Odes to Mental Midgetry

On Not Talking About Citrus...

2008-08-08T00:08:00.005-04:00

Man, I really don’t want to do two health related posts in a row. It's pathetic and a little too much continuity in my posting style. I like to jump around a bit more in what I...uh, discuss? And I’m really not trying to drum up sympathy…but if your sympathy includes money, then consider me my own percussion section. Let's see those checks come flowing in people...like a Mental Midget telethon. However, I do feel compelled to be a service announcement of sorts. Like a “the more you know”…or “knowing is half the battle” type of thing. It's about the knowing...

Because you see…Lymes Disease has really nothing to do with citrus…which was a real bummer when I found out. I thought it kind of funny when the doctor wanted to take blood to test for traces of lime. I mean, its been a while since I let any kind of fruit touch these insides…which might be a reason for something…I just can’t think of what right now. Moving away from my dietary genius, it was a little disturbing to be told that Lymes comes from ticks…that had recently dined…on me. That thought is crazy enough. I mean, tick, couldn't you do a little better than this? Are you homeless? Dining out of the trash today are we? Haven't you seen my neighbors. I think they might be a much better decision. Alas, ticks these days. You can lead them to sweet pasture, but they still go for the dregs...

Now, I do disgust myself from time to time, but I assure you that I wash thoroughly…and daily. While not known for much, I am known for my showering skills that are more marathonish than sprint…uh, ish. I can’t recall that last time I didn’t have a shower for the day… That thought actually skeeves me out a little. So this little guy must have been sneaky. Must have hid in my hair somewhere. Right now I know my wife would love to say "probably in your unibrow"... which is just mean. And partially true.

However, I do know whose fault this all is…Bailey…our dog. Or should I say my wife’s dog. I don’t want to imply that I dislike the dog…I just wish he was yours…so I could visit him and pet him and talk to him like a baby…but just at your house. See, I got this tick from him…or from walking him at some point. This is why I like to swear off both going outside and exercising. They are not natural, and worse, they often let nature do things...awful things to you. Take your lesson from me. You see that sun, you run...and don't look back. You see woods...you move...to Arizona or something. Nothing in the desert can hurt you. So both failed me. They did this to me. Bailey did this to me. Be careful, I might blame you next…

Ah, antibiotics…alas, I know thee well…

On The Audacity of Health...

2008-08-01T15:43:00.002-04:00

Audacity indeed. When I was about 10 years old…and even when I was a teenager in high school and I supposedly knew better, I believed that a person was near death when they reached their 30’s. To me, there was always the possibility that I might lose one or both parents to old age since…well, they were always old age. Today, I’m literally in wonder that they are just turning 60, which is now, to my thinking…still frickin’ old, but not so imminently detrimental to their lives.

What bothers me though is that apparently 33 is when the body starts to fall apart…and I mean completely. And worse is that apparently my contemporaries are not having the same issues. I find this to be no fair, and just a little rude on their part…on your part. Just because Tylenol is not one of your four major food groups does not make you a better person. Here is a little bit of my day today:

Nurse Practitioner: So, are you on any medication.
Me: Well, I just came off of three weeks of antibiotics. I’m also on Nexium, and 80mg of Lipitor.
NP: 80mg of Lipitor!? But you are so young…
Me: Yeah sister, tell me about it…

(Later in the exam)

NP: Well, I’m not sure what is up. So let’s get more labs for Lyme’s Disease, Mono, Chronic Fatigue…and your being ridiculously good looking (okay, I made that last part up…there is no cure for that).

Me: Sweet. (Meaning: not so sweet)

NP: Do you have any other questions for me?

Me: Yes, WHISKEY, TANGO, FOXTROT…

(and even later)

Tech: Have you been to a Quest Lab before?
Me: You mean you don’t remember me. You frakkin’ took blood from me on Tuesday..of this week.
Tech: Really. Sorry to hear that.
Me: Yeah, me too.

Now, I know it may seem like I’m complaining right now…okay, maybe a little more than seem, but I’m really just frustrated. Like most men, I’m a total wheenie when it comes to not feeling well. I mean, bruises and cuts are not big deal, especially when obtained doing something manly…and hairy. But blood in the urine…that crap ain’t right, or appreciated. Now don’t get me wrong, I was pretty pleased that I got to utilize some cool technology with not one, but two CT scans. And playing with the wheelchair in an empty hallway, while wearing the cool “gown of butt showingness” was also pretty rad… But getting a prostate exam in front of my dad…um…yeah…was not…rad.

In reality, these tests really are proving that I’m not really that sick, or at least not with anything major…hopefully. Lyme’s disease would not be really high on the list of things to have. But ruling out worse stuff is good. Really, when thinking about expanding my family in December, and laying around for weeks while my daughter runs around me, is not my idea of where I wanted to be in my 30’s. I know in the end this will turn out to be nothing but an annoying case of sinusitis or something completely treatable, but seriously, right now I should be in a gym working out…or at least thinking about it…

And friends, thus endeth my rant….didn’t you miss them. I believe many of you asked for them in fact...maybe you're the one with the issues...

On Number 2...But Not That Kind

2008-07-31T19:45:00.002-04:00

From out of the ashes comes….well, more ashes. The ashes of my mind. Odes to Mental Midgetry is back baby…and hopefully not for a limited time offering. To what do we owe this honor? What can entice me back into the nether world of the net? No, it’s not World of Warcraft, although I have plenty of bad influences trying to get me back on that smack. No, we here at the Halls of Mental Midgetry are expanding….and painting…but mostly just expanding. And while I do mean in the waistline, I also mean in the area of family. Now, I’m not telling anyone here anything new. Chances are that if you read…or used to read to put a more direct point on it…this blog, you already know that a new child is nigh. Nigh in December that is…

Oh, but what is news is that we had the all important 20 week sonogram today. The one that seems a little like Christmas. Well, I guess only if you like to find out what the sex of the child is. If you are one of those that doesn’t, let’s just say you’d have no place in this family because we have to know…for planning purposes…and by planning purposes I really just mean so we can have the appropriate paint color on the walls. That is really what it boils down to…paint.

So, this time out we are pretty much veterans…since we’ve already done this once. That actually makes us experts. However, unlike last time…actually like last time, but a little different, K-Mad is joining us. Her only real request is that the baby be red. We assure her that it will likely be us colored. And if it is not, well, that will present mommy and daddy with some other major league issues. So, with that request shot down, she just wants to see the baby’s red thumb. Not sure what that means, but okay, we’ll try and accommodate that.

With mom firmly planted on the bed, the…uh, nurse? lady puts the blue goop all over my wife’s stomach. I can tell K-Mad wants to get in on that action. Truth be told, so do I…but I’m assured that this experience is like Secret. Strong enough for a man, but only made for a woman. Unless you are that dude in Oregon who…was actually still a woman for Pete’s sake (or Pete’s Steak as K-Mad says)! But I digress…

I find sonograms amazing. I mean, looking on the inside of someone, but without all the horror movie elements is kind of…sweet. K-Mad is fascinated too for like 20 seconds which is pretty good for a two year old. And there “it” is…floating around inside my wife with legs and arms all over the place. There’s the head. That’s cool…need that kinda. I ask about the six fingers or toes…but “it” only has five on all appendages. Pity, I really think six would be useful. Spine looks good. Brain actually gets a “great” from the nurse. Well, another child taking after mom…which I suppose is a good thing. I ask if "it" will have mind reading capabilities. I think i is a legitimate question...especially in the teenage years. The nurse does not, however. Moving on, the heart appears to have all its moving parts...another plus. I look for a second heart...or set of internal organs like Klingons do in Star Trek. Now that would be useful. No dice there either. I guess normal is good though.

