Admitted Student

1 06 2009

I’m excited.

I just attended the “Admitted Students Dinner” for my Weekend MBA program, and it has put a real and sudden feeling of reality into what I’m doing.  Up until now, I’ve been doing everything via the web and e-mail — my application, acceptance letter, financial aid preparations…everything has been cyber-this and virtual that.

But having dinner in a room at the Henry Center in Lansing with 160 of my future best friends is a very grounding experience.  Listening to a panel of alumni tell me just how much work they went through is a very grounding experience.  Listening to professors say how much they expect to be done before class even starts is a very grounding experience.  Getting a bag full of books, and a stack of syllabi and assignments due before my first class is a very grounding experience.

So to backtrack…I’m excited, with a large dash of terror-sauce.

In one 7-day residency session, I am going to complete three full college couses — 5.5 credit hours in seven days — and not fru-fru courses, no.  Financial Accounting, Managerial Principles and Supply Chain Principles.  I think I — right now — have a total of 26 chapters and nearly 50 questions/quizzes/exercises to complete in the next 2-1/2 months, not including the three on-line pre-courses in Statistics and Accounting.

Whew.  Excited, with a large dash of terror-sauce, topped with “what-the-hell-did-I-get-myself-into?”

But I can do this.  Other people have done this.  Other people have done this around marriages and childbirth, and I have to go through neither.  My wife is behind me on this, and says she’s excited for me…at least right now.  We’ll see how excited she is after a year of dad-who’s-no-help-with-the-kids and husband-who-does-no-housework.

This program will last until March 2011.  Two years; maybe a bit less.  I survived five years in Indiana.  I lived through six years of hellacious help desk duty.  I can do two years of school — especially if I keep my eyes on the prize at the end: an expected doubling of my salary and a hope for more than that.  Those other things — Indiana and help desk — had nothing at the end to look forward to other than just the cessation of hostilities.  No prize for completion…nothing.  “It’ll feel better when it stops hurting.”  You get the idea.

This program?  Two years of grueling school and 3-hour drives, and at the end of it I have an M.B.A. degree from a program ranked 18th among public universities and 40th overall?  A program rated #1 for return on investment?  A program with a career services department ranked #3 (IIRC) in the nation?  Well, hell!  I can do this!

I’m excited!





What a Difference…

17 03 2009

…a year makes.  Here I am, just freshly turned 39 — yesterday, in fact.

A year ago, when I had just turned 38…I went on vacation and suffered from carbon monoxide poisoning that put me in a Virginia hospital.  The effects lasted for a month afterward.

My marriage was severely on the rocks.  We hit a low time in our relationship, one I don’t wish to repeat.

My job was stagnating.  Day in, day out, the same thing.

Today?  We’re planning to go back to Virginia in just under two weeks.  I’m scared of it, a bit, and excited for it, a lot.  My marriage?  Still kind of crummy…not a lot of happiness in our house, but there’s more than there was, and I think we’re on the mend.  I’m leading a $500,000 project at work, with actual hopes for recognition, if not a real raise or anything.

And best of all, I’ve been accepted to a decent MBA program and will be starting classes in a bit less than five months.  My life will be crazy.  I will be driving three hours to school every other weekend.  I will have reading and homework every night, and it will take time from my family.  My work will not slow down, and I will be frazzled.  And I’m planning on enjoying every last minute of it.  (maybe not the increased screaming from my 2-year-old twins)

I am actually working TOWARD something.  Something better, at that.  I have a purpose.  I have a goal.  I have something to make me feel young and alive.  I need to feel young and alive.  I’m ashamed at all of the years I’ve wasted, and I don’t want to do that anymore.  In 2011, when I am 41 years old, I will hold a fresh, new MBA in my hands, and I will hit the ground running.  I will get a new career and earn twice the money I earn now, and I will provide a better life for my family.

They surely deserve it.





Words, Words….More Words…

25 06 2008

Well, it’s another Wednesday, coincidentally.  I’m at work.  I should be working.  I’m blogging.  Depending on who you ask, that’s either very, very good, or very, very bad.

The new camera has spurred me into taking a lot more photos lately.  I think it’s because the quality of them is so much better — it’s like I have a shot at creating some really nice pictures, whereas with the cameras I had before it was a foregone conclusion that the camera itself just wasn’t going to capture the image very well.  It was possible to get a really nice photo…just not probable. Kind of like if you meet a guy with a shaved head and swastika tattoos, it’s possible that he owns a nice, kosher deli…just not probable.

