If Kerry loses- I predict, yes, I predict that Kerry will get serious in the Senate and work to pass legislation legalizing gay marriage. He'll then divorce Thereza, marry George Soros, and run again in 2008. He will lose again, and Soros will file for bankruptcy protection in 2009.

If Kerry wins people will say Dubya was just like his Dad, a one-termer, “Like father, like son ” and they’ll shake their heads. They’ll soon wish he was back in office. Everyone will quickly tire of Kerry due to his agonizingly slow decision-making requiring summit after summit and his inability to stick with any decision he makes. Everything he touches will turn to quagmire and it will be seared, seared into the country’s memory. He too will be a one-termer.
I admit I'm not a God-certified prophet, so don't stone me if none of it happens. But you read it here first.

I am not enamored of Bush, I don’t worship at the shrine of Reagan. I’m a registered independent, I vote both ways, and I have to put up with calls and mail from both parties. I try to keep an open mind, but this election is a no-brainer. I don’t like Kerry.

I don’t like Kerry because he did an abbreviated tour of duty in Viet Nam and talks about it as though he was a hero. I don’t like Kerry because when he got home he slandered all the men still in Viet Nam and gave aid and comfort to their enemy. I don’t like Kerry because men who serve together in combat say they become closer than brothers and over two hundred men who served with him say he’s unfit to be President. That’s pretty damning to me.

I don’t like Kerry because in the Dick Cavett interviews he came across as an arrogant brat, and I don’t like arrogant brats.

I don’t like Kerry because he seems to be a gold-digger. Maybe he’s not. But the first woman he married was rich. He divorced her because he fell in love with a woman with even more money. Marrying another woman who is richer is like marrying another woman who is considerably younger- maybe it’s true love, or maybe it’s just a guy being vain and self-serving. If wouldn’t seem so bad if he’d married the Heinz heiress first, and then divorced her for someone with less money. But beggars can’t be choosers.

I don’t like Kerry because I think he’s incapable of chief executive decision-making. If he’d been in office on 9/11 is there anyone who can imagine him doing anything but sitting on his hands waiting for UN action? Then he’d have summit after summit where nothing is established but America’s guilt, the need to apologize for hurting muslims’ feelings, and Israel would be sold down the Tigris-Euphrates. Screw that.

I’m happy that after Osama’s declaration of war on 9/11 we kicked the crap out of his organization in Afghanistan. The Afghani’s have had an election and Osama’s splattered remains are rotting in a cave.

Then we overthrew a dictator in Iraq that liked to subsidize terrorists.
Considering the gassing of Kurd villages is well documented the cry of "No WMD!" can only be made by those with eyes closed and fingers in their ears. Considering he had imperial ambitions that couldn't be tolerated- he'd already had a war with Iran, and invaded Kuwait, he was destabilizing a strategic area. Considering Saddam's payments to families of muslim suicide bombers in Israel, and muslim suicides flying airplanes into the WTC, his hands were bloody, the only question is how much blood. Mass graves with children, human shredders, he was an animal. Saddam was a dangerous, murdering dictator who had overstayed his time on the world stage. He had to go. Fortunately Dubya was the man for the job. Kerry would still be wringing his hands and assembling another summit.

Whatever you want to say about Bush, he’s liberated two countries that can now enjoy the democratic process. Kerry offers plans with no details, and has virtually nothing to show for his time in the Senate, but he does know how to marry rich. Flying between mansions in the Heinz Gulfstream may have it’s stresses but it’s hard for the little people to appreciate them. It’s humiliating for them to mingle with the little people- they can’t order at Wendy’s. And he still doesn’t have a clue what life is like for the bottom 98% of the countries population, or what it needs. When he was in Des Moines recently he guaranteed that if elected he’d hold a summit in Ames, maybe to come up with a five-year plan. He’s good at plans. He’s got a briefcase full of them that he doesn’t show to anybody. They help keep the crease in his magic hat. I would bet that every plan is just a sheet of paper that says, “Hold a summit.”

So I look at Kerry and everything seems to be minimal effort and maximum medals- a life of leisure and great self-importance. He doesn’t have a vision for the country, has no idea what he’ll do, he just wants to be President to satisfy his ego. But he can organize a summit. Unfortunately, that may qualify him as a maitre ‘d, but it doesn’t qualify him to be President.

And another thing- I am sick and tired of Bush being called a nazi. Until he commits genocide, tries to establish a master race, or invades Canada or Mexico to get a little lebensraum it cheapens the horror of what Hitler did. You might just as well call Kerry Chairman or Stalin for all the plans he has. If they are all five-year plans it would mean only his re-election would make them work.

All the campaign violence has been against Republican campaign offices. That would make the Democrats the brownshirts. To properly play the nazi role, while breaking windows and looting offices they could scrawl “Juden” with the rest of their graffiti. It would go well with the anybody-but-Bush claims that Bush is an idiot and a chimp.

Not only am I sick and tired of Kerry, I’m sick and tired of the Democrat party too. Last election I protest-voted against both parties, I won’t this time.
If the vote wasn’t so close I’d vote Libertarian or Nader.

7/8
This evening we went to a game of the local minor league baseball team. The only reason we went is because the Super Nurse’s employer gave the employees free tickets. The Thrifty Wife never turns down free, you can count on that.

I like to play baseball, but as a spectator sport it bores me almost unto death. While we were watching Ms. Pikachu said, “Dad, you were right. Baseball really is the game of the gods.”

By the time the eigth inning started everybody had had enough. Train Boy had played on all the kids’ activities, Thrifty Wife felt she’d gotten her dollar’s worth, Super Wife knew she needed to get the kids to bed anyway,

There was a veteran’s memorial on the way to the car. The kids climbed on the tank and Ms. Pikachu started to go nuts, she had conversations with herself. “Are we there yet?” ”If you don’t behave I’m going to turn this tank around!” There's never a dull moment with Ms. Pikachu.

Then it was home. I’ve tried to catch up on the last few weeks blog entries tonight. It’s time to get some sleep

7/2
We drove back to Clinton to celebrate the Super Wife’s birthday, and to see the Doobie Brothers. She felt like talking so she, her Mom and sister, just went on and on. Fine, I understand that, but the concert does have a time set. They kept talking, I kept telling myself to just relax. She figured since there was an opening act there was no rush. Of course that is making the assumption the opening act isn’t anybody we’d want to see. I don’t know who the opener is. Maybe I’d like to see them. More stress. Relax. Relax.

They talked and talked, but that's okay, I understand. Women talk, they need to, and men interfere at their own peril. Relax. We finally got there when the opening act was finishing. They were doing a cover of a Jimi Hendrix tune. Not my cup of tea, so we’re good…until we get to the gate. We had assumed we'd get one-day passes or the like but got a rude shock. At the gate they said only four-day passes are sold, they are $25 apiece, and there are no discounts for the kids. It would have cost $100 to see them. We walked away.

Super Wife convinced me to go by myself and she and the kids would go on rides. The Doobies don’t do Christian contemporary so she really wasn’t interested anyway. Eventually I agreed. I really wanted to see them. It would be so cool just to hear them play 'Blackwater' within a stone's throw of the Mississippi and a steamboat nearby. But by that time seating was impossible. I stood on the road on top of the dike. The sound was good, but they were so far away I didn't need ear plugs. I couldn't even recognize who was who unless I looked through my camera's telephoto.

Nearby was a couple with a little boy. Not to be mean, but I just couldn't believe they would shell out the money for this. I assumed they were using somebody else’s passes. People are constantly warned not to do that, but be real. The card costs $25, it has space for four punches. If you bought the cards and didn’t want to see the Doobie Brothers wouldn’t you lend the cards to someone who did?

Daddy was engrossed with the concert. Mommy talked with family and friends. Their little boy was about four or five and reminded me a lot of Train Boy. I kept an eye on him as he played behind them in the street. His Mommy may have worried I was a stalker or something. But when a small truck came by I made sure he was safe, I told her I had a son myself and was just feeling very protective. She smiled and seemed appreciative.

I think you can tell if a woman is caring for children by the size of her purse. In addition to their own necessities they carry amusements for the kids. She had balloons, bubbles and only God knows what else.

A vendor walked through selling light ropes and a lot of kids in the area got them, but not the boy I was watching. He watched the others with that sad look of doing without and it just ate me up. I went after the vendor and bought a couple of light ropes. But then what? They might not take too kindly to a stranger buying their child something, so I decided to wait.

Eventually his Mom ran out of things for him to do. The boy tried to pick up a piece of broken balloon to play with, the Mom tried to take it from him. I stepped forward and I asked the Mom if she would take one of the light ropes to give to him. She smiled and took one.

He had the best time playiing with it like the other kids. He whipped it around. Then he threw it in the air and looked for where it dropped. Then the ends were put together to make a hoop and he bounced it on the ground. It would roll and he would chase it. The boy was happy for the rest of the concert and so was I. I don't know what was going on, but as she talked to other people I saw the Mom smilingly point me out to a couple of people. When the concert was over we smiled and waved at each other and that was that.

The Doobs played a good set, but I probably watched the boy more. I have no idea what his name was but for just a little bit I helped him to be happy. That made it the most memorable Doobie Brother concert ever.

7/1
It's 3:00 a.m., I have to call it quits. Work is in a few hours, and I'm leaving work a little early because the Doobie Brothers are playing Clinton Riverboat Days. Hard to believe that a band that used to play the biggest venues is playing Clinton. Regardless, they'll put on a great show. Almost all the original members are back together, they're just a little grayer. And you know that Holy Wife is going to love it when they break into 'Jesus Is Just Alright.'

BTW, ate at another Mexican restaurant with Super Wife. The kids stayed home to play a new video game. It was the first evening out without the kids in years. I had a taco salad, and it was good. But you know, and this is really going to sound hopeless- but I've recently eaten at the three best Mexican restaurants in town and my favorite is....none of them, I prefer Taco Johns. They make a super beefy burrito the way I want it. I am one hopeless gringo.