Finally the moment of truth arrives. Do we want to know the sex? Lady, look at this woman, this is not a “wait and see” woman. Hello, paint color…remember? So, it turns out that we are going to have…a lot more pink in the house. Baby two is another chica, and I could not be more thrilled. See, when my wife and I were talking about children back in the day, we swore we were probably boy parents. However, with K-Mad, I don’t know what I’d do with a son. I mean, I’ve been feminized… I think that is obvious by this point. Where I used to be a soulless robot…now I’m just a robot. I’m making progress yo. But I’m also meeting with an architect and an interior design specialist tomorrow to start planning out the Man Room. Oh, it will be mine…it will be. And so will a second daughter!

On Scatter Shot...

2007-01-19T10:17:00.000-05:00

So I blew most of my creative energy on one massive post about movies. I guess it is pretty sad that I can muster a thread of no less than 10,000 words about movies, but can’t somehow get online to write about life in general. I’m not saying it’s sad in a boo-hoo way, more like sad in an institutional way. I should be committed…but we already knew that.

This thread will serve as somewhat of a “blog dump” where I scattershot a bunch of stuff at you that probably deserve their own threads, but…take what you can get okay. I’m not made of…time. Hmmm, what a cool superpower that would be. I could finally get enough sleep, spend the required and highly monitored time with my wife, totally epic out my troll with fat lootz, and…write the next great American novel. Or any novel for that matter…

Speaking of writing, that children’s book idea never really panned out did it? Not that I would have posted it here, so how would you know? Just consider this a moment of honesty, and trust me, there is nothing I hate more than being honest with you. So if you are agreeable to it, I’ll return to sprinkling a number of random and well crafted lies throughout my post that you’ll be forced to identify…kind of like a weird “Where’s Waldo” scenario. Except in this case, words are my Waldo.

Unfortunately, one thing that is not a lie is that I’m starting a Masters program next Wednesday. But, in an effort to make the lies keep up with the truth…I’m really, superduper, totally excited about it. It is what I always wanted to do. I feel like this will offer me new and better opportunities in the future and will be worth the massive amounts of money spent to obtain the MS on my resume.

I am getting a Masters in Management with a focus on Homeland Security (by the way, we’ve returned to the truth in case you were wondering). In truth, there is a chance…however small…that I could actually benefit from it. In that case, I will endeavor to never give the Masters itself the props for it since I remain adamantly opposed to the whole Masters racket. That is a thread I really need to write…

On a different note, I am currently hooked on a new website called Talkshoe. I recently acquired, through smooth and debonair schmoozing of one of my workmates, a pair of earphones. If I was not able to acquire said earphones through the power of the spoken word (whining is a skill people), I’d be forced to pay hard currency for them because they are literally a life saver…and I don’t mean the candy. Talkshoe is an interactive podcast site. Since I am at work, I don’t participate in the interactive portion, but certainly gorge myself on many of the podcasts. Some of them are downright terrible, but a surprising number at least are interesting in content. I don’t know what I’d do if I actually had to go back to the days of listening to the dull roar that is office background “music”.

And speaking of Talkshoe, at some point I’d love to take Odes To Mental Midgetry onto the airwaves. I feel like I need to find one more commitment to my ever depleting resource of time. I batted around this idea with a friend of mine, one that knows some things about technology, so I can remain blissfully ignorant of that…realm. We’ll see if it ever happens, but I assure you, after I tell everyone I know in real life, you’ll be the next to know. For scoring purposes, that actually makes you about 63rd in line. Just think of all the inanity that will flow…from my voice rather than my fingers.

K-Mad is on the move. Shortly after her first birthday she had her own epic version of the moon landing. They were literally small steps, taken in trepidation and wonderment that a human body can move while not having one hand attached to some solid object. She has taken to standing un-helped by some prop pretty well, but the look on her face of “okay, now what?” is priceless. She is not walking yet though. She can, she has the strength and balance to do it, she just lacks the motivation and confidence to do it. In other words, she is her father’s daughter. I swear, if she has one finger on a piece of furniture she can actually run laps around it with no problem. Remove the finger and it all falls apart…

My wife got her up to five consecutive steps the other day. After that exertion we quickly pumped her full of vitamins and Gatorade, and wrapped her in one of those space blankets. Someday soon, we think she’ll be in her first marathon.

Though we are totally out of the woods now, we did have a recent “scare”. I put that in quotes because, with the benefit of hindsight (another cool superpower to have), there was never really anything to worry about. After K-Mad’s twelve month check-up it was discovered that she had a low iron and hemoglobin count. My wife got the call the next day, which was, by the way, the day before our families were coming into town for her first birthday party. My wife, already freaked out by the pronouncement of “we just want to rule out everything” was forced to take K-Mad to an offsite lab for blood work.

Blood work is traumatic enough. My wife is known for checking out of the waking world when it comes to her own blood being…removed. K-Mad has obviously had blood work down in the past, but not like this. I’ll get to the punch line. Two hours, 5 or 6 nurses, 5 sticks in the arm and finally enough blood to do work with. The phone call I received from my wife after the whole ordeal is one that I will never forget. Seriously, when I got the call after the visit it was in many ways worse than the two calls I’ve received from my parents about deaths in the family. There is just something about hearing your daughter scream down heaven and earth that gets me in a primal way. I immediately go into defense mode with the wild look of testosterone and adrenaline in my eyes looking for who I need to “remove” for her safety. It’s ridiculous honestly, something I hope I get over as my parenting life charges forward.

Oh, and the again, the end result was that the tests came back negative and we have to give her supplements. But honestly, we need to come up with something that can analyze the blood in the body without taking it. Smart people, get on that…

I think that does it for me today…

On Movies in 2006...

2007-01-09T15:15:00.000-05:00

If I have any sort of “dream” about what I’d really want to do in life, I’d love to be able to become a movie critic. Seriously, that kind of life seems to fit my personality like a glove…like an Isotoner glove. I could get used to sitting in a theater, or a couch…or a Lazyboy for a living and offering my comments on someone else’s hard work. Heck, I’m already an analyst, so it seems like a natural transition. Except that I know virtually nothing about movies…well, not in the real sense.

I am a child of the 80’s, but I would not classify my childhood years as dominated by watching movies. My parents were not big movie fans, so we were not always at the local video store renting movies, and we didn’t have the cable movie channels. Except for an epic binge I had with The Sword and the Stone one summer on the Disney Channel (which was like kid Nirvana at that point), most of my visual stimulation came from TV cartoons, Atari/Nintendo and epic scenes of destruction at the hands of Cross Bows and Catapults (the board game...but I'd have loved the real thing at that age!!).

