Entry 290: How Had I Never Heard of This Guy Before?

I have gotten really into watching James Randi videos on YouTube lately.  Somebody posted one on Facebook a few weeks ago (actually I linked to it in my last entry), and I liked it, so I started watching others.  Then I started researching James Randi (a.k.a., The Amazing Randi) online and found that he's a really interesting dude; I can't believe I had never heard of him before.  He's a magician who's now in his late 80s, who has made it his life goal to investigate (and usually debunk) claims of supernatural power.  His foundation has an open offer of $1 million to anybody who can prove they have ESP by passing a series of scientifically-controlled test.  (Unsurprisingly, nobody has ever claimed the prize -- although some of the attempts are pretty funny.)  He's appeared quite a few on various media to debunk famous so-called psychics.  He was particularly critical of Uri Geller back in the day (so much so that Geller unsuccessfully tried to sue him) and more recently Sylvia Browne (before she passed a few years ago) and John Edward.

[This is probably my favorite clip.  In the comments they say how Randi replicated Walters' drawing.  It's pretty cool to go back and watch him do it, once you know -- very slick.  I don't think I ever would have figured it out on my own, but I wish I had tried.]

This type of thing is right up my alley.  I love seeing charlatans get exposed -- perhaps too much so.  As I said in one of my previous entries:

I loathe charlatans, and hearing about one getting her comeuppance (kinda) is a total guilty pleasure of mine -- so much so, that I literally felt guilty about it.

But the thing that really stuck out to me in watching all these huckster do their things is how many people actually believe it.  The top psychics are extremely wealthy from selling books, hosting TV shows, and doing very expensive private readings.  Who's believing this crap?  The worst is "cold reading," which is where a person asks a bunch of questions to another person or a group of people until he or she gets a few hits and then claims it's a psychic power.  There isn't even an illusion involved.  (Here's a nice clip of James Van Praagh, showing off his "uncanny" powers.)  The only thing about cold reading that's remotely interesting is that it's possible to hone in on a truth in fewer questions than people might imagine, if you ask the right questions.  But it's not psychic power; it's math.  It's the power of exponential growth (or this case its inverse, logarithmic decay).  For example, suppose somebody is thinking of a number between 1 and 16 million, I could get the number every time if you gave me just 25 yes-no questions; I could do between 1 and 549 trillion with just 40 questions.  Being that cold readers can fire off 40-plus questions a minute and a reading lasts several minutes, being able to tell somebody that they have a relative named Mike whose death was painful for the family is simply not at all impressive.  And yet Sylvia Browne could charge $700 for a 20 minute reading.  Remarkable.

Although, perhaps not really that remarkable considering that as I type this, I can look out my window and see three churches without leaving my house.  If you think about it, believing in psychic power is not any more ridiculous than believing the stories behind any of the major religions, and many people I know and love and respect believe these stories, so ... I don't really know what to think.  Or maybe they don't believe them literally, maybe they just believe them allegorically (but then they're not true believers, right?).  Or maybe they believe the general idea, but not the specific canons.  Or maybe they don't believe them at all, but they just go with the flow because that's how they were raised, and it's easier to go along with it than it is to push back.  Or maybe they really like the cultural/social aspect of their religion, but not the actual "religion" part.  I don't know.  I've come to the conclusion that I just don't get religion and probably never will.  I'm fine with it.  I mean, yeah, spending eternity in hell will suck, but at least I can sleep in on Sunday morning while I'm alive.

Anyway ... Time is of the essence this weekend, as it often is these days, so let's hit some bullet points.

• Religion and its validity is a very apropos topic for me today, as S and I went to see The Book of Mormon last night (date night, whoo!).  I thought it was really good.  Some of the humor is pretty juvenile, but it's from the people who do South Park, so that's do be expected.  (Plus I like juvenile humor, if it's cleverly done, which it usually is by Matt Stone and Trey Parker.)  One thing I realized is that, in general, I don't love musicals.  I found myself watching the show and wanting more dialog.  Overall, the show didn't quite live up to the hype for me.  But it made me laugh a lot, so what more should I want?  Plus, it's cool to go to an event at The Kennedy Center.  It feels so sophisticated... and expensive.  I won't say how much S and I dropped all together on the tickets, the taxis, and the babysitter, because I don't know, and I don't want to find out.
• I just had to restart my computer, as I have to do from time to time because my computer bogs down the Internet (regardless of the browser) to the point of uselessness.  (I know it's the computer and not the WiFi because it works fine on every other device.)  I'm convinced that it's Windows 8.  It sucks.  Few things are more annoying than buying the newest version of something and having it work worse than the older version.  And this seems to happen frequently with Microsoft products (remember the Vista disaster).  Why can't they get it right?  Do they rush out their releases?  Also, this isn't really specific to Microsoft, but I think the tablet/laptop in-one is a failed concept.  I have one, and in two years, I literally have never disconnected my screen and used it like a tablet.  I much prefer having a laptop be a laptop and a tablet be a tablet.  But maybe I'm just getting old and stuck in my ways, and in a few years the laptop as a singular device will be obsolete.
• Speaking of technology, I was contacted through LinkedIn by a rep for major tech firm.  (I won't say which one, but you've heard of them -- they're a hot new company.)  He liked some of my research and wanted to talk to me about opportunities with his company.  By no means am I looking for a new job, but it's always good to keep your options open, and I was flattered by the outreach, so I agreed to talk to him.  The conversation went well, but it was very vague.  There was no talk about a specific position or an explicit offer or anything like that.  It was more a here's-what-we -do, here's-what-I-do type of conversation -- a feel-out-the-situation type of thing.  Afterwards he asked if he could set me up to speak with somebody else at his company, and I said sure (again, it doesn't hurt to listen).  So he sends an email to both me and the woman he wants me to talk to, but he phrases the email in a way that makes it complete ambiguous about who is suppose to contact whom.  So I wait a few days and don't hear anything.  Then it's like -- do I send them an email?  I don't even really know what this is all about.  If this guy is trying to recruit me or at least interested in me, why didn't he ask the person in his company explicitly to contact me?  Isn't that the logical progression?  It's like I'm now supposed to take the lead on this whole thing, but I don't know what or whom I'm supposed to lead.  Anyway, I ended up sending an email saying I'd be willing to talking more.  That seems reasonable.  But still, the whole thing feels a bit strange to me.
• In sadder news, as I'm sure you know, another mass shooting went down a few days ago.  A young white supremacist went into a black church. and, after sitting in on a prayer session, shot and killed a bunch of its participants.  We will never know what caused him to do this, but we can certainly rule out two things: racism and lax gun laws.  After all, everybody knows that racism is a thing of the past (except for reverse racism -- that shit is real!) and lax gun laws actually prevent more deaths than they cause.  I mean, it's true that you never actually hear of a "good gun with a gun" saving the day, but that's only because the media is biased -- they hate stories of amazing heroics that everybody would follow and would make them tons of money.
• I'm sure you've already seen it, but I'm putting a link to this Jon Stewart clip anyway.
• On a lighter note, this weekend the US Open is being played at Chambers Bay golf course in my hometown -- my actual hometown, where I was actually born and raised, not my fake hometowns, Tacoma and Seattle, which I often claim for simplicity -- University Place, Washington (although back when I was growing up it was an unincorporated area of Pierce County, not an official city).  I watched a little bit of the tournament on TV, said to myself "yep, that's it alright," and then turned it off and haven't watched since.  I'm not a big golf guy.  If it's close, I might watch the last few holes tomorrow.
• I read this interesting article about screen time, and how it probably isn't the boogeyman we parents make it out to be.  This was my favorite quote in it: 

