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Monday, April 29, 2002
He's BACK!
You remember that Kershner
fellow, don't you? Yup, that's the one.
He's finally back in business, posting and what not, and best of all, he's got a new job. Granted, it's a consulting contract, but knowing him, they'll pick him up permanently soonish. They'd be stoopid not to.
He's back! Hallelujah!
Now, to find that egg launcher, and tune it up for sub-orbital launches Indiana-way...
Holier Than Thou...
The Catholic Church, much like the Bible, can be used to illustrate just
about any point one wishes to make. There are aphorisms for following
blindly, not following blindly, accepting authority, not accepting
authority, and, on the whole, one can pretty much say a great deal (within
reason, of course) and find a quote from the bible to support it.
Which some of the Catholic clergy, specifically that idiot in Boston, seems hell-bent upon now.
What's especially tragic is that this pope, who had been viewed as such a magnet for youth (mostly because in the college of Cardinals at the time of his elevation, he was a damned kid to most of them) is now supporting and protecting the very man who supported and protected those who would prey on youth.
When is the crime of aiding and abetting not a crime? Apparently when one is a cardinal. When is the crime of conspiracy not a crime of conspiracy? When one is a cardinal engaged in moving priests who prey on youth. When is stupidity not a crime?
Well, let's take back that last one. I know some stupid people, and I've pulled some stupid stunts. Not as dumb as this, certainly, but I've pulled some.
But back to the topic at hand - Cardinal Law. Even the name is galling. The man, who has a last name that is one of the reasons America has had as stable a history as we have, condoning breaking the law.
This weekend, my wife pointed out to me a newspaper article about Cardinal Law and his opposition to the laity forming an advisory council for the archdiocese. Right. The Cardinal's been doing so well for so long now that we're just putting together a team to thank him. Wrong.
When I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar, I had to remove it, without taking any of my ill-gotten booty. Seems Cardinal Law is looking to keep the curtains closed on his little indiscretions.
What's especially sickening is the fact that a "man of God" would attempt to place the blame on the innocent victim. Certainly, I wouldn't allow Jack to hang out with a forty-year-old man - but a priest, up until recently, I wouldn't have worried about. But, as the article (which will soon be taken away, fie on you, Associated Press) notes, the "legal filing" from Law's defender says that the six year old and his parents should be legally culpable.
This, I suppose, is an attempt by the "defense" to lamely spread the blame and soak the headlines, rather than have people notice that there were 1600 PAGES of evidence noting that Law and his predecessor knew of the behavior of Shanley, and kept shifting him around.
On the Murphy Brown TV show some years back, there was a throw-away joke which resonated with my wife - "she's stuck in the parking lot with Jesse Helms in front and Strom Thurmond behind. She's not sure who she should run over."
If Cardinal Law were in front and Jesse Ventura behind my car, I think I'd have the same problem. Though I think after about a millisecond's thought, I'd run down Law with no regrets - then toss it into reverse for Jesse.
Personally, I think it's irresponsible in so many ways. Not the least of which is to leave the entire mess for his successor to uncover and deal with. Unless, of course, Law intends to rise from the dead after three days and clean up this mess. It's a sick world. Sicker still when those you wanted to trust aren't trustworthy any more...
Mail Blocking, Reducks
(Yes, folks, that's a bad, bad pun - for the non-native-English-speaking
amongst you, it comes from the Latin re meaning to re and
dux, for leader - thus, "re-leader". Or, as we use it in common
English, it's a fancy way to say RERUN - as it's regarding spam, which is a
foul topic... Gee, I can hear the groans from the basement, worldwide.
That bad, eh? Oh well).
Faithful Reader Felix Mendes points out that he reads me from Lisbon, Portugal, which proves that I can be boring on more than one continent at the same time (I wonder, does that make me bi-continent? Or incompetent? Incontinent? A bigger bore? Nah. Too many bad jokes are now roiling the little voices in my head, must increase dosage... must increase dosage. No, not the Daleks again, please, no!!! -- we now return you to your regularly scheduled digression. Do not deviate from your present course... Or you will become like HIM)...