However, I did consume the Star Wars trilogy with abandon, Indiana Jones could find any artifact known to man no matter how well hidden, and Ahnold Schwarzenegger convinced me that you could kill 50 people with one magazine from an M-60…in 5 seconds. As I got older I saw most of the major action, comic book and big pop culture movies. But I was never a student of cinema. Nothing really weighty interested me much, and I certainly couldn’t identify one director over another with the exception of Lucas or Speilberg. And it was a pretty good assumption that if a movie came out before 1980, I have never seen it (with the exception of Star Wars of course).

Today I’m a little better, but I don’t know nearly what I would need to in order to…well, make a living as a critic. I only know what I like and don’t like, and I’m much more open in what I will view…except horror… I’m still not there yet…not after sneaking a viewing of The Exorcist when I was 10. It’s a real shame too, because I’m pretty sure what this world needs is another film critic. I think there are maybe negative 500 job openings for that kind of thing. So I’ve decided to get smart and post my love of movies on the internet…which no one else is doing. That’s right, I’m always looking for ways to be a pioneer…or to shirk my actual paid work.

In the past few years, I did start a tradition of providing my top films of the viewing year. Now the catch is, and the real reason I could probably never be an actual critic…among a thousand of reasons…that I rank the movies I’ve seen in the year, not from the year. And I only rank the movies I had not seen until that year. I find that much more interesting anyway. How does a movie from the 1960’s compare to one from the 1980’s or from today in my mind. Is a classic really a classic to me? Is Casino Royale from 2006 really the best Bond in my mind? Aren’t you just dying to know?

Actually, I say that facetiously. I know just about no one cares about what my views on movies are, but one thing I do love about the end of the year is reading Top 10 lists, one after another. In reality, they mean absolutely nothing, but to me, they are a wealth of knowledge that, if nothing else, I can use to populate my Netflix list. Maybe, just maybe my opinion may sway you to do the same, or at least to heap more derision on me…which I’m probably due for anyway.

This has been a huge movie year for me on top of a huge personal year with the birth of K-Mad. I watched 215 movies that I had never seen before. Not only was the volume higher for me, but the quality was better than ever. This is already a long post and is about to get longer. But for you to understand the pool of movies I’m working from in making my Top 10…er 15 List, here are the movies I saw divided by year of release:

2006: Inside Man; Something New; The Sentinel; Casino Royale; TheBreak-Up; Little Miss Sunshine; The DaVinci Code; The Devil Wears Prada; A Scanner Darkly; Talladega Nights; Lucky Number Slevin; End of the Spear; Flags of Our Fathers; Monster House; Akeelah and the Bee; Firewall; 16 Blocks; Pirates of the Caribbean; V for Vendetta; Underworld: Evolution; Superman; Last Holiday; Tristan & Isolde; The Amazing Story of Superman; X-Men 3; Over the Hedge; Mission Impossible III
2005: Aeon Flux; The Constant Gardener; The Proposition; The World’s Fastest Indian; Cinderella Man; Shopgirl; Syriana; Munich; Wallace & Gromit: Curse of the Wererabbit; Sky High; Walk The Line; The Family Stone; Fun With Dick and Jane; The Gospel; Grizzly Man; A History of Violence; Kiss Kiss Bang Bang; In Her Shoes; Just Friends; Kicking and Screaming; Lord of War; Memoirs of a Geisha; Pride and Prejudice; Rumor Has It; Wedding Crashers; The Brothers Grimm; Corpse Bride; Domino; Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio; Elizabethtown; King Kong; The 40 Year Old Virgin; Casanova; Four Brothers; Unleashed; Prime; The Ice Harvest; Derailed; Broken Flowers; Just Like Heaven
2004: Ella Enchanted; Riding Giants; The Hobart Shakespeareans; March of the Penguins; The Manchurian Candidate; Anchorman; Polar Express
2003: The Lost Boys of Sudan; Freaky Friday; Once Upon A Time in Mexico; The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
2002: Infernal Affairs; Resident Evil; Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance; Undercover Brother; Cypher
2001: Musa the Warrior; Joe Somebody; Strictly Sinatra
2000: The Sixth Day; Pitch Black
1999: Bicentennial Man; The Winslow Boy; My Life So Far; End of Days
1998: Permanent Midnight
1997: Suicide Kings; The Assignment
1996: The Chamber
1995: Mallrats, Assassins
1993: The Remains of the Day; For Love or Money
1992: Porco Rosso
1991: The Last Boy Scout
1990: White Hunter, Black Heart; Bonfire of the Vanities
1989: UHF
1988: My Neighbor Totoro; The Dead Pool; The Great Outdoors; Red Heat; Grave of the Fireflies
1986: Lucas; The Color of Money; Every Time We Say Goodbye
1985: Out of Africa; Police Story; Commando
1984: Nausicca of the Valley of the Wind; 2010; The Ice Pirates
1983: Tender Mercies
1982: My Favorite Year; Tootsie
1981: Outland
1980: The Big Red One; Raging Bull; Breaker Morant; Private Benjamin
1977: The Gauntlet
1976: The Bad News Bears; Network; The Enforcer
1975: Jaws
1974: The Conversation; The Odessa File
1973: American Graffiti; The Sting; Westworld
1972: The Poseidon Adventure
1971: The French Connection; The Omega Man; Play Misty for Me
1970: Two Mules for Sister Sara; Kelly’s Heroes; Tora! Tora! Tora!
1969: On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, True Grit, The Undefeated
1968: The Lion in Winter; 2001; The Odd Couple
1967: In the Heat of the Night; Hombre
1966: Our Man Flint; The Professionals; Grand Prix; The Quiller Memorandum
1965: For A Few Dollars More; In Harm’s Way; The Cincinnati Kid
1964: Doctor Zhivago; Father Goose
1963: Charade; From Russia With Love; The Great Escape; Cleopatra; Hud
1962: To Kill a Mockingbird; The Longest Day; Mutiny on the Bounty; Dr. No
1961: The Hustler; The Comancheros
1958: The Big Country; Cat on a Hot Tin Roof; The Long Hot Summer; Touch of Evil
1957: 12 Angry Men; The Enemy Below; The Bridge Over the River Kwai; Throne of Blood; The Seventh Seal
1956: Forbidden Planet
1955: The Bridges at Toko-ri
1954: On the Waterfront; Demetrius and the Gladiators
1953: From Here to Eternity; Roman Holiday; Hondo
1951: The African Queen
1950: Asphalt Jungle; Rashomon; Sunset Boulevard; Rio Grande
1949: Twelve O’clock High; Sands of Iwo Jima; The Third Man
1947: Out of the Past
1946: The Big Sleep
1944: Double Indemnity
1943: Sahara
1942: Casablanca; Sullivan’s Travels; Wake Island
1941: Citizen Kane; High Sierra; The Maltese Falcon; Suspicion
1940: The Philadelphia Story; His Girl Friday; The Sea Hawk
1939: Mr. Smith Goes to Washington; Gone With the Wind
1937: Topper; Captains Courageous
1935: Captain Blood

You see? You see why this last year was probably the most delicious movie view year I'm likely to ever have? Seriously, how does someone go through life not seeing Casablanca? The number of classics alone could make up an entire best of list. How many of those are on the AFI all time best? Not that I agree with the AFI’s rankings, but still, had I spread out these classics over the next few years, they’d probably all make the list. As it is, a ton of them didn’t make it just because of who they competed with this year. As you'll note, I tend to see a lot of movies from the prior year that have finally come out on DVD. So movies from 2006 and 2005 do dominate the list, but I won't see most of the movies from 2006 until this year, or even later.

