for that too. But it was not to be, so we both went.
When we got to Target he held my hand as we walked up to the store. I love that so much. I wish it would never stop. But he's about six, and it won't be long it will be over. Have to enjoy it while I can. Every day he lines out another day on the calendar, counts the days till his birthday, and gives me the official count. Today it was 37. He's in such a rush to grow up, to be "big." How do you tell him, don't rush this, it's going by so fast, slow down, please, for me. So selfish of me.
We picked up our pictures. He made sure we got some Airheads candy for Ms Pikachu. They fight sometimes, but usually they really look out for each other.
On the way home we played one of his favorite games, "I spy." He started, then it was my turn. I don't want him to think I'm patronizing him, and I don't try to give him anything too hard. I said, "I spy with my little eye something that pumps blood, but doesn't pump blood." Sometimes it's just a matter of looking in the right direction and in this case he probably didn't. I waited, we passed it. He didn't know. I told him it was the big heart sign on the Heart Center. I doubled back to show him. I asked him if he'd had any ideas, he ventured, "Your heart." Ouch. That was too snide for a five year-old, even if he is about six. He couldn't have meant it that way, but it was a good hit. From now on it's just street lamps and signs.
Then we stopped at the Post Office. When I was a kid it was always special to put letters in the mail. So we went inside, and I held him up to the slots like always. And I handed them to him one by one like always. He pushed each one very slowly, pausing just before pushing it in, he was trying to make it last so I let him take his time.
Enough for tonight.
The Publicserf
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Ms. Pikachu managed to pull her own tooth yesterday. The wife asked her what the tooth fairy should bring her. First she said Pokemon cards, or course. Then she decided on a dollar. Trainboy complained that he tooth fairy didn't bring him anything the last time he lost a tooth. Whoops, major mistake, how did we miss that? So the wife asked him what he should have gotten. He said, "A dime. A golden dime." Hard price. She countered with, "How about a golden dollar?" Sold to the highest bidder. He was thrilled. So excited he slept with his head under his pillow. Which is where the coin would usually go, but he got it. He carried his Sacajawea dollar around with him all day.
I tried to check e-mail when I got home. Ms Pikachu was on the computer, scanning her latest Pokemon drawings. When I walked in the room she was doing a sing-song "yeah-yeahh, yeah-yeahh, yeah-yeahhhhhh, poopy." Sometimes there are just no words. Sometimes it becomes obvious why Dad walked around shaking his head. Have kids of your own and you start to understand your parents.
The wife slipped into her SuperNurse uniform and off she went to save lives.
I grabbed the bills, the checkbook, sat on the frontporch swing, and wrote checks. It was pleasant. There were the lilacs, a cardinal singing, and the occasional car rushing by.
After a few minutes the front door opened, and out stepped Train Boy. He smiled and asked, "Did I just hear you laughing?" I said no, just writing checks, nothing funny out here. A few minutes later, again the door opens, again, "Did you just laugh?" I said no, maybe it was Ms Pikachu upstairs. He turned and opened the door. Then he exclaimed with the excitement of a great epiphany, "Maybe she farted!" Sometimes, there are just no words.
After finishing the bills I took them inside. Trainboy applied the stamps and address stickers because he likes to do that. I asked Ms Pikachu if she wanted to go along to Target and the Post Office. She declined, she was busy posting Pokemon drawings on the web. Train Boy said he'd go if the next 'Ed, Edd, and Eddie' wasn't the one where they get married to the Canker sisters. Yeah, that was a good one, I'd stay home for that too. But it was not to be, so we both went.
When we got to Target he held my hand as we walked up to the store. I love that so much. I wish it would never stop. But he's about six, and it won't be long it will be over. Have to enjoy it while I can. Every day he lines out another day on the calendar, counts the days till his birthday, and gives me the official count. Today it was 37. He's in such a rush to grow up, to be "big." How do you tell him, don't rush this, it's going by so fast, slow down, please, for me. So selfish of me.
We picked up our pictures. He made sure we got some Airheads candy for Ms Pikachu. They fight sometimes, but usually they really look out for each other.
On the way home we played one of his favorite games, "I spy." He started, then it was my turn. I don't want him to think I'm patronizing him, and I don't try to give him anything too hard. I said, "I spy with my little eye something that pumps blood, but doesn't pump blood." Sometimes it's just a matter of looking in the right direction and in this case he probably didn't. I waited, we passed it. He didn't know. I told him it was the big heart sign on the Heart Center. I doubled back to show him. I asked him if he'd had any ideas, he ventured, "Your heart." Ouch. That was too snide for a five year-old, even if he is about six. He couldn't have meant it that way, but it was a good hit. From now on it's just street lamps and signs.
Then we stopped at the Post Office. When I was a kid it was always special to put letters in the mail. So we went inside, and I held him up to the slots like always. And I handed them to him one by one like always. He pushed each one very slowly, pausing just before pushing it in, he was trying to make it last so I let him take his time.
Enough for tonight.
The Publicserf
Friday, May 09, 2003
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
No post yesterday, just dashing this off before going to work.
Got home yesterday, walked into the kitchen. Fresh-baked cookies. She informed me they were oatmeal/raisin/ something/something and had lots of fiber. Gotta love a woman who worries about my colon. Ate lasagna, and watched K-19, the DVD the wife checked out from the library for me. Gotta love her, she finds stuff she thinks I'll like, even if she won't. Maybe she does like Harrison Ford. Will tell you about K-19 tonight, it won't take much.
While watching the movie it started to thunder. Trainboy was scared. Thought I'd help him confront his fear. Told him storms are really fun if you just watch them. So we went out on the front porch and sat in the swing. He lasted about a minute. Then he meekly asked, "Can we go back inside?" He did good going outside in the first place, we went back in.
The wife gave the kids a bath and I went back out on the front porch. Love storms. Lightning snapped smart salutes, and thunder sounded off. The trees howled like a crowd at a parade. It was amazing. Eventually the heavenly procession passed to the rear, and left behind was a world scrubbed clean after a pelting of raindrops, and a kindly breeze that brought the smell of lilacs to me. I was alone, but it was ok, it was wonderful.
