Entry 818: India By Way Of Frankfurt By Way Of Paris By Way Of Frankfurt

When we set out for Bangalore, India three and a half weeks ago, I did not anticipate the first part of our trip turning into G & G European vacation, but that's what happened. On our flight there, we had a layover in Frankfurt, Germany, and when we tried to board our plane to Bangalore they wouldn't let us on because the travel visas we had for the kids were on their old passports. The visas were valid--they were the same ones we got for our trip in 2023, and they don't expire for five years--but they were on passports that had been replaced with newer passports. The kids' old passports are set to expire near the end of the year, and you can't travel on a passport within six months of its expiration date, so we got them new passports a few months ago. We simply never thought to get new visas also. After all, one benefit of going to India this year is that we wouldn't have to get new visas. But obviously we didn't think it through completely.

Before I go on, let me take a moment to rant about how fucking stupid the six-month passport rule is. I understand you don't want people to get stuck in a foreign country with an expired passport. But six months?! What the hell?! We left in July and came back three weeks later, and that was the plan all along. We had the return tickets to prove it. What could possibly happen for us to not come back before the kids' passports expire in December? I mean, if we missed the return flight, we would have only had all of September, October, and November (plus a bit of August and December) to schedule a new one.

But a dumb rule is still a rule, so we got the kids new passports a few months ago, and because of that we got stuck at the Frankfurt Airport. S immediately submitted applications online for new visas, but they certainly weren't coming through in the next two hours before our plane departs, so we were spending at least one night in Frankfurt. As chance would have it, S's parents, who were supposed to join us on the plane to Bangalore, missed the flight because their departure from the US was delayed several hours, and they got rescheduled on a flight the next day, so we all got to spend a night at the lovely* Holiday Inn at the Frankfurt Airport.

*I'm not being sarcastic. This is a good hotel. It's not at all in the airport as advertised--I started to walk there by myself with three suitcases in tow (I was selected to stay behind and fetch the luggage), before realizing that was pretty much impossible, returning to the airport, and taking a cab--but they have a good complementary breakfast, really good free wifi, and a very nice, helpful staff. 

We saw the in-laws off to their flight the next morning, and then tried to figure out what to do next. And it wasn't a chill, "What would you like to do on this fine Friday afternoon, my dear?" conversation. It had more of a "So, what the hell are we supposed to do now?" vibe to it. Nobody wanted to call it and go home, but nobody wanted to wait around in Frankfurt for the new visas to come through, probably three to four days, so we decided to hop a train and go to Paris. When the idea was first proposed, my initial inclination was, We can't just go to Paris, and then I thought, Wait, why not? S booked us a hotel in a neighborhood where one of her old colleagues now lives, got us some train tickets,* and we were off.

*S is so much better at scheduling these things than I am. Her trick is that she just does it, whereas I incessantly hem and haw in my mind, unsure if I'm doing the right thing. Her way is so much better. Yeah, you might make a mistake from time to time (like not updating your kids' visas), but I make mistakes doing things my way, too, and I carry around all this anxiety of constantly thinking I'm doing something wrong. I'd like to be more like S when planning, but it's not something I can just wish into existence. 

The only major catch is that we had way too much luggage for a weekend train trip to Paris. S brought one large suitcase filled with nothing but gifts from the US for people in India, even though they now have pretty much all the same shit over there that we have here (with the exception of Kirkland brand maple syrup, which one of her cousins requested--and I respect that), and we packed as if we were going somewhere for three weeks, not three days. We couldn't leave our luggage at the hotel because we were checking out, and the lockers at the train station were shit (business idea: safe, reliable bag storage walking distance from the Frankfurt train station, any major train station, really), so we had to haul it all on the train with us. It ended up being fine. We were some of the first people to board, and I just hogged almost all of the common storage area with our suitcases and then quickly sat down, so that people wouldn't know the bags were ours.

Four hours later we arrived in Paris, and it was awesome.

Paris has a reputation as being one of, perhaps the, most wonderful cities in the world. As Carrie Bradshaw of Sex and the City says to console herself after (foolishly) following her artist boyfriend to the city late in the series: "I'm in Paris. Don't you worry about me." In the end, the relationship and the move didn't work out (that damn self-centered Baryshnikov!), but the quote illustrates the je ne sais quoi of the city. Just being there is (almost) enough in life. And I felt that, big time. I probably would not want to live there (too many annoying tourists like me), but as a place to visit, I don't know that any city I've ever been to can match its aura. Maybe Reykjavik. I love Reykjavik. I'd have to really think on it and compare notes from my previous blog entries to determine which city of Paris and Reykjavik has better energy. 

Because it was such a slapdash trip, a lot of the major attractions were unavailable. The Louvre was sold out, the Musée d'Orsay was sold out, Versailles was sold out, but there was still so much to do there (Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Champs-Élysées, etc.), and just being there was amazing--walking around, popping in and out of cafes, eating street food on The Canal. Heck, just sitting in our hotel lobby, sipping complementary espresso was cool. We stayed at this really cute, retro boutique hotel (but they still had wifi and AC, thankfully), and it made me realize that I'm a sucker for decor. I wouldn't have necessarily thought that previously, being kinda robotic and practical by nature, but it's absolutely true.

So, Paris was great. (I'll put up some pics below.) But it was also very stressful because of the whole waiting-on-visas, not-knowing-if-we're-still-going-to-India thing.* S did some research online and learned that you can actually travel on your old visas, as long as you have your old passports with you. (They told us something similar at the airport.) So, when the new visas didn't come through by day three, we came up with another plan. We booked rooms at the Frankfurt Holiday Inn again, and had S's sister go to our house, get the kids' old passports, and FedEx them to the hotel. They would take about three days to get there, so by the time they arrived, and we were able to book a new flight, we would only be about a week behind schedule, which would still give us nearly two weeks in India. When we first booked this trip, I was secretly (okay, not so secretly) dreading the length of it, but, with a side trip to Europe first, it turned out to very much work in our favor.

