Friday, September 26, 2014

Entry 252: Sick Day

I took a sick day yesterday.  I think it's just my second one since joining my current company.  I definitely needed it.  I'm doing a bit better today, but, my lord, when I woke up yesterday it felt like somebody had release a colony of fire ants in my throat and then hit me in the face with a sledge hammer.  I haven't been this sick in a long time.  Just how long?  Well, that's one nice thing about keeping a blog for the past four years.  I can actually go back and trace stuff like this.  It appears as if I was pretty ill on March 10, 2013.  So, there you go... Not actually all that long ago ... huh.



My main worry now is that I will give Lil' S whatever it is I have.  Although, he was a little bit sick last weekend, so maybe he gave it to me, so I won't give it to him.  But if that's the case then he gave me the maximum strength version, because he just had the sniffles, and this thing has completely flattened me.  (Maybe my immune system is getting weaker in my old age.)  Yesterday, I had to get him up and feed him and get him to daycare, and I could barely do it.  I mean that literally.  It was really hard.  Also, I could barely talk because my throat was all messed up, so I didn't want to interact with any other parents or his teachers or anybody.  (Not to mention, being sick at a daycare, even if only briefly is very frowned upon by everybody -- understandably so.)  But it went as smoothly as one could hope.  I just had to exchange brief pleasantries with one teacher and give another parent a terse "hey" and a head nod in the parking lot, and that was that.

I came back and collapsed in bed for a few more hours, woke up, dragged myself downstairs, forced some food down, took a couple Aleve, and then watched a documentary on Jimmy "The Greek" -- weird guy, by the way.  It's strange that he became such a well-known personality.  I was quite young when he was around, and even I knew who he was.  ('Twas the power of network TV back before everybody had cable.)  If you don't remember, he was an NFL "analyst" for CBS, but his job was essentially to give betting tips without actually saying that that's what he was doing.  He got fired in the late '80s for making insensitive comments about "the black athlete", which reminds me of a little rule of thumb we'd all be wise to stick to: If you're commenting about a minority group, and your impulse is to put "the" at the front ("the black athlete", "the negro", "the gays"), you probably shouldn't say anything at all on the topic ... or any topic ... ever.


But anyway, I was thinking, with the Internet and everything on demand now, we really are living in the golden age of being sick.  Back when I was a kid, a sick day meant lots of game shows (I was always partial to Scrabble hosted by Chuck Woolery, of course) and lots of playing the same Nintendo games that you had already beaten fifty times and were utterly bored with.  (I'd start making up my own little challenges like, "Let's see if I can beat Super Mario Bros. 2 using Toad on every level without taking a warp zone," or, "I'm going to try to go undefeated on Tecmo Super Bowl with the Chargers with Mark Vlasic at quarterback".)  Now it's so much less boring to be sick.  It's still not pleasant.  But at least there is more stuff to do.  



Anyway, since I'm low on energy.  I'm going to wrap this entry up pretty soon, but before I do, I present this clip.



It dovetails nicely with something Dan Savage was talking about on his podcast the other night: people making fun of other people for mispronouncing words that they have probably only even seen in print.  This struck a chord with me, as I've had this happen to me several times.  In general, it's big pet peeve of mine when people get grief over not knowing something they would have no way of knowing.  In the clip above, the guy comes off as stupid for not knowing how to pronounce Achilles, but if he's never heard it before, how would he know?  Or maybe he has heard it ("Achilles Heel" is a pretty common phrase) but never associated it with its spelling.  It's not like we are born with an innate knowledge of pronunciations of Greek mythological heroes. He said it phonetically, at least.

As a gesture of sympathy toward this poor man (not that he needs it; he still won the show, apparently), here are some words that for a very long time I had been mispronouncing, perhaps just in my head, until I heard how they are properly pronounced.