The wife came out. We snuggled and kissed, immersed in lilac . The trees whispered like gossips. It was better.
Then it was time to put the kids to bed. The wife read to Ms Pikachu, I read to Trainboy. We read a book about trains, and another one called 'Sam and the Firefly,' because in it there is a, you guessed it, a train. Trainboy believes every good book has a train in it.
The plan was for him to fall asleep, then I'd post. I fell asleep before he did. He got the wife to read to him some more.
And here it is, the day after. Will try to post a review of K-19 tonight. Don't expect much.
The publicserf
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
No post yesterday, just dashing this off before going to work.
Got home yesterday, walked into the kitchen. Fresh-baked cookies. She informed me they were oatmeal/raisin/ something/something and had lots of fiber. Gotta love a woman who worries about my colon. Ate lasagna, and watched K-19, the DVD the wife checked out from the library for me. Gotta love her, she finds stuff she thinks I'll like, even if she won't. Maybe she does like Harrison Ford. Will tell you about K-19 tonight, it won't take much.
While watching the movie it started to thunder. Trainboy was scared. Thought I'd help him confront his fear. Told him storms are really fun if you just watch them. So we went out on the front porch and sat in the swing. He lasted about a minute. Then he meekly asked, "Can we go back inside?" He did good going outside in the first place, we went back in.
The wife gave the kids a bath and I went back out on the front porch. Love storms. Lightning snapped smart salutes, and thunder sounded off. The trees howled like a crowd at a parade. It was amazing. Eventually the heavenly procession passed to the rear, and left behind was a world scrubbed clean after a pelting of raindrops, and a kindly breeze that brought the smell of lilacs to me. I was alone, but it was ok, it was wonderful.
The wife came out. We snuggled and kissed, immersed in lilac . The trees whispered like gossips. It was better.
Then it was time to put the kids to bed. The wife read to Ms Pikachu, I read to Trainboy. We read a book about trains, and another one called 'Sam and the Firefly,' because in it there is a, you guessed it, a train. Trainboy believes every good book has a train in it.
The plan was for him to fall asleep, then I'd post. I fell asleep before he did. He got the wife to read to him some more.
And here it is, the day after. Will try to post a review of K-19 tonight. Don't expect much.
The publicserf
Thursday, May 08, 2003
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
e-mail comments to: publicserf@yahoo.com
------------------------1ST POST------------------------1ST POST-------------------1ST POST---------------
Sorry, there was no post last night. My body's need for sleep overcame my ego's need for gratification. But you can always click on the "Archives" button at the bottom and read prior stuff. Sorry, but it's the best I can do today. Will try again tonight.
the publicserf
But wait, more wisdom handed down by the WebGod. I learn so much.
"You just need to lift it out of the
mundane by adding maybe one sparkling detail, like...
on the way home. Handed out blotter acid to the kids. Ate and
fell asleep."
For more such commentary go to his site, he's the link over on the right. Rons Log. Click on it and be shocked and amused.l
------------------2ND POST---------------2ND POST----------------------2ND POST---------------------------
So what happened yesterday? I'm almost glad you asked.
When I got home SuperNurse informed me she needed to get some Continuing Education Units done to maintain her nursing license. OK, keep talking. In our fair state she can now be relicensed online by taking online courses. Which makes sense, it would save the licensing agency a mountain of paperwork. Belated Welcome to the New Millenium! And good for her, because that means she can just do it all at home.
Of course that also means, a nurse can maintain her license using the equivalent of crib notes if she wants to. It would make you want to watch things real close in the hospital. But SuperNurse does not cheat. She does not have to, she is (trumpet fanfare) SuperNurse! "Hey!" you say, "Cut the crap, what does this mean to me?" Implying then, what does it mean to me? as in, me.
Well I'll tell you, because you asked. SuperNurse informed me that although her recertification can be done online she has to print paper certifications of every course she takes in case she's audited. Our printer doesn't work. It hasn't since I installed XP, neither has the scanner. XP drivers were ordered from UMAX for the scanner. It still doesn't work. Canon has never made drivers for the 5000 color printer. I sent them an e-mail once telling them if they weren't going to do XP drivers for something they should at least post that fact so people wouldn't sit around waiting. It seemed like a reasonable idea, apparently they didn't think so.
Uninstalling XP isn't going to happen. I like it too much. It doesn't crash like Win95 or 98 did. Also, the printer had been giving me headaches. So forget it. One might think the obvious solution would be to just buy a new printer. You might, but you are not married to SuperNurse. I am, and the problem is that Super Nurse's alter ego is CheapWife. She whose motto is, "Is this the best use of our money?" Up until now it had not been. But when I got home she told me of her inability to print her certificates, and she didn't know what was wrong.
So I told her in as lovingly a fashion as possible (and never said, "one more time") the printer does not work in XP. I could uninstall XP, but then it would crash and you would be staring at the blue screen of death, and the printer will only print in black and white and I'm tired of buying expensive color cartridges that may, or may not, fix the problem. She said, "OK, let's go out and buy one. But first I want the back yard mowed." The only thing worse than being whipped is not knowing you're whipped. I know I'm whipped, so it could always be worse. I'm happy. Because sometimes it's the little things.
And I was happier knowing a new printer was soon to be mine, "Come to papa!"
So, I went out back to mow the lawn. It hadn't been mowed yet this year because non-rain days didn't seem to coincide with free time. Normally, that wouldn't be a big thing, But with all the rain the grass had grown phenomenally. As I surveyed the job it was apparent it wasn't a back yard so much as it was a private prairie. I thought, this doesn't call for a lawnmower, this calls for a tractor with a BushHog. But no way could I rent a tractor, because there's no way to get one in the backyard without dismantling some privacy fence. That would upset CheapWife, and mean the delaying of my new printer. Papa's comming!
The mower was plugged in, because it's electric. Though that's probably obvious. It's worked fine for years, no complaints. However, it really slows things down if you run over the power cord. But I was carefull. And it was slow going. It kept clogging. The grass was so long it never dried out. Long, wet, grass. Anyone who has ever mowed a lawn knows that's not a good thing. It is mower's hell. Perhaps it was penance for printer lust, if you see God, ask him for me.