*It was also incredibly expensive--like, dip-into-our-emergency-savings steep. But it was worth it, and we're about to eliminate a huge expenditure from our household books, which I'll get to in a future post.

So, we took the train back to Germany. And of course, right before we left, the new visas came through, so we had the old passports shipped for nothing. (But we didn't know that at the time. One thing this whole ordeal reinforced is that it would be a lot easier to make good decisions if you could see the future.) We could now book a new flight to Bangalore with the next big battle being who was going to pay for it, us or the airline. I won't keep you in suspense: It was us. After initially telling us, we could book a new flight on our existing reservation for a $150 change fee, they then called us back and told us that it would actually be a $150 change fee, plus a $6,000 fare adjustment... per person. Yes, that's right it would be almost $25,000 to travel on our existing reservation.

There was no way we were paying that. I would have rather stayed in Frankfurt and committed crimes until they deported me. So, we had no other real option but to book an entire new flight from Frankfurt to Bangalore.* It was a fraction of the $25,000 alternative, but it was a large enough fraction to make us wince. S in currently trying to get us some compensation from the airline (Lufthansa), under the premise that they never should have let us on the flight in DC--it's obviously not great business to strand people in a foreign land midway through their travels--but I'm not particularly optimistic about this prospect. It was mostly our fault, after all. 

*We also could have just gone home, which we did briefly considered. But that would have put us in a similar position of having to alter our existing ticket or buy a new ticket, so it didn't really get us anywhere financially. Not to mention, S's parents were already in India, and they and a whole bunch of her other family members, including a few who might not be around "next time", were expecting us there. It would have been a colossal disappointment to not make it to India.

So, after S spent basically an entire night on the phone--a night filled with curses, threats, and tears (of which I received the brunt, for some reason)--we got our tickets and checked-in for our flight to Bangalore. Of course, the next day, the old passports we had shipped to Frankfurt got delayed, and we got an email from the hotel staff saying they had arrived literally (and I mean that literally) ten minutes after we went through airport security, so despite being less than a mile from the hotel, we couldn't collect them.* But whatever... the airplane ascended into the sky, and we were finally on our way to India.

*I actually got a notification before we went through security saying our delivery had arrived, so S cabbed it back to the hotel to pick it up, but it wasn't there. Either it was actually there, and the hotel staff didn't realize it until later, or the delivery person scanned the code saying it got delivered a few minutes before they actually delivered it. Whatever the case, we ultimately had the hotel send the passports back to DC, and they are now in our possession once again, even though we don't, and probably won't ever again, need them for anything, other than to look at them ten years from now and say, "OMG, look at how cute you guys were back then!"

About six hours later we arrived in Bangalore, and it was awesome.

Bangalore is a very different city from Paris. It's dirtier, nosier, and more crowded, but it has it's own infectious joie de vivre. There are people out all the time, everywhere. As we become more siloed in our houses back home, it's especially refreshing to spend time in a city where people still go places. The ice cream shop is bustling on a Wednesday night at 10 pm; the mall is crowded from open to close (and there are no vacant units); food stands lining the streets sell to patrons at all hours of the day. It's a beautiful locus of constant human interaction. On our way into town from the airport, in the wee hours of the morning, I saw a group of guys, four of five of them, just hanging out in front of a closed tire shop. They seemed to be laughing and joking, and I thought to myself That's what it's all about. Just hanging with bros--doing nothing with people whose company you enjoy. We all need to spend more time with our bros, chilling outside the closed tire shops of our lives.

The original plan was to go to both Mysore and Bangalore, but we cut out the Mysore part because of the whole arriving-a-week-later-than-expected thing. We did, however, go to the city of Shimoga for a night. We stayed in the presidential suite of the Royal Orchid hotel. There were two bedrooms, three bathrooms, a large central living area, and a conference room--like a full-on long-table, giving-a-financial-report-in-a-commercial type of space.* It was about half as expensive as our rooms in Paris. We only stayed one night, spending time with some of S's family, particularly her bedridden, eightysomething aunt. I'm not sure why we didn't stay longer. I don't ask many questions in India. I just go with the flow. I follow the family from this auntie to that uncle to a second-cousin once removed, eating dosas and drinking coffee all the while.

*This was a stark contrast to the single room we booked in Bangalore. Initially, we had two rooms each with a king-size bed. We can't yet trust the kids to share a room of their own and not kill each other, so S shared with Lil' S1, and I shared with Lil' S2. However, Lil' S1 is the size of a small adult man now, and understandably doesn't like sharing a bed with his parent, so we got him a roll-away bed. But then Lil' S2 wanted to sleep with S instead of me, so it was the three of them in one room and me by myself in the other room. This was both lonely for me and not very cost effective, so we got a second roll-away bed and all crammed into one room like a happy family.

As with our previous trip, we spent the bulk of our time in Bangalore hanging out with S's cousin and her husband and their 13-year-old son. (They also have a 19-year-old daughter who's away at college.) The son is between our boys in age, so they can all hang out together, and they get along pretty well. It's actually very sweet if you can catch them interacting at the right moment. All their birthdays are in August, so we did a bunch of fun stuff in celebration. We went to see the new Spider-Man movie; we went go-karting and bowling; and we ate a lot of cake and ice cream. We also, somewhat randomly, played pickleball and something called paddleball. Well, I didn't actually get to play paddleball. Somebody official kicked me off the court because I was wearing flip-flops ("slippers," as he called them). India can be a weird place. You can drive a motorcycle on the shoulder of the road against traffic, with your wife riding side-saddle holding a small child on the back, nobody wearing a helmet, but you can't hit a ball with a racquet for a few minutes without proper footwear.