Whoa. Who was that masked man? Anyway, back to the bus that's passing my version of reality by, Mr. Mendes kindly points out that I've blocked e-mail from most of those degree-seeking folk in the UK and Austria. Seems that AC in those domains (AT and UK) means the same as our "Edu" does here - educational institutions.
I just hope that the education is better there than here - I mean, look at me, they let me graduate...
Anyway, to go a long way 'round the horn (do not EVER ask me what I know about the Spanish Armada - I've killed three people by boring them to death - two more are in a persistent vegitative state), I've removed the ban on those addresses. Seems I'll have to go back to retail blocking, rather than wholesale.
Thanks, Mr. Mendes!
Can't Win For Losing
Our "second" local airline, Sun Country, recently was "reborn" or perhaps,
more properly, born again, as a charter airline - which was how it started
out. This time, they set themselves up to run something like forty flights
a week to a little Nevada Casino town that was willing to pay for something
like 80% of those seats, and then re-sell them as part of a package deal.
Well, it sure looks like the fine folks in Laughlin have lost the little-old-blue-haired-lady traffic, if this story on CNN turns out to be well-reported. Hell's Angels, Mongols, and little old ladies in the same casino town. It just ain't gonna work, I don't think.
Today's second example of "well, that was dumb" comes from Technews, where those Nigerian idiots apparently ARE smarter than some of the other "ugly bags of mostly water" walking this planet.
Seems someone IS dumb enough to fall for those scams. Oh, boy.
Say it with me now... "If the deal seems to good to be true, the odds are that it is too good to be true."
Well, Duh.
Short Shrift
Off tonight on multiple projects - spelunk the breaker box to find the
unrepentent breaker, and replace the "smack it" switch with one that works
normally (whoinhell needs mood lighting in a tiny bathroom? Please?),
peruse the want ads, and see if I can get organized for this week's "push to
finish" Rhiannon's loft.
I wish I was doing this...
Tuesday, April 30, 2002
Wonderful...
Great way to start a payday... "We did everything right, the funds were there, and verified, but it seems there's a problem at Wells Fargo." No, I'm not going to mince words, these idiots have blundered and bumbled their way into banking as an excuse to avoid clown college or becoming spammers.
Wells Fargo and I go 'way back. Before they were Wells Fargo locally, they were Northwestern Bank, then Norwest, then Norwest bought Wells Fargo and took on their name. Or that was how it was sold to us locals. Of course, the headquarters transferred to the west coast, but then again, most of the people they tried to transfer didn't move. Gee, I wonder why.
Meantimes, these are the people who reported our checking account as closed (it wasn't), and, when I've gone in to close the account (three times, now), I've been given the balance and a send-off. And, believe it or not, the following month, I get a statement. With money still in it.
If you have money in Wells Fargo accounts, double-check it. Please. Then seriously consider a different bank. We've got several friends who've had problems. Our experiences mirror theirs, albeit on smaller scales. One fellow has his business accounts AND personal account at the bank, and on four separate occasions, they managed to lose his paycheck.
Mind you, this is a direct-deposit transfer from one in-house account to another. If these people had asses where the rest of us do, they STILL wouldn't be able to find them without a great deal of professisonal help. Unless, of course, you count "finding" them from the inside, where their heads are well and truly buried.
On one occasion, we used a Norwest cash machine connected to the bank to deposit some money. As the money was through the machine, we were told we did not need a deposit slip (it says so on every envelope). We got the machine receipt, but the money was never deposited. When I went in to deal with them in-person, we were told that the machine does not print valid receipts, just "acknowledgements". So we had to wait while the deposit (a fairly large one) was recovered from the machine after the long weekend.