I saw four movies in the theater out of all of those. I’d say it was an even split between Tivo and Netflix. In addition, I probably saw about six movies or so that I had already seen, which are not even part of the 215. I can feel, through the powers of the interweb, my wife’s eyes rolling now. Yet, in some ways, the birth of my first child gave me even more time to watch movies. The one thing that definitely changed was the way I viewed them. I saw very few in one sitting all the way through. In the early days of K-Mad, it would take her about 30 minutes to eat, the whole time of which I was probably watching a movie. That was particularly a good time to watch the classics, which rarely had anything loud or violent that I didn’t want to expose her to even at that age of eat, sleep, poop. And Mom was usually catching up on long needed sleep. So what else was a movie guy to do?

I could go on and on, but I already have. So without extending this even more, here are my personal favorite viewed movies of 2006:

15) On the Waterfront (1954) – I grew up with a very skewed view of Marlon Brando. Many consider Brando's last great move as The Godfather, and that is before my time. The Brando I came to know gave us such gems as The Island of Dr. Moreau, Don Juan DeMarco and The Score. Hardly iconic stuff and the first one is hugely derided. I've seen all three of those too, and was not interested...although The Score is not bad.

On the Waterfront was my true introduction into why Brando was such an icon, and was also my introduction to Elia Kazan as a director. This is a Mob story. I've seen what seems like hundreds of organized crime movies, so in that way, I didn't feel like I was seeing anything new. I'm sure when this movie came out it may have been fresh though. But Brando's performace is what makes this a huge success. His beauty and the beast romance with the sister (Eva Marie Saint as Edie) of a dead longshoremen that Terry Malloy (Brando) had a hand in killing is the center of the story. The rest of the supporting cast is also amazing, but it is Brando that makes the real case for seeing this.

14) Throne of Blood (1957) – I saw two movies from the legendary Japanese director Akira Kurosawa in 2006, this and Rashomon. Rashomon is the more critically acclaimed of the two, but I did prefer Throne of Blood over the other. This is a retelling of MacBeth set in feudal Japan, and is probably the best of the many variations that I’ve seen. I’ll admit for being a sucker for feudal Japan anyway, and especially for Toshiro Mifune, the longtime favorite actor of Kurosawa. Watching any Kurosawa film though will certainly give you an understanding of his influence over film worldwide. In Throne of Blood, Kurosawa creates almost a horror movie in tone. There is a sense of foreboding throughout the entire running length, which is personified in the kami (demon or spirit) that is seen in the beginning and the Lady Asaji Washizu ( Isuzu Yamada). I’d watch the movie again just for those two performances.

13) Doctor Zhivago (1965) – Omar Sharif, Julie Christie, Rod Steiger, Alec freaking Guinness…are you kidding me? I don’t know how much I even need to go into this one. I had put it off for a long time because, although I’ll do romance and goodness knows that I do romantic comedies just to keep my marriage in tact, I really didn’t want to devote that much time to a what might be considered the epic romance. I’m glad I did though, because I also love history. This is the first movie I’ve seen that portrays the beginning of the communist revolution in Russia and its affects on that society. At its heart is the love affair between the married Zhivago and the also married Lara Antipova (Christie) and how it survives and ends. Guinness is hardly in this movie comparatively, but man, he brings so much weight to even the small roles as Zhivago’s uncle and a major player in the Red Army and communist regime. The other huge reason to see the movie is for the cinematography, which is just amazing...although the views are really of Spain and not Russia. I saw a lot of epics in 2006, but this was the best.

12) Network (1976) – Is it wrong that I think Faye Dunaway is smocking hot? I mean, most of my life she’s really just been a mildly attractive old chick, but not in 1976. If you are “mad as hell” and you “aren’t going to take it anymore”, then this movie is your epic. This is one of the two Sidney Lumet films I saw last year, this I loved, the other left me cold (12 Angry Men). The most amazing thing to me was how you could probably remake this movie today, line for line, and it would be appropriate to the times…maybe even more so, in it’s parodying of network television and the news in particular. This was also one of the many William Holden movies I saw and he is particularly great in this. Robert Duvall…what can you say. He was, is, and will probably continue to be one of the masters of acting.

11) American Graffiti (1973) – Technically, almost all the movies behind this one I would say had better acting, but I just love the story here. Other than being the last night for former highschool seniors before they go to college (and apparently that used to happen right after HS graduation???), Graffiti doesn’t make some big social statement, nor is this a sweeping epic. Yet, it takes material that I’ve seen done a thousand times…the coming of age movie…and sets it in a particularly fun time period, the 1950s. Featuring a young Ron Howard, which is not really saying much since that is how most everyone remembers him anyway, it also features a very young Richard Dreyfuss and a small role for Harrison Ford. But that isn’t what it really features at all…it’s the cars stupid. The hot rods, the music (Wolfman Jack), the diners…and the cruising on a Saturday night (or was it Friday…?).

10) Infernal Affairs (2002) – Whoa, in the top 10 already. This is the first of the three “modern” era movies to even be on the list. It’s directed by one of my all time favorite directors, Wai Keung Lau…that’s a joke, I haven’t got a clue who that is...well, until this movie. You might know this movie by it’s other title, with American actors called The Departed, which just might win an Oscar for best picture. This is the movie that The Departed remade. In the past 5 or so years I’ve really started to view more Asian films due to the wealth of greatness coming out of Hong Kong, mainland China, Japan and South Korea.

It started with the typical Hong Kong kung-fu movies. You know, the “if you can punch me, I’ll gladly give you this chicken” movies with the English voiceovers and randomly moving lips on the actors. Then came Kurosawa films that proved in many ways “they” did “it” first and American cinema cribbed it. From there came all sorts of greatness.

My one knock on a lot of the Asian movies I’ve seen is their extreme violence, that goes beyond excess. Some of it I think is in the realm of “violence/torture porn”, or, blood and mutilation just for its own sake. I caught Ichi the Killer on late, late night Showtime a couple of years back just in time to see a guy cut his own tongue out…and quickly turned the channel. That same thing happened in Oldboy, a Korean film and part of Chan Wook-Park’s vengeance trilogy, which I did like. I caught the other film Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance in 2006 and thought it was just too much.

One of the added reason I like Infernal Affairs so much is that it doesn’t go to excess. It has violence, but I’m almost willing to bet it has less than the American remake…which I have not seen. You may know the premise: there is a mob mole within the police, and a police mole within the mob. The movie starts with the perfect storm when both organizations and moles realize that the other must exist and a cat and mouse game starts to draw the other out. Pretty straight forward, but the ride is thrilling and gets more and more so through the film. If The Departed is half the film this was, then I cannot wait to see it!