When we were at the Mexican place Super Wife mentioned to me that she was talking to the kids and she told them they hadn't gotten me anything for Father's Day. (Well, surprise, surprise, surprise!) She asked them what they thought I'd like. Ms. Pikachu chimed right in with "A new car!" She has her heart set on that Bonneville and lobbies hard for it. Super Wife asked me which car it was that I wanted and I told her the gold Sebring, but I knew it was already sold. That thing was loaded with everything. To be realistic a new van would make more sense though so I'm not bitter about it.

I really, really need to get some sleep.

6/29
When I got home yesterday nobody else was there. Having no idea when they'd be home, and being hungry, I did the hunter/gatherer thing on the Happy Refrigerator Hunting Grounds.

This is going to sound odd, but I've hated hotdogs ever since Nader said they were America's deadliest missiles and said what was in them, but lately I don't care. So I got out a hotdog and nuked it (is that appropriate or what?) Then I loaded it up with sauerkraut because it was what I was craving. I also resolved that my next one would be with extra relish, extra mustard, and extra ketchup (out of onions).
No sooner had I taken the first bite than the wife and kids were home. They'd already eaten so it was all fine, no guilt. Sometimes I don't get home till almost 6, so if they're hungry they go for it too. So we're all okay.

Then Super Wife suggested we could watch, "I Am Sam." "Suggested" is just a diplomatic term for "The Queen Commands." It was a terrific movie. I don't know who won the Academy Award for Best Actor that year, but I'm pretty sure Sean Penn was robbed. Considering he played a retarded person, and not just an autistic like Dustin Hoffman had in Rain Main, his was a more impressive accomplishment.

I've never cared for Sean Penn. First he was a hot-headed brat. Then he ran around with Madonna and you knew that wasn't going to last because of the egos involved. Nope, I've never cared for him at all. But in 'I Am Sam' he steps forward as one of the best actors around and I look forward to seeing him again.

6/28
The kids had a 'Herbie the Love Bug' marathon yesterday. They laughed and laughed. When I was their age I laughed too. This time I just shook my head, it was all so unbelievable. You have to suspend disbelief to enjoy these movies, but a car driving on the ceiling of a tunnel is more than even a true believer can believe. You just know that the only way that car can be on the ceiling is with an anti-gravity device- nope, don't have those yet, or with a really sticky tire. By the time a tire got that sticky the car certainly wouldn't be winning any races. I'm sorry, buy I just don't think these films are very realistic. (You think?)

After everybody else went upstairs to bed I surfed the channels. 'When Harry Met Sally' was on. You know a movie is good when you can watch it again and it's still good. I just loved the line near the end when Billy Crystal says, "When you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start right away." Aaah, romance. When I saw Super Wife this morning I couldn't help smiling. I love her madly. Maybe for her it was same old, same old, but for me it was the first day of the rest of my life (sniff, sniff, gag).

Perhaps trying to, uh, dampen my spirits , She then sent a container full of her mother's leftover chocolate birthday cake with me to work. Getting it down over breaks and lunch will be a job, it's a lot of cake. When I got to work I went back to the conference room, hoping somebody brought something else that would give me some relief. Somebody brought.... chocolate cake. Oy. She and God are so close, they're both in it together.

6/27
Church, of course. Then lunch at HyVee, almost of course. Super Wife got more Chinese calendars, so I asked her why. She's going to write the ten commandments on the back of them, then give the scrolls to kids that walk by. She's a woman on a mission from God.

She went to work and the kids and I blew time. They played games, I went to Menards. When I got back my growing boy told me he was hungry again. Well alrighty, what do you want, the usual fast food or Steak and Shake. Steak and Shake it was. Train Boy decided to complete the story on the menu. His effort was fairly senseless, but he and Ms. Pikachu laughed a lot about it.

When we were done I drove to Autoland to see if the van with the TV in it was still available. It was. I didn't say anything, but when we first looked at it Super Wife said that if it was God's will to have it it would stay there a while. The Bonneville Ms Pikachu was nuts over was still there too. I didn't say a thing, but she knew. She fairly yelled, "So now do we get to buy them both?" She's sure she wants the Bonneville when she's 16. She figures it will have depreciated enough I can buy it for her.

She also told me she'd had a dream that I won the lottery and gave her a lot of money, "Good times Dad, good times!" The kid is an endless source of amusement.

6/26
Saturday was the Quad-City airshow. It was nice to have my sister, the Bummer, there. We arrived about the time it started so we just sat down and watched it.
It was hot, and there really isn't any shade on an airfield, so... we sat under the wing of an AirForce transport. I was happy for the shade, so I had no problem at all buying one of the t-shirts they were selling.

Up to now the airshow always had a military team fly- Blue Angels, Thunderbirds, or Snowbirds. I've seen the first two so many times I hardly care, but not having one of the big teams there was kind of a letdown anyway. But there were lots of parachutists.

After the show was done I thought I'd finally get to walk down the flight line and look at the warbirds. Super Wife said she was tired and it was time to go. So between the show not being particularly exciting and not getting to look at the warbirds up close I was disappointed.

I was disappointed, but not the kids. While I had watched the show Super Wife took Train Boy to the kids area. He got to play on some of the kids stuff and climb on a tank. Yes, even the Army is represented at the airshow. Ms. Pikachu asked me for a couple bucks to get something- all I had were twenties. She was comfortable with that. She and her cousin, Jessica, took off and they were a couple of giggly girls.

Afterwards we ate at Cracker Barrel. I like eating there. The Super Wife likes eating there. We wanted to eat there. Ms. Pikachu complained. We asked her why she objected to eating at Cracker Barrel. She said she'd once had a bad experience with their mashed potatoes. Too bad, you can try them again. Maybe it was a fluke. She had no further complaints, but that is not to say she was quiet. She's never quiet.

6/23
Super Wife and I put up the basketball hoop. Train Boy came out to help so we had him turn nuts that were easier for him to reach. When it was done we had him squirt water into the base, and he was very precise about the amount he put in. It seemed like there should have been enough water in the base, but he said, "I need to count to twenty." So the base has enough, plus twenty seconds, of water. It should never fall over. I was sure we were wasting our time putting it up anyway though. Of course as soon as it was up the kids were only too happy to shoot baskets.

Then we went to Target and Ms. Pikachu went manic again. It's funny for awhile, then it gets tiring. Eventually she smiled and said, "Dad, did you know that when you're annoyed your voice gets deeper and you talk slower?" Good for another laugh, but I'd had enough. I said I would wait for them in the van. She followed me for a ways and kept begging, "Come on Dad, pull my finger! Well, won't you at least smell my thumb?" (She'd been trying on shoes) She's just nuts, and a lot of fun, but sometimes I've just had enough.

6/21
Last night the the combination of carbohydrates I ate and the meds put me right to sleep. I never made it out to look at digital cameras, never got on the computer, didn't get Patricia's basketball hoop up either. I just slept. It was raining cats and dogs so it really didn't matter anyway.

When I woke up this morning everyone was still sleeping. Going upstairs on the creaky steps might have woken everybody up, so I stayed downstairs. I had a quick bowl of cereal and went to work, still wearing yesterday's clothes. It's hard to tell if anyone else can tell, and sometimes I don't want to know. That was as close as I get to living on the wild side.

The procedure went surprisingly well. And I did sleep a lot. Anybody that knows me knows that for a few years the facial pain prevented me from laying down- I had to sleep sitting up. Once you get used to that you can sleep in any position. The Valium enhanced my sleeping abilities, as if I needed the help.

The halo was held in the back by two bolts pressing very hard against my skull. Sitting in the waiting room I was still able to lean back against the wall and sleep. Yes, I was given shots to numb the areas around the bolts, but it was really weird to lean back and feel the bolts. Not that it mattered, I slept. During the procedure, I slept. I cannot help but think that two Valium is one two much.

I also wonder why people even want it. Nothing happened while I was under the affects of Valium that made me think, “Whoa, I’ve got to do this again!” Maybe it works differently for other people, I dunno. My gut feeling is that I just don’t have what it takes to be a drug addict.

The procedure itself was nothing dramatic. I lay down on a table and my halo was locked into place. From the neck down I could have done a horizontal hula, but the head wasn’t going to move a millimeter until it was over. All the medical people left the room and then a device that looked like a gray-colored plate went back and forth over my head. Back and forth, back and forth, you are beginning to get sleepy, very sleepy. You have already slept half the day away but you will still take another nap. Nobody said they needed me conscious.

When it was done the Super Wife walked me to our car parked at the curb right outside the radiology unit. We had parked on the ramp, so I was confused. She explained that she’d found out radiology patients could get a sign that would let them park there. Cool.

This is being posted too long after the surgery I know, I happen to be doing it now because I was doing so well I started to cut back on the medications I was taking. It seemed like a good idea. Today the nerve let me know it wasn’t ready for it.

I took two pills in church, like always, to be ready for lunch, just in case. But apparently my Tegretol level has dropped too far for that to work. It must have taken at least 20 minutes to eat a hamburger. It was not fun. It was too much like old times.

I’ve been taking more meds today, but it’s not working yet. I’m typing this at 4:30 a.m. because around 3:00 a.m. it gave me a slap that was nasty enough to wake me up and bring back the fear. I took some more pills and hopefully I can still get some sleep. God I hate this, just when I thought it was over it slams me again.
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We got to the U of Ia bright and early. The NASCAR Wife put on a fine display. I think she blew the doors off a doctor in his Porsche. What a thrill, I was hoping she didn't get me killed before the procedure. They duelled up the road and she trapped him behind a dump truck, traffic did the rest.

I was given valium to help me sleep, imagine that. They put the halo on while I was basically out of it. Everybody says the guy who did it was quite sociable, I have to take their word for it. Again, I was just conscious enough to say, "THAT ONE HURTS."

To clear up any misconceptions- the halo wasn't really a halo. I thought they'd put a halo on and I'd get to start crossing and blessing people, it's not like that. It's more like the frame for a football helmet. If that sounds weird it's because it is.