So if you've got business or personal accounts at Wells Fargo, get them out of there, please. For your own financial safety. And if you're unwilling to do that, at the very least go down the street to the other bank in town (if there is one - heck, try a credit union, too) and open up a second account - stash money aside for times when Wells Fargo will screw up - because we know they will, like the sun rises.
High Hopes
The day started so well this morning, too...
What I Need
He said, seeking assistance, is math knowledge.
Now, before you all snicker in your sleeves, no, I'm no math genius. I liked playing with numbers, and their relationships, etc. I've not discovered anything new, unique, or interesting, but it's fun.
Anyway, I quite often have situations where I know the lengths of the sides of the triangle, but would like to calculate the angles. Useful for things like table legs and so forth.
Is there a web site that has such formulae out there I could peruse? I'm completely comfortable, geometry-wise, with things like the pythagorean theorem and the like. I've no clue what some of the higher trig functions are, and truth be told, I'll likely build a spreadsheet called "Triangles" where I can input the length of the sides I know, get the side I don't, and go from there.
Any intelligent assistance would be appreciated.
And To Think
This morning, when I got up, the big news stories in my life were the closing of the Governor's Mansion, the on-going Loft Construction project, and Jack's final conference this evening.
We'll take those in small bites...
The Governor's mansion here in Minnesota is a relatively new invention. Just 40 years ago, the house was given to the people of Minnesota, who used the house as a showplace for Minnesota, and an "incidental" residence for the Governor.
Earlier this year, when the state budget got all mussed up with reality, the fine folks we elected (some of them, hawk spit, others are good folk) came up with some ... plans. The gist was that the Governor's budget was cut something like 15%, while the legislature's was cut something less. Each state Agency was cut 10% or thereabouts.
The problem came when Ventura decided to make up for the cuts in his security and household budget by closing the house. That's a savings of $375,000 a year, on a budget of $28 B-as-in-Billion dollars.
Yesterday, the 83-year-old woman who gave the house to the state made a statement saying she was saddened, frustrated, ashamed, and disappointed (if I've got them right) by the turn of events. Frankly, ma'am, we all are.
I took last week off from projects in general. We'd been pushing like busy little beavers for about three months to get packed, moved, unpacked, and cleaned up for guests - we didn't get the house to "house beautiful" status, but it was good enough to be proud of.
Of course, now we're back to the loft project, and into the tricky stage. First off, when I started the whole thing, we had four intertwined projects. The workbench, the computer shelf, the loft, and the sofa table.
The computer shelf, easiest of the four, was completed first. The workbench, which was mostly scrap from the other projects, was completed second. Third, of course, is the loft. The Sofa table, which was a long shot to begin with, has been determined "not presently required" and dropped from the list of projects, which has allowed me to add in a computer table, which will sit behind PART of the couch and be used for computers and the like.
Jack has been at the same daycare since he was an infant. He started there in the spring of 1997. Our goal was to get Jack through the good teachers - Lori, Gail, and Patti - before he started school. Lori had the two-year-olds - just a step up from toddlers, and been at the center some five years or so, but established such a rapport with the kids, Rhiannon loved her after the first day. Gail had been at the center over twenty years, had the three-year-old demonic batch, and was every bit as good as you would expect. Patti, the final teacher we were looking forward to, was at the center nine years, and was just as good as Gail, if a bit shorter.
The three of them were our version of the Holy Grail.
Rhiannon moved from Lori to Gail early on when there, and then the bricks started to fall. Shortly after a reception honoring Gail for her 20 years of service, Gail left to run another center. Rhiannon was passed from Gail, who was a personification of patience and stability, to a young lady who seemed to have fallen into the career by sheer accident. When one's goat is "gotten" by three year olds, one is perhaps too inexperienced in one's chosen field, perhaps, and Rhiannon pulled this sort of thing just about daily.
Jack, meanwhile, had gotten along quite well with Mindi, one of the infant room teachers. Mindi was the only one capable of calming him most days.