 To judge what impact TV has on children, we have to think about tradeoffs — what would kids be doing with their time if they weren’t watching television? There are 24 hours in a day. If your kid watches one less hour of TV, she does one hour more of something else. The AAP guidelines imply that this alternative activity is something more enriching: reading books with dad, running on the track, discussing current events with grandma, etc. 

 But a lot of kids and families may not use an additional hour in these ways. An hour of TV may be replaced by an hour of sitting around doing nothing, whining about being bored. Or, worse, being yelled at by an overtired parent who is trying to get dinner ready on a tight time frame. If letting your kids watch an hour of TV means you are better able to have a relaxed conversation at the dinner table, this could mean TV isn’t that bad for cognitive development.

•  Well, if we are giving Lil' S too much screen time, it certainly isn't hurting his dexterity.  He got to the top of the bars (and back down) without me coming within five feet of him.  He's not even three yet. If only his potty training was as good as his climbing.

Until next time ...

Entry 289: Instant Calamity

You have heard of the John Lennon song "Instant Karma?"  Well, my trip to Joplin, Missouri, for my cousin's wedding was something a bit different: Instant Calamity.  I had a thing happened to me at the airport that I had never even heard of happening to anybody: My flight was canceled on my way from security to the gate.  I was walking down one of those super long corridors you find at big airports, and in the distance I noticed an usually long line at the service kiosk at what looked to be my gate.  I suspected this was not a good thing, and then I knew for sure when a buzz in my pocket revealed a text saying that my flight had been canceled for "maintenance" -- not delayed, outright canceled.  I stopped in my tracks glanced back up at the formidable (and growing) queue, and thought to myself, "Shit.  What now?"



A fellow traveler -- some random middle-aged woman -- must have noticed me and read my body language, because she approached me and asked if I was booked on the flight to Chicago that just got canceled.  I said I was.  We commiserated for a few beats and then started shuffling unenthusiastically toward our old gate, which had quickly descended, it appeared, into full-fledged chaos.  Luckily, however, a friendly twentysomething bro overheard our conversation and gave us the heads up to go to the main United customer service kiosk at the other end of the concourse because they had more service agents and the line was shorter.  So that's what we did.  Before too long I was speaking face-to-face with a United service rep.

United was willing to fly me out on any flight that had an opening, but there were not many options.  My final destination was the Springfield-Branson Airport, which is not exactly LAX is terms of traveler throughput.  (I later drove to this airport, giving myself plenty of time to account for traffic, before realizing it's more likely to be delayed by cattle crossing than other cars.)  All flights had me arriving after 9:30 p.m., which meant I would miss the rehearsal dinner (starting at 6:00), and I would have to spend all day in the airport.  The thought of each of these outcomes was extremely disheartening.

Feeling more and more defeated with each flight option arriving later than the next, I started thinking about surrounding airports.  I thought I remembered hearing about Joplin having its own little airport, so I asked the service rep about it, and she clacked a button, "No sir. There is no airport in Joplin."  (The funny thing, in retrospect, is that there is an airport in Joplin -- a bunch of my relatives used it.)  Next, I looked on my phone to get an approximate drive time from Kansas City to Joplin -- about three hours.  Long, but doable.  I asked about Kansas City.  She tapped some more buttons and said, "There's one that arrives in KC at 2:40 pm."

"Book it!"

She did, and I turned and started to walk away, and then turned back: "Wait ... what about my luggage?"
"Oh ... You got luggage?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm ... Okay, I guess can put in a transfer request."
"Request?"
"Yeah, it's just something we put in the system to do a transfer."
"But you said 'request'... It will get to Kansas City for sure, right?"
"Yes.  It should."
"Should?"
"Yes sir, it should... Oh, and sir, here's a meal voucher for your troubles."

It was the least confidence-inspiring assurance I've ever received.  I was certain my suitcase was going to end up on a baggage carousel in an abandoned airport outside Butts, Missouri -- but what could I do?  The voucher was worth $7.