Not a lot goes on in my life.  I lead a boring life.  Most evenings are full with a)get home b)cook dinner c)eat dinner with family d)wash dishes e)settle toddlers down f)random chore (ie: garbage night, vacuuming, replacing light-bulbs, sweeping kitchen, watering plants, mowing lawn, etc)  AAaaaaand…by then it’s bedtime.  Most nights, really, I’ll climb onto the internetic sub-highway at 11pm or so, and surf when I should be sleeping.  That’s my “me-time” I guess.

Let’s see…we broke in our fire-pit on Saturday.  I built this thing at our last house.  Then we moved.  So I dug up and transported four wheelbarrow loads of rock and gravel to our new place and re-dug the pit.  Yes, I moved a hole.  We had our first real bonfire in it, though, with s’mores-roasting and the whole schlemiel.  Yes, we ate s’mores, my wife told scary stories… the kids got scared… and went inside…  And I sat out by the fire by myself until midnight waiting for it to burn down enough to go inside.  It was actually nice though.  Very quiet.  I don’t get much quiet in a house with four kids.

And there we go.  I’ve managed to get paid for half an hour of blogging.  That’s a win in my book.





MySpace, April 20 – May 26, 2008

27 05 2008

Monday, May 26, 2008

So What’s The Big Deal?
Category:
MySpace

Okay, so I guess I just don’t get what the big deal is about MySpace. I signed on so I could have a place to blog, ‘cuz keeping a journal is supposed to reduce stress…at least the “experts” say so. That, and it’s kind of neat to play around with profiles and edit the style pages a bit. That’s all I do here. Really. This whole emphasis on friends at this site serves only to point out to me just how many people I don’t know. I have what, ten friends? Maybe? And two of them are a radio station?I just spent the last hour looking for the few people I know…and failed. I looked for people who I went to high school with…and failed. I looked for people I knew in college…and failed. I looked for people I used to work with…and failed. I looked for people I work with NOW…and failed.

In part, this has to be backlash from living a life largely without friends. I haven’t kept up with anybody…and now I have no idea where they are or what they’re doing. I honestly don’t know how people on here can have over a thousand friends. Do they just “friend me” to everyone they run into? Are they just an icon collection to them? I don’t get it.

Maybe I’ll have to cop out and see how many bands I can collect…but it’s not like they’re going to really pay attention to little ol’ me, anyway. I could try to connect with all of the 15 year old hotties here…if I were one of the 32,000 registered sex offenders who have MySpace accounts.

Sigh…

And worse, the only people who DO read this are people who know me, so I have to be kind of sanitary here. I’m thinking of moving this whole thing to some other blogging site so I don’t hafta worry about it anymore.

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Friday, May 23, 2008

I’m That Guy

I’m that guy…you know, THAT guy. The guy with dirt under his fingernails, and grease on his hands. I’m the guy who likes to work on his own car, who replaced the clutch in his own motorcycle. I’m the guy who likes to install faucets and light fixtures, and likes to build things around the house. I’m the guy who likes digging holes and planting trees and who likes fixing the lawnmower almost as much as using it. I’m the guy with a 60lb toolbox, and power tools, and various solvents and oils in the garage. I’m the guy who likes waxing the car, and knows that rubbing compound will take out most scratches on the car. I’m the guy who likes to shoot stuff with a shotgun…and then reload his own shells, and then shoot more stuff. I’m the guy who spends the weekend in dirty jeans, a t-shirt and a baseball cap, rather than shower and shave all 7 days of the week. Yeah, I’m that guy.

