February 13, 2005
Here I am, essentially 35 (one week shy), and I have been fitted for braces. For some strange reason, my dentist has determined that I have had my fair share of stress in my life. I've ground off quite a bit of tooth material in my attempts to clamp my mouth shut and not say something that I'll regret later.
What sadistic dental professional ever came up with this idea? I went to have my wires changed and had the orthodontic assistant that I will unaffectially name Moron. I'm sitting there like a good patient, mouth open, trying not to spit, belch, or do anything else offensive, and she begins remounting the wires. I have a few teeth that need to be moved quite far before they go to the next stage, so (if you don't know) they have to use wire wraps around the anchors to move the teeth more. I do play a part in making this difficult for the sadists that have chosen orthodontia as a profession: my jaw bones are at least twice as thick as a normal person. I didn't do it on purpose. That, and I have a rather small mouth.
So, Moron goes to work at wrapping the wires around the anchor. She cuts a seven-foot length of wire, and goes to work. She stabs the end of the wire into my podigious jaw.... once... twice... I'm having visions of reaching up and squashing her larynx. I'm close to ripping the vinyl off the arm of the chair. She apologizes, but somehow makes it sound like my fault. "I'm sorry, but your anchors are just so small." I didn't pick 'em. She tries again, I think this time the wire was eight-feet long. She stabs me once... twice... three times, and continues her less than sincere apologies. She turns to get some other torturing tool, and I tell her I need a second. I don't think she realized that it was not just for my sanity, but for her health.
The Moron's volume during her complaints has reached a level in the open orthodontic department that the Orthodontist comes over. I have wire hanging off my teeth, on to the floor, and eventually spilling out into the parking lot. I look at the Orthodontist imploringly. Please, kill me now. Grab this wire and garrote me. Instead, the kindly doctor looks at me, having all the appearance of going through a seizure, and indicates her own willingness to continue extracting what must be some sort of Karma payback for my sins.
She asks for another tool, firmly graps what now feels like a cable the size of which would be used for support on the Golden Gate Bridge, and goes to work.
Wired
What sadistic dental professional ever came up with this idea? I went to have my wires changed and had the orthodontic assistant that I will unaffectially name Moron. I'm sitting there like a good patient, mouth open, trying not to spit, belch, or do anything else offensive, and she begins remounting the wires. I have a few teeth that need to be moved quite far before they go to the next stage, so (if you don't know) they have to use wire wraps around the anchors to move the teeth more. I do play a part in making this difficult for the sadists that have chosen orthodontia as a profession: my jaw bones are at least twice as thick as a normal person. I didn't do it on purpose. That, and I have a rather small mouth.
So, Moron goes to work at wrapping the wires around the anchor. She cuts a seven-foot length of wire, and goes to work. She stabs the end of the wire into my podigious jaw.... once... twice... I'm having visions of reaching up and squashing her larynx. I'm close to ripping the vinyl off the arm of the chair. She apologizes, but somehow makes it sound like my fault. "I'm sorry, but your anchors are just so small." I didn't pick 'em. She tries again, I think this time the wire was eight-feet long. She stabs me once... twice... three times, and continues her less than sincere apologies. She turns to get some other torturing tool, and I tell her I need a second. I don't think she realized that it was not just for my sanity, but for her health.
The Moron's volume during her complaints has reached a level in the open orthodontic department that the Orthodontist comes over. I have wire hanging off my teeth, on to the floor, and eventually spilling out into the parking lot. I look at the Orthodontist imploringly. Please, kill me now. Grab this wire and garrote me. Instead, the kindly doctor looks at me, having all the appearance of going through a seizure, and indicates her own willingness to continue extracting what must be some sort of Karma payback for my sins.
She asks for another tool, firmly graps what now feels like a cable the size of which would be used for support on the Golden Gate Bridge, and goes to work.
Low and behold, this Asian angel deftly whipped those wires around the anchors, and the wire got smaller and shorter with each turn. In the time it took the Moron to complain, the doctor was done. My gratitude was the only thing that kept me from giving the Moron the bird, and a quick kick in the butt. During this procedure, the Moron indicated to the doctor that she hadn’t yet finished placing one of the rubber bands on an anchor (not that she was incompetent, of course). I’m not sure if the doctor didn’t fix the band, but when she was finished, the Moron never went back and fixed it, but just excused me (thank you, o’ Queen of putzness). I was so irritated that counter to my normal behavior, I didn’t ask about it. Screw it. A rubber-band fell out (didn’t break) in about two weeks.