It wasn't a very touristy trip (it never is), but we did do something semi-touristy. We went on a tour of the ISKCON Hindu temple where S and I had our wedding way back in 2011. I'm not a religious man--I'm not even that spiritual--but I found the experience to be very moving. It felt like "the real deal" (to quote Timothy Ratliff about the Buddhist monk in Season 3 of White Lotus). We couldn't see the room where we got married because it isn't open to the public, and we had to hustle through the tour because they were closing soon, but that's fine. Had we stayed longer, the kids inevitably would've started fighting and ruined the experience, anyway.

The one thing I'll say in the negative about the temple is that their bathrooms badly need a renovation. They're buzzing with flies, and they have the disgusting, literal hole-in-the-ground toilets you'll find sometimes in India. I think the temple wants to keep things humble and traditional, which is why the bathrooms are like that, but they also have a gift shop and a snack counter that only accepts cashless payment, so I think they could update the toilets to something more modern and less putrid.

Anyway, I'm kinda running out of steam here, and we didn't do anything else too exciting in Bangalore, so I'm going to put up some pictures and call it a post. Actually, wait, I do have to mention the return trip, because it was the perfect bookend to our travels. It's always longer flying east-to-west, because the jet stream winds blow in the opposite direction, so we had a seven-hour flight from Bangalore to Frankfurt, followed by a four-hour layover, and then what should have been a nine-hour flight to DC. However, there was some stormy weather along the usual route, so the pilot had to take a detour, which added about an hour to the air time. That sucked, but much worse, we now didn't have enough fuel to make it all the way to DC, so we had to land in Philadelphia, a mere 140 miles from our destination, to refuel. That took about two and half hours, and then it was another half-hour flight from Philly to DC. When it was all said and done, it was a legit 26 hours straight in airports and airplanes. Well, at least we avoided rush-hour traffic on the Uber ride home.

Until next time... 

[People dancing on the banks of the Seine]

 

[We couldn't actually go in the Louvre, so I just took a picture of the famous pyramid entrance, designed by I.M. Pei (as any good crossword puzzle solver knows)]

 

 

[The Eiffel Tower]

 

[Notre Dame, no hunchbacks spotted]

 

[The interior of the hotel we stayed at in Paris; I spent a decent amount of downtime sitting here, sipping espresso, and playing my word games]

 

[A bridge spanning the Main River in Frankfurt]

 

[ISKCON Temple in Balgalore, where S and I had our big (medium, by Indian standards) wedding ceremony]

 

[Canal Saint-Martin in Paris]

 

[Bangalore, as seen from our hotel room in the VR Mall]

 

Entry 817: The Man Who Fixes Air Hockey Tables With His Mind

There is a lot to talk about today, many travels both past and future, but first I need to relay how I used my mind to fix a wobbly leg on our air hockey table.* It's one of the smarter things I've done in my life.

*The title of this post is an homage to Richard Feynman. In his book of memoirs, "Surely, You're Joking, Mr. Feynman!", he tells a story from his childhood about a neighbor who had a broken radio that nobody could fix. He went home and thought about what could be wrong with it, came up with an idea, and then went back to his neighbor and immediately fixed it. He become known as the boy who fixes radios with his mind. Like many (most?) personal anecdotes, this is probably an embellishment that makes the storyteller come off as cool as possible, but still, it's a good little tale. 

Lil' S2 was home without much to do on Thursday. I was also home, working remotely, so I heard him downstairs rustling about in our basement. I figured the PlayStation controller must have come disconnected again, so I went downstairs to fix it. And before I continue, allow me a quick tangent to say that I absolutely hate our PS5. We bought it about seven years ago, and I couldn't be more unhappy with it. The controllers, which are not cheap (neither was the console), work for a few weeks, and then they start to "drift" (as is the parlance among gamers, I believe) and become completely unusable, and we have to buy new ones. Of the four we've purchased through the years, only one is still good. Two are drifty and one constantly disconnects for no reason. And even the good one isn't actually good, as it disconnects also, but slightly less frequently than the other one. I figured out from YouTube how to reconnect controllers, but it's a whole process that involves powering off and restarting the machine, and it doesn't always work, so I often have to do it three or four times before it finally takes. It's infuriating.

I've done some Googling, and I've learned that I'm certainly not alone in my hatred for PS5 controllers. Although they seem to work fine for some people, there are myriad threads, articles, and videos devoted to the topic of how shitty they are. I think part of the problem is that we bought our PlayStation shortly after its release, so they hadn't yet worked out the kinks. And what makes this even more annoying is that we almost got an Xbox instead. The kids said they wanted a video game console for Christmas, either a PS5 or an Xbox, they didn't care which one. I don't really play video games anymore (I basically stopped at the Sega Genesis), so I asked around and was told by numerous people I trust that they're both good, and it doesn't really matter. So, we basically flipped a coin and got a PS5 (or rather we told S's parents to get a PS5, as they wanted it to be their gift to the kids). Then, of course, right after the purchase, Lil' S1 said he actually wanted an Xbox. It would have been a huge hassle to switch at that point, so we just stuck with the PS5, and I'm reminded almost every day what a regrettable decision that has been. I don't know if the Xbox is actually any good, but it would be difficult to be worse than what we have now.