About 6 months before Jack was scheduled to move from infants to toddlers, Mindi moved up - the infant room wasn't where she wanted to be. Unfortunately, a month short of her reunion with Jack as he moved up, she moved on. Jack was left with another teacher who had issues and some inability to control him.
But Lori was still there. And Jack had Lori for a few months, until Lori got married, had a little boy, and decided that since she already lived on a farm an hour away from the center, she'd also benefit from a move home.
But, in the end, there was still Patti. Until last spring. Patti decided that, after Rhiannon's class had been fairly rough, the batch after even worse, she was going to take the summer off and decide what to do. Which she did. Her retirement party was tough, but we decided to see what they'd bring in to keep the kids going.
The continuity in any daycare center being what it is, summer help is moving in and out sometimes with only two or three weeks per teacher. When we were at the point of considering alternate daycare, Patti returned.
We can see the difference she's made in Jack in just a year, and the intelligence she's been able to promote. However, I think Jack will be one of Patti's last kids. Her mother is ill with what sounds like end-stage cancer, her twin daughters are done with college, her husband makes more than enough to support them, and she's sounding less-and-less thrilled with the kids early in the mornings.
Yet another reason to consolidate, rely on Jack's current daycare for drop-in/fill-in care, and let them enjoy the after-school programs in their building. It works for me.
Phew
Well, that was a good bit of news.
E-mail came through, letting us know that the funds are now there, and they should be available to our banks, it's just a matter of picking them up from the clearing house.
Not said in the carefully-worded e-mail was whom to blame or where the fault lies. However, the closing, where the VP of HR says "rest assured that several of us will be closely monitoring this situation in the future so that it never happens again" is most telling.
I'm not sure if he's pointing the finger at them or us, though. Given my experience (See above), I'm inclined to say "them".
Wednesday, May 1, 2002
Oh, no...
Gentlemen, you know what kind of evening it is when saying even "I love you" to
your spouse or significant other finds you, a split-second later, with your head
in one hand, your other trying to staunch the flow of blood from your decapitated
neck, and wondering "I suppose a shag is completely out of the question?"
Welcome to my evening. I'm going to attempt power tool therapy. Wish me luck. Or a pre-paid funeral.
More later, should I, or my decapitated corpse, find it's way to the keyboard.
I Hate It When I'm Right...
The other day, I looked at Ann and said "Your brother (the one she grew up
with) is about due to blow it again, isn't he?" "Nah," she
replied. "I think he's got himself straightened out."
Nope. I'll just leave it at
that. Oy, family.
Wow. What a Morning
As I drove to work this morning, I was thinking "gee. Nice morning.
Nothing's pissed me off yet..."
That changed real quick.
First was news that Ventura said the Governor's Mansion is still "open for ceremonial functions." Right. Yesterday he laid off all of the people working there, and the attorney general issued an opinion saying "he can't do that, only the commissioner for administration can." Said commissioner, a Ventura appointee, will likely do as told.
Second was news that my paycheck still hadn't hit the bank. When I checked with HR, they said there'd been a delay, but they were posting back east as of 10 am. I checked our bank, not there. I called and talked to a human at 10 am, our time, and still not there, but the good news was that the entire bank was experiencing a similar issue. So that was a bit of good news.
Third was this article on WCCO about my alma mater, and my father's workplace for over thirty years. Dad worked for the Liturgical Press, not the Abbey directly, though the Abbey (otherwise known in our house as "The Order of St. Benedict, Inc.") owned the LitPress. So that's wonderful news there.
Fourth was a lighthearted e-mail from Don Armstrong, encouraging me to encourage my wife to post again. Unfortunately, I used the phrase "vacation from responsibility for her site" and the last three words disappeared. Before you laugh, let me tell you a little about the computer I use at work - Dell Laptop with external mouse, touchpad, and eraser-head joystick. Occasionally, my thumbs fail to "clear" the touchpad, and I accidentally end up deleting information. Last week it was about 30K of code I'd written. Fortunately, most of it sucked, so it wasn't that big a deal - I re-wrote it in about 2K. Much more better. Anyway, "built" a touchpad cover (about 30 layers of paper cut to size and shape). If I tap, hard, on the touchpad, it will see it as a click. If I want to use the touchpad, I just remove the cover-pad that sits down in the indentation. Low-tech solutions. Too bad they don't have a gadget in the control panel - "disable touch pad".