I go back in a couple of weeks. I will politely request a different assistant. If Karma again mistakes me for someone else, and she is the only one there, and I can’t cancel my appointment due to leprosy or something, I will let her re-do my wires. Of course, I’ll have my hand on about a pound of her flesh (she could spare it), and if she stabs me again, I’ll be leaving with it…
Wired
February 12, 2005
The first wind came around 1:00 pm (and no, that wasn't breaking wind). Sporadic winds have come along each time I thought I'd have to take a nap, and now that I've been up for 24 hours I find myself unable to go to sleep. I wouldn't care much, except that Lilo the Cat and I have been having some great socio-feline conversations over the past hour, and I understand him way too well. I had no idea he had such a foul mouth. He's been trying to use the Jedi Mind Trick on me to channel another post, but I've been able to resist so far.
I talked with my parents this morning, and my dad said that I should do something fun today, given my sluggishness. I've never been one to contradict my dad, so I spent the day working on my photoblog. I learned a lot (would have taken my designer a tenth of the time, but what the heck). Mindycoerced convinced listened to my whining about my feelings regarding the standard photoblog, and got me on the right track. So, you better frickin' take a look. Of course, as of right now, I only have pictures of Annie riding a horse. But at least it's functional in a way that appeals to me. If anyone has issues with the format, let me know, please.
Zombied
I talked with my parents this morning, and my dad said that I should do something fun today, given my sluggishness. I've never been one to contradict my dad, so I spent the day working on my photoblog. I learned a lot (would have taken my designer a tenth of the time, but what the heck). Mindy
Zombied
As a kid I was a little horse crazy. I wrote about horses, read about horses, collected horses, all my art had horses in it... you get the idea. As it turns out, there is a nucleotide order in DNA that is directly related to being horse crazy, and I gave it to my daughter. A friend of mine stables horses just outside Fremont. She invited Annie and me (after all, I had to drive) over to see the horses, and Annie was hooked. My spoiled blessed little girl has her own saddle, grooming kit, riding accoutrements (which of course includes a pink riding crop), leg wraps, halter, lead rope...
She has fallen a couple of times, but she gets back on like a good equestrian should. It's amazing to see a five-year old girl cantering around the arena. Of course, this has all resulted in her believing that we need, need a horse. Ain't happenin'. I had horses as a kid, and I know how much work it would be. She actually scolds me at times for not fixing the barn up for a horse, and one time said that I must have worked on it, because it looked to her to be ready for stabling. Given that I haven't done anything to the barn in over four years, I'd say she's dreaming.
Annie & Topaz used to spend every Saturday together, but with the current schedule it's become a monthly thing. Fortunately, between the My Little Ponies and her Breyers she spends plenty of time living the horse dream. Although, I discovered her teacher asked her to get a non-horse book for once from the library...
Hoofin' it
She has fallen a couple of times, but she gets back on like a good equestrian should. It's amazing to see a five-year old girl cantering around the arena. Of course, this has all resulted in her believing that we need, need a horse. Ain't happenin'. I had horses as a kid, and I know how much work it would be. She actually scolds me at times for not fixing the barn up for a horse, and one time said that I must have worked on it, because it looked to her to be ready for stabling. Given that I haven't done anything to the barn in over four years, I'd say she's dreaming.
Annie & Topaz used to spend every Saturday together, but with the current schedule it's become a monthly thing. Fortunately, between the My Little Ponies and her Breyers she spends plenty of time living the horse dream. Although, I discovered her teacher asked her to get a non-horse book for once from the library...
Hoofin' it
With all the fill_in_the_blank for Dummies books available, I wonder if there is one on sleeping. I struggle with a minor thing called insomnia.
I don't get it. I'm sleeping, and then I start to come out of it just a little. Suddenly some bored neurons decide to run a drill with the axons and dendrites, and the next thing I know my synapses are firing on all eight cylinders about some inane thing.
Most folks think that there must be something that can be done to take advantage of this affliction. That's because they have never frickin' experienced it. Your brain is focusing on stupid things, not useful things. Like while I'm typing, my brain is actually wondering " why is his head tilted over to the side a little as he writes? It's not a natural position. There! His head is now tilted forward a little. Still, now he has to look at the screen from under his cro-magnon forehead." Meanwhile I have a schematic staring at me on the desk that could easily suck up the time my brain is spending on worrying about the alignment of my head and neck. Stupid brain (in my best Homer Simpson voice).