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Saturday, May 17, 2008

I’m That Guy

I’m THAT guy. No, not HIM…the other one. I’m the guy who’s been married for eleven years to the same woman. I’m the guy who has four kids…all with the same woman….whom I’m married to. I’m the guy who drives the crappy car and lets my wife have the nice one, because she hauls our kids around…or at least I did when the nice car held all the kids at once. I’m the guy who actually likes mowing grass, and snowblowing the driveway, and painting the kitchen, and watering the flowers. I’m the guy whose favorite sound is the laughter of my children. I’m the guy who can’t stand it when my job takes me to the pediatrics floor of the hospital, because I abhor the sound of children crying in pain. I’m the guy who thinks that Christmas is for the children, and that Santa Claus is alive in every one of us. I’m the guy who thinks that a child’s innocence is sacrosanct, and that those who violate and shatter that innocence should be removed from our society….unpleasantly. I’m the guy who wears my wife’s high-school ring around my neck, every single day; who feels naked when he forgets to put on his wedding band. I’m the guy who may joke about various hot-looking women, but who would never cheat on his wife. I’m the guy who thinks less (MUCH less) of guys who put their wife down while out with “the guys.” I’m the guy who’ll give $5 to a homeless person, and try to preserve their dignity when I do it. (“Excuse me, I think you dropped this, sir.”) I’m the guy who’ll help push a neighbor or a stranger out of the ditch. I’m the guy who’ll drop work in a heartbeat if my family needs me. I’m the guy who weeps every time he hears a newborn’s first cry. I’m the guy who wants to show my family the world. I’m the guy who wants to barbecue burgers on the deck, and roast marshmallows over the campfire. I’m the guy who’s a father, and a husband, and wouldn’t change that for anything.Yeah, I’m that guy.

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Friday, May 16, 2008

I’m That Guy

I’m that guy. You know, THAT guy. I’m that guy with glasses, Dockers and a button-up shirt, wearing track shoes. I’m that guy who says “I need to return this” when he’s thinking “take yer fuckin’ piece o’shit back and give me my goddamn money back.” I’m that guy driving the Volvo, with jazz coming out of the windows, but not TOO loud. I’m that guy who looks like a repressed asshole, like a college-educated jerk — kind of pudgy like he’s never done an honest day’s labor in his life. I’m that guy who looks uptight enough to blush if a girl looks at him. I’m that guy who gets caught looking at a girl’s legs and tries to camoflage it by looking for a garbage can that isn’t there, or something. I’m that guy who looks like a nerd…a twitchy nerd…a twitchy, uptight, Volvo-driving, stupid-expression-wearing, nerd. Yeah, I’m that guy.

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Saturday, May 10, 2008

Bloggity Blog

I haven’t blogged here in a while. It’s become harder to really let myself say what I want around people that I know. I know anything I blog here is going to be read by my neighbor, and my tae-kwon-do classmate, and my brother-in-law, and my wife and…well most of my friends are people I know. So I can’t blog anything about them. Some of my friends live in the same house as me…so I can’t blog –– and as punctuates most everything I do, a baby pooped and I have to stop what I’m doing and go handle shit.

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Friday, April 25, 2008

I Dunno

What’s wrong with people? Are we actually getting stupider (legitmate word if you’re in 4th grade) or is there just an extreme shortage of people willing to point a finger and say (loudly) “Hey, you! You’re doing it wrong!”Today, I was waiting to turn left out of a driveway. I had to wait for cars…nothing strange there. But then the guy waiting to turn left INTO the driveway waved me out. There were no other cars coming, but there WERE cars waiting behind him. I stared at him for a second, then waved him out of the way with both arms… the physical version of “hey, stupid, get outta the road!” And he waved me out again, this time impatiently. To get things moving, I pulled out — squealed out, actually, and in the company van, too.

I fumed about it the whole time I was driving. I mean fer chrissakes, don’t they tell drivers anymore that if they’re in the middle of the road, they shouldn’t just STOP and wave people out of driveways? If they don’t have anyplace to be, maybe the drivers BEHIND them actually want to go somewhere. Thus the reason they’re in CARS, on the ROAD, trying to DRIVE SOMEWHERE! And I thought about it some more. Why didn’t the guy behind him honk or something? He was being a moron and holding up traffic…I’D have honked — a long, loud “Git the f*ck outta the road, you f*cktarded ass-mummy!!” If I’d have put the van in Park and gotten out, he’d have been mad at ME.

And I thought about it in a broader sense. The morons rule the world. They cross the centerline of the highway while driving…and the people they’re playing chicken with don’t flash a light or honk a horn or anything. Morons pull out in front of people, then slam on their brakes and turn…and nobody honks or anything. Morons cough or sneeze on you or your family, and if you say anything they either pretend they don’t notice, or they get mad at YOU.