Anyway, back to the original story, the PlayStation controller was in fact disconnected, but that's not why Lil' S2 was stirring about. He noticed the leg on our air hockey table was wobbly, so he was looking for the duct tape to "fix" it. Now, I'm very much a DIY patzer, but even I knew that tape was not the right solution to this problem, so I looked under the table and saw right away that two screws that were supposed to be securing the wobbly leg were missing. Okay, that's an easy fix, even for an 8th-grade woodshop D-student like myself--just screw the screws back in--except I couldn't see them. Presumably, they had fallen into the hollowed out cavity of the table leg. You can see in the picture below: The right two screws were the ones missing, and the wooden piece below them is one side of a long empty column of a table leg. It seemed clear that the screws had rattled out and dropped into this abyss.

First off, terrible design. They capped off the wrong end. If the top had a piece of particle board covering it then the screws could not have fallen in. If the bottom did not have a piece of particle board covering it then the screws would have dropped all the way to the carpet, and I could have retrieved them by lifting the table a little bit and having Lil' S2 slide them out with something. (That would have taken some effort, but it's doable.) Second off, how were we going to get these things out? The leg is too long to reach the bottom by sticking your arm in, and there's not enough room between the top of the leg and the bottom of the tabletop to fit anything of length into the hole. We tried using BBQ tongs, but they didn't even come close to working.

The first good idea I had was to use my phone to verify with certitude that the screws did in fact fall in. I snapped a picture, and, yep, they were in there alright. 

Now, I just had to come up with a plan to get them out. I thought about using a magnet tied to string, but I didn't know if our kitchen magnets would be strong enough and the only string I could think of that we have is dental floss, and I wasn't sure exactly how I would tie it on. Still, it seemed like a reasonable thing to try, so I went upstairs to get some magnets and floss. My phone battery, in a stroke of good fortune, was a little low, so I decided to charge it while I put my plan into action, and when I set it on its charging pad, it clicked in place like it always does, but this time something clicked in my brain also. It's magnetic! That's how it sticks on! And it has a long cord on it! My iPhone charging pad is literally a magnet on a string! This was right up there with the time I solved the Monty Hall Problem while walking between classes as the greatest "Eureka!" moment of my life. And it totally worked! I fished out the screws using my charging pad, refastened them, and the leg is wobbly no more. Life is beautiful!

But of course I used all my scheduled blogging allotment to talk about this one stupid (but awesome) thing, and so I have no time to tell you about my trip back home nor my upcoming trip to India. But so it goes. I'll hop back on and post something before I leave if I get the chance. If not, then it will be several weeks until I post again. It's a long trip.

Until next time... 

Entry 816: Romy and Michele's High School Reunion

Short entry today, as I'm headed out of town tomorrow and have a bunch of stuff to get done before I go. It's a combination work-and-pleasure trip, in that order. I'm flying into Tennessee for a two-day conference, and then I'm flying into the PNW to visit family and friends and attend my 30th high school reunion. I'm annoyed that I couldn't get a direct flight from Memphis to Sea-Tac--I don't think one exists, I looked for quite a while--but so it goes.

It's just me, no wife or kids. We explored the possibility of them coming, or some proper subset of them coming, with me but it didn't work out financially/logistically. Airfare is not cheap, and the fact I'm flying straight from the work conference would make travel arrangements tricky if I weren't going alone. Plus, nobody has much interest in tagging along with me as I relive my glory days with my old pals, anyway, certainly not S. Whenever we visit my family, I can feel her eyes roll, as I tell her for the one hundredth time how my friends and I used to climb the fence and goof off in the gravel quarry that is now a golf course. So, I won't have a plus-one for my reunion, but I already have my line picked out for why S didn't make it: "I just think it would have been too awkward for her to meet all the girls I didn't hook up with." I can't wait to use that one.

Until next time... 

Entry 815: Independence Day 2026 Top Fives

It's a holiday weekend across the country with some big festivities on tap here in our national capital. I, however, will be avoiding such festivities like the coronavirus in 2020 (hopefully more successfully). I will spend the weekend cooped up in my basement streaming TV shows, movies, and soccer with my family, lifting weights, and working on crossword puzzles. I have little desire to spend the day outside in triple-digit temperatures, where the only relief from the heat will come from scattered thunderstorms, and I have even less desire to partake in the de facto MAGA rally that will completely spoil what could be and should be a nonpartisan celebration of our country's 250th birthday. Sometimes I wish we lived closer to to all the action in DC. Days like today, I am very glad that we do not.

One thing I will almost certainly do this weekend is finish the Hulu series High Fidelity. Even though it dropped over six years ago, I didn't know there was such a show until last week. (Perhaps the biggest problem with TV these days is that there is too much of it, and it's scattered across the various streaming services, so it's hard to find.) I heard somebody mention the show on a podcast and give the "hot take" that it's better than the movie. I like the movie quite a bit, so I started watching the show half out of curiosity and half out of a desire to prove the podcaster wrong. I'm now eight episodes in, and I must admit, I agree with the take: The TV show is better.

Why is it better? I'm not sure exactly--I just like it more. I think it's because the characters are a little bit more likeable. In the movie they are all very amusing, but that's in part because they are all kinda dicks (and not just the one named Dick). In the show, you--or at least I--can sympathize with the characters more, especially the main character Rob, played beautifully by Zoë Kravitz (who is quite beautiful). She's more messy and goofy, but goodhearted, whereas John Cusack's Rob in the film is more self-serious and egotistical. I would rather spend my time with the former than the latter. Although, it's possible that one is better suited to a 10-episode series,* and one is better suited to a two-hour movie. So, I guess, my conclusion is that they are both great, and it probably doesn't make sense to compare them.