To complicate things, I was supposed to meet my parents in Springfield and drive them in my rental car to Joplin.  Now not only did I have to change that reservation, I had to book myself a car in KC.  The former was relatively easy; the latter was more complicated than it might sound, because a) my flight was leaving soon, b) the woman at Dollar Rental Car was fighting me over returning the car to a different city than it was rented (my return flight didn't change -- it was still out of Springfield), c) she had an accent, which, with the cell reception, made her very difficult for me to understand, d) I was hungry and irritable.  It wasn't until I threatened to call one of her "competitors" that she finally acquiesced -- while charging me a hefty fee, of course.  I was not really in a position to argue, so I just agreed and finalized the reservation.  I then hustled across the walkway, bought a sandwich, and then hurried to my new gate and onto the plane.

I instantly decompressed into my plane seat.  It was an intense hour-long scramble, but now I had nothing to do but sit for a few hours.  I looked out the window, and in one of those seemingly insignificant, but actually quite remarkable bits of happenstance, I saw my bag going up the conveyor belt into the belly of the plane.  "Wow," I thought, "I might just pull this off."  I put my hand in my pocket and felt the meal voucher.  I didn't even remember to use it.

The rest of my trip to Joplin was pleasantly uneventful.  My new flights were on time, my luggage did in fact arrive at the correct destination, the rental car transaction was easy, and the drive from Kansas City to Joplin was completely devoid of the heavy traffic I'm used to in traveling the Eastern seaboard.  I arrived at my hotel about ten to six and literally bumped into my Uncle J in the lobby.  He was on his way to the dinner with a group of a half dozen family members.  I said some harried hellos, and then hustled to check in.  As I was leaving, my uncle pulled me aside and said, "Clean yourself up.  Take a shower."  I couldn't tell if he was being overly affable, or if I really did need to bathe, so I bolted to my room, took a "navy shower," slapped on some deodorant and clean clothes, and then found my parents' room.  They hadn't left yet, so we were able to go to the dinner together.  This was one time when my mom's general leniency toward punctuality worked in my favor.

The dinner was nice -- so was the ceremony, and the reception for that matter.  Weddings are kind of like dreams in that they aren't interesting unless they involve you, so I'll just hit the tangential highlights.

• My cousin's husband is from Arkansas, so the wedding had a bit of a Southern feel to it.  (In fact, I think Joplin should have a new slogan: Welcome to Joplin, Missouri: Where the Midwest meets the South)  My cousin is also relatively young, 25ish, and if you combine these two things -- Southern and young -- you end up surrounded by a bunch of "kids" who look like they are 15, but all have wedding rings on. 
• It was a Catholic ceremony (I'm surprised this is still allowed, I mean, with the War on Christianity, and all), so there was a fair amount of scripture reading and prayers.  I never bow my head or close my eyes when asked to pray.  It's my own little pointless protest -- although every now and then I make eye contact with another non-believer and give a knowing nod.
• Between the ceremony and reception a group of us got ice cream.  There were two cars going, so my dad and my cousin's wife coordinated the location.  The problem is that they put in the wrong address for the ice cream shop -- it's a local chain and they put in the address for location B, thinking it was the address for location A -- so the Maps app on the iPhone started taking us in the "wrong" direction (away from A, toward B).  We realized we were going the wrong way, so we turned around and found location A on our own.  After that everybody (by which I mean mainly just my uncle) made fun of the Maps app and refused to believe it for the rest of the trip.  But the app actually had it right.  We were the ones who had it wrong.  
• One good thing about taking the wrong route is that I got to see a bit of Joplin (get your kicks on Route 66).  You probably recall that it was devastated by a tornado four years ago, and the signs of the wreckage are definitely still present (there is a sizable treeless strip cutting through the city), but it's remarkable how much of it is rebuilt with new houses and businesses.  Humans are pretty resilient, when we need to be.  (My uncle's and aunt's house was not in the strike zone, thankfully.)
• At the reception venue, the locks on the bathrooms didn't work properly -- after they clicked you had to turn them once more to get them to lock -- so people kept walking in on other people peeing.  I was one of the first -- I opened the door and was surprised to find it already occupied by a young woman with her dress hiked up, sitting on the john.  (My immediate reaction was one of repulsion, so I guess I don't have a pee fetish.)  I said, "whoops!," and she said "sorry!" and I closed the door and fled the scene.  I'm not quite sure, why she was apologizing.  It was a bit embarrassing, but I don't think either of us really got a good look at the other one.
• After the reception, my cousins and I met at the hotel bar.  It was fun, until this drunk dude spoiled it.  Some guy who was somehow related to my cousin's husband decided to join us ("Hey ... Y'all are from the wedding, right?"); he was annoyingly drunk, and probably not somebody whose company I would enjoy even if he was sober.  His topics of conversation consisted primarily of: a) his arsenal ("My ex-wife got my sniper rifle in the settlement, but she don't know about my grenades."); b) his hatred for Bill Clinton, perhaps oblivious to the fact Clinton's gubernatorial term in Arkansas ended 23 years ago ("He is not what Arkansas needs right now!"); the windows at his old house ("I'm still $2,000 in debt on those damn windows, and I don't even live there no more."); and his divorce proceedings ("I saw the bill for my lawyer, and thought 'Shit, I'm better off just paying her directly'").  At first he was kind of entertaining, but like all drunken fools, he quickly became unbearable.  For the better half of the night, I just wanted him to leave, but he wasn't budging.  As a nice little added "bonus," when he final wore us out, and we decided to turn in, he gave my cousin C a very creepy hug -- one of those from-behind, over-the-head-hugs (my cousin was sitting, he was standing) where the forearm slides down a little to close for comfort.  He was a real peach.
• As I was walking back to my room, I overheard one of the other wedding attendees -- a guy who was somehow drunker and more idiotic than the guy at the bar -- using the n-word.  When I turned the corner, and he realized I had probably heard him, he got embarrassed, and his wife scolded him -- "You know you can't use that word!  That's offensive!" -- but you can't unring that bell.

