Extra Life

Ross and I generated $730 for the Children's Miracle Network over the weekend by playing video games. Considering we only knew about this event one week ago, we will definitely be back next year. Possibly with prizes to give away for people who donate certain amounts.

Endeavor's Final Journey

The Last Ramen Warrior

I think I want to start my own line of ramen noodles.  Or maybe a ramen noodle cart or truck. Food trucks are all the rage right now.  Think about how awesome it would be to get a bowl of ramen for less than a dollar. And my ramen would be gourmet. I just need to come up with a catchy name for my ramen.

Wait. I haven't thought this through. Might there be some sort of ramen yakuza syndicate whose territory I'd be invading? Would I receive threatening messages from the ramen noodle bosses in the neighborhood? Do I have the strength to go up against a ramen noodle triad army? Perhaps if I employ the assistance of the local cupcake mafia. Their numbers are huge. Pun intended.

Extra Life

I'm participating in a 24 hour video gaming marathon to raise money for Children's Miracle Network hospitals. Give me some money, dammit! My team name is Rated M for Medicine

Click the link to contribute to this cause. All money goes to the Children's Miracle Network.

One Strike

There were a lot of great, heartfelt, genuinely poetic articles written over the weekend lamenting and soothing the Nationals freakish loss to the Cardinals on Friday night. Given the overall young ages of most of the team and their absolute dominance of the National League, there's no doubt they'll be back in the same situation for many years to come. I don't mind losing. And I don't mind tension. But as a veteran to stunning, unpredictable loses that crush the soul (2003 Cubs) I thought I'd never have to feel that pain ever again.  We can all remember the first time someone dumped us and broke our heart. The beauty of that pain is that it's never that bad ever again.  I was able to get over the Cubs being 5 outs away from their first World Series in 100 years before choking to the Marlins. But this time the Nats were ONE strike away.  5 times!

Some day in the future one of my grandchildren will ask their dad why Grandpa hates the Cardinals so much. But he/she won't fully understand. Especially if they're not a baseball fan.

It's hard to explain to someone who doesn't watch baseball why or how it's so painful. One strike away...

Skillz

Walk off!

Listen to the call from the radio broadcast. LINK

Warts and All

Is there any way I can get through life not hating the St. Louis Cardinals?  If you're from Chicago, you pretty much have to despise them the moment you emerge from the birth canal without really knowing why.  Same with the Packers. "Daddy, can I wear this green shirt today?" "NO."   It's just fruits and vegetables. Shut up and eat them.  And so here I am 700 miles away, free from the bubble of the Chicagoland area. Or am I...?

It took me 12 years to break up with the abusive Cubs who kept calling me for late night booty calls even though I stood firm that it was over with those losers.  I have a new team now.  The Nationals.  And as I write this game 3 in the first round of the playoffs is under way and my Nats are 5 runs down in the sixth inning.  Fucking Cardinals.  Why won't they go to Hell and die? If there are any Cardinal fans reading this you might want to go get that problem checked out.  I'm thinking there might be some sort of vitamin deficiency or personality disorder afoot.  Or maybe a spider crawled up your nose in the middle of the night and laid eggs high up in your nasal cavity.  The baby spiders have hatched and burrowed deep into your brain, which is the only logical explanation for choosing to be a Cardinals fan.  May I suggest a lobotomy?

Anyhoo, I'm not sure I'll ever recover from this enormous Chicago Bears boil that's been growing on my neck since the mid Eighties.

The Escaped Gorilla

*I absolutely LOVE this poem!

By David Wagoner

When he walked out in the park that early evening
just before closing time, he didn't take
the nearest blonde in one arm and climb a tree
to wait for the camera crews. He didn't savage
anyone in uniform, upend cars
or beat his chest or scream, and nobody screamed
when they found him hiding behind the holly hedge
by the zoo office where he waited for someone

to take him by the hand and walk with him
around two corners and along a pathway
through the one door that wasn't supposed to be open
and back to the oblong place with the hard sky
where all of his unbreakable toys were waiting
to be broken, with the wall he could see through,
but not as far as the place he almost remembered,
which was too far away to be anywhere.

A Reminder

Sometimes we (I) forget about the beautiful things in the world. There's music out there that can cause you to stop washing the dishes, or stop watching the TV, or stop period and just BE A PERSON IN AN EXTRAORDINARY LIFE. Music like this helps us recognize our space in the universe. I get so mad at myself for forgetting this stuff.

Hahn plays Guzunov.

How to feel like a piece of sh!t in 2.3 seconds

The other night while James was in the tub we thought it would be a good opportunity to play with the turtle light that projects stars on the walls and ceiling.  Unfortunately, to NO ONE'S surprise, our 16 month old son prefers not to be in complete darkness. God, I felt like the worst kind of human after James cried out in terror.

Parenting: It's a lesson in humility every single day!

Scaredy Cat

I have noticed something environmentally peculiar about my new job. The grounds of the hospital is home to many, many stray cats.  Not the skittish kind either - these cats sit atop a fence or under a tree and watch me walk by. It feels like we (the humans) are being allowed to occupy this space by the horde of cats that secretly rule.  And I feel like all my new coworkers someone understand this symbiotic relationship, because they ignore the cats, too.  Or maybe they can't see the cats...!  Wait - maybe I'm the only one who can actually see these cats... Maybe these are ghost cats...

Ghost Cats.  That's probably it.  Cool. Bet you wish you worked with a bunch of Ghost Cats.

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.