One time, I was waiting in a long line to pay at a Cracker Barrel restaurant in Indiana, and this dizzy bitch walked past everyone and straight up to a register. NOBODY said anything…so I did.
“Ex-CUSE me, but wait your turn.”
“Oh,” (and this absolutely floored me) “I thought I just walked right up…”

I thought I just walked right up?! Never mind the eight people waiting with their bill in their hands. Never mind the existence of lines since the beginning of freaking HISTORY…no, SHE thought she’d just walk RIGHT UP! Gawd! How did she survive the drive to the place? How many red lights did she run because “I thought they meant everyone else,” and how many pedestrians did she run over while driving on the sidewalk because “I thought I just drove over here…” Is she serious? Really?

So I dunno. Maybe it’s because the biggest thing anyone reads anymore is an issue of People magazine. Maybe it’s the whole Real World-Surreal Life-The Osbournes-ANTM-Survivor-Big Brother-Tila Tequila-Paris Hilton-Hamster Dance-America’s Got Talent mentality that’s being fostered by our televisions. Maybe it’s all the artificial colors in our food. Maybe everyone’s Zoloft is reacting with their Zantac and causing stupidity. I dunno, but it’s really annoying.

Hey! Stupid people! Please stop!

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Sunday, April 20, 2008

Randomnity
Current mood:
cheerful

I haven’t blogged anything in a while, and should. It’s harder to do when people who know me read my blog…like, oh, I dunno…my wife. Can’t go on about my extra-marital exploits; can’t complain about my girlfriend’s shortcomings; can’t talk about that court order at ALL.Yeah.

My brother-in-law (BIL) moved in with us last weekend. We cleaned out a corner of our basement and made a space for him. It kind of saddens us that all we can offer is an unfinished basement — bare cement, plastic sheeting over the pink insulation for walls, and the ceiling is floor joists and heating ductwork. I was able to run a couple of extension cords to his “room” for power for his 47 different video game systems. He’s also borrowing one of our cars while his is KO’d. Again, I’m kind of embarrassed that it’s older than he is — it’s an ‘84 Crown Victoria…it’s navy blue, 17 feet long and slow. It gets all the gas mileage of a V8, and has all the power of a 4-cylinder.

On the other hand, I’m actually proud to be have something to offer — we finally have a house big enough that we can clear out a 10×12 (or so) room without really cramping our lifestyle (if we actually have a lifestyle…I suspect we don’t.) and we have a car that is in decent shape that has done nothing but sit for a year — heck, my BIL driving it is actually HELPING us out…the car needed to be driven to kind of keep it in working order. It’s not going to send us to the poorhouse to have another person living here, not by a long shot, and that’s a decent feeling.

(subject change…) Home improvement season has started. Some people call it spring, I think. We’re starting to work on the house to start making it what we want. We put in new solar lights by the sidewalk, and we’re testing out different samples of paint on the walls. I stained the porch, deck and the kids’ swingset, and they all look much better. We’re starting to water the yard, and the grass we planted last fall is sprouting nicely this spring.

Oh, and I got Guitar Hero III for about 1/2 what it costs in the store, so I’ve been playing the $!t out of that for the past coupla days. It’s not a real guitar, but it’s fun.

Later.

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MySpace, January 17 – 30, 2008

27 05 2008

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

20 Deep Questions…
Current mood:
chipper

This showed up in a bulletin from one of my friends. I thought I’d put it in my blog, rather than load it into the bulletin-shotgun and belabor everyone (that would be seven people) with it.Ultimately, I think this points out the embarrassing difference between what I know I should do in a situation, and what I’d actually do in a situation. The needs of modern society are a bitch.


20 deep questions that could really tell you something.
[ Not simple questions like "How Old Are You?" ]1. Is it difficult for you to look into some one’s eyes when you are telling them how you feel?

Actually, no.

2. You are on a flight from Honolulu to Chicago non-stop. There is a fire in the back of the plane. You get enough time to make ONE phone call. Who would you call?
My wife.4. You are at the doctor’s office and they have just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. (A) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? (B) What do you do with your remaining days? (C) Would you be afraid?
A – I’d like to say that I wouldn’t, and that I’d be virtuous and honorable and not burden everyone with my affliction…but I know me, and I’d blab it to everyone and secretly enjoy their mortification.
B – I’d like to say the easy answer — “live each day as if it were my last.” The grim reality is that I’d probably still go to work, and I’d spend much time on the internet looking for miracle cures. The other grim reality is that we simply don’t have the money to let me do anything other than what we already do — no quick trips around the world before I die or anything.
C – Terrified, absolutely petrified with fear. Hell, I already am.