After the equivalent of mowing it all twice it was done. Had it only been done once it would have looked like mowing by weed-whacker. Away we went, stat!, searching for the Prodigal Printer we'd never known. We searched at Best Buy, not because it was, it wasn't. Sam's Club was $20 cheaper. How did I know this, because I'd scoped them out on the web before, hence the aforesaid penance. CheapWife didn't care about the $20, she wanted a printer. So, being the devious serf that I am, we are now the proud parents of an HP 2110 printer/scanner/copier. She got her printer, and I got a scanner too.
So what is the moral of the story? For every story must have one. I believe it means, that much friction can be avoided if you're willing to delay your own gratification until your spouse's needs coincide with your own. (No KY jokes offerred, but if you must, go ahead.) In this instance there is the added joy of knowing that when we look over the credit card statement I'll get to say, sotto voce, "Oh, there's your printer." More penance will be due. Considering how tight she is with God, it could be a real problem. Maybe SHE knows.
I know, I know, we should have gotten home by 9:30, so why no post yesterday? A pit bull you are, and an ungrateful one at that.
Well I might be devious, but I'm not clever. I thought I had an extra USB cable, and didn't bother to look. No cable. So after doing a few "family" things in general, and keeping TrainBoy company till he fell asleep in particular, it was off to SuperWalMart. You can damn that place for destroying the business districts of small towns and downtown, but when you need a USB cable in the middle of the night, you're happy it's there. Pick up a few other things, hand your money over to the friendly employee of the Mall Killer. And there was heard in the land the sucking sound of my money on it's way to Bentonville, Arkansas.
On the way home I realized I was more than a little hungry. I was manly hungry (another joke break for you, go ahead, I'll wait). So I stopped at Wendy's on the way home. And say what you will about them, and their kind, killing off the local eating establishments, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
I took it home, ate, and fell asleep so fast my mind has no recollection. One moment I was gathering together the trash, the next, no recollection. On, off. Kind of spooky really. Almost supernatural. But sleep is just a gift I have. Slept till morning, no post, but you knew that. Sometimes it goes without saying, yet it still has to be said.
Installed the printer before going to work. Came home to a happy wife. And kids running around with handfuls of their latest prints. Thank God I didn't put the photo quality cartridge in. Or I could just tell the Wife and She could pass it on, She has a better connection.
So much for today/tonight. Tomorrow is.... tomorrow/tomorrow night.
How utterly worthless.
Your publicserf
-----------------3RD POST--------------------3RD POST-----------------------3RD POST------------------
This instruction no longer applies since I rearranged the posts so they flow straight, but it's still here because I like it.
This is the third post of the day. Go down two more to "5/7/2003 7:38:24 a.m." and work back. To do otherwise will upset the natural order of things, and Maureen Dowd will try to fill up a bus full of people who hate you. Then they will park the bus in front of your place, glare, have their pictures taken, and leave. Stop quivering and go. Just go.
While getting some clothes out of the dryer it occurred to me that while I'd caught up with the prior days posts, I still owed a post for that day. And so it would go into perpetuity, accumulating hellish interest, if I didn't get caught up. What to do, what to do. So I'm back to get even. It may be attempting a fool's double-or-nothing, or as they say in Vegas, "Bill Bennett."
Alright, you caught me. I was trying to draw your attention away from that "dryer" statement, but you could smell blood. And a ruthless rottweiler you are. You snarl. Let me explain. When SuperNurse had our first child the increased demands on her caused increases in stress that were almost exponential. It seemed only fair that I do more than offer to change the channel with the remote control. So I took it upon myself to do the laundry. Just never gotten out of the habit. Do it rather well, if I do say so myself. Whipped! you cry. What's new? says I. And we'll move on.
Since I've done family already today........news this time.
Front page: Eustachy resigns as basketball coach at Iowa State after being caught drinking and cavorting, sometimes both at the same time. In exchange for his resignation Iowa State University will pay him 1 million buckolas. And the moral of that story is- if you must drink and cavort, check the severance package first, and if you can, buy everybody a round. His wife looks tearful in the picture. Some people get that way when they win the lottery.
Page 3, an AP photo of Iraqi mystic men praying in public. "Chanting, twirling their hair, and moving their bodies rhythmically in Baghdad"
From the picture it just looks like bad drugs, or good drugs, depending on perspective. Looks like guys having such a bad hair day its painful. I'm gonna have to guess blotter acid. But it's just a guess, because blotter acid is the only drug I know of that sounds funny.
Also on page 3, unsealed transcripts reveal Joseph McCarthy to be a bully who always ran away from a fair fight. Hold me up, I'm going to faint. What I want to know is- why now? The hearings were 48, 49 years ago. Why is it relevant to make a deal of this. I think we all agree his hearings were a bad thing, bad. Is it any coincidence this crap comes out after the US kicks a nasty dictator out of office and the bad guys are shaking in their boots? It just seems like an attempt to knock Uncle Sam down to where some people believe he belongs by reliving past injustices. Screw that. Let the bad guys shake. Let the weasels worry.
Nothing else much in the front section. Perhaps most notable was a lack of stories re the war with Iraq. Just the picture and a story about the Baghdad airport reopening. Apparently they're not having much luck finding Coalition atrocities. Not that the Iraq thing is over yet. It's a country that still needs to be brought up to 20th century standards. Our boys are working on it. I predict, I predict the war won't be truly finished until Iraqi's can't travel more than twenty minutes without running into another cluster of Wendys/BurgerKing/McDonalds and people start bitching you can't tell Baghdad from Basra anymore. At that point the mullahs can retire to whipping each other.
Section E. recipes, vegetable advice. Where's the bikinis? On the front page it promised bikinis in Section E. It did. There was even a small picture of a blond in an orange bikini. Not my choice of colors, but nobody asked me. What is going on here? I don't want greenbean advice, I want bikinis. What kind of a screw-up is this? Ohmigod, I've been looking at yesterday's paper- notnew news. It doesn't matter, a post is a post. And we're still even says I. But where is that Section E?
