It's weird that the movie Home Alone was such a huge success. It's not any better than any other stupid movie from that time. It just caught fire for some reason. I know there are hundreds of examples of things like this -- fads that just inexplicably go crazy for a little while, playing way over their heads, becoming way more popular than they should ("Oppa Gangnam Style") -- but I still find it strange. You know what a classic example of this is that randomly popped into my head the other day? E.T. -- cute movie, absolutely nothing special, certainly not the 25th greatest movie of all-time. The best description ever of E.T. was given by my Korean friend JP from high school who summed it up (in his slight accent) as being about "a dumbshit with a finger". Brilliantly stated.
Anyway, the title of this post comes from the fact that I am in fact home alone for the next week and a half. S is doing some work abroad, and she took the little guy down to her parents' house in South Carolina. They've been really wanting him to come down for an extended visit, so this is a good time. I definitely wouldn't have minded caring for him myself, but I think it's good for him to spend some time with S's parents -- especially since they're going to be the main ones to pass on his Indian traditions -- so it all works out. I would've preferred something a little shorter, a week, at most, but I'll manage. I'm sleeping through the night for the first time in forever, and it feels pretty damn good physically, but it's empty emotionally. I miss my little guy annoying me at six in the morning. Actually, I've noticed that "miss" isn't the most powerful emotion I've been experiencing. That would be "worry". I'm constantly thinking something bad is going to happen. I know he's in good loving hands, but still...
Anyway...
Last night was the first weekend night I've had to myself in a while, and I wasted it in proper fashion. I downloaded the complete baseball database (huge, huge, huge props to Sean Lahman who makes this publicly available (for free!), I'm donating $20 to his cause as soon as I finish this post), then I wrote some computer code to access it to determine which player in baseball history has the highest-scoring Scrabble name. The answer: Javier Vazquez. His completely name is worth 53 points. Although, there's a catch that any Scrabble aficionado will spot immediately. "Vazquez" has two zees, but there is only one z-tile in a Scrabble set. Thus his name could only be played using a blank which is worth no points. If we apply this discount then the Scrabbliest player of all-time is some dude named Jim Czajkowski (51 points) who pitched exactly 8.2* innings with the 1994 Colorado Rockies. Yes, this is honestly what I did last night.
[I love this card, because it simultaneously breaks the hearts of two fan bases. Cubs fans look at Wood and Prior and shake their heads about what could have been. Expos fans say to them, "Hey assholes, at least you still have a damn team!"]
I do have some "real" things to do while S and Lil' S are away. The big one is to baby-proof the house. We're woefully behind on this. He's already way too mobile for the few safeguards we have in place. He's climbing the stairs at his grandparents which means our steps (which are a little higher) are not far behind. I need to put up some baby gates. The problem is that our main staircase is not a standard staircase; I'm doubtful that a typical baby gate is going to fit properly. This means I'm going to have to modify it in someway or ad-lib or figure something else out, which is a problem because I can't do shit when it comes to home improvement projects. The only thing I do well is follow instructions, if I have to improvise, I'm lost. Oh well, I guess I'll give it a shot anyway. I mean, at some point a man has to stand up and be a man. And when that fails he has to pay somebody to be a man for him.
OK, that's all for now. Gotta run... literally, I'm going for a jog. Until next time...
*By the way, I've always hated this way of denoting innings pitched. The .2 in 8.2 isn't actually .2, it's two-thirds. For some reason we switch to trinary to represent the fractional part of innings pitched. We use .0, .1, and .2, for no-thirds, one-third, and two-thirds, respectively. Why not, .0, .3, and .7, instead? It makes a lot more sense to me.
Worry is by far one of the worst things about being a new parent. I can't stop the odd thought of Q dying in the most horrific ways possible popping into my head at random times.
ReplyDeleteWe rode the ferry yesterday and I just kept thinking that he would somehow fall over the three foot tall railing and plummet the twenty feet into the water. Despite the fact that he was securely attached to Maureen most of the time and we were in the cabin mostly.
The first time I took B for a walk in the stroller, he was a little more than 2 weeks, I kept envisioning a speeding car jumping the curb and taking him out. I knew it was highly improbable, but still...
ReplyDeleteAnd them's fighting words about ET. I loved and still love that movie. It's really about a young boy coping with the loss of his father to divorce and it's funny too. When I saw it as a child I identified with Elliot (how cool to have an alien at home in your closet when you're at school). As someone in my 20s I focused more on the older brother trying to take car of his younger brother and now, as a mom, I identify with Dee Wallace. When I'm a little old lady I'll probably feel like ET.
Fantastical fears...
ReplyDeleteK -- Maybe I need to see ET again. I have seen it as an adult, but it was like 15 years ago.