*There is only one season, which makes me sad. I hate it when shows go on too long, but it also sucks when they don't go on long enough. At least give me two or three seasons at Championship Vinyl.

One thing I love about both High Fidelity's is the top-five lists. I love making rankings for stupid things. In that vein, here are my top five Independence Days.

Top 5 July 4ths of My Life

5. 2004. It was my first month back in DC for grad school. I went up to West Chester, PA to visit some pals. I don't remember the details, but for some reason it was just me and two of my girl friends. Note the space between "girl" and "friends." Neither of them was my girlfriend (I was single at the time), and in fact they both had boyfriends that I was friends with. I also don't remember what we did, but I do remember it was fun.

4. 1986. I'm guessing on the year here, and it might not have been exactly July 4th, but it was a fireworks game for the Tacoma Tigers at Cheney Stadium. The Tigers pounded their opponent, scoring over 20 runs, which the stadium couldn't display on its old-school scoreboard, because the ten's digit could only be 0 or 1. There were so many people trying to come throughout the game that they let fans sit on the warning track for the last few innings (that sounds crazy, but I swear it happened). I didn't love that, being a little baseball purist, but it couldn't spoil the evening. The Tigers won big, and everybody oohed and aahed at the sky explosions afterwards.

3. 2007. I went to my aunt's and uncle's vacation house on Chautauqua Lake for a makeshift family reunion. I was the only one there from my immediately family, and I saw a bunch of cousins and aunts and uncles that I hadn't seen in decades. I also saw my grandma for the last time. The night of the 4th, we all sat around the campfire, and watched the lights. As I recall, in lieu of fireworks, everybody put up lights on their docks, and it was a spectacular visual. It's funny, if this event happened a few years later I would have dozens of pictures from it, but it went down just before the widespread adoption of the camera phone, so I don't have any. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I'm not sure.

As a somewhat related aside, I was thinking the other day about how it's weird that almost everything that happens today is recorded on camera in someway, when the first 4.5 billion years of Earth elapsed with nothing being recorded on camera. But then I thought, well, what if it was? Who's to say some alien species hasn't been recording our planet clandestinely from afar using super advanced technology? What if they came here and showed us a documentary they made of all of human history? How cool would that be? I mean, it probably wouldn't outsell Aquaman 851 at the box office, but it would still be awesome.

2. 2005. I was dating a grad student in the English department, and we got a little motley crew together of literature and math folks to go to the fireworks show on the National Mall. This was back when we could all enjoy things together, and it didn't matter who was president--like, I didn't even think about what somebody's politics was when I met them, and it was glorious. In retrospect, I took that for granted. Anyway, things didn't last too long between me and the lit chick (I broke up with her*), but we had some fun times together, and this night was one of them. It just felt cool being out in the city with a group of weird, smart, young people. 

*That's an homage to High Fidelity, by the way. I'm not bragging about it. Breakups are the worst, regardless of which side you are on. 

1. 1988. I'm just picking a random year from my childhood, because so many of my preteen 4ths have blended together in my mind. We used to go over to our family friends' house and eat barbecue and run through the sprinkler and light off fireworks. The parents let us kids light them, which is something I don't think would fly today. It was pretty safe--we would set a firework carefully on the ground, light the fuse with a punk, and then hightail it to safety--but I still don't think parents of my generation would let their kids do that. The other thing you have to keep in mind is that this was in the rainy Puget Sound region before climate change totally fried the world, so the fire risk was not as high as it is in other places of the country today. And it was fun! I loved those days, which is why this is number 1 on my list.

I just realized that I left off several July 4ths spent at my buddy DK's lake house. We had some wild times there, and I probably should bump something above to add one of them to the list. But I don't have time to do that, so they get honorable mention here. Plus, they got legit dangerous at times. I'm surprised nobody Jason Pierre-Pauled themselves.

Until next time... 

Entry 814: Sunday, Dreary Sunday

It's a dismal, dreary Sunday afternoon. It was raining when I woke up this morning, and it hasn't stopped since. In fact, it's only gotten worse. It's coming down in buckets right now. It sucks, as S left last night for a business trip, and so I'm here alone with the boys, and it's so much easier when Lil' S2 can run around the neighborhood. He's just cooped up and bored, and unlike his brother who can entertain himself on screens indefinitely, he can only play video games for so long before he needs to do something active. I could take him somewhere, but driving somewhere in this rain is not a particularly appealing option. Heck, just walking from the front door to the car sounds kinda miserable.

A silver lining is that this is a great test for my waterproofing of the roof on our deck, and everything is holding up very nicely. Despite this torrential downpour, I don't see a single drip anywhere. This is actually my second attempt at fixing the leak. My first one--applying waterproof tape in the area I thought the leak was coming from--failed instantly, so I had to come up with a new plan. This time I just put a tarp on the roof and secured it in place with a bunch of heavy rocks I found in the yard--primitive, but it works quite well. It's not a good long-term solution, because the tarpaulin in not translucent, so it covers up the skylight (thus defeating the very purpose of having a skylight), but it's an excellent proof of concept. I'm going to buy some see-through, waterproof plastic and put that up on the roof, and that should solve the problem. Eventually, we will probably have to get a "real" fix, but I'm not eager to spend the hundreds of dollars it will cost to have somebody come out to try to diagnose the issue (which isn't easy with roof leaks, in my experience, even for the experts), especially since there is a nontrivial chance the conclusion will be that we need to spend thousands more dollars to replace the roof entirely. I'd prefer to push off that potential expense as long as possible.