Walking Dead
I don't get it. I'm sleeping, and then I start to come out of it just a little. Suddenly some bored neurons decide to run a drill with the axons and dendrites, and the next thing I know my synapses are firing on all eight cylinders about some inane thing.
Most folks think that there must be something that can be done to take advantage of this affliction. That's because they have never frickin' experienced it. Your brain is focusing on stupid things, not useful things. Like while I'm typing, my brain is actually wondering " why is his head tilted over to the side a little as he writes? It's not a natural position. There! His head is now tilted forward a little. Still, now he has to look at the screen from under his cro-magnon forehead." Meanwhile I have a schematic staring at me on the desk that could easily suck up the time my brain is spending on worrying about the alignment of my head and neck. Stupid brain (in my best Homer Simpson voice).
Walking Dead
February 11, 2005
Fridays are often a time of upset (minus one weekend per month). Annie goes to her mother's on weekends. It's a bit bittersweet. I miss her, but I also look forward to some isolation. This is strange, given that I live, for the most part, in isolation. But, in her absence there is no Blue's Clues, no Old Maid, no books with pictures... But, today I received a geek present. I got two books that I orderd for work, and it is sooooo cool: Fractal Geometry and Frontiers in Electromagnetics. We all have our little quirks.
Curled up by the nightstand light
Curled up by the nightstand light
It has been several months, and I think I've successfully transitioned into lord of the manor...
The journey did not start off well. At the prospect of traveling in the truck, I had to think fast. I thought of resisting like Harley (devil cat) would, but scratching just isn't my thing anymore. So I ironically chose the
path that instigated my move to begin with. As we exited the house, I let loose with a powerful blast of Lilo spray. Some of my attack missed, and ended up on the sidewalk, but my skill is formidable, and I manage to drench Daddy's shirt, pants, Sun badge, the truck running board, a little of the entry, Annie's clothes, and Annie's booster-seat cover. I had no idea that I'd had that much to drink that day.
Despite the efficiency of my attack, the ploy didn't work. The trip turned out to be somewhat enjoyable. With urine coating my butt, I found it amusing to walk around the truck, and particularly enjoyed rubbing my rear on Annie and Daddy. I'm not sure, but I think those clothes were destroyed. I believe Daddy's comment was "It really is better to be pissed off than pissed on..." Upon reaching my new home, I found the trees and open area a little intimidating, and preferred the closed quarters under Annie's seat. I stayed there for 45 minutes, before I could no longer resist Annie's attempt to give me treats. So, I came out and was quickly moved into the house.
Annie was very kind, and showed me the entire house: her room, Daddy's room, the study, the cat boxes, the food and water, the refrigerator, her play room, the entryway... I found that the open area is very exciting. I can sit in the window sill and watch the trees, and there are tons of birds, squirrels, and large animals (some of which have antlers!). There is one large animal that seems to drool on everything that I haven't quite figured out. He doesn't seem very smart, but appears to be very affectionate...
I have discovered another cat (Sandy, who thinks she is a bear), much like Simba (from my last home), but she seems to have a speech impediment. I feel sorry for her, as apparently when she tries to meow, it comes out as a hiss. However, I think we are making headway in being friends. Today, she came out and smelled my butt. As a male, I figure that can't be a bad thing. It has inflated my ego, and I've been out strutting my stuff all day.
The first week, I'll admit I was nervous. I spent most of my time under Annie's bed. Daddy would coax me out, but I would always go back after a potty break and a bite to eat. Around 2:00 am, I'd begin to think that maybe Daddy was sincere, and wanted to talk to me. So, I'd go the study (I really like the study), and tell the stories of my life. It felt good to get it off my chest. It generally took about two hours to start feeling better, and Daddy was very patient with me. He would encourage
me to come to the bed for a brief session of pets and talking, and then I would eventually go to sleep, and I guess so did he. I don't understand it (maybe he was having a bad day), but after five days of this, he seemed to lose interest. I realized this after a long oration about a spider that I noticed crawling on the wall (really quite amazing, I'll go into it later), and discovered that he had moved to the couch and shut the door. Of course, I knew it was a mistake, so I went to the door, and continued my story. Apparently, he was not feeling well, because he came back into the room and went back to bed, and seemed to be trying to ignore me. Feeling bad for his condition, I went back to Annie's room, and went back to sleep, which I managed to do with minimal interruption (I don't know why he was so cranky at 6:30 am, but I got over it).
In closing, I am pleased to say that I believe I have adequately trained the two-leggeds (Annie and Daddy). I get my breakfast of filet o' salmon prepared in a fine fat sauce every morning (unfortunately, it's been pureed and looks like pink tofu), and have the run of the house. Sandy is quite content with the floor, so I have chosen my domain at the higher levels (counter tops, table tops, window sills).