Albeit
Mine: Al-bait
Actual: All-bee-it

Assuage
Mine: Uh-sewage
Actual:Uh-swage

Detritus
Mine: Deh-tritt-us
Actual: Deh-trite-us

Impetus
Mine: Im-pettis
Actual: Im-puh-tuss

Litigious
Mine: Lit-uh-giss
Actual: Luh-tij-us

Tao
Mine: Tau
Actual: Dow

Tyranny
Mine: Tie-ran-ey
Actual: Tier-uh-ney

That's all I got.  Until next time ...

Friday, September 19, 2014

Entry 251: Papitol on the Capitol

S went to Africa for work on Saturday, and she's not getting back until tomorrow night, so it's been just me and the little man for the past week.  It's been fine.  As it turns out, being a single parent is not that hard if you put your kid in daycare for 10 hours a day.  I have him for about an hour in the morning, and two hours at night (plus wake-up duty), and that's it.  And some of that time he's strapped into his chair eating, anyway.  Also, as I've mentioned before, he's noticeably less fussy when S isn't around.  I'm not sure exactly why this is, but my theory is that his whining works better on S.  I'm not claiming to be immune to it -- he's definitely broken me a few times this week, and I've acquiesced to his demands for "George" (Curious George cartoons on the iPad) -- but I think I have a bit more resolve than S.  Overall, Lil' S and I have gotten into a nice little routine, and things have gone fairly well.

Part of our routine is that I read him a book or two (or eight if he has it his way) before he goes to sleep each night.  A few of them are good.  Most of them are so-so.  A few are bad.  It's weird too because the worst ones are the so-called classics.  The Very Hungry Caterpillar is terrible, for instance.  Actually everything Eric Carle writes is pretty lame.  The drawings are good, if you're into that type of art, but the stories (if you can even call them that) are super lame, even by kid standards.  In The Very Hungry Caterpillar, for instance, 95% of the book is just a list of all the things the caterpillar ate.  There's no creativity whatsoever.


Then some other books have the opposite problem.  They try to be too creative, and it ends up being confusing or a bunch of nonsense.  There's this one called Sam Meets Bernadette about these two fish.  Sam is a lonely goldfish who only swims in circles until another fish Bernadette comes and shows him all the wonderful things outside of his bowl that he never noticed before.  It's actually a cute premise.  But the problem is that all the things she points out aren't actually what they are.   For instance, she sees a pair of glasses and calls it a butterfly.  The book is suppose to be a life-is-what-you-make-it type of thing, but it's lost on a toddler who's still in his "pointing things out" prime.  So Lil' S, will shout out "glasses", but then the text says it's a butterfly.  I don't want to confuse him, so I just end up ad-libbing the entire thing, "And then they saw some glasses... And then they saw some bananas... And then they saw..."

I'll give Sam Meets Bernadette a pass since it might be good when he gets older and gets the gimmick.  The one that I absolutely will not give a pass is Wheedle on the Needle.  I want so much to like this book because it's got some hometown flavor to it, but the story is awful.  It reads like something that would be cranked out in a creative writing class by a mediocre fourth-grader -- like by a student who thinks the way to be creative is to put characters in a series of disjointed fantastical situations without much coherent explanation or flow.  Here's the story of Wheedle on the Needle: There's this giant creature named Wheedle who lives in peace in the Pacific Northwest until human construction workers disturb him.  He tries to steal their tools and scare them, but it doesn't work, so he goes to Mount Rainier.  But they disturb him there too.  So he puts a bunch of clouds in a sack and goes to the Space Needle.  His clouds cause it to rain all the time, which stifles the workers' noises.  But it also annoys the people of Seattle, so the mayor gets the people to sew him earmuffs.  He's so happy with his earmuffs that his nose starts to glow (because that's what happens when Wheedles get happy), and his nose is the blinking light on the Space Needle.