Pretty much everybody cleared out of Joplin the following afternoon, Sunday, but I had to drive to a hotel in Springfield and fly out early Monday morning (I had a 5:00 a.m. flight).  We used S's miles to book my ticket, but in order to do so, the options were limited.  The flight out Monday morning was significantly cheaper -- like several hundred dollars cheaper -- than anything on Sunday, even accounting for the extra night at a hotel.  The Springfield airport is tiny, and it's in the middle of nowhere, so there wasn't much to do but chill out in my hotel room.  I watched some interesting videos on YouTube (free, fast wi-fi at least); I ate at the only diner in the vicinity (one of those places where the waitress hacks and wheezes and calls you "hon," your entire meal costs $9.00 with tip, and everybody else in there, staff and other patrons alike, is seemingly coated in a thin layer of grease); and I watched the Cavs beat the Warriors in the NBA finals (unreal performance by LeBron).  

[The menu from the restaurant.  I stayed away from the "Oriental Food."  Somehow I just didn't think it would be very authentic.] 

Everything was going fine until ...

*Buzz*

"Your flight to Chicago (UA931) is canceled due to weather."

Sigh ...

I had never had a flight canceled on me before, and now I had two in three days -- unreal.  I checked the weather online, just to make sure that this wasn't some sort of mistake, but indeed storm icons were covering the Chicago area.  I called United to rebook.  They were not nearly as accommodating this time, because since inclement weather, unlike maintenance, is not their fault, they will only rebook you on one of their pre-approved carriers.  This meant I either had to fly through Chicago on a flight that had not been canceled (yet), which I didn't want to do for obvious reasons, or fly through Denver in the evening, which I also didn't want to do, because that mean I would have to wait all day in Springfield to fly halfway across the country in the opposite direction to get on a flight that would arrive on in D.C. in the middle of the night.  That made no sense.  So after getting nowhere with a service rep I asked to speak to a manager.  

When the manager got on the line I launched into a travel-weary, semi-coherent, half-suppliant, half-aggressive plea.  I don't remember exactly what I said, I just remember I was frustrated, and I was spitting out everything that happened to me over the past few days as fast as I could.  If was part service call and part cathartic rant.  I finished with, "I know the weather isn't your fault.  But what I'm asking is that, in these extraordinary circumstances, you get me on a flight from Springfield to Dulles that arrives at a reasonable hour and doesn't go through Chicago.  I don't care how -- just do it. Dulles is a huge airport; I know there are other flights that go there.  I don't care what airline or what your business agreement is with them.  Just get me on.  That's what I'm asking you.  This is a good chance for you guys to keep a customer."

"Huh," is all I got in response.  

[A few pics of the Springfield Airport.  Yes, they are open.]  

But she did in fact switch my ticket to a flight through Atlanta.  I finally got into Dulles around 5:30 p.m., and I was home by 7:00.  I had to miss another day of work, but it was not so terrible, all things considered.  It could have been worse.  When I got home, I hugged S and Lil' S until they pushed me away.  I was only gone three days, but it longer, much longer.

Until next time ...

Entry 288: Not-In-Grad-School-Anymore Moment

My youngest cousin is getting married on Saturday in Joplin, Missouri, and I will be in attendance.  I'm flying out tomorrow morning and flying back early Monday morning.  This is the under-card trip to my main event two-week vacation to the PNW at the end of the month.  Actually, my initial reaction was to not go to the wedding because of my big trip; it took some coaxing from my wife to make me realize there was no reason I couldn't do both.  Here's a conversation that transpired a few months ago.

Me: We got an invitation for my cousin's wedding.  It's June 6.  Aw, that sucks.  I guess we can't go, bad timing.
Her: Why can't we go?
Me: Well, you will be super pregnant, and then we will have to bring Lil' S, and that will be a nightmare.
Her: Well, you could go by yourself.  I'll watch Lil' S.
Me: Yeah, but that won't work.  I have the big trip out to visit the fam at the end of the month -- remember?
Her: Yeah, so?
Me: We'll have to buy another ticket.  We can't just buy another plane ticket?
Her: Why not?  We can afford it.
Me: Yeah, but I'll have to take time off from work.
Her: Just a day or two; you can just go for weekend.
Me: Yeah, but ... Hey, you're right!  I can go!  I love you, babe!  You're the best wife ever!!!*

*Conversation not exact.

The thing is, even though I've been out of grad school for five years now, I still haven't completely shaken my grad school mindset.  In grad school, I didn't have the money to just fly somewhere for a weekend.  I had to save for all my trips and basically could take only one a year.  I wouldn't dream of taking two trips in the same month.  But more than the money was the time.  (After all, if I really wanted to do something and didn't have the cash, I could put it on my credit card, like I did with a trip to Vegas back in aught-six.  Totally worth it, by the way.)  There was no such thing as idle time back then; there were no free weekends.  I basically had to budget my time as if every moment I wasn't sleeping or in the classroom or expunging my bowels had to be devoted to doing research (and even with the latter I'd often bring my books into the bathroom with me).  Of course, I did take breaks, and I did go on vacation, but they were few and far between, and I had to plan long in advance and structure my schedule accordingly.  It's still a weird feeling for me to just be able to "do nothing" for a weekend and not fall behind.  As long my kid is covered, there is nothing that I legitimately have to do on the weekends -- no research, no grading.  Like I said, even though I'm five years remove from grad school, it still takes some getting used to.  I guess 13 years of higher education leaves some deep imprints on a man.

And by the way, we shall see if now that S actually is super pregnant -- it's not just an abstract idea in the future -- she will regret giving me the go-ahead to leave her alone with our impish son for the weekend.  Actually, I think she will be fine.  She's arranged an overnight trip with one of our friends who has three kids to some place called Sesame Street Land or something like that.  So that will take up most the weekend.  Plus, at least for me, sometimes it's easier to take care of Lil' S by myself, because he acts differently when there is only one of us around, and because I can do everything the way I want to do it -- maybe that's just me though.