More on this later as my empire grows.
Lilo the Cat Panther
The journey did not start off well. At the prospect of traveling in the truck, I had to think fast. I thought of resisting like Harley (devil cat) would, but scratching just isn't my thing anymore. So I ironically chose the
path that instigated my move to begin with. As we exited the house, I let loose with a powerful blast of Lilo spray. Some of my attack missed, and ended up on the sidewalk, but my skill is formidable, and I manage to drench Daddy's shirt, pants, Sun badge, the truck running board, a little of the entry, Annie's clothes, and Annie's booster-seat cover. I had no idea that I'd had that much to drink that day.
Despite the efficiency of my attack, the ploy didn't work. The trip turned out to be somewhat enjoyable. With urine coating my butt, I found it amusing to walk around the truck, and particularly enjoyed rubbing my rear on Annie and Daddy. I'm not sure, but I think those clothes were destroyed. I believe Daddy's comment was "It really is better to be pissed off than pissed on..." Upon reaching my new home, I found the trees and open area a little intimidating, and preferred the closed quarters under Annie's seat. I stayed there for 45 minutes, before I could no longer resist Annie's attempt to give me treats. So, I came out and was quickly moved into the house.
Annie was very kind, and showed me the entire house: her room, Daddy's room, the study, the cat boxes, the food and water, the refrigerator, her play room, the entryway... I found that the open area is very exciting. I can sit in the window sill and watch the trees, and there are tons of birds, squirrels, and large animals (some of which have antlers!). There is one large animal that seems to drool on everything that I haven't quite figured out. He doesn't seem very smart, but appears to be very affectionate...
I have discovered another cat (Sandy, who thinks she is a bear), much like Simba (from my last home), but she seems to have a speech impediment. I feel sorry for her, as apparently when she tries to meow, it comes out as a hiss. However, I think we are making headway in being friends. Today, she came out and smelled my butt. As a male, I figure that can't be a bad thing. It has inflated my ego, and I've been out strutting my stuff all day.
The first week, I'll admit I was nervous. I spent most of my time under Annie's bed. Daddy would coax me out, but I would always go back after a potty break and a bite to eat. Around 2:00 am, I'd begin to think that maybe Daddy was sincere, and wanted to talk to me. So, I'd go the study (I really like the study), and tell the stories of my life. It felt good to get it off my chest. It generally took about two hours to start feeling better, and Daddy was very patient with me. He would encourage
me to come to the bed for a brief session of pets and talking, and then I would eventually go to sleep, and I guess so did he. I don't understand it (maybe he was having a bad day), but after five days of this, he seemed to lose interest. I realized this after a long oration about a spider that I noticed crawling on the wall (really quite amazing, I'll go into it later), and discovered that he had moved to the couch and shut the door. Of course, I knew it was a mistake, so I went to the door, and continued my story. Apparently, he was not feeling well, because he came back into the room and went back to bed, and seemed to be trying to ignore me. Feeling bad for his condition, I went back to Annie's room, and went back to sleep, which I managed to do with minimal interruption (I don't know why he was so cranky at 6:30 am, but I got over it).
In closing, I am pleased to say that I believe I have adequately trained the two-leggeds (Annie and Daddy). I get my breakfast of filet o' salmon prepared in a fine fat sauce every morning (unfortunately, it's been pureed and looks like pink tofu), and have the run of the house. Sandy is quite content with the floor, so I have chosen my domain at the higher levels (counter tops, table tops, window sills).
More on this later as my empire grows.
Lilo the February 10, 2005
My friend Flanders showed me this site...IllWillPress
Warning - this is not for the faint at heart (foul language, politically incorrect content), but it made me chuckle pretty hard...
Crossing my legs
Warning - this is not for the faint at heart (foul language, politically incorrect content), but it made me chuckle pretty hard...
Crossing my legs
A couple of weeks ago, I called Annie's teacher and indicated that since science doesn't seem to be a part of the curriculum, I'd like to help out in that capacity (what was I thinking??? oh yeah, Sierra Nevada). She thought it was a great idea, and this past Tuesday we had an experiment where the kids made crystals with epsom salts. True to nature, I had a presentation on the fundamentals of atoms and molecules.... with 21 five year-olds.