And here is is, seemingly hidden beneath some other papers. Suspicious. The babes in bikinis look.... tasty. Can't look too long though. A wife will bust you every time. It's like they always know when you're thinking of it, maybe because you always are. But......the more you look at the bikinis the more you see how young they are, I could be their Dad. That so ruins it. Crap. I'm in that awkward middle age, trapped between girls who are too young, and those in support hose. Trapped with the gorgeous SuperNurse. It could be worse.
This could be over, and it is,
The Publicserf
e-mail comments to: publicserf@yahoo.com
------------------------1ST POST------------------------1ST POST-------------------1ST POST---------------
Sorry, there was no post last night. My body's need for sleep overcame my ego's need for gratification. But you can always click on the "Archives" button at the bottom and read prior stuff. Sorry, but it's the best I can do today. Will try again tonight.
the publicserf
But wait, more wisdom handed down by the WebGod. I learn so much.
"You just need to lift it out of the
mundane by adding maybe one sparkling detail, like...
on the way home. Handed out blotter acid to the kids. Ate and
fell asleep."
For more such commentary go to his site, he's the link over on the right. Rons Log. Click on it and be shocked and amused.l
------------------2ND POST---------------2ND POST----------------------2ND POST---------------------------
So what happened yesterday? I'm almost glad you asked.
When I got home SuperNurse informed me she needed to get some Continuing Education Units done to maintain her nursing license. OK, keep talking. In our fair state she can now be relicensed online by taking online courses. Which makes sense, it would save the licensing agency a mountain of paperwork. Belated Welcome to the New Millenium! And good for her, because that means she can just do it all at home.
Of course that also means, a nurse can maintain her license using the equivalent of crib notes if she wants to. It would make you want to watch things real close in the hospital. But SuperNurse does not cheat. She does not have to, she is (trumpet fanfare) SuperNurse! "Hey!" you say, "Cut the crap, what does this mean to me?" Implying then, what does it mean to me? as in, me.
Well I'll tell you, because you asked. SuperNurse informed me that although her recertification can be done online she has to print paper certifications of every course she takes in case she's audited. Our printer doesn't work. It hasn't since I installed XP, neither has the scanner. XP drivers were ordered from UMAX for the scanner. It still doesn't work. Canon has never made drivers for the 5000 color printer. I sent them an e-mail once telling them if they weren't going to do XP drivers for something they should at least post that fact so people wouldn't sit around waiting. It seemed like a reasonable idea, apparently they didn't think so.
Uninstalling XP isn't going to happen. I like it too much. It doesn't crash like Win95 or 98 did. Also, the printer had been giving me headaches. So forget it. One might think the obvious solution would be to just buy a new printer. You might, but you are not married to SuperNurse. I am, and the problem is that Super Nurse's alter ego is CheapWife. She whose motto is, "Is this the best use of our money?" Up until now it had not been. But when I got home she told me of her inability to print her certificates, and she didn't know what was wrong.
So I told her in as lovingly a fashion as possible (and never said, "one more time") the printer does not work in XP. I could uninstall XP, but then it would crash and you would be staring at the blue screen of death, and the printer will only print in black and white and I'm tired of buying expensive color cartridges that may, or may not, fix the problem. She said, "OK, let's go out and buy one. But first I want the back yard mowed." The only thing worse than being whipped is not knowing you're whipped. I know I'm whipped, so it could always be worse. I'm happy. Because sometimes it's the little things.
And I was happier knowing a new printer was soon to be mine, "Come to papa!"
So, I went out back to mow the lawn. It hadn't been mowed yet this year because non-rain days didn't seem to coincide with free time. Normally, that wouldn't be a big thing, But with all the rain the grass had grown phenomenally. As I surveyed the job it was apparent it wasn't a back yard so much as it was a private prairie. I thought, this doesn't call for a lawnmower, this calls for a tractor with a BushHog. But no way could I rent a tractor, because there's no way to get one in the backyard without dismantling some privacy fence. That would upset CheapWife, and mean the delaying of my new printer. Papa's comming!
The mower was plugged in, because it's electric. Though that's probably obvious. It's worked fine for years, no complaints. However, it really slows things down if you run over the power cord. But I was carefull. And it was slow going. It kept clogging. The grass was so long it never dried out. Long, wet, grass. Anyone who has ever mowed a lawn knows that's not a good thing. It is mower's hell. Perhaps it was penance for printer lust, if you see God, ask him for me.
After the equivalent of mowing it all twice it was done. Had it only been done once it would have looked like mowing by weed-whacker. Away we went, stat!, searching for the Prodigal Printer we'd never known. We searched at Best Buy, not because it was, it wasn't. Sam's Club was $20 cheaper. How did I know this, because I'd scoped them out on the web before, hence the aforesaid penance. CheapWife didn't care about the $20, she wanted a printer. So, being the devious serf that I am, we are now the proud parents of an HP 2110 printer/scanner/copier. She got her printer, and I got a scanner too.
So what is the moral of the story? For every story must have one. I believe it means, that much friction can be avoided if you're willing to delay your own gratification until your spouse's needs coincide with your own. (No KY jokes offerred, but if you must, go ahead.) In this instance there is the added joy of knowing that when we look over the credit card statement I'll get to say, sotto voce, "Oh, there's your printer." More penance will be due. Considering how tight she is with God, it could be a real problem. Maybe SHE knows.
I know, I know, we should have gotten home by 9:30, so why no post yesterday? A pit bull you are, and an ungrateful one at that.
Well I might be devious, but I'm not clever. I thought I had an extra USB cable, and didn't bother to look. No cable. So after doing a few "family" things in general, and keeping TrainBoy company till he fell asleep in particular, it was off to SuperWalMart. You can damn that place for destroying the business districts of small towns and downtown, but when you need a USB cable in the middle of the night, you're happy it's there. Pick up a few other things, hand your money over to the friendly employee of the Mall Killer. And there was heard in the land the sucking sound of my money on it's way to Bentonville, Arkansas.
On the way home I realized I was more than a little hungry. I was manly hungry (another joke break for you, go ahead, I'll wait). So I stopped at Wendy's on the way home. And say what you will about them, and their kind, killing off the local eating establishments, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
I took it home, ate, and fell asleep so fast my mind has no recollection. One moment I was gathering together the trash, the next, no recollection. On, off. Kind of spooky really. Almost supernatural. But sleep is just a gift I have. Slept till morning, no post, but you knew that. Sometimes it goes without saying, yet it still has to be said.