Anyway, since I still have to pack, I'm a bit short on time tonight, but I did want to touch on the big story of the week.  The "birth" of Caitlyn Jenner.  What a weird story -- not a bad one, of course, but a weird one.  It's not everyday that the former "Greatest Male Athlete in the World" transitions into being a female.  (Although in The World According to Garp, John Irving did create a transgender ex-football player, Roberta Muldoon, played in the movie by John Lithgow.)

The most amazing thing to me about the story is how accepting of Caitlyn the general public is.  We've come so far as a society on the acceptance of LGBT people just in my adult lifetime it's amazing -- and legitimately heartwarming.  Sure, we've still got the haters -- people like Mike Huckabee, Rick Santorum, Ted Cruz, and even one or two who aren't Republican presidential candidates (hey-o!) -- but these people are becoming more and more marginalized and looking more and more like the bigoted dinosaurs they are with each passing day.  We're moving in the right direction on this one.  I really believe this.  On other issues like systemic racism, the War on Drugs, inequality, and climate change, well, let's just say I'm not quite as optimistic.  But those are topics for another day.

Until next time ...

Entry 287: Crossword Puzzle Tournament

I competed in my first crossword puzzle tournament today.  I put up two posts about it, a preview and a recap, at my other blog here and here.  I have neither the time nor the desire to write a whole other post on a different topic on this blog, so for this week's post I'm double-dipping.  The crossword puzzles posts are all there is.

Until next time... 

Entry 286: Happy(?) Memorial Day Weekend 2015

What's the proper adjective to use when wishing somebody a [blank] Memorial Day?  Is it OK to use "happy?"  If you think about the meaning of Memorial Day, "happy" just doesn't seem appropriate.  It's like wishing somebody a happy funeral.  Have a solemn Memorial Day?  A somber Memorial Day?  A respectful Memorial Day?  A freedom-filled Memorial Day?  I'm not sure.

Anyway, this entry is coming at you a bit later than usual.  That's because I was out of town, visiting the in-laws in SC, and I didn't have my personal computer with me.  It was a nice visit, as usual.  The best part about going there is that I get to sleep in everyday.  S's mom wakes up with the little man, so S and I can get some rest.  It's much needed too, as he's been wearing us out (S especially -- he's a mama's boy).  He's a typical almost-three-year-old, if somebody gave a typical almost-three-year-old a quad-shot espresso every morning.  He's supercharged.  And I'm not just saying that because he's my kid.  I've been around many other kids his age, and Lil' S is especially hyper and impish.  He just can't ever do anything "normally" (except zone out and watch iPad; he's very normal in that regard) -- like instead of just drinking water, he pours it from one cup into another into another and then drinks it; instead of just eating, he puts food in his mouth does a lap around the kitchen and then chews it and swallows (I'm trying very hard to put the kibosh on that one; it's a choking hazard); and instead of just sitting next to me, he climbs on my head, or he climbs to the top of the sofa and cannonballs onto the cushions below.  Admittedly, a lot of the stuff he does is really funny and cute, especially when my in-laws feebly try to stop it (he runs circles around them -- literally), but it's also tiring.  And I find myself in the role of "disapproving parent" -- "c'mon, knock it off," "get down from there," "stop! now!," "do you want a timeout?" -- much more than I would like to be.  Oh well.  C'est la vie.

My patience with Lil' S was especially thin this weekend as I was pretty sick.  I think early in the week I caught what he had last weekend, and it just lingered.  It was what I call a "bad break up sickness."  You know how when you go through a heart-break, you're miserable, but the misery is constantly changing -- like at first you're sad ("I'll be in my room drinking orange juice and watching Swingers on endless loop if you need me."), then angry ("Fuck him/her!"), then self-righteous ("I mean, setting aside our relationship, I just feel betrayed on the friend level."), then lonely ("I'll never find somebody that perfect again."), and then you go through a long stretch where you think you are better ("I'm just doing my own thing right now."), but then six-months later you find yourself crafting an email containing a transparently lame reason to see your ex again ("Hey, Sorry if I was a jerk before.  Just cleaning the bathroom and I found a half-used bottle of that conditioner you like.  Want to meet for coffee so that I can return it?")?  Well, that's how this sickness was.  I went through every major symptom -- earache, stuffy nose, sore throat, cloudy head, sinus headache, achy muscles, etc. -- and then I thought I kicked it on Friday and again on Saturday, but it just lingered and lingered.  Very annoying.  I think it finally, actually, really is gone now though  (i.e., I met somebody else who I legitimately like).  But it wiped me out for a few days.

So, let's see what else there is to say about this weekend ... Oh, Lil' S got his first buzz cut -- unfortunately.  I'm not a fan of the buzz cut.  In my opinion, the only people who should get buzz cuts are military personnel and balding middle-aged men (I've been resisting the buzz cut for years; eventually I'm going to have to give in).  If you have a full head of hair, why on Earth do you want to shave it all off?  Flaunt that shit!  I definitely do not like the way Lil' S looks right now.  And nobody intended for him to get it cut that way.  What happened is, my in-laws took him to get it cut, and there was some sort of confusion in the type of cut (remember, English is not their first language and they live in the South), and next thing they know the barber has already shaved half his head.  So now he's running around looking like a little Marine.  It reminds me of that scene in Boyhood when the step-dad cuts the boy's hair without his permission.   Anyway, like I said, I don't like it.  But Lil' S certainly doesn't care, and it will grow back in short order, so no harm, no foul, I guess.

Ok, I gotta go soon.  Lil' S is going to wake up from his nap at any moment.  (That's one nice thing about him.  He still crashes out for a few hours everyday.)  So let's do a quick five and out.

1. I started streaming Louie again on Netflix.  I'm on Season 4.  I liked the first three seasons okay -- nothing special, just decent -- but this season he's gone to a whole new level.  I think it's fantastic.  It's my favorite show on TV right now.
   
2. Speaking of TV, as you might have heard, David Letterman retired.  Like all comedy lovers of my generation, my sensibilities were shaped by Letterm- Oh, wait ... I never liked David Letterman and didn't watch his show.  I don't get the late night genre in general.  I've never liked any of those shows.  I don't get the attraction.  Nothing against Letterman, and a lot of people I think are funny cite him as a major influence, I just never though he was that good, even in his early shows that everybody swears by.
   