To get into character, I wore my Ph.D. hood, which Annie refers to as "Daddy's funny hat" (couldn't be more true - wish I had the robe to go with it). We started out talking about how the Greeks thought that matter was composed of earth, air, water, and fire (of course, I had examples of all). We then discussed how the Greeks were wrong (sorry), and that there are actually over 100 elements or atoms that make up everything, and at last count there were 118.
Next, we discussed covalent bonding. Ok, I didn't tell them it was covalent bonding, I just said that some atoms like to play catch... a lot. We demonstrated this by rolling a couple of balls between me (the oxygen atom), and a couple of students (the hydrogen atoms). I pulled out one of my foam-ball water molecules. Well, we kept it going and went into the symmetry and pattern requirement for crystals, as I laid out about twelve water molecules. Before I could even pull out my poorly constructed snowflake (didn't I used to be good at that?), someone said that it would be a snowflake.
We talked about crystals some more, and showed a quartz crystal, and talked about uses of crystals, and what happens to sand if it is allowed to crystalize, and one time, at band camp... Ooops, started to ramble too much. We did the experiment, which killed my back (why can't 5-year olds be taller?). It was a blast!
The highlight for me was while I was cleaning up, one of the kids, Jerry, came running in to see me from recess. He had found a rock that had a small crystal formation on it, and was glowing from the discovery. I was ecstatic.
Four hours later, I was on the way home from daycare with Annie. A proud and dedicated parent, I was sure that this was an experience (daddy going to school and "teaching") that she would remember for a long, long time. I began our ritual of describing her day:
Excited Father: What did you do today in Kindergarten?
Disinterested Daughter: I don't know...
Puzzled Father: What happend after you checked in this morning?
Disinterested Daughter: I don't remember... my brain isn't listening to me.
Frustrated Father: You don't remember anything special about today?
Disinterested Daughter: No. I think Noah-A-Sound came today.
Hurt Father: Annie! I came to Kindergarten this morning with you and spent the day with you and your friends talking about crystals!
Disinterested Daughter: Oh yeah.
Resigned Father: Oh yeah.
Interested Daughter: Did you get me any M&Ms today?
Lost cause?
Patterned and Symmetric
To get into character, I wore my Ph.D. hood, which Annie refers to as "Daddy's funny hat" (couldn't be more true - wish I had the robe to go with it). We started out talking about how the Greeks thought that matter was composed of earth, air, water, and fire (of course, I had examples of all). We then discussed how the Greeks were wrong (sorry), and that there are actually over 100 elements or atoms that make up everything, and at last count there were 118.
Next, we discussed covalent bonding. Ok, I didn't tell them it was covalent bonding, I just said that some atoms like to play catch... a lot. We demonstrated this by rolling a couple of balls between me (the oxygen atom), and a couple of students (the hydrogen atoms). I pulled out one of my foam-ball water molecules. Well, we kept it going and went into the symmetry and pattern requirement for crystals, as I laid out about twelve water molecules. Before I could even pull out my poorly constructed snowflake (didn't I used to be good at that?), someone said that it would be a snowflake.
We talked about crystals some more, and showed a quartz crystal, and talked about uses of crystals, and what happens to sand if it is allowed to crystalize, and one time, at band camp... Ooops, started to ramble too much. We did the experiment, which killed my back (why can't 5-year olds be taller?). It was a blast!
The highlight for me was while I was cleaning up, one of the kids, Jerry, came running in to see me from recess. He had found a rock that had a small crystal formation on it, and was glowing from the discovery. I was ecstatic.
Four hours later, I was on the way home from daycare with Annie. A proud and dedicated parent, I was sure that this was an experience (daddy going to school and "teaching") that she would remember for a long, long time. I began our ritual of describing her day:
Excited Father: What did you do today in Kindergarten?
Disinterested Daughter: I don't know...
Puzzled Father: What happend after you checked in this morning?
Disinterested Daughter: I don't remember... my brain isn't listening to me.
Frustrated Father: You don't remember anything special about today?
Disinterested Daughter: No. I think Noah-A-Sound came today.
Hurt Father: Annie! I came to Kindergarten this morning with you and spent the day with you and your friends talking about crystals!
Disinterested Daughter: Oh yeah.
Resigned Father: Oh yeah.
Interested Daughter: Did you get me any M&Ms today?
Lost cause?
Patterned and Symmetric
Yall will have to be patient with me as I learn this crazy thing. I'm looking forward to writing my thoughts (well, some of them) down for future chuckles by Annie and me. I hope that some of it will seem amusing to others as well. Ultimately, this will give my distant family a chance to share a little in our day-to-day lives...
Rearin' to go
Rearin' to go