After the halo was on they fed me breakfast/lunch. I love this place. Then I napped for three hours or so. When I woke up the wife told me, "there's a computer over there, you could send and check e-mail." I can't do much though, to type I have to close my right eye and that's a pain in the butt. That's just a figure of speech.

I just scratched my head and my head is still numb, that's almost interesting. I think I'll go take another nap.

On the one hand I hope the procedure works, on the other hand... I hope the procedure works. If at any time I start smelling bacon I'm going to push the panic button, because I am NOT the other white meat.

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06/04/05
Around noon Train Boy asked me if we could make a model. “Dad could we go downstairs and pick out a model?” Not “Could we go to a store and get a model” but, “Could we go downstairs and pick out a model.” His little question lets you know I’ve got quite a stock of them. I have a wall of them actually.

I was delighted he’d asked, and hoped I’d be able to help him build one with my impaired vision. He passed on all the big kits; he knew they were too much to do. “How about those models?” Tanks. Possible, but a little involved. How about one of these SnapTite kits? They don’t require any glue or painting. I’ve got a Stealth Bomber and a Wart Hog in SnapTite. A-10 Wart Hog it is.

I showed him how the instructions progressed and tried to let him do as much as possible. Around 1:30 he pronounced, “It’s starting to look like an airplane and it isn’t even dark yet.” He was happy, I was happy. Until the snag.

He was trying to put on a bomb and broke the mount. It wasn’t surprising, they can be hard to do. He was so frustrated he walked off. I told him I’d glue it and do the rest of the bombs for him.

The Super Mom looked at the box and said “Hey, the box says ‘For 8 and up’ so you were doing pretty good.” She’s a wonderful woman. Then I broke a bomb myself, and it was more for him to feel better about. I got them glued in my cross-eyed way and laid the plane on it’s back. I sat on the couch while I waited for the glue to dry and fell asleep. When I woke up Super Nurse had left for work, and Train Boy had finished his model. Good for him.

Later in the evening I asked him if he was hungry. “A little bit.” Then what would you like? “I don’t know, let’s check out the kitchen.” The older he gets the more he sounds like his older sister.

His favorite, Ramen Noodles, are out of stock. How about other soups? No. How about Easy Mac? We have a winner. The only thing I do better than the Super Mom is Easy Mac. I always make it with milk.

Then it’s Mucha Lucha on the Cartoon Network and time for bed.


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06/03/04
I am always willing to waste my time. The wife is not so willing. Today looked to me like another fine day to watch TV. She declared it was a perfect day to take a walk. She just has a need to do something healthy or ‘familyish.’

So we loaded everybody into the van- her, her sister, five kids, and me. I’m sure we were illegal, but we were bonding. On the drive to the park it felt a little cool, but that was okay, walking would be slower and warmer.

When we got to the park the first thing we did was walk through the non-petting, non-feeding, petting zoo. The kids were happy to look at the duck, chickens, pigs, donkeys, am I leaving any out? In a very short amount of time they learned the differences in how their droppings smell, and perhaps, why chicken doesn’t taste like hamburger.

When we got to the trail area Ms. Pikachu ran back to me, and with a smile, reached for my wrist and said, “Let me help you Dad.” Nothing like treating me like an old man, she was having too much fun.

Of course, once we got on a trail it was like being in a jungle. There was very little air movement. Nobody else seemed affected. Perhaps the difference was I was wearing cargo pants, and a vest over my shirt, hmm, could be. Sweat poured off me like I was in a sauna, but everybody else seemed fine. If I ever do a list of life’s rules, one of them will be, “There’s never a water-filled cactus around when you need one.”

Of course, another little problem I had was that being cross-eyed my depth perception is lousy. Walking a trail with it's ruts and roots is a royal pain.

Eventually we escaped our bonding experience. Everyone else seemed happy and
bonded. I just wanted water, and some quality time in an air-conditioned environment. When we got home I drank all the water I wanted to, and the Super Nurse put an ice pack at the base of my neck- very effective.

The rest of my day was spent in front of the TV- what a waste.
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Did the U of Ia thing. The radiologist things the gamma knife is a go. So on June 8, I report back to have it done. I hope it works. If it does I can stop taking all the medication to stop the pain, and I won’t be dizzy from the side effects. Hopefully, the ear noises will stop too. That still doesn’t get me my right eye back though.

The Super Nurse thinks a muscle can be shortened to deal with it. We’ll see.
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05/26
We went to the circus. Originally we had first-row tickets. However, the Super Wife came to realize that Ms. Pikachu had a band concert at the same time, so she exchanged them for the next day and it cost us, whoa, whoa, yea, it cost us- third row.

We got there shortly after it started, what else did you expect? There were people occupying our seats. Since they were sure they belonged there, some variant of squatter’s rights apparently, we had an usher…usher them.

The Home Town Edition of the Greatest Show On Earth is a one-ring show. That’s okay really. The three-ring editions can be a little overwhelming. There were the mandatory elephants, horses, trapeze artists, clowns, and dogs.

There was a strength act named, amazingly enough, ‘Hercules.’ Strength acts never get me to excited, but they seem to be a great hit with guys whose greatest acclamation is “four-wheelin’ man!’ Or maybe it was his two cute assistants with their skirts slit up to there. I did my best to remain gentlemanly.

Hercules did have some audience participation. One of the guys out of the audience was first made to stand in front of a cannon before it fired, as though he was going to catch the cannon ball. I thought he could have had a little fun with it, turned sideways, and opened his mouth as though he could catch a cannon ball in his teeth.

The kids had popcorn and snowcones. Right there you know it was a successful show. Afterwards I asked the kids what they liked the most. The dogs. All the money put into that show and the kids still love the dogs. At least there are adults there that took the kids that go, “Now there’s some overhead.” Which is to say the real talent is screwed, but that’s nothing new.
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05/24/04
It is 5:30 in the morning and I can’t go to sleep, might as well blog and catch up a little. Talk about bad habits. Bad habits, and my hands shake when I type. It’s a side-effect of the meds. Thank God for spell-checkers and a wife that doesn’t mind proofing.

7:30
The wife asks if I was up all night. No I wasn’t, I went to bed, tossed and turned, groped her a little, gave up and got out of bed. I did not tell her the part about groping. She then asks, “Is it possible you’ve gotten your days and nights switched around?” Maybe, and is it possible you’ve gotten your groped and not-groped switched around? You don’t seem to remember.

I’ve done a few posts for the last few days.
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For 5/23
Yesterday, that would be Sunday 05/23, I did not wear a shirt to church, I wore a sweater because it was rather cool. As we walked towards church Ms. Pikachu said, “Pretty spiffy sweater dad.” After we sat down in a pew she leaned over, brushed her cheek on my shoulder and said, “It feels pretty spiffy too.” The day’s Secret Word was obviously ‘spiffy.’

After the service, when we got back to the van she said, “You look pretty spiffy for a guy over 40 dad.” “But you are working on that bald spot and your hair is getting thin.” We picked up some Chinese to bring home. As we got it ready she brushed her nose against my sleave and said, “There’s nothing better for wiping your nose in a hurry than your Dad’s sweater.” She enjoys tormenting me.

Meds had me tired so driving back to visit the cousins wasn’t an option. I slept all day. Train Boy woke me up around 6:00 and said he wanted a hot dog. Well that much I can do. Nuke ‘em and puke ‘em. Ms. Pikachu apparently took care of herself. I fell back asleep. That may explain why it’s 5:30 in the morning and I can’t sleep.
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05/22 Saturday
Another big storm passed through. The kids did not want to drive back to see their cousins if that meant me driving through the storm. I don’t know what their problem was. Dad is cross-eyed. Driving back would be blinding glare. It could be harrowing past experience. It could be we’re raising kids smart enough to survive.

The Super Wife informed me there was water in the basement from yesterday’s storm, and that we need a dehumidifier. We had one before. It lasted about ten years. If you ever get water in your basement- you need one. We hadn’t had water in the basement since we put tubes on the downspouts to lead the water further away from the house. That is neither here nor there; we need another dehumidifier NOW.

Wal-Mart would surely have them, so would Super-Target. Instead I went to K-Mart, they need the business. This makes me wonder if mercy-shopping is any kind of a trend. They had two- a smaller one, and another that seemed to move about twice as much air for another $20. I love easy decisions.

In its big, bulky box it weighed at least 35 pounds. I carried it until I picked up a few more things. Then it was apparent I really should have gotten a cart. I can’t explain why, but I’m quite averse to getting a shopping cart, it’s like a sign of weakness to me. So there I was- dragging this box with my right hand and clasping a few other things under my left arm, looking like I should be yelling “Sanctuary, Sanctuary!” Despite my horrific appearance the checker was cordial.

To tell you the truth, I wanted an I-Cee. K-Mart has that I-Cee machine as you go out, and I wanted one. All I had to do was walk over and get a cart to carry all the stuff. I could not. Don’t ask me why, I just could not. You could ask, just because you’re as obnoxious as a twelve year-old daughter, “You’re too shy to get a shopping cart?” Let’s not go there. You could persist, “You’re too vain to get a shopping card?” Dear God when will the torment end? Is it not enough that I did not get my I-Cee?

Got it home, unpacked it, plugged it in, and it has been doing a fine job. Which just goes to show that China gets some good work out of their prisoners, and there’s no reason we can’t do just as well. I feel another blog coming on. I should satisfy some I-Cee cravings first. There’s a gas station not a half-mile away that satisfies the needs of the weak-willed.

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05/20 Thursday
The planter needs some plants, so after the kids got home we went to Home Depot and picked up some plants and some other… homey stuff. The kids had a lot of fun picking flowers out.

On the way home we stopped at Hy-Vee again and picked up chinese to take home. Trainboy thinks the coolest thing is to get his food out of the little Chinese take-out boxes. Too bad being satisfied with life won’t always be so easy.