Fifth was this horrid waste of taxpayer money to tell us School food makes you sick. Without a doubt, some of the most carefully prepared meals I had outside my home were at school - Grade School, High School, and College. And, without a doubt, some of the food combinations we "experienced" were designed to test our tolerances in that regard. The grade-school lunch "Johnny Cake" - warm corn bread from really gritty corn meal, a big pat of butter, and maple syrup. Eeeeewwww... Granted, feeding kids meals on something like $0.50 a day was a huge challenge, but still.
Sixth was the fact that the Enron bankruptcy extended even into Minnesota in obvious ways. Sheesh. The great combine.
Seventh, and final was the fact that it's the beginning of May, and they'd predicted snow last night. It didn't materialize, thank God.
So things wore down a bit.
I did get a nice message from Jon Sturm, telling me how to calculate sine, cosine, and tangent. Per his instructions :
Given a right triangle of Sides A and B (surrounding the right angle AB) and side C (the hypoteneuse), one can calculate
cosine (AB) = A/C
sine (AB) = B/C
tan (AB) = B/A
But then my wife came through with a link from one of her other actuarial folk at work on how to get that back to an actual angle. Tables. Which I'm going to convert into the spreadsheet, and then use my newfound hlookup skills to make that work right.
And after that, news that Erik Lingbergh is retracing his grandfather's route across the Atlantic.
Most people these days look at you a little odd when you mention Charles Lindbergh. He wasn't the first man to fly across the Atlantic, not by a long shot. He was, however, the first to fly it solo. And in doing so, he won the Oertig prize, which paid for his plane (which cost $10,580 back in 1927) and gas, with some left over (the prize was $25,000).
If people remember him at all, it's for other things. The loss of his son in a kidnapping where there are certainly questions about the guilt of the man executed for the crime, or his support of appeasment and Hitler prior to World War II. Or maybe there are other reasons.
Growing up where I did, just 40 miles from where he lived, you tend to get the sanitized version of events. And the Lindbergh family home is a museum now, with a large park, in Little Falls, Minnesota. I recall touring it as a boy - they had a large display of what the man went through to get off the ground and over to France; they pretty-much ignored the later events in his life.
Which is fine. Oftentimes, people are remembered for the many stupid stunts they pull, but rise to fame or noteriety through one particular event or action. It just goes to show that snap judgements of anything can be seriously wrong. So it goes.
Of course, news this evening of my non-military brother in law - the one Ann grew up with - has again sunk himself is serving to put a real damper on any news, good or bad. Sheesh.
Weekend Activities
Well, here we go. Gearing up for the summer and fall...
Jack starts T-ball on Saturday, amid predicted sixties and thunderstorms. Rhiannon, meanwhile, will be at a Girl Scout daycamp for part of the day. Jack was thrilled last night to pick up his jersey. It's reversable, and big, so he's set.
The bad news? His team, the Rangers, plays on Saturday mornings, 11 am - too early to cause a total loss to the day, too late to ruin the morning. Good time, I guess.
The odd thing? There are sixteen teams in the league. Four diamonds, four hours of games on Saturday mornings. Now, do the math. Team #9, The Rangers, plays every Saturday. At the same time. Every week. On the same field. The odds of that happening are pretty dog-gone slim, if you ask me.
Anyway, Saturday's going to be baseball, running, and maybe movie night (after a day of loft-werk). Sunday, more of the same. I kinda like that. I'm gonna kinda-like more sitting around and relaxing once we get this all done... which, by my watch, seems to indicate sometime in late 2017. Of course, then there will be the inevitable things that need to be done between now and then that will crop up...