9) Casino Royale (2006) – Am I less of a man if I confess that I am not a Bond aficionado? I mean, most of the Bond movies I've seen have been filmed in since the 1990's. I saw four Bond films this year. Dr. No, On Her Majesties Secret Service and From Russia With Love. From what I've read, critics and fans view those three as the best Bond films ever. I certainly enjoyed all three, but Casino Royale is my favorite by far. Not only was it my favorite Bond film that I've seen, but at my number 9, it was also one of my favorite movies of the year period. This was also one of the four I actually saw in theater, and the only one that I really enjoyed although Flags of Our Fathers was also good.

I'd be hard pressed to convince anyone that Casino Royale features better acting or even directing than other movies both on and off this list. I left off any of the Paul Newman movies I saw for crying out loud. However, Casino Royale did something no other movie did this year, or in recent memory (if ever). It revived a dying franchise that had become a joke in some circles and had left its rabid fans cowering. When Daniel Craig was announced as the new Bond, the outcry was impossible even for someone like me, who doesn't really care, to ignore. So when this movie came out I had low expectations. It floored me. It executed its story perfectly and it didn't try to be something more than it was.

8) Double Indemnity (1944) – Fun, fun, fun. Fred MacMurray, who I grew up watching in a bunch of Disney movies and shows plays insurance salesman Walter Neff, who is duped into murder by an infatuation with a married woman Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck). Add an elaborate insurance scam and a boss who is a bloodhound for sniffing out scams (played by an awesome Edward G. Robinson) and you’ve got one really great movie. I would think they could remake this movie in today’s society and it would be perfect, but they’ve tried that and it apparently sucked. Maybe you can’t make them like they used to?

7) Sunset Boulevard (1950) – The second William Holden movie to make the list, and deservedly so, in my opinion (then again, this entire list is my opinion…). Holden plays Joel Gillis who is down to his last penny as a writer in early Hollywood. Through misfortune, as he soon finds out, he is paired with an aging silent movie actress Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson) who hasn’t adjusted well to no longer being the biggest star in Hollywood. The best part was that Gloria Swanson was actually an aging silent movie star, although I don't think she was murderous as well. This is a Billy Wilder movie, but I can easily have seen this being directed by Alfred Hitchcock. At times hilarious, and other times really creepy this is one you definitely want to see.

6) A Scanner Darkly (2006) – I have a fondness for science fiction, especially if it is something that directly ties into our current age, or is at least viable. I also love when I film takes a book and adapts it perfectly. A Scanner Darkly is adapted from the book of the same name by Philip K. Dick. You’ve already seen a bunch of movies adapted from his books like Minority Report, Blade Runner, Paycheck and even Total Recall. While some of those were fun (except Paycheck, which was Afflecked) Blade Runner and now A Scanner Darkly are the two that stand out. I have not read the source material for Blade Runner, but I did for A Scanner Darkly and I can tell you that the movie is an excellent adaptation.

If this movie doesn’t ring a bell to you in 2006, it is the one that was rotoscoped. Rotoscoping is currently making the rounds in one of the commercials for a financial institution, I can’t remember which. Basically, you film a live person, and then “animate” them. To me, it’s unsettling in the commercials, but works really well for the movie.

This movie is set in the very near future. It is sci-fi only in the sense that some of the technology is advanced. But it is more about the drug wars, and drug users. Philip K. Dick had a drug problem in his life, and this book is an ode to the many friends he had and lost as a result. In fact, one of the powerful moments in the book and adapted into the movie is the end “credits” where he lists his real life friends he met while strung out. Almost all of them are dead by overdose, or institutionalized with massive delusional handicaps, or have major health problems from drug use.

The movie is about Bob Arctor (Keanu Reeves) who is a small time drug dealer…only he is also Fred, an undercover narcotics cop. In the future, the cops use a body suit that makes you appear like someone else. Because the police force has been infiltrated by moles, the police wear the suits around each other so they don’t know what the other person looks like and can’t reverse narc to the drug dealers. The U.S. is about ¼ addicts and many on a drug called Substance D. The short of it is, Fred is supposed to bring down Bob Arctor…but Bob Arctor is Fred. I’ll leave it at that, because the story twists and turns and in the end becomes a story about the futility of living a life of drugs…and the great lengths…even amoral lengths gone to fight them. Great performances all around, although since Robert Downey Jr. and Woody Harrelson play the roommates of Reeves, a good case could be made that these guys are not really acting.

5) Charade (1963) – If I saw a great amount of any actor’s movies this year, Carey Grant had to be on my screen every other night. The first film I saw on Tivo was Topper (1937) also starring Grant. He must have had a movie almost every year in between. This is my favorite though. Charade also stars Audrey Hepburn, a certifiable babe. This is a movie about twisted identity, part comedy, part thriller, part action. It includes Walter Matthau as a CIA agent and a younger James Colburn. One of Grant’s last movies, it is the best of his that I’ve seen to date.

4) Bridge Over the River Kwai (1957) – These top 4 films where all my favorite at one time or another. In fact, if I were to write this list again next week, any of them might be number 1. So I’ll write quick before I change my mind. William Holden once again appears in this film. Of course, the real star of the show is Alec Guinness and Sessue Hayakawa, the former playing the colonel (Col. Nicholson) of the captured British soldiers and the latter is the sadistic Japanese concentration camp commander Col. Saito. If you haven’t seen this film, run, don’t walk, run to rent it. Especially if you love WWII flicks.

I saw a lot of WWII flicks in the year, mostly from the 1940’s-1960’s. One thing I definitely noticed is that those films went from the more patriotic movies filmed during the war, to the “this is how we won it” of the late 1940’s. Yet, the later movies tend to use the war as a backdrop for a smaller story and are equally if not more fun. The Great Escape and Hogan’s Heroes are also two favorites that use this technique. It is Kwai that I’d encourage you to see first if you haven’t.

3) The Big Sleep (1946) – I do not shy away, as perhaps I should, from movies that are dark or overtly sexual or violent. I’m not talking to the extent of pornography, or what I’ve already noted as violence/torture porn that so many of today’s horror movies have become. Yet, I don’t freak at some of the things in today’s movies. That being said, The Big Sleep takes a subject matter that if put in today’s movies would be portrayed much differently…and I think would suffer for it. Basically, Philip Marlowe (Humphrey Bogart) is hired by an old General, who has lived a life of debauchery and is now paying for it in his failing health, to investigate and retrieve some risqué pictures of one of his two out of control daughters. In essence, one of his girls is getting pictures taken in the buff and the father wants to make sure this never gets out. Oh the scandal! If filmed today, the audience would yawn. Big deal, so she’s naked. But back in 1946, that would have resonated. I love this movie for the film noir aspect and for the great dialogue. Bogart as Marlowe is one of my favorite screen characters of all time, and this was my number one for most of the year…

2) Grave of the Fireflies (1988) - …until I saw this…and was devastated. I saw three animated films by Hayao Miyazaki – My Neighbor Totoro (1988), Porco Rosso (1992) and Nausicca of the Valley of the Wind (1984). Nausicca was on this list until I saw A Scanner Darkly. I love Miyazaki’s animated work. So it is a little strange that the a non-Miyazaki Japanese animated film would make the list, and at my number 2. Grave of the Fireflies, directed by Isao Takahatak, is unbelievably good, and totally tragic. In the U.S., we have just gotten around to animating movies and even TV that is not just for children. For a long time, cartoons were not seen as a viable story telling devices for adults. It was child’s play. It hasn’t been that way for a long time in Japan, and I’m glad to see it changing here too. Fireflies is a story of two children in 1945 Japan, just before the end of the war. The U.S. is bombing Japan at will now that most of the outer island are taken, and whole villages, towns and city are being fire bombed into non-existence. To open the film, the mother of two children dies from burns suffered in a recent firebombing. The father is a Navy captain who we never find out for sure, but are pretty certain is dead. I expected this to be an anti-U.S. film, but I don’t believe it is. The U.S. is faceless, and not even really the enemy. War is the enemy, and the toll it takes on children. Through bad circumstances, and some poor decisions on the older brother’s part, nothing good can…or does come from it.