Installed the printer before going to work. Came home to a happy wife. And kids running around with handfuls of their latest prints. Thank God I didn't put the photo quality cartridge in. Or I could just tell the Wife and She could pass it on, She has a better connection.
So much for today/tonight. Tomorrow is.... tomorrow/tomorrow night.
How utterly worthless.
Your publicserf
-----------------3RD POST--------------------3RD POST-----------------------3RD POST------------------
This instruction no longer applies since I rearranged the posts so they flow straight, but it's still here because I like it.
This is the third post of the day. Go down two more to "5/7/2003 7:38:24 a.m." and work back. To do otherwise will upset the natural order of things, and Maureen Dowd will try to fill up a bus full of people who hate you. Then they will park the bus in front of your place, glare, have their pictures taken, and leave. Stop quivering and go. Just go.
While getting some clothes out of the dryer it occurred to me that while I'd caught up with the prior days posts, I still owed a post for that day. And so it would go into perpetuity, accumulating hellish interest, if I didn't get caught up. What to do, what to do. So I'm back to get even. It may be attempting a fool's double-or-nothing, or as they say in Vegas, "Bill Bennett."
Alright, you caught me. I was trying to draw your attention away from that "dryer" statement, but you could smell blood. And a ruthless rottweiler you are. You snarl. Let me explain. When SuperNurse had our first child the increased demands on her caused increases in stress that were almost exponential. It seemed only fair that I do more than offer to change the channel with the remote control. So I took it upon myself to do the laundry. Just never gotten out of the habit. Do it rather well, if I do say so myself. Whipped! you cry. What's new? says I. And we'll move on.
Since I've done family already today........news this time.
Front page: Eustachy resigns as basketball coach at Iowa State after being caught drinking and cavorting, sometimes both at the same time. In exchange for his resignation Iowa State University will pay him 1 million buckolas. And the moral of that story is- if you must drink and cavort, check the severance package first, and if you can, buy everybody a round. His wife looks tearful in the picture. Some people get that way when they win the lottery.
Page 3, an AP photo of Iraqi mystic men praying in public. "Chanting, twirling their hair, and moving their bodies rhythmically in Baghdad"
From the picture it just looks like bad drugs, or good drugs, depending on perspective. Looks like guys having such a bad hair day its painful. I'm gonna have to guess blotter acid. But it's just a guess, because blotter acid is the only drug I know of that sounds funny.
Also on page 3, unsealed transcripts reveal Joseph McCarthy to be a bully who always ran away from a fair fight. Hold me up, I'm going to faint. What I want to know is- why now? The hearings were 48, 49 years ago. Why is it relevant to make a deal of this. I think we all agree his hearings were a bad thing, bad. Is it any coincidence this crap comes out after the US kicks a nasty dictator out of office and the bad guys are shaking in their boots? It just seems like an attempt to knock Uncle Sam down to where some people believe he belongs by reliving past injustices. Screw that. Let the bad guys shake. Let the weasels worry.
Nothing else much in the front section. Perhaps most notable was a lack of stories re the war with Iraq. Just the picture and a story about the Baghdad airport reopening. Apparently they're not having much luck finding Coalition atrocities. Not that the Iraq thing is over yet. It's a country that still needs to be brought up to 20th century standards. Our boys are working on it. I predict, I predict the war won't be truly finished until Iraqi's can't travel more than twenty minutes without running into another cluster of Wendys/BurgerKing/McDonalds and people start bitching you can't tell Baghdad from Basra anymore. At that point the mullahs can retire to whipping each other.
Section E. recipes, vegetable advice. Where's the bikinis? On the front page it promised bikinis in Section E. It did. There was even a small picture of a blond in an orange bikini. Not my choice of colors, but nobody asked me. What is going on here? I don't want greenbean advice, I want bikinis. What kind of a screw-up is this? Ohmigod, I've been looking at yesterday's paper- notnew news. It doesn't matter, a post is a post. And we're still even says I. But where is that Section E?
And here is is, seemingly hidden beneath some other papers. Suspicious. The babes in bikinis look.... tasty. Can't look too long though. A wife will bust you every time. It's like they always know when you're thinking of it, maybe because you always are. But......the more you look at the bikinis the more you see how young they are, I could be their Dad. That so ruins it. Crap. I'm in that awkward middle age, trapped between girls who are too young, and those in support hose. Trapped with the gorgeous SuperNurse. It could be worse.
This could be over, and it is,
The Publicserf
Tuesday, May 06, 2003
Monday, May 05, 2003
You are, no doubt, wondering how my day went. Be careful what you pray for, because here it is.
Work was work. Left promptly at 8 1/2 hours because Ms Pikachu had the gymnastic equivalent of a recital. It was basically a bunch of beginners trying to strut what they've learned. It was charming in a kids crashing and burning kind of a way, and all the parents applauded. Except me, I was videotaping. There were kids that showed promise, and there were kids that showed nothing but enthusiasm. They were there because they wanted to be though, and had the courage to perform in front of a group to please their parents, and that's all that mattered.
After the event we stopped at the library to pick up a DVD the wife had reserved. Perhaps a DVD review will be soon forthcoming. Trainboy went in with the wife to get it. Ms Pikachu sat behind me like always. She got bored, a dangerous thing, because she then feels the need to play with me. Like a cat with a mouse. There came a quizical, "Dad?" yeah? "My butt itches." You've got fingers, use them! She laughed. Rustling. Pause. "Dad?" yeah. "Do you need some earwax?" No, not really. Another pause. "Do you need some booger? I have some." "Dad?" uh-huh. "Are you trying to ignore me." Yes, and I'm not doing a very good job.
Then the wife got back with TrainBoy. It wasn't long and TrainBoy started in. "Dad?" yeah. "My butt itches." There it was- enough evidence to convict of conspiracy to drive their dad crazy. The kids laughed like a couple of jackals.