One More Thing...
I should probably mention Ann's
Back. And
since I apparently forgot to upload her page for the week of April
15th, that's there now too... Sorry, Dear. More fodder for her
cannon. Lovely...
Thursday, May 2, 2002
Jokes With Deeper Meaning...
Like this one...
The old Cree chief sat in his teepee smoking a ceremonial pipe, eyeing the two Canadian government officials sent to interview him.
"Chief Two Eagles," one official began, "you have observed the white man for many generations, you have seen his wars and his products, you have seen all his progress, and all his problems."
The chief nodded. The official continued, "Considering recent events, in your opinion, where has the white man gone wrong?"
The chief stared at the government officials for over a minute, and then calmly replied: "When white man found this land, Indians were running it. No taxes. No debt. Plenty buffalo. Plenty beaver. Women did most of the work. Medicine man free. Indian men hunted and fished all the time."
The chief smiled, and added quietly, "White man dumb enough to think he could improve system like that."
Now, you've got to admit, the old guy had a point.
Buzz.... "Boy! BOY!!" Buzz....
This article just caught my eye. The end of it was a killer,
though. Oh, no. Pot-headed Republican Pages. Dear me... Strom
Thurmond is probably fitting to burst...
Politically Incorrect, #3
Chinese Vice President Hu. He's on first, right?
Design-stein...
Well, after all is said and done, a lot more is said than done, but
that's the way it goes.
I'm doing a "temporary" re-design of Ann's site... Let me know what you think. Bits and pieces of graphics and the like are coming soon, and we'll get those up and out and readable shortly. Keri Beland (the real designer around here) has put something together for a longer-term solution...
Pimpin' The Host
You observant folk will note the appearance of a new graphic above - the
Factory55.com logo... No kinks or odd bits, and some nice reports,
too.
I'll let you know more when I do...
Friday, May 3, 2002
Freaky Catch-up Friday
Well, let's see. Karl Pennington wrote to let me know about a CMOS setting
in his Dell laptops which allows him to turn off the damned touchpad. My
solution was a little more brutal...
I put about thirty layers of paper, with about two layers of tape, on top of the touchpad and taped it down. I would have taken a picture of it, had I remembered the camera this morning... Argh.
Yard Work
Yup, the weekend has come, the walrus said, to nuke the crap...
The other night I went through the back yard, and identified seven spots which will be nuked with Roundup. I did the "lazy white man way" of marking - I had a bundle of lath in the garage leftover from some other project, so I took out about 10 pieces, clamped them together, laid them on-edge, and cut them in half. Then I took one of the halves, took five of those sticks, re-clamped, and cut them in half on an angle - made myself foot-long stakes with a point on them. I used those to stake the naughty bits out in the yard.
Now that they're staked out, I'm debating on the wisdom of doing the Roundup before or after mowing the grass. On "before" - they are all in the back yard, which means I could let the grass get a little higher before mowing; and the thistle plants apparently haven't gone to seed, yet, either. If I do the "before" bit, though, I'll be spreading roundup-treated bits through the back yard, which is definitely a "bad thing". So there are considerations.
On the "after" side of the equation, I'll get a good look at the whole yard, and have a good idea of what else I'm up against. At this point, I'm inclined to mow, rake, treat, wait, and see...
It's pretty apparent that the yard has been the victim of some doggy-playground activities (lots of smallish holes/bumps). I'm sorely tempted to rent a lawn roller, but I think I'll hold off for a while, and maybe just get a kiddie pool and fill that with some water then drag it around the yard instead. Exercise for the old man, fun for the kids, flattening for the lawn. Go figure. However, I promise never to purchase those stupid shoes with the aeration spikes on the bottom and go jumping around the yard. At the moment, I need to get the "yard" in good shape.