It's also a downer of a day for other reasons. Lil' S2 came back from camp yesterday, and he left his laundry bag there filled with basically his entire summer wardrobe. Before he left, S took him to an outlet mall and bought him like ten pairs of shorts, a bunch of sport jerseys, underwear, etc., and almost all of it is gone now. He came back with a mostly empty suitcase and the clothes he was wearing. S was furious. It was several hundred dollars worth of clothing, but more than that, it was the fact that she put in the time and effort to find the deals and take him shopping, and now it's all for naught. Lil' S2 felt super bad about it. He immediately put on the I'm-about-to-cry face before running out of the room. I think his reaction is only thing that kept S from really unloading.

On him, at least. I still got an earful. One of the main causes of fights between S and me is the kids making us mad. We are already primed for a row, and there is a whipping-boy element to it, where we know that we can't actually lay into our children too harshly because they are, you know, children, so we take it out on each other instead. We both do this, but I think one of us does it to a much larger degree than the other, and you can probably figure out by how diplomatically I'm phrasing things which of us that is. Then there is the common meta-fight of offering solutions versus offering sympathy and understanding. S actually said to me, "Can't you just listen to me and let me be mad for a little while?" To which I responded, "Yes, but a lot of the time that anger gets directed toward me. Why do I feel like I'm the one who left the bag behind?"

So, it wasn't a great scene, and it happened right before she left to the airport, which now that I think about it was probably a good thing, as it probably sped up the reconciliation process. You have to be really mad to leave for a trip without making up first, and I think we both concluded that this minor spat didn't rise to that level. Also, there's a decent chance we can get the clothes back--I wouldn't say there's a great chance, but there's a decent one, at least. I suspect kids forget stuff at camp all the time, so they must have a place where they store lost things, at least for a little while. It's all together in one laundry bag, so if they have it set aside somewhere, then we can either have a friend pick it up this weekend when she goes to get her son, or we can pick it up when we drop of Lil' S1 who's going to the same camp in a few weeks. S already sent an email to the camp director, and there is a number I will call tomorrow morning. Fingers crossed.

As you probably inferred, we did not pick up Lil' S2 at camp this year. We did a car pool, and he came back with a friend's dad. We aren't super close with him and his wife (but we really like both of them), so it was maybe a little awkward when S texted them to see if Lil' S2 had just left his bag in their car instead of at the camp (a long shot but worth a try). Apparently, the dad was very apologetic, insisting he asked all the kids several times to make sure they had all their stuff. But of course neither S nor I put any blame on him. If anything, we should have drilled it into Lil' S2 to put everything into a single bag before he left, so that he only had to remember one thing.* I did, however, pose this questions to S: If it was a mom instead of a dad who picks them up, does Lil' S2 come back with all his stuff? She laughed, and then said, "100% yes." That might be sexist, but it's probably true, and I'm not sure if it's sexist against women or men, anyway.

*One problem with this is that he insisted on bringing a suitcase for some reason. In retrospect, we should have made him bring a giant duffle bag, as it's much easier for a 10-year-old to dump everything into that than a suitcase.  

Another thing about this is that it's all just stuff. We'll be fine without it. I ordered a chub-pack of kids' boxer briefs off Amazon for like $25 last night, and it already arrived. Lil' S1 gave his brother a few pairs of shorts that he doesn't wear much anymore, and we pulled a few more out of the donation pile that he can still squeeze into for a few more weeks. It's all good. This isn't a "real" problem. And this really hit home when we got a text today from one of Lil' S2's friend's mom, who said she was just diagnosed with breast cancer. They caught it early, so there is a high probability of her beating it, but still it's gutting news. We know several other woman who went through breast cancer treatment relatively recently (one of them still is going through it), and it's grueling in the best case scenario. So, yeah... Makes a lot of other shit seem trivial.

Alright, I hate to end on that somewhat grim note, but I am completely out of time.

Until next time... 

 

Entry 813: Father's Day 2026

I have the house to myself on this Father's Day 2026. S is riding with another mom to take Lil' S2 and a few of his pals to sleepaway camp, and Lil' S1 is spending the day at a cabin or a farm or something like that. The parents of one of his friends from school rented a house in a rural area and welcomed some other folks to join them. They actually invited our entire family, and I suspect we would have all gone if today wasn't also check-in day for Lil' S2's camp. But I didn't really want to go without S, so we arranged for another family to take Lil' S1 with them.

It was a tough call on my part. I certainly didn't love the idea of spending an entire day out in the boonies with people I barely know (especially with an entire day to myself as the alternative), but I also don't want to be the dude who grows old and withers away in his mancave with no friends around, because he didn't cultivate any new relationships when he had the chance. And I know I'm not good at taking the initiative to plan social events, so, as a general principle, I try to not turn down invitations. But there are exceptions, and those exceptions apparently including making small talk for hours on end while Lil' S1 leads a D&D campaign in the other room. So, I decided I would leave it up to Lil' S1. I laid out three scenarios and presented each of them neutrally, so as to not influence his choice: 1) neither of us go; 2) we both go; 3) just he goes. He immediately picked 3. It was so quick, in fact, that I would have been offended if that wasn't the answer I was hoping for.

Setting aside my own preferences for a minute, he's at a tricky age where it's not at all obvious, as a parent, what events you should and should not attend with him. Young teenagers pretty much always act as if they don't want their folks around--and they often say as much--but sometimes they really do want you there, or at least they appreciate that you are there. And then even if they genuinely don't want you there, is it something that you still need to go to for supervision? That's a consideration also. Lil' S1 and his friends are pretty independent, which is wonderful, and they also have access to an extensive public transportation system, which is also wonderful, but they aren't quite old enough to do everything they want and go everywhere they want without a chaperone at least in the vicinity. This becomes especially apparent when Lil' S1 tells us he is going to go somewhere, and we have a conversation much like the following.