How is this book so famous?  I have the 35th Anniversary Edition, which means it's still going strong, and it's nearly as old as I am.  That's outrageous.  I could write a story this well in an hour.  I'll give you the broad strokes right now off the top of my head.  It's called the Papitol on the Capitol.  It's about a woman named Papitol who likes skipping rocks in Rock Creek, until one day the people of DC tell her she can't do it anymore because it might hurt the fish that swim in it.  She gets mad at being rebuffed, so she arms herself with a sword and a laurel wreath shield and sets out to go on a killing spree.  But before she can do so, an elderly statesmen and a his talking crow persuade her against it.  Papitol is so distraught about what she almost did, and she fears that she might actually do it for real in the future, so she throws herself off the Washington Monument (which is still under construction) into a bunch of wet cement.  Her body is never recovered -- it seemingly disappears after hitting the ground -- and the next morning a new statue bearing her likeness shows up on top of the Capitol overlooking its entrance.  Paptiol on the Capitiol.  What do you think?



[Interesting tidbit: Papitol faces east, away from the National Mall.  The official entrance is also on the east side.  Somebody told me that this is because when the Capitol was built they anticipated the city growing more to the east, but instead it grew northwest.  I have no idea if this is actually true or not, but it sounds good.]


OK, so my book might be a bit macabre for kids, but as far as the story goes, it is every bit on par with Wheedle on the Needle.  Although, admittedly, a big part of my issue with Wheedle is that I find the author's notes, so blowhard-y and full of humblebrags that I downgrade it a few levels.  Objectively it's a 3.5 out of 10, but I give it a 1.  You might too in a minute.  Here's the author's blurb before the story:
One day in 1974 I set my mind to creating a story about and for Seattle.  Using the Space Needle as a background, I began the creative process.  Fortunately and unfortunately, the only word I could think of that rhymed with Needle was Wheedle.  Later that day as I walked in quiet rain, the peace and tranquility of the moment was shattered by a loud whistle from a ferry on the Sound.  Of these tiny seeds the story was sown.
See what I mean?  My favorite part is "Fortunately and unfortunately ..."  Could you get any more humblebraggadocious?  And here's the "About the Author" at the end:
I have spent my life as a dream-maker.  To be able to crawl inside a story as it is being created is an unbelievable and delightful experience.  By reading this book and others I have written, you are able to share my experiences.  I have written and published 320 books or so, and it is only by the grace of God that I continue this amazing adventure.
Boy, can't wait to sink my teeth into those other 319!  People think Gwyneth Paltrow is pretentious , but I put "I have spent my life as a dream-maker" (not a dreamer, a dream-maker, as in one who makes dreams) up there with anything she's ever said.  And at least she's a Hollywood megastar, not a mediocre children's author.  I know the comparison between Gwyneth Paltrow and Stephen Cosgrove has been done so many times before that it's a cliché, but it's just too apt for me to pass up.



Anyway ...

Another thing Lil' S and I have been doing is playing with this toy truck my parents bought him.  They wanted to get him something he could get in and ride, so my mom went online and bought this:



In her defense, you can't really tell how big it is in the online advertisement.  Also, he really likes it.  It's remote control, and he can't really work the control, so he just spins it in circles randomly and runs it into furniture until it gets stuck, and then he picks it up and moves it with his hands.  Or he just watches me drive it around our living room, which is fun -- well, not really fun, it's not like I'd just driving it around if I was home alone.  But it's fun within the realm of activities we can do together.

We're both a little afraid of that thing too.  If I drive it directly at him, he'll often run away and say, "scared, Daddy, scared".  Then sometimes late at night when everybody but me is asleep, it will make a noise and lunge forward a few centimeters even though the remote control is on the bookshelf and nobody is touching it.  Spooky.

Alright, that'll do er.  Until next time ...

Friday, September 12, 2014

Entry 250: It Takes a Kinda Big Man ...

It takes a kinda big man to admit when he is kinda wrong -- and I am just such a man.  S was mostly right about the trip to OBX.  I'm very glad we went; it was super fun.  I only say "mostly right," however, because she was wrong about the length of the drive, which was my main objection in the first place.  She was insistent it would be under five hours, but she was basing this off a text message from a friend who said they did it in four-and-a-half hours with two stops.  Everybody I talked to (and Googlemaps), on the other hand, said it was five-and-a-half to six hours.  It ended up being right around five hours and twenty minutes.  And that was driving in the middle of the night, with almost optimal traffic, and one five minute stop.  Like I said to S at the time, I do believe our friend was mistaken.