The Super Wife said, “Their Chinese is so good you don’t mind eating it two days in a row.” Okay, but let’s not try for three.
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05/19 Wednesday
Given a choice of things to get for supper the kids decided they wanted Chinese. Alrighty.
Super Mom pointed out to Trainboy they were both wearing the same top, and she was wearing gray shorts while he was wearing gray pants, they almost matched. He was so excited he looked like a drum major running in place. Life is bound to get harder, so take it while you can get it.

05/14
It hit me. It finally hit me. If Trainboy’s knees wouldn’t clear the handlebars- lowering the seat would make no sense because you need to keep a nice extension when pedaling. Raising the handlebar headset could work, but it that failed, just rotating the handlebars upwards would make the most sense. Sometimes my mind is soooooo slow.

So I got out the wrenches again, rotated the handlebars, and it worked great. He is one happy Trainboy. I put the training wheels back on. The sidewalk is so wide open.

Now what do we do with the bike we just bought? It’s a nice bike. The front is suspended and it didn’t cost much. The Thrifty Wife says we shall keep it. SHE HAS SPOKEN.
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05/13
Went to Wal-Mart to buy Trainboy a new bike. I still can’t believe he needs a new one, he just isn’t that big. The next step up from his little one appears huge- 20 inches. This seems so not right. Not a salesperson around.

I got one down off the rack. Fortunately it had a quick-release seat. Maybe somebody figured out that the one thing that would increase sales was a quick-release seat so you can quickly see if a bike will work. I put the seat as far down as practical and call Trainboy over to try it. Apparently it will work, but I’m still not convinced.

Regardless, it is now time to decide on a color scheme. The Super Mom shows him all the different colors. He is intimidated but decides on a blue and green one.
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05/12/2004
The Super Mom tried to get Trainboy to ride his bike. His knees kept hitting the handlebars. What can they do but call for Super Dad, disguised as mild-mannered humble dad.

So I got out a wrench and lowered the seat. Didn’t really work. Got out the allen wrenches and raised the handle-bar head. Didn’t really work either. I just can’t believe he’s outgrown that bike already.

Super Wife and I discussed it, it appears we will take a trip to a local purveyor of fine Chinese goods and see what’s available.
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05/11/04
The Super Wife had to go to the hospital for some additional CEU’s (continuing educational units.) So I walked to Ms. Pikachu’s school to get her myself. On the way home it started to rain. Just before we got home it turned into a downpour. Life could be worse. Life could also be drier.

When we got home I went inside. It seemed the natural thing to do. Ms. Pikachu did not follow. I walked back out on the porch and there she was, under a downspout that sends the water from some of the roof and porch into the driveway. It doesn’t lead all the way to the ground, it just pours it like a waterfall from the roof of the porch onto driveway cement. She was drenched and loving it. I asked her, “Are you happy?” She started singing, “I feel good, duh, nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh, like I knew that I would…” It was funny, yet strange, to have my 12 year-old daughter answer a question with a James Brown riff. She sang about a verse.

Amused, I went inside because the Super Wife had walked to the hospital and I thought that if she wanted a ride home I’d better be by the phone. I could not just drive over there and wait for her; the place has a dozen doors with a parking garage. If somebody offered her a ride I’d miss her. Depending on the door she used I’d miss her. So I waited by the phone like a good Jewish mother. She got home on her bike. Rather beautiful for being all wet, her, not the bike.

I went to the back door to unlock it and put out some more birdseed. She put her bike away herself because she’s self-sufficient that way. While we were talking Ms. Pikachu came around laughing. She said that she had gone back under the downspout and started singing ‘I Feel Good’ again. Some people walking by gave her the weirdest looks. She loved it. It’s probably not going to get any better.

This evening the Super Wife was bushed. It was decided we’d eat at the little Italian place. On the way we dropped off two garbage bags full of toys at the Salvation Army. Two garbage bags full, and you can hardly see the difference. Somewhere along the way Ms. Pikachu got her hands on a little chicken no wider than a quarter. Size doesn’t matter when a manic attack is coming.

As we sat at our table she went nuts with the chicken. “Help me people, I can’t work this chicken alone.” She knocked the chicken over several times. “Aw, the chicken is narcoleptic.” The chicken is finally knocked upside down. Gravely, “Chicken is dead. When their feet point at the sky you know they’re dead.” She turns chicken upright. “Oh, chicken isn’t dead after all! Chicken, did you see a bright light?” Train Boy replied, "I think it saw a train." He was laughing and couldn’t control his root beer.

The kid gets more mileage out of a couple feathers than anyone I know. She’s just nuts, but it makes for an entertaining evening.
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We watched 'Secondhand Lions' with the kids. You get Michael Caine and Robert Duvall as brothers. That's worth watching a viewing right there. Supposedly they're nutty millionaires living in the middle of nowhere Texas, so a lousy mother dumps her son off with them for a few weeks so he can find out where the money is. She tells the brothers they need to show their nephew how to be a man since he doesn't have a father and it will only be for a few weeks. Then she takes off.

Apparently their idea of being a good influence is sitting on their porch with shotguns on their laps and shooting at salesmen. They get a lot of laughs with their shotguns.
And the boy also learns something about what it is to be a man.

It was a good movie. The kids enjoyed it. It wouldn't surprise me if the Super Wife buys it.



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05/10/04
We went to Target with the kids. Some things are absolutely predictable. After getting a few items in Health we continued on to get Ms. Pikachu some art supplies. We did not get past Toys. At least some of us didn’t get past Toys.

Train Boy believes he cannot just walk past a toy section. If he doesn’t get something we have failed to understand that he must get at least one thing anytime he goes through a toy section. Super Wife and Ms. Pikachu continued the long journey to art supplies, I stayed with Train Boy, and can that boy shop. First he checked out all the Hot Wheels, then he checked out all the LEGO’S, then it was Thomas the Tank Engine. That’s all I remember, but I know there was more. I do. I know.

After he made his final decision we headed out for the art supplies like we were driving cows to Abilene. Of course, by the time we got there they were gone. There was no alternative, Mr. Favor and Rowdie Yates hitched up our pants and kept driving all the way to Montana by way of Women’s Wear. And there we found them. It wasn’t long that I knew we should have said, “Meet you at the Target Grill Watering Hole.” Ms. Pikachu was going Trail Happy.

DaaAAaad! was her setup, followed with her fashion punch line. “Dad you wouldn’t believe some of the ugly clothes they’ve got here. This blouse is awful and it looks even worse with this ugly skirt. Here, let me hold them up in front of you. See?” “Dad, this blouse is so busy it makes you look lazy.” “Dad, this would be a two piece top with the skirt, so hold up the under piece for me, would you? Thanks” Super Wife did not help when she said, “That looks good on you.”

“Dad, I’m thinking this hot pink top would look really good with your hula skirt.” She was going blonde manic and loving it. It’s funny how a kid can rob you of any sense of dignity, humiliate you in public, and you don’t mind as long as you’re getting laughs out of it too.



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05/05/04
As scheduled we went to the U of Ia for a neurosurgeon consult. On the way the Super Nurse remarked that surgeons always want to do surgery, so don’t be surprised if he recommends surgery instead of the gamma knife.

We talked to a Nurse Practitioner first. She outlined all three possibilities- gamma knife, radio therapy, conventional surgery. Then the neurosurgeon came in. Like the fellows at Mayo he said they don’t like to repeat conventional surgery due to the scar tissue. Then he said the gamma knife probably wouldn’t work because the tumor has moved the nerve and it would be hard to impossible to pinpoint. So he recommended radio therapy.

I don’t know how that procedure gets its name but would mean inserting a needle through my cheekbone where the nerve comes out, and fishing around till he finds where it comes out of the brain. Once that is done he would go in with another needle and burn the nerve somehow. From what I’ve read, the procedure is agony under normal conditions. Normal being the nerve is where it normally is. Mine isn’t there. Considering the prospect of a lot of fishing to find it, and a lot of pain. I balked. And the Super Wife was right.

So the next step is to have a consult with the radiologist to see if he thinks he can find it on an MRI and if the gamma knife is an option or not.

Then it was home and then to the Awana awards banquet for the kids. We got there early, who’da thunk? I was groggy from the meds, so, ignoring etiquette, I rested my head on the table. Ms. Pikachu amused herself by putting her CD player’s headphones on me. She was amused because she was playing a ‘Grassroots’ CD she’d burned, and while it played I’d pump my foot and I’d rock to it even though I was tired. I like the ‘Grassroots’ and she does too. It's impossible to stay still while 'Temptation Eyes' or 'Sooner or Later' is playing. Maybe that's just me.

I was among the first at our long table to get my food, and by far the last to finish. There were no knives so the only way to eat the sloppy joe was to compress it so I wouldn’t have to open my mouth very wide, and could take small bites. I’m not complaining, I’m long used to it. There was also a fine selection of jello’s and cakes.

When we were in the food line Train Boy was wrestling around with Ms. Pikachu’s friend, Erin. She was a good head taller than him, and it wasn’t much of a contest. But they needed to burn some energy so I let it go on. Train Boy was clearly heard to say, “But I’m too cute to die.” Girls have been talking, and he’s been listening.

Then it was home, more medication and I fell asleep on the couch. Woke up, and here you go.
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05/04/04
The Holy Wife always has a radio on, and it’s always tuned to a Christian station. Every morning they run contests. Sometimes it’s a test of Bible knowledge, and sometimes you just have to be the right caller. The Holy Wife loves playing these games. She has won more than a few CD’s. This morning the winner was the third caller. The third caller was the Holy Wife.

I found out when she came running upstairs and, smiling from ear to ear, told me she’d won. That’s nice, what’d you win, a CD? No. Concert tickets? No. I give up. Tickets to the -Sonshine Christian Rock Festival in Wilmar, Minnesota! That’s nice. Yeah it’s four days long and we can go camping! Oh my God.