5. You can have one of the following two things: love/trust
Trust. I’ve lived most of my life without love. Having my trust betrayed hurts more if it’s from someone you love.

6. You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?
I would like to say that I’d save the dog. With the job I currently have, I’d save the dog because my boss isn’tgoing to fire me. Given this artificial situation, though, I’d let the dog drown — if I lose my job, I can’t feed and house my wife and my four children, and their life is more important to me than a dog’s life.

7. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
Since I was a boy, I’ve always wanted to fly a WWII airplane to Henderson Field on Guadalcanal, in the Solomon Islands in the South Pacific.

8. Think of the last person who you really knew that died. You have the chance to give them 1 hour of life back, but you have to give one year of your life. Do you?
No. That person is my mother. I would hope she wouldn’t want her only child to give up a whole year just for her. Regardless, I wouldn’t deprive MY children of one of their parents for an entire year, just for another hour with my mother — I would love the chance to see my mother again, but not enough to do that. As a side point, I fear she’d spend the entire hour making me feel the way she did when she was alive…

9. Are you the kind of friend that you would want to have as a friend?
No. Not even close.

10. Does love = sex?
No. I’m not sure anything equals sex these days. Four kids notwithstanding, I’ve spent more of my life not having sex than otherwise. I’m the most celibate pervert I know.

11. Your best friend dies, what would you do?
I don’t really have a best friend. In fact, I don’t really have any friends. I really don’t know how to answer this question.

12. When was the last time you told someone HONESTLY how you felt?
All the time. My wife and I are very close, and we tell each other everything. That said, when I tell her how I honestly feel, she usually gets mad at me. Doesn’t seem to stop me, though.

13. What would be harder for you, to tell someone you love them or that you don’t love them back?
It depends on the someone. It would be much, MUCH harder for me to tell my wife that I don’t love her back (if you’re reading this, HYPOTHETICAL situation, honey!). On the other hand, if a co-worker at random told me she (or he) loved me, it wouldn’t be hard at all to respond with an “I don’t like you like that.”

14. What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up on?
I don’t know if it’d be my marriage or my children. The thought of either is gut-wrenching.

15. Excluding romantic love, when was the last time you told someone you loved them?
It’s embarrassing, but I don’t know. I don’t say it much; I KNOW I don’t say it enough.

16. If you had to go back in time and change one thing, if you HAD to, even if you had “no regrets” what would it be?
When I was young, and expressed a love of flying, my mother told me I would never be able to fly a plane because I have glasses. I believed her and gave up on my dream. Knowing what I know now, I would go slap myself in the back of the head, ignore my mother and push for that dream.

17. Imagine. It is a dark night, you are alone, it is raining outside, you hear someone walking around outside your window. Who do you call.
I call nobody. I go outside with a flashlight and my double-barrel shotgun and I take care of the situation myself. Somebody’s going to wet themself before the night’s over.

18. Would you give a homeless person CPR if they were dying?
Most likely, I would. They might be disgusting, but a human life is sacred.

19. Are you old-fashioned?
I’d like to say I’m not, that I’m a hip, contemporary guy. Things throughout my life have proven, though, that when the chips are down, I fall back on old-fashioned values every single time. I hold doors open for people, I let others go first, I try not to interrupt, I would never let my daughter go out in public “like that,” and when I was given a chance, I did NOT take advantage of that drunk, horny girl when I was in college.

20. Which would you choose, true love with a guarantee of a heart break or to have never loved before?
William Shakespeare wrote that “it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved before.” I would have to go with that.