And by the way, isn't it a really silly move to dig in so hard on something that is about to happen, unless you're really, really sure about it?  If it does, in fact, take longer than five hours to get from DC to Corolla, NC, then at some point during our drive, we are going to eclipse the five hour mark, and then what do you say if you insisted it would be shorter?  As it turns out, you don't say anything and then act like the other person is being petty if they bring it up.  So, on second thought, maybe it's not that silly after all.  It's actually kinda genius.

One of the other reasons I wasn't so keen on going is because I thought Lil' S was too young.  I thought he wouldn't appreciate it, and we would just be running after him the entire time to keep him from drowning or falling off a balcony or something.  Again I was half-right: He loved it, but keeping him safe was in fact exhausting.  Part of the problem is my irrational fear of him falling from a high place.  We had a huge rental house, and I got really uncomfortable when he was on the top deck even if he wasn't near the railing (which would have been incredibly difficult for him to get over, anyway).  It got so bad that I had to leave him with S and go inside because I couldn't relax we were out there together even if I knew rationally that the likelihood of anything bad happening was extremely low.  But another part of the probably is that he's often too bold for his own good, and does put himself in legitimately perilous situations.  Case in point: See below.



This was taken approximately five minutes after waking up our first morning there.  It's about a ten-foot drop below him.  The very first thing he did when he woke up in a new house was go to the highest point and hang over it.  That's what we were up against.  (S is holding his leg here, by the way.  I wasn't letting him risk a broken neck for the sake of a pic, I swear.)

Then when we took him to the ocean -- really no fear about going in the water.  The fact that his little legs can't move that fast in the sand saved us a few times from watching him plunge into the sea.  And then when we went to the pool -- he jumped right in straightaway.  Our friend actually said something like, "Wow!  I've never seen a kid his age just jump in like that."  He was wearing this floaty thing on his back, but it's not a proper life vest, so he was just face down in the pool for a second until I pulled him up.  Actually this did kinda freak him out (thankfully he does have a little bit of innate fear), as he was very apprehensive about going in the pool again after that.  He was OK chilling on an inflatable raft, and he would sometimes let you swim around while holding him, but he did not want to put his face in the water again.

The trip was great for the adults too -- a lot of boozing.  But it's a different type of boozing than it would have been 15 years ago.  There were no wild nights (how can there be, when everybody has to wake up at six with their kids?); instead the first drops of alcohol would be served around noon, and then it was a slow-burn buzz the entire day.  And why not?  You're at the beach, and the only things on the agenda are salt water and chlorinated water.  I discovered a new favorite sunny-day cocktail: gin and tonic with a twist of lime and a splash of grapefruit juice.  It's very refreshing.



The drive back Saturday evening was not nearly as enjoyable as the ride in.  It was cute to hear Lil' S demand we all sing ("Song!  Song!  Bah black sheep!  Song!"), but toward the end I started to get really tired.  (I didn't have any drinks Saturday, but I was sapped from waking up early sitting in the sun all day).  Worse, I got a speeding ticket: 73 in a 55 zone.  In my defense, it was a three-lane highway in each direction, in pristine conditions, and traffic was very light.  I didn't even realize what the speed limit was or how fast I was going.  I was not driving unsafely by any means.

Coincidentally, the other day, I was listen to The Adam Carolla Show, as I frequently do, and his guest was the Republican lieutenant governor candidate for California.  I was about to skip ahead because Republicans rarely have anything new to say.  It's always a big anti-union, anti-regulation, anti-Obama jack-fest.  They all regurgitate the same four or five zombie lies, and if you've heard them once, there's no reason to subject yourself to them again.  But I thought I'd keep an open mind and listen, and to my surprise the main point of discussion was something I very much agreed with the man on: the tyranny of traffic laws.