Lil' S1: Hey, I'm going to [event] with [friends].
Us: Okay, well, how are you getting there.
Lil' S1: Metro.
Us: What stop is the event on?
Lil' S1: I'm not sure exactly yet.
Us: Okay, well, what time are you going?
Lil' S1: [Friend] is coming over here at 1:00, and then we are going to go and meet [other friend].
Us: 1:00? You know it's 12:30  now, right?
Lil' S1: Yes.
Us: And [friend] is coming over here, right now, even though the place you are going is the exact opposite direction for him as our house?
Lil' S1: Yes.
Us: Okay, where and when are you meeting [other friend].
Lil' S1: Not sure exactly. We'll text each other.
Us: You know phones don't always get service on the Metro, right? Do you have a backup plan if you can't get a hold of each other?
Lil' S1: No
Us: And don't forget, you have [some other obligation] at 3:00. Are you going to be able to do all this and get home in two hours?
Lil' S1: Yes.
Us: And your friends' parents, they're all okay with this?
Lil' S1: Yes, they all already said it's okay.
[*Buzz, buzz* Text from other parents]: Hey do you guys have any idea what's going with [event]? Apparently they are supposed to meet in a half hour, and this is the first I'm hearing of it lol.

And scene...

In other news, we are on the final episode of Modern Family, which means we are going to need a new sitcom to watch pretty soon as a family. Overall, it was a good series, but like almost every TV show I've ever seen that was more than like five seasons, it drastically dropped in quality in its latter half. In fact, I can pinpoint the moment I realized that it had completely jumped the shark, or should I say, moved the piano.

Season 9, Episode 15: Cam and Mitchell are throwing a party at their house to celebrate Mitchell's new job as a high-pay, high-power attorney for a well-known billionaire. To rub their newfound success in their friends' faces a little bit, they buy a piano for their living room. Midway through the party, however, they learn that Mitchell's new boss was involved in fraud or something like that, and so Mitchell doesn't have the job anymore. They don't want their friends to know this, so Cam takes all their phones under the pretense of being more present in the moment. They also can no longer afford the piano, so they want to return it, but they can only get their money back if they return it that very day. So, Cam lures all their friends into the bathroom and takes the handle off the door, which somehow "accidentally" locks them in. Then, the next scene, as they "fix" the lock and all their friends come out, the piano is gone, and in its place is a stack of boxes under a giant blanket in the shape of a piano.

What...?

How did that happen? How long were their friends locked in the bathroom? The piano movers weren't even there yet, and it would take several people at least like an hour to move this thing once they arrived. Then it would probably take another hour or so to find and move all the boxes to set up the fake piano after they left. How long are we supposed to believe this group of people were trapped in a small bathroom (and what kind of psychos would lock people up like this)? At some point, the detainees are climbing out the window or forcing the door open. And also how could they possibly move a piano and a bunch of boxes without somebody in the bathroom hearing what is going on? The bathroom is adjacent to the living room. A normal bathroom door could not come close to stifling such sounds. 

Then, to make things even more inane, after the are let friends out, they all ask Cam to play something on the piano, so he pretends that his electronic keyboard is the piano keys and plays with the blanket still on. Amazingly, nobody peeked under the blanket or wondered why his playing sounded like an electronic keyboard and not an actual piano. The whole thing is a set up for Mitchell's sister Claire to lie on the fake piano, jazz singer style, and fall through the boxes thus revealing the whole charade, and that is kinda funny, I guess, but you can set that up so much better. The whole thing is so stupid, and not in a funny stupid comedy type of way, but in an I actually feel like watching this has made me stupider type of way.

The thing is, obviously you have to suspend your disbelief with any work of fiction, but you also have to be able to relate to what's going on. "It's funny because it's true" is a comedy cliché for a reason, and it's especially resonant for a show in which sympathizing with the characters is the main source of the comedy. Phil and Claire talking to their hot divorcee neighbor--funny! Phil and his father flipping their car--not very funny!

Although, that latter scene did send me down a Fred Willard rabbit hole. His character dies at the end of the episode, and it seemed the writers shoehorned it in, which made me wonder if it's because he died in real life, and I think that's what happened, as the dates seem to line up. Then I started reading Willard's list of TV appearances, and it is insane how many small-to-medium-ish parts this guy played throughout his career. He might be up there for greatest TV character actor of all time. Here's a list of shows he was on that is about a fifth of the size of the one on his Wikipedia page, as I'm omitting shows I've never heard of. It also doesn't include any of his movie roles (e.g., This is Spinal Tap, Best in Show)

• The Bob Newhart Show
• Laverne & Shirley
• SNL
• The Love Boat
• SCTV
• Trapper John, M.D.
• The Golden Girls
• Married... with Children
• The Ben Stiller Show
• Family Matters
• Murphy Brown
• Roseanne
• Friends
• Clueless
• Sister, Sister
• Lois & Clark
• Saved by the Bell
• Muppets Tonight
• The Weird Al Show
• Sabrina the Teenage Witch
• Two Guys and a Girl
• Mad About You
• The Simpsons
• Just Shoot Me!
• Ladies Man
• The Hughleys
• Ally McBeal
• Undeclared
• King of the Hull
• Hey Arnold!
• Family Guy 
• That '70s Show
• Everybody Loves Raymond
• The Drew Carey Show
• The Batman
• The Boondocks
• Everybody Hates Chris
• Wizards of Waverly Place
• Modern Family
• Castle
• Important Things with Demetri Martin 
• Chuck
• Funny or Die Presents
• The Closer
• Raising Hope
• Hot in Cleveland
• The Cleveland Show
• Community
• New Girl
• I Think You Should Leave
• Space Force 

That is a ridiculous résumé. I'm more than six years late on this, but RIP Fred Willard, you were a national treasure.*

Well, that's all for now. Happy Father's Day to those who celebrate fake holidays.

