Sweetener's Lament

Ran out of sugar here at work.  I know it's not the end of the world, but I don't drink coffee without sugar, man.  I don't do it! Daniel Tiger (from Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood on PBS) says that when I get angry I should count to four... But that little shit doesn't understand! I'm gonna start breaking shit if I don't find some sugar!  Argghhcghggghhgggggggg!!!  [One, two, three, four.]

Also, I brought a can of pop (not soda) to work today and discovered that cans of pop are not allowed in the hospital.  It's probably for the best, because if I had that can of pop in my hand when I realized that I ran out of sugar... Blood and tears and destruction, my friends.

So what do you do when things don't go your way?  I like to swear and grunt and yell.  It never helps.  Maybe I should listen more closely to Daniel Tiger.  Maybe we should all listen more closely to Daniel Tiger...

James and I made a lasagna last night. Our working relationship in the kitchen, as I quickly learned, is best described as I do the actual cooking while he discreetly places random Duplo blocks across the kitchen floor.  Delicious and fun!

Then in the midst of baking, my amazing lasagna dripped it molten sauce out of the pan onto the bottom of the oven.  Life is... trying to clean the inside of a 375 degree oven fast enough to keep the fire alarm from sounding and getting the half-baked lasagna back in the heat before it's ruined.  

No Difference

By Shel Silverstein

Small as a peanut,
Big as a giant,
We're all the same size
When we turn off the light.

Rich as a sultan,
Poor as a mite,
We're all worth the same
When we turn off the light.

Red, black or orange,
Yellow or white,
We all look the same
When we turn off the light.

So maybe the way
To make everything right
Is for God to just reach out
And turn off the light!

Correct me if I'm wrong, but could there be a chance Mr. Silverstein has just suggested to our children (of many generations) that the best way too solve all the world's problems is the total destruction and annihilation of it.  Sorry, I can't help but think the poet is dreaming of a post apocalyptic future where peace and war and famine and fear is no longer a problem because we're all DEAD.  When God turns out the light, that's it, baby.  Game over.  

Or maybe he's suggesting that we should all go blind.  Because honestly, I ain't got time to hate and kill if I'm learning my way around my neighborhood sans the sense of sight.  Maybe after we feel our way around the landscape a bit we can eventually get back to hurting each other.  

Kid Video

Okay, I think I've reached a point in my life where I can try to get back into video games.  I don't want James to grow up too fast, but I cannot wait until he is of age to help me save the world and/or eliminate some monsters from the face of the planet.  We are going to have the best LAN parties!  (That's nerdspeak for your kid's gonna want to come over to our house all the time.)

My next tattoo

Every once in a while we cross paths with true art.  This is one of those times.

Step Right Up

The Universe taught me a valuable lesson last night: Always check the oven before turning it on.  There was an accident and subsequent mess.  So, as James has been learning from Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, "when something seems bad turn it around and find something good!" I made a delicious lasagna which the whole family loved.

Then at 4:30 AM Leia decided o walk into James' room and pee.  "When something seems bad turn it around and find something good!" ... um, okay fine, I can't think of how to turn this one into "something good."

At this current juncture, these small yet impacting events make up a pretty comprehensive culmination of my life. Our weekends are spent tooling around in the car because we have to vacate our home so realtors can show it to people who will later decide they want hardwood floors and a separate dining room.  Every morning Lynette has to leave the house in showroom condition.  And Leia has decided that we aren't paying her enough attention.  Tie that together with a pretty bow and sprinkle it with James not letting us sleep an entire night and you've entered our little funhouse.

I'm not a bleak person.  In fact, I pride myself on how upbeat I can be in most situations.  But this shit has got to stop.

Banjo Hacking

The Red Wheelbarrow

By William Carlos Williams

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

James and Lynette

"Why is Dad so mad?"

Man I'm the Best!

Suddenly I am the Best Man at two weddings next year.  Two.  And they're both occurring in the same month.  Maybe I should organize a joint bachelor party.  That way I'll only have to spend money on one hooker.  And if she accidentally dies there'll be more arms to carry the body.  Win - win.

Wait, do I need to bake two penis cakes now? Shit.

Book Sex; or, How I Learned to Love the Spine

I bought a book the other day.  Not just any book.  A book printed on paper.  And (And!) I did it at a book store.  I put on some pants, drove my car, and interfaced with a (smarmy) human while exchanging money and smug/annoyed looks with each other. (Sir Sweater Vest didn't convey with my choice of reading.) Viva, sociedad!

If you're a frequent flyer here at Capitol J (those of you who are still hanging around) you know that I got a new job and this new job allowed me the freedom to stop using Metro and buy a fancy new car to get to work every day.  Ending my tumultuous association with Metro means minimizing my need for an e-reader (in my case a Kindle).  So I woke up the other day and said to myself, "Do they still print books on paper?" I had to find out!

The texture of the paper feels strangely wooden and dusty to my sophisticated fingers.  The words near the inside edge of the spine are often difficult to see without bending the spine and spreading the delicate material to its breaking point.  Oddly, when I put the down it wants to stay open, refusing to close without the help of a weighted object like a brick or spare tire.  And the smell... it's like what I imagine the basement of a brown paper bag factory to smell like.  (Yes, I'd like to have sex down there - not because the smell makes us horny, but because I'd one day like to say 'Yes, I had sex in the basement of that brown paper bag factory.' as I speed by in my fancy new car.)

Anyway, what was I saying?  Right, physical books.  The paper. The smell. The touching and rubbing and caressing.  Since I'm probably the only person who has any right to make the comparison given that I spent many years reading e-books on a Kindle, I will hereby officially say that the experiences are different.  You're welcome.

I'm learning!

One more day of orientation.  Then I shall be set loose in St. Elizabeths Hospital.  BTW, there is no apostrophe in St. Elizabeths.  I'll find out why and get back to you.

Also, I know infant CPR now.  So, bring your choking babies to me*.




Just kidding.  If your baby is choking please call 911.