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Monday, January 28, 2008

My Knuckles Hurt.
Current mood:
content

Yes, my knuckles hurt. If I were truly manly I’d follow with a story about how I got in a fight at the bar and put a guy in the hospital, and made a 300lb Samoan cry. Guess I’m not truly manly. I got the snot wacked out of my knuckles at tae kwon do by the 7-year-old I was stick-fighting with. We use about 3′ of 1/2″ PVC pipe inside a thin pool-noodle, wrapped with duct tape. This kid was totally not holding back on his swings, either. Two-handed, swinging it like a baseball bat. I had no problem blocking 99% of it all, but he landed a fair number of swats on my knucks. It’s a fun hurt, though. Not like the last time I went and got pwn3d by the dude I already bitched about.Otherwise, the cold snap broke. It hit 46 degrees here. In Michigan. In January. It’s a nice change from being nine degrees. Real nice. The slush melted off the car. I was able to drive fast enough to charge the battery. I didn’t have to wear a fleece jacket under an inflatable snowboarding coat, with wool hat, eskimo gloves, and fleece-lined jeans. I could dress like a human and just wear a coat. Yes, I said inflatable coat. It was a present from my wife a couple of years ago and aside from being ruined by a dry cleaner, it’s a great coat. It’s got a maze of rubber tubing inside, and you blow in through a one-way valve to inflate the coat with your warm exhale and create a warm air-chamber insulation layer. It’s nice.

That said, I think I’m gonna go grab some Ho-Ho’s and surf the rest of the internet.

Currently listening :
Sing, Sing, Sing
By Benny Goodman
Release date: 25 October, 1990

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Sunday, January 27, 2008

Weekend? What Weekend?
Current mood:
pissy

It doesn’t seem fair, really. Here it is, only 16 minutes left in the weekend, and by the time I’ve posted this it’ll be Monday, and I will be officially up too late, and only be able to get 5-1/2 hours of sleep at the most. It just doesn’t seem fair, this whole 5:2 ratio of workdays to weekend days. I know I’m not the first to bellyache about this, but that doesn’t make any more fair, either.I work a standard 9-to-5 job, (8 to 4:30, really) and have a half-hour commute each way, making for 9.5 hours per day taken up by work. Then, there’s the two hours each morning it takes to wake up, get the kids up and help get them ready for school. That makes it 11.5 hours — from 5:30am when my alarm goes off to 5:00pm when I get home. There’s dinner — either I’m helping get the babies set for dinner, or I’m making it and helping get the babies set. After dinner there’s the 4-children-sized mess to clean up. Say it isn’t really all done until 7pm. I’ve just spent 5:30am until 7:00pm on nothing but work, work work. The twins are really screamy and need to be put to sleep somewhere between 8pm and 9pm.

It leaves about an hour, maybe two every day of somewhat leisure time. If I haven’t fallen asleep with a baby on me, I can most nights get some computer time after 11pm or so…which makes me officially up too late, etc, and the circle is complete.

So we have two days of weekend. Lately, we’ve been packing in house-shopping every weekend for the past month; trekking all over four counties looking at homes, dragging increasingly aggravated kids with us. When we aren’t doing that, we’ve been mucking out the house from the work-week’s worth of scattered toys, crumbled snack crumbs, dirty dishes, muddy laundry and blown light bulbs. After the weekend, I swear I need a weekend. There have been some weekends where I’m actually glad to be going to work on Monday, so I can finally relax a little.

And something else — I would bet a dollar that nothing I’m doing at work is so critical that it needs to monopolize so many days of my week. So somebody’s computer doesn’t get installed on Tuesday, but on Wednesday. In a hundred years, who’s going to know the difference? I’d like to think that I work to support my family…not that I have a family to support my work. But the amount of time that my job demands of me makes me start to think otherwise. I’m damn lucky my twins took their first steps on a Saturday, because if it’d been during the week, I’d have missed it.

It isn’t fair.

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Thursday, January 24, 2008

They’re Mobile!
Current mood:
drunk

(Let me apologize in advance…I’m drunk. I’ve had lots of a very nice zinfandel, and I may be more of an asshole than usual.)

Both of my babies started walking this week.This is big, so let me say it again: Both of my babies started walking this week. It’s a milestone — not only because we need to move the babyproofing up by about two feet. My twins now can motivate around like real people. They’ve gotten pretty proficient at crawling — they can put their head down and bull forward at a good clip — but now they’ve taken their first venture into adult transportation.

Maybe I could take a minute and bore you with some exposition. If you don’t know what that is, look it up.

www.m-w.com (That’s Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary.)I have four children. I have a seven-year-old son, a five-year-old daughter, and one-year-old twin daughters. My son is a tad bit Autistic — as crackpot as it sounds we can control his Autism with a special diet, and we do, and he’s more or less normal. So it’s the twins that just learned to walk.