1) 2001 (1968) – It's strange. I do not consider myself a fan of Stanley Kubrick, and yet, with the exception of Eyes Wide Shut and A Clockwork Orange, I've liked pretty much all the movies I've seen of his. In fact, Dr. Strangelove is a true favorite of mine, and now that I've seen 2001, he has produced another. Maybe it's just the contrarian coming out that I feel when I hear Kubrick's name...but you cannot argue with success.

If anything, I'm more of an avid reader than I am someone who likes watching movies. As a kid I had more time and read pretty much non-stop. Now, through the wonders of an hour and a half commute each way, I have about an hour a day I can devote to just reading. I read four books this year the tied directly into the movies I watched. A Scanner Darkly I finished a week before I got the movie. I read a compelation of Isaac Asimov's robot short stories, one of which was "The Positronic Man" which was made into Bicentennial Man, a movie that was also pretty good. I received Flags of Our Fathers a week after I had seen the movie. Finally, I was reading the Arthur C. Clarke book 2001 at the same time I saw the movie. I'm glad I did too, because 2001 the movie was made even better when compared to its faithfulness to the book.

Generally when people compare a movie to the book that is its source material, the book is held up as the better of the two. I can't honestly say which is better with regards to 2001. I don't usually subscribe to the belief that sometimes a visual representation of something is better than the word description of a book. Frankly, people's imaginations are better for creating images that what Hollywood can afford to put on screen. Yet 2001 does a perfect job of translating book imagery to the screen, and it did it in the late 60's. This was before the big science fiction movies like Star Wars and Star Trek brought images that astounded us.

I did end up catching 2010 right after this one. I believe Turner Classic Movies ran them back to back, so my trusty Tivo was at the ready. 2010 was a great follow-up, but it really showed how advanced 2001 was, and how great it was executed.

Well, that’s it for 2006. I don’t know if I’ll ever have a year that was as fun as this one, but I can only hope. I’ve seen four films so far this year, none of which even come close to this year. In the end, there were probably 10-20 movies that could have been on the final list had I allowed myself more time to debate. As it is, picking two movies from 2006 above some of the more tried and true classics is pretty debatable, but hey, this is what I liked the most last year. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and can't wait to do it again next year!

On A New Year...

2007-01-03T12:59:00.000-05:00

My wife made me wake up at 4:20a.m. this morning. A.M. is the acronym for “butt-#@$*!-early”, and as you may expect the word early and I are not fast friends. I avoided early pretty much in college by either not signing up for the 8:00a.m classes, or, if that was not possible, judiciously skipping those classes except on test day. Yet this unfortunate life of “upwardly mobile” demands my rising at a proper hour if I want to remain upward (I’m fighting a decent war against mobile however).

Still, 4:20a.m. is obscene even by early rising standards. There I was though, awake from my wife’s cell phone, whose vibrating was amplified due to its placement on the plastic dog kennel in our room…

…and we both said “Happy Birthday Kaleigh” and quickly passed out once again.

What a year this has been. Needless to say that my life has completely changed in so many ways in 365 short days, but it is also strange how much is essentially the same. Having a child did not fundamentally change who I was…which is both a good thing and a very, very bad thing. One thing that certainly has changed is that sleeping in is a thing of the past.

I couldn’t be happier about my family life at this point. My wife and I had a great life before K-Mad arrived, but our child has only made things much brighter for us. And in the past two or three months K-Mad has become less about maintenance and more of a little person. In fact, although the days have seemed short, I almost cannot remember the first 6 months primarily because the interaction was so different at that time. It seems like we had a kid last Jan 3, and she suddenly showed up a few weeks ago. It’s awesome.

Currently K-Mad is talking. She has a lot to say. I have no idea what she is trying to say, but I figure that will be the case throughout her life, so it might as well start now. And she has started to mimic what we say. She can’t always form the words, but it is fun to hear her try. We’ve got her to mimic “Wow” a couple of times. I think there was a “Hi” the other day. And the best was “Ball”. Can she say any of those consistently? No. She will soon though.

I also like the fact that my wife can ask K-Mad “Where’s Daddy?” and she will actually look for me. Of course, she still calls everything DaDa (including a clown in one of her books). Whatever.

I’m sure the changes in her second year will probably be as drastic and I look forward to them.

As for me, I hope once thing that changes this next year is my writing on this blog increases. I’ve been working on a post for a bit now, so if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, I don’t feel like I’ve gone anywhere…it’s just that my writing hasn’t made it on line yet. To foreshadow, let’s just say that I saw 215 movies this past year, my best movie year ever!! My wife thinks that is a pathetic thing to be proud of, but I really am. So much fun, and I’ll be posting my top picks hopefully soon.

On Progress...

2006-11-29T11:17:00.000-05:00

Well, this blog would not exactly be the pure definition of the word progress, but I’ve made some strides over the past year of vomiting my inner thoughts onto your computer screen. This will surely come as no news to you, but I’ve been rather inconsistent with my devotion to writing lately, something I’ve actually started to miss terribly. If for no other reason, it gives me something to do during my otherwise boring professional existence and also has the added benefit of making me look busy. I tried to somehow make the internet look “work related”, but had to give up and just succumb to the realization that everyone knows I have nothing to do…and are still willing to pay me for it. Your government dollars at work…

However, though progress in my professional life has been elusive (and here progress is defined as “doing something interesting”), progress at home is currently booming for K-Mad. Yes, our little townhouse is currently Boomtown. Why, progress is simply poring out of our child daily. Each time I return home I’m usually greeted by some sort of new ability. I’m reminded of The Matrix (as I often am it would seem) when things were learned by plugging your brain directly in to a computer. K-Mad is not unlike that. I expect that she will know kung-fu before the end of the day…

It seems like the 10th Month is her personal renaissance. Before, thanks in large part to those oh so helpful books like “What to Expect in the First Year”, which chart what your child may or should be able to do at point X, my wife and I held subdued conversations wondering if she was slow in learning some things. Now we know. She was just storing it up for a grand coming out party. Let’s review the accomplishments over the past 4 weeks, shall we:

Sitting up from a lying position (something I can barely do)
Pulling up on her crib to a stand position (and freaking mom out the first time)
Crawling
Pulling up to a standing position using a ledge over her head
Feeding herself her own bottle
Eating solids
Putting solid food into her own mouth
Walking around furniture
Clapping
Signing “More” for food
Saying “Mama” to Mom. Saying “Dada” to every farm animal known to man.