We stopped at Petco to get the Guinea pigs some vitamins. Usually we all go in, the kids just love the place. The wife got out, I got out. The kids did not get out. I asked her if the kids were going in or not. As she started for the door she said, no, she was just running in to get the vitamins. By then she was halfway to the door, I had to nearly yell, "Do you need some money?" She shook her head and said, "No." In my best whimpering voice I pleaded, "Can I have some?"
There was a burly guy getting into his pickup adjacent to us. He looked like he couldn't believe such a pathetic public display of whipped. I hope he enjoyed it. He'll probably have to tell the story to his beer buddies. They'll shake their heads, have a laugh, and go home to be studs. If their wives will let them. But I digress.
We went to Ryan's. Ms Pikachu cut a dinner roll all the way through and opened and closed it like a puppet's mouth. "Hello, hi there, how ya doin? I don't feel too good myself." She dropped the roll onto the table. And commanded, loud enough for anyone sitting nearby to hear, "Stand back, I know CPR!" She repeatedly pressed on the roll but only succeeded in flattening it. She dramatically announced "We need to shock it. Paddles! " She pressed a fork and spoon against it. "Clear!" She tried it a couple times and pronounced a time of death. She picked it up, examined it, sunk her teeth into it, and while it was still in her mouth, exclaimed, "I have a pulse!"
Later, when I came back to the table with desert, before I even sat down the wife asked, "Why are you talking to your food?" Like I could tell her. Like it would matter to her if I did. But I didn't know that I was. The kids laughed.
Eventually the wife and Trainboy used the restroom. Ms Pikachu quickly became bored. Uh-oh. I sipped my coffee between bites of cherry crisp. "Dad?" yeah. "You're talking to yourself again. You look like this." And she proceeded to do a terribly accurate impression of a doddering old man. It did not help that it was supposedly an impression of me.
When she returned I told the wife, "Your kids are driving me crazy." She ignored me.
Then we went home. She decided to drive.
So that's how my day went. In case you're wondering, yes, it really did happen.
Your PublicSerf
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
e-mail comments to: publicserf@yahoo.com
Work was work. Left promptly at 8 1/2 hours because Ms Pikachu had the gymnastic equivalent of a recital. It was basically a bunch of beginners trying to strut what they've learned. It was charming in a kids crashing and burning kind of a way, and all the parents applauded. Except me, I was videotaping. There were kids that showed promise, and there were kids that showed nothing but enthusiasm. They were there because they wanted to be though, and had the courage to perform in front of a group to please their parents, and that's all that mattered.
After the event we stopped at the library to pick up a DVD the wife had reserved. Perhaps a DVD review will be soon forthcoming. Trainboy went in with the wife to get it. Ms Pikachu sat behind me like always. She got bored, a dangerous thing, because she then feels the need to play with me. Like a cat with a mouse. There came a quizical, "Dad?" yeah? "My butt itches." You've got fingers, use them! She laughed. Rustling. Pause. "Dad?" yeah. "Do you need some earwax?" No, not really. Another pause. "Do you need some booger? I have some." "Dad?" uh-huh. "Are you trying to ignore me." Yes, and I'm not doing a very good job.
Then the wife got back with TrainBoy. It wasn't long and TrainBoy started in. "Dad?" yeah. "My butt itches." There it was- enough evidence to convict of conspiracy to drive their dad crazy. The kids laughed like a couple of jackals.
We stopped at Petco to get the Guinea pigs some vitamins. Usually we all go in, the kids just love the place. The wife got out, I got out. The kids did not get out. I asked her if the kids were going in or not. As she started for the door she said, no, she was just running in to get the vitamins. By then she was halfway to the door, I had to nearly yell, "Do you need some money?" She shook her head and said, "No." In my best whimpering voice I pleaded, "Can I have some?"
There was a burly guy getting into his pickup adjacent to us. He looked like he couldn't believe such a pathetic public display of whipped. I hope he enjoyed it. He'll probably have to tell the story to his beer buddies. They'll shake their heads, have a laugh, and go home to be studs. If their wives will let them. But I digress.
We went to Ryan's. Ms Pikachu cut a dinner roll all the way through and opened and closed it like a puppet's mouth. "Hello, hi there, how ya doin? I don't feel too good myself." She dropped the roll onto the table. And commanded, loud enough for anyone sitting nearby to hear, "Stand back, I know CPR!" She repeatedly pressed on the roll but only succeeded in flattening it. She dramatically announced "We need to shock it. Paddles! " She pressed a fork and spoon against it. "Clear!" She tried it a couple times and pronounced a time of death. She picked it up, examined it, sunk her teeth into it, and while it was still in her mouth, exclaimed, "I have a pulse!"
Later, when I came back to the table with desert, before I even sat down the wife asked, "Why are you talking to your food?" Like I could tell her. Like it would matter to her if I did. But I didn't know that I was. The kids laughed.
Eventually the wife and Trainboy used the restroom. Ms Pikachu quickly became bored. Uh-oh. I sipped my coffee between bites of cherry crisp. "Dad?" yeah. "You're talking to yourself again. You look like this." And she proceeded to do a terribly accurate impression of a doddering old man. It did not help that it was supposedly an impression of me.
When she returned I told the wife, "Your kids are driving me crazy." She ignored me.
Then we went home. She decided to drive.
So that's how my day went. In case you're wondering, yes, it really did happen.
Your PublicSerf
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
e-mail comments to: publicserf@yahoo.com
Sunday, May 04, 2003
My comments on the news as I read the paper, not that you care, but you're getting them anyway. This is not spam, you're here of your own free will.
Two astronauts and a cosmonaut returned to earth in a Soyuz. That would mean landing on land instead of water. But wouldn't that be waterring on water? Anyway, hitting the ground in a steel capsule could be quite jarring. If they have problems with hemmorhoids have them e-mail me. I'll help as best I can. Me and SuperNurse. (see the 04/29 post)
Nine Democrats wanting to be President had a debate and argued about the Iraq war. Now let me get this straight. Saddam had committed terrible acts of torture, murder, even imprisoned children, used WMD on his own people, supported terrorists, everybody but his henchmen are glad he's gone, and it's still debatable. Oh please. The only other issues debated were the Bush tax cut and health care.