My son learned to walk when we were in the first and only house we ever actually bought. We tricked him into it with a walker toy…we held it for him, and when he reached for it we inched it away from him and he walked for it without even realizing what he was doing. When he DID realize, he stood there (all of 14 months old) yelling “YEAH! YEAH!!”

My oldest daughter first walked at a Leelanau Peninsula winery, when we were wine-tasting with my dad. Maybe that explains a lot about her. ‘Nuff said.

And of the twins, the younger one first walked on Saturday, at my oldest daughter’s ballet class. The older one walked a day or two later in our kitchen.

So saying, it’s now time to move. We seem to be always destined to move away from wherever we live when one of our children learns to walk. By summer we will be living somewhere else. We’d like to stay in the house we’re in now, but our landlord is simply asking too much money — put it this way…we can get my wife’s dream house for $3000 less than our landlord is asking for a creaky, dingy house that’s been trashed by renters. For $33,000 less we can have a 4-bedroom Victorian with beautiful original woodwork, a 2-car garage/workshop, and a huge double lot, across the road from a park and a block away from a lake — the next town over. Is not-moving worth $33,000? Seems not.

But I digress. My babies are walking. Life is good — scarier, but good.

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Saturday, January 19, 2008

Cold. Cold? Cold.
Current mood:
awake

So, I know I said it was cold yesterday. But that was yesterday. Today it’s cold. Yesterday it was almost ten. Right now it’s about -4 degrees. That’s “minus four.” Four below zero. Not on the Celsius scale, where that’d be balmy. No, four below zero Fahrenheit. Frigid cold. Damn cold. It’s like, ten thirty at night and dark, that helps. Today at the heat of the day, it might have hit ten…and it was hella-windy, and snowy. Felt like walking through a Siberian meat locker. Uck.On the other hand, it LOOKED really beautiful outside. We drove to town, and it was sunny for the drive. There was fresh snow from last night, and the morning sun lit up the whitened pine trees and made it look like a total winter wonderland. Sure, if you stuck your nose out the window it’d crystallize and fall off, but it LOOKED really nice.

Oh yeah, and we ate lunch at Olive Garden. Ain’t nuthin’ wrong ’bout that!

Currently listening :
Lazy Eye
By Silversun Pickups
Release date: 24 September, 2007

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Friday, January 18, 2008

And Welcome To Michigan

It’s snowing.Yeah, and in other news, the sun came up. Does it snow a lot in Michigan? Only on the days that end in “Y.” I had my arse out at six in the morning clearing the driveway with our asthmatic snowblower. What’s it like at six in the morning, in January, in Michigan?

It’s cold. Cold and dark. How cold? Nine. Nine degrees. You shouldn’t be able to spell the temperature. The accepted AP style for writing numbers less than 10 is to spell them out, you know? It’s like “I’d like to buy a second digit, Pat…a seven.” And Pat has to say, “I’m sorry, no sevens in this temperature. It’s nine.”

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Thursday, January 17, 2008

What Is The F, Dude?
Current mood:
bummed

I’ve been noticing a disturbing (disquieting? disgusting?) trend in people in general. The only time lots of people do anything quickly, or assertively, or decisively…is when they’re being an asshole. The only time people duck through a door quickly is when they want to let it close on you. The only time people change lanes quickly in their car is when they want to cut you off. The only time people walk quickly is when they want to be in front of you in a line. And on and on and on.Most of the time, people seem to shuffle through life in a sort of collective unconsciousness. Existing, not living. They don’t look at me as they pass by. They don’t look at the trees, or sky, or snow, or anything…just a blank stare walking by me. Usually with a cell phone mashed against their ear. That’s the worst. Not only are they detached from what they’re really doing…but their conversation is detached from what they’re talking to. How many people on cell phones sound like this: “I’m getting out of work…..getting out of work…..out of work….work. WORK! What? What? What? What? It’s okay. It’s okay, Okay. Okay!”

Honestly, how much of a waste is that? Not only is the entire subject of the call the simple fact that they just got out of work…but the person they’re calling should honestly be able to surmise that fact by just looking at a clock. And the technology fails them so badly that they can’t even get that sad fact across.

But really, is the human race really only alive when we’re trying to screw someone over? Lately it sure seems that way. Nobody expends the energy unless it’ll squash another human at least a little. It saddens me. It really does.

Currently listening :
Battle Without Honor or Humanity
By Tomoyasu Hotei
Release date: 12 July, 2004

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