She turns 11 months on Sunday. I’m anticipating by the end of that 11th month she’ll be writing poetry. Actually, I find poetry horrific, so maybe something like consol gaming. I hear that Playstation 3’s are reasonably priced and in plentiful supply…

On Legacies...

2006-11-03T12:47:00.000-05:00

Many times I come across on this blog as being pretty uncaring about how I’m perceived, or more importantly, I come across as trumpeting my inclination to all things lazy…and couch related. And I’d be lying if I told you I was totally misleading you about who I am on the inside. Let’s just say that I prefer in many cases to give you the more comedic, and most of the time hyperbolic, me on this ethereal realm of the internet. However, especially now that I’m a father, I do tend to let my mind wander to what kind of legacy I might leave behind when I pass away from this realm…and hopefully into something better. No, as you can imagine, I don’t exercise too many brain cells in this regard…in fact, my standing policy is to only let a fifth of my brain cells be exercised about anything at any one time (see, now that was hyperbole…or was it?).

I bring this up because 1) it has been a couple of weeks since my last post and I sense that you are wanting me to write about something meaty…something with weight, and 2) this week I had two encounters with grandfathers that really set me to thinking about what my kin will say about me or think about me in my last days. Hopefully I will enumerate on some of the ways I’ve been very lucky with the male role models that I see within my own family. In fact, when I see the state of many families in this country, and in the world, particularly in the raising of their male children, I get the feeling that God did actually make a mistake. He didn’t spread the wealth sufficiently, because my cup overfloweth…

My Grandfather on my Mom’s side died when I was around a year old I believe. Mom will surely be along to correct me in the comments section if I’m wrong…and trust me, family history is not always my strong suit. However, about that same time my Granny remarried a man named Heyward. Heyward is really all I ever knew as far as a grandparent on that side was concerned.

Heyward passed away a little over a week ago. It was really then that I realized for the first time what I lost in not knowing him as well as I should have. You see, for some reason, I don’t really know a lot about my Mom’s side of the family. I’ve always been closer to my Dad’s side, which is saying something because I don’t feel particularly close to that side either. In the case of Hewyard, I really only knew some very basic things. I always enjoyed going to see Granny and Heyward. Heyward was a sportsman, so his house was (and still is) a trophy case zoo of fish, duck and deer. To a little kid, it was mesmerizing…heck, it still is to me today. I also knew he served in the Navy in WWII. I have no idea where he served, or what battles he may have been involved in. Yet, knowing he went through that still makes an impression on me.

Today we would call Heyward’s career and life blue-collar. He was apparently an expert welder and taught that skill for many years in Sumter, SC. Today, I envy that type of skill. He was a man who could create things with his hands and the proper tool. I don’t know for sure, but I got the sense that he wasn’t just able to do it with a blowtorch. There was a certain sensibility that he had that I also envy. He was quiet and polite, and least from what I saw. He wasn’t quiet in the way that he never talked, he just said his piece and was never loud. There was an inner strength about him. I’m not sure if it was from experiencing hard things in life. I know he was a widower from his first marriage, and that his first wife suffered through a bad illness (cancer I believe). He didn’t ever come across as angry or resigned about his life though, and, in fact, often appeared to me to be happy and content where he was. He was also proud of his achievements and kept really good care of what he had worked so hard for. At his funeral, his perfectly kept lawn was an often-heard joke. I figured that had been Granny’s influence. I was so very wrong in that.

Speaking of his funeral, it was a full military funeral. Gun salutes, flag folding…taps…the whole nine yards. I learned as much about him at the funeral as I had in years of knowing him while growing up, primarily through what others said about him. Being a step-grandfather, there was a whole side of the family I had not met. One nephew of his spoke a bit about him from his days growing up. It was heartfelt and showed how respected he was by the people who knew him the best. His natural grandson read a letter that his mother wrote the night of Heyward’s death. Let’s just say, he left quite a legacy to his children and grandchildren to follow. I’m only sorry that I’m realizing now what I missed for so many years.

This week I also got to share a meal with my Grandaddy on my Dad’s side. He was up for an event at the Department of Labor for some policy or something that he helped create back in the day. I know Granddaddy a bit better than I knew Heyward only because of the time spent, and because Granddaddy talks a lot more. That’s not to say he is gregarious…although he is in a subtle way. In particular, as he is now 88 years old, I’ve noticed he talks a lot more about his experiences in life. I get the feeling he is actively trying to pass on his knowledge to the younger generations.

I don’t have a hope in this world of really ever achieving what Granddaddy has (or Heyward). I admire them both for what they’ve done in life. Granddaddy was once President Reagan’s Assistant Secretary of State for Veterans Affairs, and he still works in the SC state government for veterans affairs. His achievements, some of which bear his name I believe, will be felt throughout the country for many years. His ability to network…and I don’t mean that in any derogatory way like it is today is some ways…always impressed me. He could get things done because he seems to know everyone. He has ideas too. He always has had them, and he has the energy to see something happen from them. That amazes me. Not the having of ideas...but the having of desire to see them through.

For all their differences, both Granddaddy and Heyward have the key things the same. Primarily, they both loved their wives tremendously. They also worked very hard to achieve what they did. And although I don’t think that Granddaddy in particular is really sitting back to enjoy the fruits of that labor…primarily because he still insists on laboring…they both were deserving of the great lives and families they built around themselves. And they both knew God.

So how does that impact me? After all, I guess I’ve alluded to me thinking about my legacy in comparison to what my elders have shown me. First, in the realm of achievements I don’t really see anything I do as comparing. That is not a thought that depresses me though. I don’t aspire to that kind of achievement anyway. I’m not as lazy as I make out, but I don’t really have aspirations to achieve in the corporate realm. I don't care to ever have my name known by many people. Heck, the only way I’d ever hold anything in my hands that I created would be if I spit on my palm. Actually, I guess K-Mad would count too…

…and that is really where I take my lessons to heart. My legacy will hopefully be that I was a good father. Giving instruction when I needed to; laughing and carrying on at the appropriate times; disciplining my children so they don’t turn out to be total morons. I hope that I would be remembered for being a loving and loyal husband. I also hope that I would be known for knowing and loving God… although sometimes I’d just be content in knowing that will actually happen at some point. It is, after all, the legacy that both my Grandfathers left me.

On High Blood Pressure...

2006-10-13T11:47:00.000-04:00

I like weeks that start out with a holiday. Especially when I didn’t realize there was a holiday almost until it actually occurred. That’s like waking up thinking it’s Monday when it’s actually Saturday. I’m not Buddhist, but I think that is pretty much Nirvana. This Monday we went apple picking. I’d never been apple picking. Frankly, I thought they just picked themselves and showed up at the grocery store. I’m not really an apple guy. Since I got older (and fatter) and acid reflux decided to be my personal nemesis, the acid in apples just does not do this body good. Still, it was a chance for K-Mad to experience the great outdoors near the Shenandoah Valley. She needs to get acquainted. Her middle name is Madison for crying out loud…you know, after her parents alma mater in said valley. She seemed to enjoy it. I picked apples with her in the “snuggly”, and she picked leaves.