This is not a little Christian Festival, it’s 20, 000 people. That was not a typo. But camping? I’ve never gone camping in my life. Starting with three nights at a rock festival seems like a steep learning curve. Maybe we could stay at a hotel? “Oh, no, camping would be free, and the kids have always wanted to go camping.” Right there I knew my only way out of this was major illness or death. The Holy Wife/Thrifty Wife/Super Mom had made up her mind.

One more time, I have never gone camping in my life. I have never used a portable toilet. They look nasty so I’ve always avoided them. My bladder and bowels can get me through a day, but I don’t think I can wait three days.

On the other hand, it’s three days of funnel cakes and corn dogs, so there is an up side. Yes, I AM kidding. Sometimes I think God has a warped sense of humor though.

Later in the day the Super Wife mowed the front yard; I mowed the back. I didn’t even injure myself. I had on some grungy blue jeans to also paint a piece of trim on the house’s second floor. I climbed the ladder a bit apprehensively because I don’t like heights in the first place, and my medication can make me very dizzy too. When she saw me up there she insisted I get down since I could get dizzy and fall. It made perfectly good sense, so I got down and she climbed up. I was grateful she was willing to do it, but also a little unhappy for failing the masculinity thing. To compensate I held the ladder, kept an eye on her, and never has a ladder been held in more manly fashion.

After the kids got home and everybody ate we rode bikes to the library. That’s a good thing to do as a fitness ‘thing’ so I have no complaints. Except we were riding into the sun the whole way and it was so blinding I could have been run over before I knew what happened, and it was really too cool, we should have been wearing jackets, we could have caught our deaths.

What always floors me on bike rides is that I change gears all the time. If we’re going up hill I’ll downshift till the pedaling is easy, I have no shame about trying to save my lousy knees. The Super Wife has never changed gears. Never. She does everything in 7th gear. This may explain why she has better legs than I do. That, and she’s the one who carries Train Boy. Do not hoot. Do not howl. It’s not that I’m unwilling.

His carrier is one of those seats that is above the rear wheel. It won’t fit on my bike, which has a wide frame that won’t accept it. Even if it did it wouldn’t matter. The Super Mom often biked with the kids before I would get home from work. She needed the carrier regardless. Never shifts with a six year-old on the back- Burly Mom.







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05/03/04
Slept in late. No, I don?t feel guilty.

Tried to have a bowl of Wheaties with bananas for lunch. Yes, I got up REALLY late. Unfortunately I could not eat the Wheaties. The crunching would start facial pain. Sure, I could let them sit there till they were soggy and eat them, but I don?t want soggy Wheaties, I?ve got my limits. The wife took them away and brought me tomato soup and a straw. You haven?t lived till you?ve done that. Whoopee.

It wasn?t long before we walked to Ms. Pikachu?s school to walk her home. A friend of her?s, Erin, walked along. While I got in some needed nap time on the couch the three of them made banana bread. The Super Wife believes all kids need to know how to make banana bread so they have a way of using old bananas. It?s her belief, and since the kids didn?t argue about it, okay.

Then it was another hour and I met Train Boy?s bus and walked him up to the porch. Train Boy reminded the Super Mom that they?d agreed this was a ?No TV? day. Super Mom had forgotten. Super Mom would have watched TV, in flagrant violation of the rule, except the cable was out. She?d called the cable company and they basically said, ?yeah, we know, we?re working on it.? So there had not been, nor would there be, any TV watching and the contract would be honored by all parties.

While the banana bread baked in the oven, Ms. Pikachu brought her Nintendo downstairs and plugged it into the living room TV. You?d think she would have been content to quietly play it in her own room, but no, she?s playing it in the living room where it can?t be missed. ?Hey, no TV.? ?I?m not watching TV, I?m playing a video game.? She could have a fine future as a lawyer.

While she played, Train Boy and Super Mom made bread in the bread machine. Nobody in our house is on the Atkins diet.

When the bread machine was properly set we went to see the local zoo, such as it were. It?s a small zoo- basically a petting zoo of farm animals except you?re not allowed to pet or feed them. They used to have a monkey house, and they spent $50,000 to improve it. Then they closed it. Do not ask me why. All I can say is they probably weren?t spending their own money. The next thing I?d say is, ?Are you sure you want bigger government??

We walked a little farther down to look at the ducks, which you also are not allowed to feed. Then the wife and kids decided to head up a rough looking trail. No way was I going to risk aggravating the face with a lot of jarring. So I headed back to the van. As I walked past the dirt prairie dog lot I couldn?t help but notice it was the one animal area that didn?t have a ?DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS? sign. Damn me for legalistic tendencies, but I ripped up some dandelions, balled them up so they could carry over the screen, looked around to be sure there were no witnesses, and tossed them in.

They were excited. You almost hear them chattering, ?Oh yeah, not just looking, not just smelling it, we?ve got some greens!? They seemed happy anyway. Watching the prairie dogs eat the greens I couldn?t help notice how similar they are to the guinea pigs.

Then I walked the rest of the way to the van, put the seat back, and got some sorely needed rest. I?m kidding about it being sorely needed, but the pills do make me tired.

When we got home we had fresh-baked bread and?. soup. At least it was vegetable and there was no way to eat it with a straw.

Gotta close, the head is getting dizzy.

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05/02/04
Being Sunday there was church, of course. To amuse her parents, during the service Ms. Pikachu draws pictures of Pokemon on the church bulletin. It is with no parental prejudice when I say she’s really good. No doubt about it, she’s artistically gifted.

Lunch was Hy-Vee again. Ms. Pikachu laughed as she named the things she was sure I’d have. Just to do something different I did not have the meatloaf, I had the ham balls. Sometimes you want to a little excitement in your life. Sometimes you just want to be different and devil-may-care. Let me assure you, if you want “different” and “exciting” ham balls are not the way to go about it. The next time we eat there I will be having the comfortable meatloaf.

You may be wondering, "Did she get a Palm Pilot, or not?" Ms. Pikachu remembered I'd bought her a similar device about a year ago- a V-Tech Phusion. So she got it out of wherever it was she'd stored it, and it works just fine. Not only can she store memos, do scheduling, and calendar entries, but it also has a half-dozen games and a camera for BW pictures on the top.

She was so excited about it, it was like it was new. I'd just bought it too early. We spent lunch playing trivia games, and she and Train Boy took pictures, some of them in 'movie mode.' In movie mode it takes a picture about every three seconds. The pictures are crude, but the kids love them.

Everybody else had their usual Chinese. Train Boy ate a fortune cookie without removing the fortune. He asked the Super Mom if he'd just poop it out. She told him that yes, he could, but if he does the fortune wouldn't come true. Gotta love her.

The rest of the day was fairly wasted. It was doing laundry, and when not folding clothes I watched the History Channel. I should have spent time with the kids. They’re growing so fast and the minutes I can have with them are vanishing as inexorably as a clock’s tick.

The kids were so funny at Hy-Vee it was just screams, but in not getting it down right away I’ve quite forgotten how the conversations went. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, it may be a side-effect of taking increased levels of nervous depressants. It's just lost. Argh.

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05/01/04
My brother called and asked if I could pick up two auto parts for him from a junkyard here that had them. No problem. I wrote down his description of the parts and brought it along. Sure enough, the face hurt when it was my turn to talk to the parts man. I showed him what I’d written down and he said, “No problem, have a seat over there.” At times like that, when I can hardly talk, I really feel pathetic. With the depressants going I just want to sit there and cry. But I didn’t.

Then it was home. Picked up the kids, and away we went. When we got there he said he wanted to get his internet connection working on his new computer. He couldn’t find the installation disc for it. Crap. What to do, what to do? Well, I could try to copy the information over file by file in the ‘Internet Options’ folder. It seemed kind of risky, but kind of fun too.

If anyone ever offers to try that for you, you slap them and send them out the door. After this tech adventure his computer wouldn’t run for more than a few minutes before it would generate ‘System Shutting Down in 60 Seconds.’ It was a Hewlett-Packard, and, unlike my Compaq it doesn’t have a disc that will restore the system. It doesn’t even have a Windows disc. You’re supposed to restore it to its last saved Restore point. The only Restore Point it had was after I’d started monkeying with it.

Eventually I had to give up because I had to get the kids home so they’d get enough sleep before Sunday School. Oh well, there’s always next Saturday.

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The Super Wife and I picked up a few things at Hy Vee. When I got a drink at the deli section one of the guys said, “Oh, there’s one of our regulars.” I was surprised. I could understand them remembering the Super Wife because she’s gorgeous. I could understand them remembering the kids because they’re a circus, but me? There’s nothing memorable about me, except the company I keep.

Speaking of circuses, while we were out we picked up some tickets for the Greatest Show On Earth that’s coming to town. We didn’t go to a Ticketmaster outlet; we went to the Box Office so we could choose our seats. It’s not like us to be early, but there we were, buying tickets a month ahead of the event.

There was window open and nobody in line. The ticket clerk was so bored she could have worked a window at the Post Office. She was as helpful as her reduced state of consciousness would allow. Cheap seats, or expensive seats, take your pick. Down there, or up here. If I’d been alone I’d have bought the expensive seats in a second. You only get to see the circus once a year so you may as well enjoy it. But there was a catch. The Thrifty Wife, She Who Does Not Like To Spend Money, accompanied me.

The clerk asked which seats we wanted. Well I knew what I wanted, but was fairly sure it wasn’t what the Thrifty Wife wanted. I hemmed, I hawed. The clerk pushed and prodded. She wanted us to make a decision so we could complete the transaction and she could resume her meditative state.

After twenty years of marriage the Super Wife probably knows when I’m just too much of a weenie to venture my own opinion. Finally the Thrifty Wife said she thought we should get the expensive seats. There was instant agreement from me. If you’re willing to spend the money early do you know where that will get you? I’ll tell you- first row, center.

The kids are going to have fun; at least they’d better. I’m going to have fun,
unless the doctors schedule me for something on that day. If so, I’ll have to refuse them. It isn’t every day you get to take the kids to a circus and go nose to nose with the clowns and exotic livestock. We’ll be able to smell the elephants, not that I want to. Actually, I don’t even want to smell the clowns. Maybe we should have gone with the cheap seats.