Until next time...

*He was also in something called Easy to Assemble, a web series featuring Illeana Douglas sponsored by Ikea... WTF?! Jeff Goldblum and Keanu Reaves were also in it... double WTF?!  

Entry 812: Winters, They Will Come And They Will Go

I've been having cotton candy dreams lately. That's my term for dreams that are super intense and slightly unsettling, the type that require you to recenter yourself for a few minutes after you wake up. They aren't nightmares necessarily, but they aren't sunshine and lollipops either (despite being called cotton candy dreams). They're not like watching a horror movie, but rather a really well-made thriller. Scratch that, they're like being in a really well-made thriller. But one that doesn't make sense. They're like being in a David Lynch movie.

I call them cotton candy dreams because once on a podcast a guy was talking about his friend who was on medication, and this friend found that if he ate a certain brand of cotton candy, he could only ever find at CVS, right before he went to sleep, it interacted with his medication in a such a way that it would give him the wildest, most intense dreams. For some reason, this little anecdote has always stuck with me (it could have been the part that CVS sells cotton candy and that a grown man buys it--that sounds utterly disgusting to me), and since then I've referred to such dreams as cotton candy dreams.

I don't have cotton candy dreams often, but the past week, I've had them nearly every night for some reason. One through line is that there is almost always a celebrity involved, and in my dream I'm friends with this celebrity, and then when I wake up, it's always a bit of a letdown that I'm not actually friends with them. (Most recently it was Larry David, surely because they showed him so much during the broadcast of the last Knicks-Spurs game.) Another through line is that I live in a shitty place. That's my version of the "naked in public" anxiety dream. I live in some overcrowded group house or dingy studio apartment, and then when I wake up it's a relief to be in my king-size bed next to my lovely wife, in my beautiful house, in my nice neighborhood.

Anyway... speaking of dreams, I've mentioned before that I think "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac is basically a perfect song. So, I was pleased that the choir at Lil' S1's school sang it during his "moving up" ceremony. I did wonder, however, when they started it, if the subject matter was appropriate for a middle school graduation, you know, being about a man who wants to exit his current relationship so that he can philander more. However, the choir director anticipated such misgivings and changed the lyrics to something more apt for the occasion, so "women, they will come and they will go" became "winters, they will come and they will go." To which I say, well done, choir director.

It was a fine ceremony overall, even though I got to it late. I had to go into the office that day, and it's a bear to get from my office back to DC anytime from like 3pm to 7pm (which is why I usually go to the gym for a few hours after work). Also, the thing I most had/wanted to do in the office didn't start until 4pm and the doors for commencement at Lil' S1's school closed at 6:30pm. I gave myself what I thought was ample leeway, leaving so that my expected arrival time was 6:10 (accounting for traffic), but it wasn't good enough. At some point along the way, my ETA jumped from 6:10 to 6:23 to 6:32 in the span of about 30 seconds.

By the time I final got to the theater, it was 6:35, and the first speech was under way. I waited for it end, and then I slipped in and sat in the first open seat I saw. I quickly realized I was in a special section reserved for faculty, which is why a seat was available so close to the stage. Nobody seemed to mind, but I felt awkward, so between each speaker/performance I tried to find where S was sitting with her sister and Lil' S2. Surely, they had saved me a seat, right? But where were they? I could not spot them, even though it's a relatively small theater. So, I just sat in the faculty section the entire time, trying not to feel weird about it. I was cursing S in my head for not saving me a seat and sending me a text saying where they were sitting, but she actually did do that, but the text didn't go through until much later in the night for some reason. The highlight of the ceremony for me was Lil' S1 reading a funny poem he wrote. It was a pleasant surprise, as he didn't mention it to either S or me beforehand.

Alright, I'm just about out of time, but let's do a quick lightning round before I go.

• I seem to have successfully gotten rid of the houseflies on our deck... for now. They will probably come back at some point, but I haven't seen one in weeks. I've seen other gnats and midges (which I spray down immediately lest they grow into something bigger), but no houseflies. Knock on wood.
  
  
• But not all is good with our deck. There is a leak in the ceiling now. I got up on the roof today to see if I could find the source, and immediately it was like, There's no way I'm finding this damn thing. The entire outer layer of the roof is full of cracks and splits, and it's impossible to know which one exactly is leading to the leak. I did however notice that the leak is by the skylight, so I bought some waterproof sealing tape, and covered up the edges of the skylight. Will it work? Maybe, maybe not, but for $17 plus an hour or my time, it's worth a shot.
  
  
• We got rid of our trampoline today. It's the end of an era, but, now that I think of it, it was a bad era (we bought it at the beginning of the Covid shutdowns), so maybe it's good ju-ju to get rid of it. It was time. The thing was falling apart, and it made me super nervous, safety-wise. The protective netting tore to shreds over the years, and I couldn't figure out the right replacement, so the new one didn't fit right and was constantly falling off. Then we kept losing springs. When I saw some six-year-old neighborhood girl I didn't know bouncing on it, I was like, Yeah, we're gonna get sued if I don't get rid of that thing. So, I broke it all down by hand, wrapped up the piping and springs in the jumping mat, tied it off and dragged it out to the front curb for bulk trash pickup. It was a bitch. It took me like four hours, and I was drench in sweat and my hands were sore and blistered when I was done (for some reason I didn't think to put on gloves until I was like 75% of the way through). But it's gone now, so mission accomplished.

Until next time...