Anyway, the back yard seems to be the worse for wear, weed-wise, while the front is in good shape, if a bit ... unusual in it's combination of ... growing things. I'm planning on mowing, feeding, and seeding this year, and maybe next, I'll do the weed-and-feed along with more seeding. I'm operating, of course, on the theory that if there's plenty of grass growing there, there will not be much room for the weeds... So we'll see what we get. Ann and I have a long-standing agreement - I get part of the yard for "good yard" stuff - lush, green grass, with nothing growing in it but grass and bugs. Dandelions and clover can get lost, as can all the other damned weeds. The gardens and rest of the yard are all hers - I'll seed them, but no weed killers or anything like that.
Then there's the garden. It's in a semi-sorta-raised bed thing on the side of the house. South of the house - good. North of the fence. East of a tree. Bad. Oh well. We work with what we've got. I'm hoping to get a bundle or two of spagnum moss (I just love the word spagnum - it sounds disgusting and violent, I don't know why. Kinda creepy, too), and work that into the soil, along with maybe a bag or two of black dirt. Then I was thinking about mom's old trick - go through the paper, pulling out only those pages with non-color photos, and use them...
Mom used to lay down newspaper, and on top of that, put down grass clippings and other heavy organic material to A) kill the weeds, and B) feed the plants. I'm not so sure that it's a good idea, these days, with God-Only-Knows-What in the ink of the paper (let alone the content...). And with all the weeds I've got in my yard, do I really want that in my garden? I dunno... Anyway, the plan is to put down the moss and dirt, then have our friend come over with his big tiller, and we'll work that stuff into what we have for soil. I'll put down a couple of pepper plants (fencing being what it is, I've no doubt every rabbit in the neighborhood will be in the garden 30 seconds after the plants get big enough to show green), and some other low-maintenance things, and we'll see what grows.
And there are roses to transplant, too... When it comes to anything more complex than grass, I pass all responsibility for it to the woman who cares for it... Or I mow it. It's a simple philosophy, but one that has served me well so far.
Parental Responsibility
Yes, it's that time again. The other day I noticed a small child walking
through a parking lot. The other individual attending this child (whom I
hesitate to call an adult due to the obvious flaw in her apparent
intelligence) was talking, calmly, to the child about returning to the
vehicle.
Mind you, this small child was standing in the middle of a non-parking area in this parking lot. As the lot set up on the top of a smallish hill, one would not be able to see said small child as one tore up the hill in one's smallish sports car, headed for the "smallish" bank drive-through, which directed it's not-inconsiderable amounts of traffic through that direction for the express purpose of USING said drive-through.
I'm continually amazed, and very rarely amused, by what seems to be passing for intelligence in some of the parents out there today. While I applaud their willingness to take risks to allow the child to grow into the person they might become, there's also a risk that said small person might also become pavement pizza while you wait for your force of logic to persuade little Amanda Jane to haul her frilly little pink-clad ass out of the way of the onrushing semi. Of course, three-year-olds are well-known for their grasp of, and adherence to, the overriding principles of logic.
So, I suppose, are slugs.
It's a continual source of amazement to me that people who have offspring (I don't necessarily categorize people who've reproduced as "parents". There are no barriers to reproduction but the supposed good taste of the participants. And it is a painful fact that "good" is often relative in this world. No pun intended) seem to be as lacking in common sense as the offspring they're attempting to raise.
The idea, I always thought, was for the producer of said offspring to protect it when needed, teach it, encourage it to be self-sufficient and to require less and less protection, until, eventually, they're big enough and strong enough and smart enough to be just like you and I. Apparently, I missed the memo somewhere that says "children have auxiliary logic units installed, just not properly activated yet." Sheesh.
Of course, it gets worse before it gets better. I couldn't tell you the number of times I've encountered someone on TV, in print, on the radio, or even in person, who will complain "I don't know why my kids do (X)" while it's clear the parent does.
Prime Example 1: Parent lectures children not to smoke, while puffing on cigarette.