04/29/04
The Super Wife called U of Ia again and asked when I could be scheduled to see them. Once again she was told that they didn’t have everything they needed, yadda, yadda, yadda. She asked them why Mayo would have seen me by now, but I couldn’t even get scheduled at Iowa City. Why there were NEW policies and regulations requiring them to get even more documentation before they could schedule me. Then they’d have to consult their calendar.

So much BS. Iowa City is a university/government hospital. You can’t fool me, whoever was in charge of getting me in didn’t want to deal with me. She was hoping I’d either give up and go to Mayo, or die. It was gummint service at its worst. Considering the quality of care I’m seeing I’d gladly go to Mayo, but we’re still in the school year and the Super Mom doesn’t want to remove the kids from school.

So the Super Wife called my neurologist and told them I couldn’t get an appointment down there, and does the good doctor have any kind of pull that could get me booked down there? Well, she’d see. A half-hour later the U of Ia called and said I was booked for next Wednesday. He must have some pull. As for me, I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

Later in the Evening
The Thrifty Wife had gotten free tickets to see a guy who does illusions/magic with an ecology theme, -SteveTrash. Oh boy. Here’s a trick for you, free us from our dependency on middle-eastern oil, huh, huh? My attitude did not matter as much as the fact the tickets were free, and so we went.

This will shock you as much as it shocked me- we got there early. On the one hand that’s a good thing, on the other hand it’s not. On the one hand we got decent seats, on the other hand since we were just sitting there waiting my medication put me right to sleep. It was a one-hour show and I woke up just in time to catch his last illusion.

You might wonder why the Holy Wife didn’t wake me up. Was it compassion, and she was just letting me sleep? I don’t think so. I think it had more to do with the Trashman having two assistants who wore mini-skirts and go-go boots. That’s just a theory, I’m not about to ask her.


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04/28/04
Train Boy learned his last four verses for Awanas. He was one of a very few that completed his book this year. The Holy Wife worked with him every week to make sure he learned some verses. He often grumbled and complained, but he did them.

When they got home the Holy Wife was more excited than he was. She showed me the badge he'd earned. She also told me that he'd earned more shares to spend at the store. They had a Store Night too, so he bought himself a Bionicle with some of his shares. Another boy in his group wanted one, but didn't have enough shares. Train Boy gave him ten shares so he could get a Bionicle too. He's a sweet boy.

I had bought a 1:18 scale Super Cobra helicopter when they had one, and only one, at Wal-Mart. It's been kept downstairs until he had a suitable event. Since he'd had a big night I gave it to him. Assembled it was almost three feet from front rotor tip to rear rotor tip. It's big. He was happy with it.

Ms. Pikachu has earned a Christopher Award and it's bigger than an Academy Award. Her report card came in the mail and it was all A's and A minuses. She's on a roll, and being a smart child she knows this is the time to ask for something. So she asked for a Palm Pilot, but if she can't have a Palm Pilot she'll settle for her own cell phone. She knows how to negotiate. In a few years she'll probably start asking for protection money instead of an allowance.

But it all just goes to show that behind every successful kid is a mother saying, "Are you done with your homework yet." Because it isn't me, I assure you of that. I just watch 'Ed, Edd and Eddie' with them, and shoot an occasional rocket.

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4/27/04
I can't remember anything worth writing about that happened today. So I'm just going to post a Super Nurse story.

Whenever the Super Nurse cares for a veteran she thanks them for their service.
This past weekend she was taking care of a fellow and when she looked at his chart she figured he was old enough to be a Korean Vet. So she asked him if he served during Korea. He said, why yes he did. She said, "Thank you for serving." He told her that, "While I served 'during Korea' I was stationed in Paris, France. Thank you for sending me."

As Gomer Pyle would say, "Surprise, surprise, surprise."

4/26/04
No word yet from the hospital. Face still hurts too much to go to work so I had to stay home. I'm coping the best I can.

The Super Wife informed me that Train Boy had a school walk early in the afternoon. I could continue being a useless bag of water, or I could join them. Being an astute fellow I picked up on the clues real fast and decided to join them.

His teacher lives about a half-mile from the school and the walk was to her place. The survivors got the bonus of also walking back.

On the way the teacher told the kids they could pick a dandelion. All the kids were happy to do so, and quickly did it, except Train Boy. He surveyed the land in front of him with a critical eye. He looked and looked, and he had a hard time picking one. None of the dandelions seemed to meet his standards. Eventually he picked a violet and gave it to his Mom. This is a boy with his own ideas.

Every kid had a walking partner and held hands with their partner. We were at the back of the line. Train Boy held his Mom's hand. I was Tail-End Charlie and responsible for stragglers. The Super Wife handed me the violet so I was also Keeper of the Violet. It was one thing after another; I might as well have gone in to work.

When we crossed the road I stood in the middle of it. I was by far the tallest person there so I made the best crossing guard. Nobody got hurt, so I didn't have to hurt any drivers. Everybody was happy.

At the teacher's house she had a small pond, a chicken coop, and a rabbit hutch. The kids were excited. For reasons I'll never know the teacher opened the door to the chicken coop. Seeing the opportunity for freedom one of the chickens bolted. It ran right by me. A rather bold move for a chicken.

It probably had one of those uncanny animal senses that seems so spooky to those of us who don't watch 'The Other Side.' It knew I did not eat poultry. It knew I was not a threat. It clucked by me like I wasn't even there, buck-buck-buck.

Unfortunately for the chicken, its expectations of freedom were easily met. As soon as it got by me it hid behind a bush. Or maybe it was just stupid. Nobody ever refers to a chicken as an example of sparkling intelligence. Nobody ever says, "Now what would a chicken do?"

I was the last in line. I was the closest to the chicken. It was time to show I was not totally useless. I stepped around to the far side of the bush and shook it. Terrified, the chicken ran back to the safety of its coop. There's probably a moral in there, but I don't care. Now I'm a Keeper of the Flower, Crossing Guard, Bush Shaker, and a Chicken Wrangler too. More under 'Other Duties As Assigned.' At least I now know I can outsmart a chicken. Hooray for me.

Then she got a bunny out for the kids to pet. God, will it never end? She asked me if I wanted to pet it too. I didn't want to as it obviously cringed in fear. Using one of its spooky animal senses it probably knew I'd once bought the Super Wife a rabbit coat. Yes, I saw fear in its eye, and I didn't want it to flee, resulting in more chasing and bush shaking. I declined.

On the way back to the school I once again stood in the middle of the street, offering myself as the first target of opportunity for any hung-over employees working the afternoon shift. I handed the violet back to the Super Wife and cautioned her that it was a Flower of Great Care. What has happened to it I do not know, but I did my part.

Back at the classroom Train Boy loudly informed his teacher that his Dad can fix anything. He also told a classmate that his Dad fixed the sound on the computer. There are easier things than living up to the expectations of a six year-old child. But I'll try. I've just got to try.

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04/25/04
Church and lunch for starters. Where to eat? Decisions, decisions. It was decided that since we’ve become Hy’Vee’s Sunday Family, and we didn’t eat there last week, we would eat there. Everybody got Chinese except for me; I got meatloaf again.

While we were eating Ms. Pikachu once more complained about the smell of my meatloaf. I told her I didn’t understand her problem, she should just think of it as one of her hamburgers run through a blender with extra ketchup. It obviously did not help her deal with it.

She finished her food. She ate some of her Mom’s, she ate some of Train Boy’s. She’s definitely going through a growth spurt. She still finished before I did so she headed off to do some shopping. On her way past me she pointed and said, “Dad, I think your meatloaf has pneumonia.” It was a surprisingly effective way to kill my appetite for it.

So I ate some lemon pie with my coffee and life still seemed pretty good. Then she came back. She looked at the meatloaf again and slowly said, “Maybe that’s anthrax.” Pause. “Or it could be the bird flu.” Not content to kill my appetite she danced on its grave.

Later on I went to Target to get some brushes to stain the steps, and some screwdrivers to take the old steps apart. I don’t know why it is but I can never keep screwdrivers. Every couple of years I have to buy another pack of them. When I got home I set them down and it wasn’t long before Ms. Pikachu walked in. On seeing them she said, “Arts and crafts, I love them!” She’s not a teenager and I can’t keep up with her.

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04/24/04
We put together the steps for the front of the house, or should I say Thomas did. Thomas is a Type A that just does things himself. I helped when I could, but most of the time he said, “You just sit over there.” Perhaps he knows I’m cross-eyed and dizzy and not exactly the best partner to be around power tools. I dunno, but they’re done.

Well not quite. The steps are down, and they’re solid. There are handrails on both sides held up at their front and back, so it’s open space between the front and back of the handrail. At this point that’s actually a good thing. Trainboy thinks I did the steps. I never said I did, he just assumes I did. When he first told me he thought I made good steps I told him Thomas did most of the work and I just helped him. He doesn’t care, as far as he’s concerned his Dad made the steps.

I can get some 2x2’s to finish the handrails and drill some pilot holes in them. He can put the screws in as best he can. They can be the steps that he helped build. He’ll remember that.

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04/23/04
Worked on the steps with Thomas and got a surprising amount done. Finishing them tomorrow should be easy.

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04/22/04
The guy who we ordered concrete steps from has never showed to do his own measurements. He apparently didn’t think I could use a measuring tape myself and wanted to measure it himself. We got tire of waiting and decided to go with wood instead.

We went to Home Depot and got four stringers- that should be plenty of support for six-foot wide steps. We also got two green-treated 2x6’s per step. That way there’s a split in the middle of the steps and they can drain better.

Since nothing is adequate unless it’s excessive I applied stain to all parts that would be in contact with the ground or hidden from further painting. Being treated they’re supposed to last 10-15 years anyway, but we can try for more.