3. S is thinking about taking the GRE at some point, so she's been practicing math problems.  Every now and then I help her out and I feel like Good Will Hunting: Do you know how easy this is for me.
   
   
   
4. Running a marathon is kind of a big deal.  Running a 10K is not.  Just a little PSA for my Facebook friend who plastered his page with pics of himself finishing a 10K like he had just completed an Iron Man competition.  10K is about 6.5 miles.  I used to run that weekly with a friend, and we weren't even "runners."  It's just not that far.
   
5. Speaking of iron men ... Since it's Memorial Day, here's a link about a guy I was friends with in high school.  When I first met him he was a temperamental little pipsqueak; as you can see, he didn't stay that way.  He did quite well for himself, and his is a sad story.  Very sad indeed. 

Until next time ...

Entry 285: Stressors

Yesterday was not a particularly fun day.  It was actually quite stressful.  Lil' S ran a slight fever on Thursday, which meant not only did he have to be pulled out of daycare early on that day, but he could not come back on Friday either.  (They have a rule that a child must be fever-free for 24 hours before returning.)  S has Friday "off" -- I use quotes because she has one of those jobs where she's implicitly expected to work even on her off days -- and I work from home on Fridays, so we would both be home, but we had to figure out how to divvy up the parenting responsibilities for the day.  I hate this part of child-rearing because you end up bartering in this undefined currency "parenting units," where it's like -- How much is taking him to the store for an hour worth?  Is that lunch and a bath, or a trip to the park, or what?  And inevitably each parent thinks whatever it is they are doing is worth more than what the other person is doing.  With S there is an added struggle that she never wants the emotional burden of putting somebody else out, so instead of just saying to me "I want you to do x.  Will you do it please?" she will act in away where it becomes more and more apparent that she would like me to do x without actually stating it.  Or sometimes she will make a "suggestion" that's really more of an imperative, but I will treat it as a suggestion, because I don't get the context right away (or perhaps I do, but I'm annoyed that she's not being straightforward, so I act as if I don't -- which, only makes things much worse, I know).  The whole thing just leads to bad times.  It's fine when we're in our well-established routines.  But when we get thrown off it's tough.

I ended up just taking a sick day yesterday, so that I wouldn't have to worry about work at all.  This way I could watch Lil' S all-day -- or that was the plan anyway.  It didn't really work out that way, because S was still home most the day, and if she's home, he wants to be with her at all times.  He's going through a huge mama's boy stage right now.  If he's in a different room as her, he just whines and says, "I want Amma ... I want Amma."  And then unless you physically constrain him, he goes to wherever she is and pounds on the door.  The only way to distract him is to give him the iPad (Lightning McQueen trumps his own mother -- it's amazing and scary the power TV has over kids his age), which is fine once a day, for a half hour, but then what are you going to do the other 13 hours he's awake?  S can go to a coffee shop or something, and she did that, but she's also pregnant (another nice "bonus"), and apparently sitting at a coffee shop all day is not very comfortable when you've got a bowling ball attached to your tummy.  I can take Lil' S out, but you can only go to the park for so long, and he has to be home to eat and nap and stuff, and also you don't want to overdo it because he was just sick, which is why he's not at daycare in the first place.  Oh, and also we are having some work done on our house, so men are constantly coming in and out, and there is a nonstop cacophony of pounding and sawing and stomping.  So, if you are scoring at home, that's me, my pregnant wife, and my whiny toddler trapped in a construction zone for 12 hours.  I need to get back to the office just to have some peace of mind.

Another little wrinkle is that it's S's birthday today.  It's bad timing.  Nobody is in a celebratory mood.  She has the same stresses as I do, only it's 100 times worse because she's pregnant.  It's tough on her emotionally.  I know this, but I'm not very good at showing it.  Emotional support just isn't my bag.  I have too much robot in me.  Also, it doesn't help that S and I have been at odds with Lil' S's eating habits of late, and that's causing a bit of strife between us.  Basically, Lil' S is a picky eater, a really picky eater (just like 95% of the toddlers I know).  In the past, we've gotten around this, by turning on the iPad and shoveling food into his mouth while he's in a zombie-like state, or by rewarding/punishing him for eating/not eating (dessert, iPad time, take away his toys, etc.).  I really don't like doing either of these.  I think they are instilling really bad habits and increasing the odds that he will develop negative associations with food and/or eating disorders.  In most matters child-rearing I'm a parent-and-let-parent type of guy, but this is one thing about which I feel somewhat strongly.  I want to put a few dishes out for him, let him eat or not eat whatever he wants, and be done with it.  If that means he only eats yogurt and shredded cheese for a week, so be it -- he's not going to die of malnutrition.  Eventually he will open up his diet, and it will stick for the long run because he did it on his own.  It's short-term pain for long-term gain.

S agrees with me on this in theory, but when it's dinner time and all he's eaten is half a baby carrot and some ketchup on a fork, her Mama Bear instincts take over and she goes into "cub need food now!" mode.  I can make all the arguments I want -- if he's really hungry, he'll eat; he'll make up for it with a bigger breakfast tomorrow; he's healthy and growing normally, which is the only important thing; etc. -- but they fall on deaf ears, because it's not about rational point-counterpoint discourse, it's about maternal instinct.  And maternal instinct, I've come to find, is very powerful force.

Anyway ... lest I've given you a notion to the contrary, S and I, are, on a macro-level, very happy and doing quite well.  We just go through the same shit as every other couple.  My problems aren't, like, real problems, but they are mine, so I get to talk about them on my blog.

Okay, time for just a few bullet-point topics.

• Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, the Boston Marathon bomber, was sentenced to death a few days ago.  I wish he would not have been.  For one thing, I think there is less honor in withering away in obscurity in a cage somewhere than in being executed by the very society he terrorized.  For another thing, I'm very much against the death penalty -- not because I think it's wrong in theory, but because it's wrong in practice.  We fuck it up so much that it's better to just not have it at all.  With that said, I won't exactly be protesting in the street to spare Tsarnaev -- even if he is long in boyish good looks.
  
• I don't know which is harsher -- Tsarnaev's punishment for bombing a bunch of innocent people or Tom Brady's for having his lackeys deflate footballs to slightly below the legal limits set by the NFL.  Four games!  Plus $1 million and the loss of two draft picks by the Patriots! Egads!  That's brutal.  I know of the nine people who read this blog at least six of them couldn't care less about sports, so I will just talk about cheating in general.  Cheating is one of those things like lying where it is done so frequently, by so many people (just about everybody), that it is useless to talk about it without proper context.  Not all "cheaters" are the same -- not by a long shot.  There is a massive spectrum: On one side, there is seeing one of your opponent's cards in a game of rummy and not saying anything; on the other side, there is having a couple goons whack you opponent in the knee with a club before an ice skating competition.
  
  When I played lacrosse in college, we had guys our team who would intentionally use illegal gloves (they would cut the palms out so that they could grip the stick better) because the refs often did not notice.  But if they did, it was a three-minute non-releasable penalty, which in most cases meant several goals for the other team.  Although it was definitely cheating, I never really thought of it as such, because the possibility of a penalty was always there.  It was more like a calculated bit of gamesmanship.  Go ahead and try it, but if you get caught, you pay the price.  But then that's it.  You serve the penalty and then you can come back onto the field with legal gloves later.  You aren't branded a "cheater," and you aren't disallowed from future games.  It's like if you speed, you pay the fine, and drive a little more slowly next time.  Tom Brady got caught speeding, and now he's going to jail for a month and being branded a criminal.  It's way too harsh.  With that said, it doesn't help that he gave the finger to the police officer (i.e., didn't cooperate with the NFL), and is now telling everybody to "fuck off" (figuratively speaking), instead of just coming clean.  Tom, just admit it.
  
• I thought the clip below was hilarious, and it also perfectly illustrates why Jimmy Fallon is the most untalented genius in show biz.  This video is literally just Fallon and Jack Black pretending to be the guys from Extreme and recreating the More Than Words music video.  On the difficulty scale it's a two; on the creativity scale, it's a one.  Other than a few funny faces and gestures by Black, there is absolutely nothing to it, and yet I loved it, because back in seventh grade this song was the jam.  I don't actually watch Jimmy Fallon's show, but from what I can gather, his whole shtick is that he redoes things from the past that make thirtysomethings nostalgic.  That seems like a pretty lame and simple shtick, but -- and this is a big but -- he picks the exact right things.  That's the genius behind it.
  
  
• So on that note, I will leave you with the top five songs from my seventh grade year (1990-1991).  These are not my favorite songs from that period; they are the songs that most instantly transport me to those days -- back when recess was no longer a thing; pubic hair was a common topic of conversation; and people -- even black people -- thought Vanilla Ice was unironically cool.
  
  5.  Unbelievable, EMF
  4.  I Touch Myself, The Divinyls
  3.  Motown Philly, Boyz II Men
  2.  Ice Ice Baby, Vanilla Ice
  1.  More than Words, Extreme

Entry 284: Olio, Hodgepodge, Miscellany, Potpourri, Gallimaufry, Etc.

Super groggy today, and the bean is nipping a bit.  We went to a friend's birthday party last night, and I partook in the revelry -- a couple Corona Lights and a couple shots of tequila (the party had a quasi-Mexican theme).  Shots are a total rarity for me.  Before last night, I don't know when the last time I had one was.  As best I can remember, it was when the Seahawks won the Super Bowl in February 2014.  I took a celebratory shot of something blue with some friends.

[Corona Light with a lime wedge on a hot summer night -- you could do worse.]

I'm actually in better shape today than I thought I would be.  I had the drinks over several hours, but even when I pace myself I still tend to be really hungover the next day (the joys of being nearly middle-age).  Also, it was my morning to get up early with the little guy, so sleep was not in the forecast for me.  But he climbed into bed with me around 5:30 (my pregnant wife, for physical comfort reasons, often prefers to sleep in the guest bed these days) and then fell back asleep until 7:30.  That's sleeping in for him.  So I'm doing okay, but I still think a lightning-round entry is in order.  I only have the attention span today for a few paragraphs at a time.

• In addition to having a Latino feel, the party also had a "funny shirt" theme.  But S neglected to tell me this (I didn't get the invite directly), so I just wore a normal shirt.  It was so disappointing too because I've been waiting for an occasion to rock one of my math shirts.  I have one in which the punchline is "Here's looking at Euclid."  That would have been perfect.
  
• Speaking of Euclid, I was trying to teach Lil' S some basic math today.  I would hold up two fingers and say, "If I have two," and then hold up another finger on my other hand and say, "and I add one, how many do I have?"  And then he would say "three!"  I did four or five of these and he got them all right, so I got super excited, and thought I would try subtraction, so I held up two fingers and said, "If I have two," and then I put a finger down, and said, "and I take one away, how many do I have?"  He thought for a beat, and then said emphatically, "eight!"  So there is still some work to do.
  
• Not to beat the same drum over and over, but I read a fantastic interview with David Simon, former crime reporter for the Baltimore Sun, and the creator of The Wire, about the awfulness of the War on Drugs in relation to the unrest in Baltimore.  I won't go into the details of the article; you can read it yourself if you wish.  But I will say that it was particularly surreal to read it this morning given the events of last night.  Last night, I ingested a very dangerous drug for no other reason than it was fun -- and it's not big deal.  Not only is it perfectly acceptable to get drunk, it can actually be a social advantage.  People think you are weird if you don't drink.  Meanwhile if a young adult in the inner city (particular an African-American) is caught with a joint or a bit of coke, they are going to go jail -- jail!  To quote Ricky Watters: For who?  For what?  Can you image if the police went around to bars and cookouts and attempted to arrest everybody with beers in their hands.  Actually you can, because it happened, it was called Prohibition, and it was a fucking disaster.  And yet, we've decided to do it again, but just with different substances.  It is a shame and a tragedy that this is how things are.  It's a goddamn shamedy.
  