Prime Example 2: "Don't drink and drive" says the mother who consumes five or six beers then hops in the car to drive the kids home.
Prime Example 3: "I don't know if she'll ever find a good man" says the mother, dressed in high hooker fashion, as she hangs off the nearly-proto-humaniod "Spike" who is a Hell's Angel's Worst Nightmare come to life.
Prime Example 4: "Don't sleep around" says the mother to her daughter, while she's entertaining, in the home, the fourth gentleman overnight caller in the last month.
Yes, I'm aware that nicotine is an addictive drug, alcohol can affect different people differently, Spike might well be a judge for his day job, and there is such a condition as nymphomania (or at least, that's what all the mythology says). But that's because I'm older and supposedly more experienced.
Kids DO NOT understand the "Do as I say, not as I do" rule. They don't understand that experience is the best teacher, primarily because they haven't yet had enough experience to know what it is. Kids learn by watching.
It's rather scary to think that little girl in pink, with the ruffles on her butt, will, all too soon, be selecting her mother's retirement home. But then again, there's another adage that comes to mind...
What goes around comes around.
Here We Go Again
Seems that there are real
dangerous lunatics abroad again. What makes it real fun is it's down
by my mother-in-law's place. The good news, though, is that she's in an
apartment. We've got some friends, though, who we're worried for...
From reading the letter left behind, it sounds like a couple of kids goofing around and trying, hard, to make things sound bigger.
Saturday, May 4, 2002
T-Ball
Well, now we know why they do that. In T-Ball locally, they play the
"non-competitive" version. Which I hate. Of course, that
was before I knew just what the heck we were in for.
Herding cats is a simple endeavor compared to getting eight kids headed in the right direction, the same time - fielding fundamentals were well beyond most of these guys.
The way they play T-ball is one team gets "ups". Each kid bats - if the ball falls off the tee through anything other than direct ball contact, it's usually termed a foul ball, and done over.
If they get a hit, then they run towards first base, which was marked, I kid you not, with a pink flamingo. And a cone. And a rubber base plate. And, usually, and adult, saying "here, Right Here, COME OVER HERE, RIGHT HERE!".
Interesting thing about five year olds. They chase after the ball they've hit, not towards first. Oops.
The general idea, when fielding, is to get the ball to first base. And it would be convenient if there was an individual to catch the ball when it showed up.
Jack got two good hits, and fielded the ball four times, including the last play, when he remembered to throw it to first. The other kids were wrestling, but Jack remembered...
After that, we stopped at Home Depot to see what moss and dirt would run me (about $8 a cubic yard for the moss, and $1 for 40 pounds of topsoil). I'm figuring two bundles of moss and about six or eight bags of dirt should get the garden set up right...
Then we came home and chilled out. And, since it's movie night and we're watching the director's cut of Highlander, I'm gonna let you folks go...
And you'll see this when you see it - seems the server is hiccupping. Makes sense - my cable modem was down for a bit a few minutes ago...
Oh, yeah. Two more things. Highlander, the Immortal Edition is really, REALLY good on DVD, and we had one other event of some significance here today...
Sunday, May 5, 2002
Yup. That's what we're hiding from.
And it's been a full day. Up early this morning for the religion award at church, and of course there's never a pancake breakfast around when you need one - back home for an early brunch, then... Uh, nap for mom, then back out for Girl Scout International Tea (where Jack snarfed five tacos - guess he really didn't like lunch), then back home with a friend of Rhiannon's for an hour or so while they watched a DVD, then back out for groceries, which turned into a "yeah, Seafood for dinner" trip (they had crab legs - I prefer my food a little further from natural, thank you very much - fish sticks), then hunker down for the coming storm.
I got some work done on the loft (much more to do), and that's about it.
Back to the grind tomorrow. Whee... I really gotta win the lottery, or find another job. Looks like the economy here is looking up - only four decent ads last week, over a dozen this... It's getting better...
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