Traffic law and its enforcement gotten way out of hand, and it has completely strayed from what it should be -- a deterrent for unsafe driving -- and become a system of extorting revenue from citizens by local governments.  Take my situation: You know how much this ticket is going to cost me?  $500.  That's right, $500.  And for what?  Driving at a speed millions of people drive at everyday on a flat stretch of smooth highway, in a safe, new car (just had the oil changed and tires rotated a few weeks ago), with no other cars near me.  That is crazy.

And it gets even crazier when you break down that $500.  $263 is the fine.  I talked to a few lawyers -- yes, I had to lawyer up over a speeding ticket -- and they all told me the same thing: They can bargain my charge "down" to improper equipment.  (It's actually a more expensive fine, but it doesn't affect my insurance.)  How this is even possible, I have no idea.  I didn't have improper equipment; I was speeding.  There's Exhibit A that the system is crooked.  Then I have to pay $250 for a lawyer fee because if I don't get a lawyer, then I have to appear in court.  Since I was going more than 15 m.p.h. over the speed limit, Currituck Country, North Carolina will not allow me to pay the fine over mail.*  I actually have to make a court appearance.  Or I can hire a lawyer and grant him or her power of attorney to appear on my behalf.  There's Exhibit B.  You don't have be a Jesse Ventura-esque conspiracy theorist to come to the conclusion that the police, the courts, and the lawyers have a nice "understanding" worked out; everybody gets their piece of my $500.  (I received ten ads in the mail from lawyers for legal services the past two days.)  I mean, if I was doing something so unsafe that it necessitates an appearance in court, why wasn't I taken off the road.  How could I have been let free to continue to menace other drivers ... and myself?  My wife and kid were in the car for Pete's sake!



Because, or course, I wasn't really doing anything unsafe.  I wasn't cutting through traffic; I wasn't swerving; I wasn't tailgating; I did nothing to suggest an accident was imminent.  I was driving in a straight line with no other cars in the immediate vicinity.  It's clearly not about safety.  If it was: 1) As pointed out on The ACS, the areas of highest danger -- the ones in which most accidents occur -- would be the most patrolled.  But that's not the case.  In fact, I suspect it's the opposite.  I suspect most speeding tickets are given in relatively safe situations because the vast majority of people speed only when they feel safe doing so.  2) Police wouldn't pull you over on the side of the road sometimes blocking a lane of traffic.  What's less safe then having cars zoom by you or go around you at high speeds on the side of the road?  And try driving until you find somewhere better to pull off; see where that gets you.

So now I have to pay an exorbitant fine ... whatever.  I'm employed; I can swing it.  The bigger issue is I hate the society we've crafted.  I hate that local governments are funded in large part by making traffic laws so onerous that everyday citizens cannot avoid becoming law-breakers.  It's not right, and it's un-American.  If municipalities needs money, bring back the policemen's ball (as Adam Carolla says), or raise the gas tax, or even charge a toll on your roads.  Nobody likes higher taxes or tolls, but at least they're honest.

And by the way, this is the case everywhere, not just Nowhereville, North Carolina.  My father in-law, for example, just got a ticket here in DC for parking in a street sweeping zone, despite the fact he came and left without a street sweeper coming anywhere near his vehicle.  He's about as by-the-book as one can get, so if he can get dinged, anybody can.  Now, you could argue that we should all just follow the law.  But my response would be: How much energy should the average citizen be expected to exert to avoid punitive traffic fines?  If you make the laws strict enough, everybody will eventually break them.  It's very similar to credit card companies charging exorbitant fees for violating small-print regulations in user agreements.  Sure, in theory, customers could avoid them by following their contract to a tee ... Or the companies could just not be allowed to do them, and we could all get on with our lives.  The credit card company analogy is apt in another way too.  Just as predatory lenders will levy bullshit fines and then drop them if you complain, DC government will frequently write you iffy tickets and then dismiss the charges if you contest them.  It's such a racket. (By the way, if you think I'm being hyperbolic to make my point, read this.)

In conclusion, I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I hate the Tea Party, but I get why they exist.  If you don't, try owning a car in DC or driving a little too fast through Currituck County, North Carolina.

OK.  I'm now dismounting my soap box.  I feel better.  Thanks for reading.  Fight the power.  Until next time ...