• Last night notwithstanding, I have been trying to take better care of myself as I get older.  I've been trying to watch what I eat and exercise more.  I've had much more success with the latter than the former.  (Sweets are my weakness.)  I read this article that says everybody should get at least 150 minutes of exercise a week and that you can do up to three times this before you start to plateau in terms of effectiveness.  It also said about 20% should be vigorous exercise, but the rest can be passive exercise like walking.  So I've been shooting for about an hour a day.  It sounds like a lot, but it isn't really.  The first thing almost everybody can do is take two or three 15 minute breaks during the work day and just walk around the block.  That puts you at 30-45 minutes straightaway.  Then if you lift some weights or go for a jog or do some yoga for 15 to 20 minutes you are done.
  
  One obstacle I have in exercising sometimes is my wife.  We have different mindsets on it.  She sees it as something of a luxury -- a leisure activity.  I see it as a must-do, life-maintenance activity.  So for instance, yesterday I worked from home, so I went for a run before my lunch break, and she made a comment half-sarcastically/half-playfully, "Oh, a run.  It must be nice to have time to do that during your workday."  I asked her what she was doing today (she has Fridays "off"), and she gave me a list of legitimate things she did -- take the little man to the doctor, drop books off at the library, go grocery shopping, etc. And then she said, "and now I'm going to get my nails done."  I raised my eyebrow at this one, and she smiled knowingly.  And that was that.  Neither of us really wanted to push the conversation much further -- best to leave it on good terms.  The exercise path is one we've been down before, and it almost always leads right off a cliff.
  
  The last thing I'll say is that obviously I think S could have gone for a walk instead of getting her nails done, if she really wanted to.  But it is easier for me, a man, to make time in my day than it is for S, a woman.  When S wakes up it takes her like 45 minutes to get ready -- just herself, without eating breakfast.  When I wake up, I can get myself and Lil' S dressed and fed and out the door in a half hour, if need be.  A huge part of this disparity is that we don't put the same beauty requirements on men as we do on women.  (Although in the case of my wife in particular, I think she would take a long time anyway, even if there wasn't a societal norm -- she's very girly-girl in that regard.)  Like white privilege, male privilege is a real thing.  And for some reason it's controversial to say this, even though it is completely and totally obvious.  I mean, just look at every president we've ever had -- 44 for 44 male; 43.5 for 44 white.  What other evidence do you need?
  
• Listening to Lil' S talk to S's parents on Facetime is one of the funniest things you will ever hear.  He's at the age where you can have an almost normal conversation with him, but he has his own grammar and pronunciation that takes some getting used to.  Toss in the fact that he's talking over the phone to non-native English speakers about topics they know nothing about and hilarity will ensue.  Yesterday, he was trying to tell his Ava (S's mom) about his new favorite cartoon character Lightning McQueen.  But she kept hearing "light and queen" and just had no idea what was going on.  S and I were just listening and laughing.
  
• I have two weddings, three airplanes trips, a show at the Kennedy Center, a baseball game, and a crossword puzzle tournament planned in the next two months.  It's the busiest I've been with social events since, well, since possibly ever.  One of the weddings is my cousin's in Joplin, Missouri.  I booked a room in the hotel online through Hotels.com, but then I saw on Facebook a message from my cousin saying that if you book through the hotel itself, you can get a discount and a free continental breakfast.  I hate calling people and booking hotels and doing things of that nature, so my first inclination upon reading the message: You're already booked.  Don't bother with this.  It's not worth it.  But then I thought: Be a human being.  Pick up the phone and talk to another human being.  It's not that hard.  So I did, and here is my approximate conversation with the hotel sales rep.
  
  Me: Hi, I'm calling for the B & C wedding.  I've already booked a room, but I understand that if I book under their block then I can get a discount and a free continental breakfast.
  Her: OK, what's your name.
  Me: D.G.
  Her: And the wedding party.
  Me: B & C.
  Her: OK, you actually booked through Hotels.com, so you will have to cancel with them and then book through us if you want the discount.
  Me: That sounds like a pain.  Can't you just give me the discount?
  Her: No, because you went through Hotels.com, so you will have to cancel with them and then book through us if you want the discount.
  Me: OK, how much is the discount?  How much are you charging for a night?
  Her: $89.
  Me: (I booked for $91 a night.)  OK.  The discount actually is not really anything.  What about the free continental breakfast?
  Her: I'm sorry, sir, what breakfast?
  Me: My cousin -- the bride-to-be -- said that you can get a free continental breakfast.
  Her: We don't have continental breakfast.
  Me: Uh ... OK ... That's what she said.  Do you have any sort of breakfast?
  Her: We have a restaurant that serves breakfast.
  Me: OK, is that part of the deal -- a free breakfast at your restaurant?
  Her: No.
  Me: OK, that's strange.  Well I suppose my cousin could have been mistak-
  Her: Oh, wait.  Some guests in this block ARE getting a free breakfast.
  Me: OK... So ... Can I get a free breakfast?
  Her: I don't know.
  Me: Can you just mark me down for one?
  Her: Well, you went through Hotels.com, so you will have to cancel with them and then book through us if you want the free breakfast.
  Me: And if I do that -- if I cancel with Hotels.com and book with you -- I can get free breakfast for sure?
  Her: I don't know.
  Me: ...
  Her: ...
  Me: Well ... uh ... OK then.  Thanks?
  Her: Your welcome, sir.  Is there anything else I can help you with today?
  Me: No, that's it.  Bye.
  Her: Good bye.
  
  It was really my fault.  I knew not to call in the first place.

That's all for today.  Until next time ....