Seeing me outside, Thomas came over and asked how I was doing. He agreed I had everything needed for the steps and asked what I was doing. I told him I was sealing the hidden areas. He thought it was a good idea; at least he said so. For all I know he went home and had a good laugh. It matters not to me, these steps are going to last. He said he’d come by to help. As skilled as he is that would be a good thing, laughing or not.

The Thrifty Wife does our taxes, so she knows how those things work. She determined that since we’re paying more on principal than interest we aren’t getting much of a break on the taxes for home ownership. When the mortgage statement came she told me how much we were paying per year in interest, and how much our home would cost by the time we are done paying for it, she was more than slightly appalled.

She tried to get the mortgage refinanced, but no company was interested because the amount involved apparently wasn’t worth their trouble. So she called the mortgage company and had them send us a statement showing how much it would cost to just pay it off. It was a good chunk of change, and ohmigod, we have enough in the bank to cover it.

I don’t like the idea of being so financially depleted while I’m having medical problems. It matters not; she is convinced it’s the rational thing to do. I learned long ago that for a happy marriage the husband must give in early. So we made a trip to the bank for a cashier’s check, and another to the post office to send it certified mail, or was it registered, I still don’t know.

The clerk at the Post Office explained the different options, but honest to God, there hardly seemed to be a difference. I couldn’t discern any advantage. The Financial Empress couldn’t discern any advantage. The clerk rolled her eyes and you knew she was thinking, ‘You idiots, just pick one and let me do my job.’ In desperation she tried to be helpful, and asked what it was. Upon being informed it was a check she said, “Well you can always get one of those replaced.” Maybe, but being a rather large check it still made us largely nervous. I told her I wanted a return receipt and that was that.

It’s just a matter of days before we have the paperwork showing we own this pile of sticks free and clear. The Super Wife is one HAPPY WIFE. Being debt-free has always been her Holy Grail.

After the post office we went to Hy-Vee for a few things. I don’t have a lot of vices, and I don’t feel particularly confessional at the moment, but I like their Broccoli Sunshine Salad a lot. It’s broccoli salad and I like it, what else is there to say. The woman at the deli counter asked the HAPPY WIFE where we were Sunday- everybody had "wondered where the family was”. This is probably what happens when the Dad usually gets meatloaf every Sunday and his manic blonde daughter teases him unmercifully about it. It does make it feel even more like our neighborhood grocery store.

Super Wife was HAPPY, I was amused, so it was an okay day.

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Another one for the files of nature vs. nurture

This evening Ms. Pikachu declared, “Boy, I’d really like to burn something up.”
What are you talking about? What do you want to burn up? “Oh, anything. I just want to smell the burning and hear it crackle.” She was so exuberant about it I could only shudder and think that it runs in the family.

When my brothers and I were even younger than she is we had small fires underneath the bunk beds. I kid you not. We were fascinated with fire. Some of us were more fascinated than others, but the difference was only a matter of degree. Knowing how dangerous a kid is with fire, and how she wants to play, Mommy and Daddy are going to keep real close control on the matches and lighters.
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We live on a two-lane one-way. This has given me the heebie-jeebies when Train Boy gets on, or off, the schoolbus. It pulls up like any other bus- lights flashing, and a red stop sign that swings out from its left side. You would think those safety features would ensure his safety. Hardly.

I have seen cars speed by the bus like they were trying to set a new stop sign to stop sign speed record. It’s infuriating, and it makes me fear for the Train Boy everyday.

The Super Wife has traditionally walked him to the bus in the morning. In the afternoon he seems to have a race with another kid to see who can get across the street first. They don’t look, and we haven’t been able to impress upon them the need.

The Super Wife had resigned herself to kids being kids. While being home, I’ve decided that I will be an SOB when I want to. I’m on the porch waiting for the bus to come, and I’m standing in the middle of the lane when they get off the bus. Just in case anybody tries to blow by the bus I carry a nice rock to lob in front of any car. If they take the shot and want to complain they can explain to the police why they were speeding by a school bus and endangering the lives of children. Just part of the Public Serf’s job of public education.

This morning the Super Wife was waiting with Train Boy for the bus. Had she not been there he would almost surely been run over by someone who did not stop for the bus. Even though they were standing at the side of the van, ready to cross the car just blew by. The Super Wife got the license plate number.

The car braked to a stop a half-block away. A woman got out and waved her arms over her head. Apparently this was her sign for “My bad, sorry, let’s forget about it.” Then she got back in her car and drove off. She could be that cavalier about it because it wasn’t her child she’d put at risk. The Super Mom called it in.

I have no idea what the penalty will be, if any. Whatever it is it will be cheaper than me floating a rock in front of her car. That may seem extreme, but when it comes to the safety of those we love extremism comes easy. Or is it vengeance? It doesn't matter, I'm comfortable either way.

This morning’s close call did leave an impression on Train Boy. When he got off the bus he looked around the fender to see if a car was coming. I am not grateful for the lesson though. Given my druthers I would have been there to put a rock in front of her car.

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04/15/04
The office had a going-away pot-luck for someone who transferred to another office. While I was still working I had said I’d bring a desert. People like my apple pies, but I’ve gotten to where I just don’t care to roll out that many crusts. Therefore, they get an apple crisp and it works just fine.

Last night I peeled and cut five pounds of apples. Spiced them in a way that seemed pretty good. Put them in a large cake pan, topped them, and already sure of success I put them in the oven. Set the timer on the microwave for 30 minutes, not that I needed to, because it was on the hour and thirty minutes is easy to see. All you have to do is watch any TV program and wait for the half-hour break. That’s the way it should work.

In reality, I sat down and the medication put me right to sleep. Seven hours later I had two apple crisps that were way too crisp. They were- crispy. Such is life.

No word yet from the neurologist. He had offered Mayo or University of Iowa. The Supernurse said U of Ia because it’s closer. The kids are still in school so if we can get it done without affecting their schooling then that’s what we’re going to do. She has spoken.

Getting a little impatient, she called U of Ia. They are assessing my case and “will get back to you.” So we’ll see. I hope they get this resolved before I waste any more cooking efforts.

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We went to see the neurologist. He didn’t seem capable of uttering the words, “Mayo was wrong.” But he did agree with me that my eye problem wasn’t caused by a stroke. He wants to do a gamma knife. Again we were in agreement. It should stop the pain, but won’t restore my eyesight. I’ll talk to the neurologists at U of Ia about that.

After the kids got home from school it was decided we’d have Arby’s for supper. I also got a Jamocha shake. It seems I need the calories because on weighing myself before the doctor visit I found I’d lost 10 pounds from hardly eating. Had to cut up a small roast beef sandwich so I could eat it. I found that by dipping it in au jus you don’t have to chew. Due to this revelation it only took me 30 minutes to eat it. What fun- but it was calories.

After the kids headed upstairs to play games the Super Wife put Sea Biscuit on. She sat down in the middle of the couch, I sat on an end. Like a greedy miser I put my arms around her and pulled her next to me. She watched the movie and I laid my head on the couch back behind her. With my nose in her hair and my chin on her shoulder I felt like a rich man indeed.
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4/11/04
Went to church with the in-laws. We left early enough to go to Sunday School. I was having enough difficulty talking that I didn’t contribute a thing, not that I ever do. If a Sunday School teacher wants my opinion he can ask me to write him a paper. Let’s face it, I write better than I talk. Not being terribly quick-witted I need to edit, but tonight I won’t- for reasons that will be explained shortly.

After church all of us went to eat at a restaurant in downtown Clinton. From the looks of it it’s one of the few thriving businesses there. It’s a restaurant done in a style best described as “homey.” At least it’s homey if you have a lot of pictures of country-western singers on your walls. If you don’t, you’ve still got a good idea.

The food was plentiful. To my knowledge everybody was stuffed by the time we left- everybody but me. I’ve been taking lots of Tegretol but it isn’t making the pain go away. It’s certainly keeping the pain from running away to suicide inducing levels, but most bites are rewarded with what feels like a sharp slap on the right side of the face, sometimes they’re machinegun style slaps. Anybody who has taken Psyche 101 could guess that linking pain with a behavior will result in the suppression of that behavior.

I hadn't eaten anything Saturday. Even though I have a long way to go until I appear to be wasting away it only seems sensible to eat. So I tried. I had a big plate of scrambled eggs, ham, and hash browns. Those are easy to take in small bites. I was almost halfway through when I gave up.

I had resolved to eat slowly and carefully and accept any pain that came. About every other bite hurt. After two bites in a row resulted in machinegun pain I started to cry in the middle of a packed restaurant and in front of a long table full of family. That was enough for me. Skinner was at least right at the most basic level of behavior.

Then it was on to the in-law’s where the kids had an Easter egg hunt. The wife wanted me to take pictures. Okay. There was only one problem, well two actually. First- it was so cool it was threatening to trigger the facial pain. Secondly, the kids were running as fast as they could. The jarring of running can set off, one more time, the facial pain. It’s hard to get good photos when you’re looking at their backs. I tried to anticipate their directions, but kids are rarely predictable. Oh well.

When we got home Ms. Pikachu walked over to the pantry and asked, “Hey Dad, are you hungry?” She reached in, and pulling out a can exclaimed, “Green beans, everybody loves ’em!” The kid likes a running joke, another gene she got from me. Don’t ask me how that’s genetic; I’m just sure it is.

Since I’ve hardly had a caloric intake equal to what I’ve burned for the past week the Supernurse apparently felt it was time to try something else. So she had me take a few pills left over from other treatments. Don’t worry; they aren’t anti-biotic so we aren’t risking the development of super bugs. We are talking pain pills. It won’t be long and I’ll be fast asleep. So this isn’t going to be edited at all. You’re getting a post in its raw form. It is literarily vulgar. I know- you should have been warned so you could hide the children and avert your eyes. Maybe next time. In the mean time, pardon me; I’m going to go dream of food.
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4/10/04
Went to visit the in-laws. While getting ready I checked the van?s oil- needed a quart, checked the water- needed some. Yes, I certainly performed my manly duties. Then, seized with the fear of a faulty water pump, I looked underneath for dripping. Big surprise, there was dripping. Of course there was dripping, I?d probably spilled a little. Not just fear, paranoia, because the last thing I want is to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with my family because of a stinkin? water pump that failed.