It doesn't make much sense that they want to be President and the best they can do is argue against a popular war that's already over, and whine that the public isn't paying enough taxes, and making health insurance reforms. Again, arguing against the war is a non-starter. Telling people "we want your money back" is a non-starter. Health insurance reform is nice, but who wants to pay for it?
The government tried to extend prescription coverage to Medicare recipients before. Senior citizens screamed for years they needed prescription drug coverage. The gummint finally said ok, you can have your prescription drug coverage but it'll cost you. The cost was absurdly low compared to the cost of drugs. But the seniors said hell with that, we ain't paying for it, so it was repealed. The seniors still bitch about the cost of drugs. The problem is that people don't wan't reform, they want free. So health insurance reform looks like another non-starter.
Looks to me like the Democrats have no issues and nowhere to go. Bush executes a popular war, does a trap landing on a carrier, and gets out looking like the leader you just do not screw with. He's alpha dog and everybody else will sit, roll over and play dead. He's a two-termer unless he screws it up badly. The democrats are just selecting a sacrifice to get them by until the next election. Only the most optimistic would want to be the Democratic candidate. The smarter ones would lay low, maybe they are. Not that I care. If you care to know, I have no party affiliation.
New Hamphire's Old Man of the Mountain fell. So what now, they recall all the quarters? From the picture, it looks they they could say he just turned to look into the distance and he's wearing a hat. But that wouldn't work. Not really. But where there's tourism dollars there's a will and a way. In some smoke-filled room they're screaming about whether they should pick up the pieces and reassemble it, or chisel out a new one like Mt Rushmore. I'd bet a New Hampshire quarter they decide to reassemble it.
Madonna says she still loves England. Yawn. Too many trees died for this one.
An asteroid was named for Mr Rogers. That's nice, he was the kind of guy you'd like to be your neighbor. But if that thing ever plunges out of orbit and hits the Earth there will be a lot of disillusioned kids.
May I digress? Thank you. When I was growing up we didn't have Mr. Rogers, we had Captain Kangaroo. And we got along just fine, thank you very much. No Sesame Street either. Summers were hotter, the snow deeper. It was a harder life, but we were probably better for it. I beat my chest, cough a little, and move on.
A hiker in Utah amputated his own arm to free himself after being trapped by a boulder. He may only have one arm now, but he's got both stones. Unfortunately he apparently didn't have a lot of common sense. Because after all, isn't everybody warned not to go out in the wilderness unless they have a buddy along. You don't go swimming alone, you don't go hiking alone, you don't go hunting alone, because there's safety in numbers. Accidents happen, that's why they call them accidents. Be a Boyscout, Be Prepared. He can be glad he's alive. He'll probably never have to buy another beer. He'll probably start calling me Comrade.
Congress may take action to curb spam. This can only mean one thing. They've tried to shakedown the spammers for campaign contributions and come up empty handed. Congress is going to teach them the system works. A couple dollars here and there and spam will be protected free speech. Everybody, all together, My Country tis of thee, sweet land of duplicity.
We're at page 9, but it's taking a terrible toll on my Pollyanna disposition. The OpEd and sports will just crush me. Comics, got to find the comics. And the Best Buy ad. And the Menards ad. And the Home Depot ad. I need a reason to go on living. sniff, sniff.
Got to go, the kids are watching TV all by their lonesomes. For all I know they're being corrupted by CNN.
Later,
your Publicserf
email- publicserf@yahoo.com
Two astronauts and a cosmonaut returned to earth in a Soyuz. That would mean landing on land instead of water. But wouldn't that be waterring on water? Anyway, hitting the ground in a steel capsule could be quite jarring. If they have problems with hemmorhoids have them e-mail me. I'll help as best I can. Me and SuperNurse. (see the 04/29 post)
Nine Democrats wanting to be President had a debate and argued about the Iraq war. Now let me get this straight. Saddam had committed terrible acts of torture, murder, even imprisoned children, used WMD on his own people, supported terrorists, everybody but his henchmen are glad he's gone, and it's still debatable. Oh please. The only other issues debated were the Bush tax cut and health care.
It doesn't make much sense that they want to be President and the best they can do is argue against a popular war that's already over, and whine that the public isn't paying enough taxes, and making health insurance reforms. Again, arguing against the war is a non-starter. Telling people "we want your money back" is a non-starter. Health insurance reform is nice, but who wants to pay for it?
The government tried to extend prescription coverage to Medicare recipients before. Senior citizens screamed for years they needed prescription drug coverage. The gummint finally said ok, you can have your prescription drug coverage but it'll cost you. The cost was absurdly low compared to the cost of drugs. But the seniors said hell with that, we ain't paying for it, so it was repealed. The seniors still bitch about the cost of drugs. The problem is that people don't wan't reform, they want free. So health insurance reform looks like another non-starter.
Looks to me like the Democrats have no issues and nowhere to go. Bush executes a popular war, does a trap landing on a carrier, and gets out looking like the leader you just do not screw with. He's alpha dog and everybody else will sit, roll over and play dead. He's a two-termer unless he screws it up badly. The democrats are just selecting a sacrifice to get them by until the next election. Only the most optimistic would want to be the Democratic candidate. The smarter ones would lay low, maybe they are. Not that I care. If you care to know, I have no party affiliation.
New Hamphire's Old Man of the Mountain fell. So what now, they recall all the quarters? From the picture, it looks they they could say he just turned to look into the distance and he's wearing a hat. But that wouldn't work. Not really. But where there's tourism dollars there's a will and a way. In some smoke-filled room they're screaming about whether they should pick up the pieces and reassemble it, or chisel out a new one like Mt Rushmore. I'd bet a New Hampshire quarter they decide to reassemble it.
Madonna says she still loves England. Yawn. Too many trees died for this one.
An asteroid was named for Mr Rogers. That's nice, he was the kind of guy you'd like to be your neighbor. But if that thing ever plunges out of orbit and hits the Earth there will be a lot of disillusioned kids.
May I digress? Thank you. When I was growing up we didn't have Mr. Rogers, we had Captain Kangaroo. And we got along just fine, thank you very much. No Sesame Street either. Summers were hotter, the snow deeper. It was a harder life, but we were probably better for it. I beat my chest, cough a little, and move on.
