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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Monday, May 10, 2004
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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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Wednesday, May 05, 2004
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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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Tuesday, May 04, 2004
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.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Monday, May 03, 2004
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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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Sunday, May 02, 2004
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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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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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-
Saturday, May 01, 2004
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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-
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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-
Friday, April 30, 2004
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.
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.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
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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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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Wednesday, April 28, 2004
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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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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-
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
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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."
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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."
Monday, April 26, 2004
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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-
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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Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
-
Sunday, April 25, 2004
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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.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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.
Saturday, April 24, 2004
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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.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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.
Friday, April 23, 2004
Thursday, April 22, 2004
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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.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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Monday, April 19, 2004
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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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Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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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.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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