So to be sure I start it up and let it run to operating temperature, we?ll see if it really leaks of not. It?s dripping faster. But?.. check the overflow tank. Sure enough, with my crappy vision I?d put too much in the water tank and it?s spitting out the excess. But I have to be sure. Who do I espy buy Tom, my friendly neighbor. That would be Tom who can tear a car down to it?s frame and rebuild it. Handy Tom. I call him over. He can see no fluid being thrown on the firewall (why didn?t I think of that). He thinks it?s fine. Then the van it is, I tell the kids to load ?er up. I thank Handy Tom, and tell him that we?ll be gone till late Sunday night, so if he see?s anybody going into or out of the house he is to shoot to kill. He seems amused.

I noticed one of the front steps was working loose, so I figure that before we leave I?ll put a couple screws in it. Before I can the Petite Wife comes out, and in going down the steps the step falls in. Fortunately she is not hurt. I tell her that no way are we leaving this invitation to a lawsuit this way.

She says she can take a couple things back to the library, but then WE'VE GOT TO LEAVE. Well alrighty. I get some tin sheet, a tin snips, and some screws and cut some brackets to hold it in place. Having two drills makes it fairly easy, one to drill holes in the tin, one to drive the screws. She?s back before I?m done though. Nearly done, but not done. And WE HAVE GOT TO LEAVE. I heard you.

It?s done. Stand on it. Solid. Not to be confused with pretty, but solid. The Impatient Wife is happy. Step down and the bottom step falls in. Good Lord. Making two more brackets will test the Impatient Wife?s pressure capacity, let?s not go there. What we need here is a fast fix that?s still solid. It?s the bottom step, so just fill it in. Grab a couple of boards and force them under the step, hammer them just to make sure they?re tight. Test them- another solid fix. The Impatient Wife is happy, and we?re on our way.

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Another journey to Wal-Mart. That would not be blog-worthy except for Ms. Pikachu.
While going down one of the amply stocked aisles she screamed, yes, screamed, “Lint rollers! Everybody loves lint rollers!” She ran to the lint roller display farther down the aisle, grabbed two, and with one in each hand flapped her arms like wings while running up and down the aisles while continuing to yell, “Lint rollers! Everybody loves lint rollers!”

It set a precedent of some sort. When we walked down the vegetable aisle she yelled, “Green beans, everybody loves green beans!” and put a can of them in the cart. Not long after it was “Baked beans! Everybody loves baked beans!” She walked back to the cart with a one-gallon can of baked beans. No fooling, one gallon of Bush’s Best.

I told her that was nuts, put them back and get a smaller can. If she resisted I could see a negotiation that ended up with a couple of smaller cans. She would not compromise, she took it to a higher authority. She took it to the Super Wife. Who said it was okay, because they’d all get eaten. Alright, fine, cuz everybody loves baked beans.

As we walked through the store there seemed to be two kinds of customers- those who found Ms. Pikachu’s antics funny, and those who thought she should be in a psyche ward. Fortunately we didn’t run into anybody we knew.

Knowing that some people weren’t amused, and her displays might be perceived as rude, I tried to calm her down. But there was no slowing her down. She was manic and loving it. While I find it a bit irritating sometimes, it doesn’t bother me too much because she gets it from me. Funny how having the same problem makes one more indulgent, especially when it’s your genes at fault.

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Having done our “official” Seder last night, the Holy Wife had no problems with starting a second one as soon as everybody was together. Instead of starting where we left off we did the whole thing over again. The Holy Wife was in her element, she was happy.

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I’m off work the rest of the week, the facial pain can’t be totally suppressed. I’m taking the limit of tegretol and it keeps me from having the worst pain, and I’m grateful for that. But it’s still too painful to talk much. There’s no way I can interview the public with the pain I’m having. The neurologist gave me an excuse good until my appointment with him on the 12th. On the one hand, I feel awful leaving my unit shorthanded, on the other hand I feel like a kid who got out of school. Which is to say- I’m conflicted, but dealing with it rather well.

I have around six months of sick leave built up. I shouldn’t say “oh boy”, but, oh boy.

Dai Dai Ainu, Dai Dai Ainu, Dai Dai Ainu, Dai Ainu, Dai Anu

This can only mean one thing. Our little Christian family is celebrating Passover. There’s a girl next door or Ms. Pikachu’s age that wants to partake. Okay, but you need your parents’ approval. She comes back and it’s okay, she just has to be home by 8:30. Passover Seder starts at sunset, no way is it going to be over by 8:30.

She stays and enjoys herself. Normally I would read aloud from the Haggadah but the facial pain won’t permit it. The Holy Wife does a fine job. We send our neighbor home just before 8:30. Before leaving the Holy Wife tells her we can pick it up tomorrow after they get home from school. Dear God. Two Seders? That’s a lot of Seder. Is she a Holy Wife or what?

She must be since she got a six year-old to eat a hillel sandwich. A hillel sandwich is two small pieces of matzoh with horseradish on the front end, and a mixture of charoset, apples, honey, nuts, etc on the back end. Charoset is quite yummy.

Why this odd sandwich? The horseradish is like the taste of our sin in God’s mouth. The charoset is an antidote, his sweet grace, in ours.

Anyway, Ms. Pikachu had great fun teasing Trainboy about the horseradish. Using chopped horseradish will bring tears to your eyes, so it’s not a fun thing. However, we got creamy horseradish- considerably more bearable. Ms. Pikachu scared Trainboy right out of eating it. He refused, or so he thought. The Holy Wife’s powers of persuasion are powerful indeed. He ate the sandwich, and we finished the Seder.

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At work today a woman who works next door and reads my blog was feeling sympathetic after my last pitiful entry. Donna brought me some flowers to cheer me up. God bless her. It’s nice to look over occasionally and see them. It’s kind of amazing how a thoughtful gesture can affect you. Too bad it can’t stop my recurring facial pain.

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Woke up on the couch. Super Nurse must certainly be home. She certainly was. Not in kitchen, check fridge - sandwich not eaten, oh well, check bathroom- nothing, check bedroom- she's laying there looking at book orders for the kids. God she's beautiful. She said she just wasn't hungry because she ate that much for lunch. Okay. I told her I'd checked out the cranial nerves on the web and the ones involving the eyes were more complicated than I could understand. I couldn't figure out how to bang my head to fix my eye problem. She was glad. She rolls away from me and I snuggle up behind her. It's just bliss to be so close.

Can't go to sleep. Try to go to sleep. Can't go to sleep and a half-hour's gone. Must have been all the napping. I whisper "I'm sorry." She half-rolls back and says "huh?" Thought she was asleep, crap. Wanted to tell her, "I'm sorry I'm such a burden. You and the kids deserve so much better. I'm sorry you married me." Just too much of a coward to say it while she was awake. Can't sleep. Wait another half-hour and get out of bed, might as well blog.

I hate this tumor. I hate feeling like a burden. I hate wishing my kids had a better father. I hate wishing my wife had a better husband. I hate wishing I wasn't me. Dammit, I'm crying again. I've cried too much lately.

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Around 7:00 the kids decide they're hungry again. Well allrighty, and what will your order be. Big surprise, chicken nuggets for Trainboy, Cheeseburger for Ms. Pikachu. I'm sitting on the floor, Trainboy comes over to me, puts his hand on my shoulder and says, "Get it from the Wendys that's closest," My little micromanager. No problem.

In addition, I get Ms. Pikachu her own chili so we can avoid another chili war. And I get the wife a grilled chicken sandwich with veggies, because that would be low-fat and she would like that. I aim to please.

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4/4/04
Church, of course.

Lunch at Hy Vee. I ordered the fish just to keep the kids off balance. It was a mistake though. If you don’t have the right tartar sauce fish is hardly edible. I also got sweet potatoes because they are one of the Super Wife’s favorite foods and I just wanted to share them with her.

As we were seating ourselves because, oddly enough, the grocery store doesn’t have a maitre’d on Sundays, Trainboy riddled- “What do you call a sister with half a brain?” …. “gifted.” The Super Wife laughed. Ms. Pikachu said, “I don’t get it.” She of the straight A report card didn’t get it. Hah. What is this educational system coming to?

When we got home our neighbor Tom, the Super Fix-it Guy was trying to get his cat out of the tree across the street. It is a tall tree indeed. I told him my Dad always said a cat would come down when it got hungry enough. (Everyone nods at such wisdom.) I had no sympathy for the cat anyway. It was probably up there to kill birds. Let it starve.

Tom threw rocks at the cat to try to encourage it to retreat from the limb and come down. Even something as dumb as a cat that trees itself probably doesn’t want to come down a tree and get closer to somebody throwing rocks at it. More rocks, the cat retreats to the tree trunk. More rocks, the cat runs back out on the limb. You just can’t beat urban living.

Ms. Pikachu asked if she could volunteer my paintball gun. She has lost all contact with reality. “No.” She goes outside. She comes back inside. She asks again. “No.” Out. In. She’s going to nag till she gets what she wants. I am a weenie. Sadly, the system works. Okay, fine. Let’s be realistic here, does he really want to get paint all over his cat? Does he really want to risk knocking it right off of the tree? As if logic mattered. She just wants to shoot the cat. She comes back disheartened- he refused her offer.

I asked Trainboy if he wanted to help feed the birds. He thought it was a good idea. I grabbed the feed and a stepstool and away we went. I held the top of the feeder open, he climbed up and shoveled the feed in. I love those bonding moments.

Five hours later the cat is still up the tree making its pitiful mewling. But I have no pity for it. At least while it’s up there it isn’t threatening any other birds, and that’s what’s important, isn’t it?

The rest of the day looks to be laundry, TV, whatever home improvement I get around to doing, and I may not get around to doing any. Ah weekends.
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