A hiker in Utah amputated his own arm to free himself after being trapped by a boulder. He may only have one arm now, but he's got both stones. Unfortunately he apparently didn't have a lot of common sense. Because after all, isn't everybody warned not to go out in the wilderness unless they have a buddy along. You don't go swimming alone, you don't go hiking alone, you don't go hunting alone, because there's safety in numbers. Accidents happen, that's why they call them accidents. Be a Boyscout, Be Prepared. He can be glad he's alive. He'll probably never have to buy another beer. He'll probably start calling me Comrade.
Congress may take action to curb spam. This can only mean one thing. They've tried to shakedown the spammers for campaign contributions and come up empty handed. Congress is going to teach them the system works. A couple dollars here and there and spam will be protected free speech. Everybody, all together, My Country tis of thee, sweet land of duplicity.
We're at page 9, but it's taking a terrible toll on my Pollyanna disposition. The OpEd and sports will just crush me. Comics, got to find the comics. And the Best Buy ad. And the Menards ad. And the Home Depot ad. I need a reason to go on living. sniff, sniff.
Got to go, the kids are watching TV all by their lonesomes. For all I know they're being corrupted by CNN.
Later,
your Publicserf
email- publicserf@yahoo.com
Sunday May 4, 2003, My day, such as it were
The wife woke me for church like she does every Sunday morning, with the warning that I had ten minutes to get ready. No problem. That might seem odd to most people, but she knows I was up late and wants to let me sleep as long as possible. One more reason I love her.
We had a guest speaker at church. He droned on and on. You could tell when it was time the service was usually over. It appeared the attentive, patient, congregation was being overcome by an ADHD epidemic. Just when it appeared he was finally about done he declared, "I only have three more stories to tell." And he told them. Not that it mattered, people were hardly listening. Or maybe it was just me. We left the church twenty minutes later than usual. There must have been some benefit of surviving this adversity, but I don't know what it is. If something becomes apparent I'll let you know.
Leaving the church means the wife gets the kids, I get the van. I stepped outside and it was raining. Great. Other people were running to their vehicles. I could not. Running is jarring and can set off my trigeminal neuralgia. When trudging through the rain without recourse one does tend to complain to God. Like, why was this freaking thing ever in my head, why is it still in my head, what did I ever do to You? The tumor has been a problem for years, and I've never been comfortable being angry at God over it. After all, I have so much to be grateful for. And if you slow down, you can enjoy the caresses of the rain.
Then we went to Hy-Vee for lunch. We needed a few other things anyway. It actually works out well. The food is acceptable and nobody is going to be upset because my rowdy kids are ruining their dining experience. At least they shouldn't. No grocery store is a fine-dining experience. It's food and a table, now get over it. The kids eat quickly, because they know if they do they get to go look for stuff without us. It becomes an adventure for them, and the wife and I get a little time to talk. It works for all of us.
You can sometimes tell where the kids are. It's a pretty new store with smooth, polished, cement floors. The kids like to go to the household goods area, grab plungers and stick them on the floor. Pop, smock, pop, smock. They do it with no rhythm really, just lots of enthusiasm. And laughs. You can hear it all over. It wouldn't be surprising if the help says, "Here come the plunger kids" when we walk through the door. After all, we're regulars.
Sometimes I think they shouldn't play with the plungers. Anybody who buys one is entitled to a new plunger, and we're turning them into used ones. On the other hand. What difference does it make? It's not like they have odometers or depreciation and how often do plungers wear out anyway? I rationalize. And the kids continue to make industrial music in the household goods aisle.
There's work to do on the house, and brakes to change on the car. But it's raining. So I'm just going to stay inside and play with the kids. Maybe we'll get out the plungers. Nah, that'd be gross.
Your Publicserf
The wife woke me for church like she does every Sunday morning, with the warning that I had ten minutes to get ready. No problem. That might seem odd to most people, but she knows I was up late and wants to let me sleep as long as possible. One more reason I love her.
We had a guest speaker at church. He droned on and on. You could tell when it was time the service was usually over. It appeared the attentive, patient, congregation was being overcome by an ADHD epidemic. Just when it appeared he was finally about done he declared, "I only have three more stories to tell." And he told them. Not that it mattered, people were hardly listening. Or maybe it was just me. We left the church twenty minutes later than usual. There must have been some benefit of surviving this adversity, but I don't know what it is. If something becomes apparent I'll let you know.
Leaving the church means the wife gets the kids, I get the van. I stepped outside and it was raining. Great. Other people were running to their vehicles. I could not. Running is jarring and can set off my trigeminal neuralgia. When trudging through the rain without recourse one does tend to complain to God. Like, why was this freaking thing ever in my head, why is it still in my head, what did I ever do to You? The tumor has been a problem for years, and I've never been comfortable being angry at God over it. After all, I have so much to be grateful for. And if you slow down, you can enjoy the caresses of the rain.
Then we went to Hy-Vee for lunch. We needed a few other things anyway. It actually works out well. The food is acceptable and nobody is going to be upset because my rowdy kids are ruining their dining experience. At least they shouldn't. No grocery store is a fine-dining experience. It's food and a table, now get over it. The kids eat quickly, because they know if they do they get to go look for stuff without us. It becomes an adventure for them, and the wife and I get a little time to talk. It works for all of us.
You can sometimes tell where the kids are. It's a pretty new store with smooth, polished, cement floors. The kids like to go to the household goods area, grab plungers and stick them on the floor. Pop, smock, pop, smock. They do it with no rhythm really, just lots of enthusiasm. And laughs. You can hear it all over. It wouldn't be surprising if the help says, "Here come the plunger kids" when we walk through the door. After all, we're regulars.
Sometimes I think they shouldn't play with the plungers. Anybody who buys one is entitled to a new plunger, and we're turning them into used ones. On the other hand. What difference does it make? It's not like they have odometers or depreciation and how often do plungers wear out anyway? I rationalize. And the kids continue to make industrial music in the household goods aisle.
There's work to do on the house, and brakes to change on the car. But it's raining. So I'm just going to stay inside and play with the kids. Maybe we'll get out the plungers. Nah, that'd be gross.
Your Publicserf