*By the way, the cop could have at least been nice enough to put my speed at 69 to avoid being 15-over, but he didn't.  He did however praise me for being courteous.  One of the biggest lies cops propagate is that it is in your best interest to cooperate with them.  In my experience, it's almost the exact opposite.  If you push back a little (in a legal way), things work out better for you because they don't want the hassle.  In this case, there wasn't really much I could do other than help expedite the process as much as possible, so I could get on with my criminal lifestyle.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Entry 249: OBX

No time for a longish entry tonight -- or this weekend.  Tomorrow evening we are headed to Corolla, North Carolina, a city on a strip of beach known as the Outer Banks (sometimes abbreviated OBX as I've come to learn).  It should be fun -- it had better be fun, as this trip almost ruined my marriage.  Allow me to explain.

S has been saying that she wants to take Lil' S to the beach for a long time now,* and we have some friends who get a house for a week at OBX every year who gave us an open invitation to come stay with them.  So when S brought up the idea of a visit a few months ago -- we'd drive up Thursday night and come back Sunday afternoon -- I said sure.  But I did so under two assumptions I later found out were wrong.




First, I thought we were going Labor Day weekend.  This is because the email S forwarded me about this event was labeled "Labor Day Weekend".  However, that was describing when our friends would arrive.  We would be coming the weekend after Labor Day.  I didn't get this, and once I saw "Labor Day", the dates in the email didn't mean anything to me -- I had Labor Day in my head.  As did S, by the way; she thought it was Labor Day also, so she never corrected me.

Second, I was under the impression it was a four-hour drive when in fact it is likely closer to a six-hour drive.  When S first Google mapped it, she accidentally put in the wrong address -- she put in the house where our friends picked up the keys for the rental house.  But the actual house is another few hours away, because you have to drive down the coast across a bridge and then back up the coast, which apparently can take a while.

Now can you guess why these two things were such a big deal?  Can you guess why I was devastated once I learned we'd be driving Thursday night and Sunday afternoon this week instead of last week -- and driving several more hours to boot?  I'll give you a hint.



The opening weekend of the NFL season is literally my favorite sporting event of the year.  And because the Seahawks won the Super Bowl last year, they play in the Thursday night opener.  So basically our travel plans were now perfectly concocted to prevent me from enjoying one of my favorite weekends of the year.**

Anyway, I now didn't want to go to the beach (not just because football -- the extra time in the car was also a huge factor, as is the fact the forecast calls for rain much of the time we will be there).  And so S got mad and said that I was trying back out of a commitment.  And then I got mad and said she gave me bad information.  And then we both got mad because it's 90 degrees here and our air conditioner ran out of coolant (refilled now, thankfully).  

But we reached a compromise: we leave tomorrow evening about 7:00 p.m. and driving back Saturday evening about 7:00 p.m.  This way S gets to go the beach with her family; I get to watch the 'Hawks on Thursday (I made sure there is a TV at the house) and be back in time for the Sunday games; we will likely hit less traffic; Lil' S can sleep the entire time; and I'm a more alert driver at night anyway.  Win.  Win.  Win.  Win.  Win.

Well, I still have to spend 12 hours in car this weekend -- that didn't get resolved -- but sometimes it's the price a man must pay for a happy wife and a weekend of football.

Until next time ... 

*I personally don't understand the obsession with taking a two-year old to a "destination" when a) he won't remember it, b) he'd be just as happy at the splash park down the street.

**During our first round of arguments, S was annoyed that I wanted to change our plans to watch the Seahawks because "it's just one football game".  True.  But the best way I can explain it is, imagine you have a TV show that you really love -- like how people loved Breaking Bad -- and the first episode of a new season is about to air.  Further suppose it's been revealed that a big event is going to happen on this episode, but nobody knows what it is, and the catch is, if you don't watch it when it airs then this big event will be spoiled for you.  There is no way in this hypothetical you can avoid spoilers.  If this was the case, watching the episode would be a big deal, right?  That's how I feel about the Seahawks game.