Tuesday my wife had an early doctors appointment, so I got to hang with K-Mad while taking the morning off. My wife has developed high-blood pressure since she gave birth after years of having perfect blood pressure. The doctors wanted to rule out the possibility that something had happened to the artery that goes to her kidneys, so they ordered a sonogram (or ultrasound…I get them confused). She came out clean, which in essence just means that she has high blood pressure for some unknown reason. Imagine her relief…

I have a theory though. I think that it has to do with her being at home. I believe, through careful and reasoned analysis (it is, afterall, what I do), that this woman thrives in the stress of middle school education. It’s like her happy place or something. At the very least, I think she would tell you it is the place that she feels like she knows what she is doing, and that is reassurance that few of us have. I certainly don’t.

On the other hand, staying home with one child that you are truly responsible for is new territory. Not only has she given up doing what she knows how to do through schooling and other training. Now, she is taking care of a child that shares her DNA for the first time ever. It’s not like they teach this stuff in school. I take that back. In my high school there was always a week or two during the year where the student body somehow procreated 5 pound bags of sugar. Seriously…the girls taking home economics would “learn” what it was like to have a baby by caring for a bag of sugar for a week. A bag of sugar. That’s not a child, that’s my idea of lunch.

As my wife and I struggled with the decision of what she should do once K-Mad came, I started to be a little more sensitive to the arguments, struggles and cultural debates that women participate in about child rearing. I’ve already blogged about some of that. I found a pretty nice blog about the working women’s perspective on things motherhood at washingtonpost.com. I found it when I saw one of the headlines from a male guest writer that was talking about fatherhood. That’s a subject for another day though. The blog is called On Balance. One of the entries stuck out to me the other day. Here it is linked. Not sure if you have to sign into the website or not….

I found this entry not only interesting but true as well. I can’t say this is what my wife is thinking, but I find the concept of being 100% sure that you made the right decision, but still not feeling great about what yourself to be interesting. I can tell that my wife loves being home with K-Mad, but really misses the opportunities and camaraderie she had at work. I don’t envy being put in that position one bit. Actually, that's not true. I'd love to be put in the position because I know my opinions about work life are way different. But still, I wonder if that has to do with her high blood pressure. I know she is constantly worried about how she is raising K-Mad while being home. I hope she sees what I see on a daily basis. She is an awesome mom, and K-Mad just adores her. Seriously, adores her too much if you ask me.

It’s actually a bit ridiculous… Hello, Daddy is pretty cool too ya know!

On Foot In Mouth Disease...

2006-10-06T13:12:00.000-04:00

This will be the first enstallment of what I hope is almost a weekly series here at the Halls of Mental Midgetry. I find that many of my phone conversations with my wife while I'm at work are marked by their hilarity. Today, I give you an example of one that was not marked by its hilarity, but by its totally idiocy on my part.

Beeley: "I'm no longer talking to Matt and Jill."
Better Half: "Why?" (said it a hushed tone like I'm about to spill some really good dirt)
Beeley: "They signed up for Blockbuster.com rather than Netflix and then had the gall to announce it on their blog like it was something to be proud of. Seriously, that's something you try and hide. Like having a third nipple or something..."
Better Half: (no longer impressed) "Whatever. Atleast they update their blog unlike someone I know."
Beeley: (sounding coy) "Oh reeeeeally. I guess you are right. I certainly haven't updated my blog lately."
Better Half: "Wait. You've updated? After I begged you all summer? How many posts do you have?"
Beeley: "Just two. But they are already roundly noted by the masses for their literary merit."
Better Half: "I can't believe you didn't tell me you started posting again. Did you post about how awesome your wife is?"
Beeley: "Huh....yes?"
Better Half: "You probably said something embarrassing didn't you? What did you say."
Beeley: "You'll just have to read it. It's that good. I just don't feel right about taking the privilege of reading it for the first time away from you."
Better Half: "I'm here feeding K-Mad. I just finished two hours of working online for school. Just tell me what you blogged about."
Beeley: "Whatever. Read it for yourself, you have more time than I do anyway."
(silence)
Angry Better Half: "What do you mean by that?"
Beeley: "Uh..."
Angry Better Half: "I'm hanging up now." (hangs up).
Beeley: "So, so smooth there Beeley."

Seriously, I know I like to call this place the Halls of Mental Midgetry... but do I have to go around proving its truth?

On Shameless Displays of Cuteness...

2006-10-06T12:56:00.000-04:00

Those eyes are my kryptonite. If you have a way to deflect their powers, please forward it to my wife. I'm already too far gone...

On Dreams...

2006-10-04T10:20:00.000-04:00

I’m a very vivid dreamer. It’s frankly a bit disturbing the lunacy that occurs in my head during my non-awake hours. Frankly, it’s disturbing what goes on my in my head during my waking hours too, but that is a blog for another time. I have all kinds of dreams too. Some are recurring, some are based on the movie I just watched, some involve me naked in high school, some involve me naked in college, some involve me naked…well, you get the idea. There is a lot of personal nudity in my dreams.

As disturbing as that can be, the non-naked dreams are quite interesting. The problem is that I’m not a great rememberer. I remember most of my dreams for about the time it takes me to shower in the morning (which is actually a fair bit of time, if you know me). I usually stumble into that sweet utopia of hot water with visions of my latest, and epic, insanity. What I do tend to remember is the general theme, especially if I’ve had something similar to it before. Seriously, I am one of those guys with the recurring dream of forgetting to study for a huge exam in college. I actually really like those dreams mostly for the euphoria I feel when I wake up and realize that I’m almost 10 years beyond my last incident of schooling. I think that dream is based on a real occurrence though, and not on any latent desire I have to be a good student. I did once go into a college class (that I had skipped that previous two class sessions) and have the teacher ask me if I was ready for that days test. A test that I had no knowledge of...nor had read the material for...Needless to say, it did not go well…

…but I digress…

I have always had somewhat of a measure of control in my dreams too. I guess that is why I don’t often have nightmares. Usually, I can see just where my dream is taking me and either wake myself up, or change the dream for within. I know, for example, that that door in front of me is going to have some manner of horror behind it… be it a demon, or a guy in a hockey mask (probably a Devil’s hockey mask) or a Republican who wants to have email sex with me. So I do what no one ever seems to be able to do in a horror movie…I just ignore the door. Seriously, why is that so hard?

However, natural disaster nightmares I cannot control. The two recurring dreams that I have involve tornados and tsunamies. I am personally convinced that I will die in a tornado some day. My wife as barred us from ever living in a true tornado state (Virginia has had them from time to time, but not consistently). Usually my tornado dream involves multiple manifestation of those tubes of death, and my overwhelming need to be travelling out in them at the same time. My tsumani dreams are not the kind that actually happened a couple of years ago. Mine are the massive, wave a mile high sort. Or, they involve me being at our famly beach house and 30 foot wave after 30 foot wave forming while I'm on the beach. Freaky stuff really.

On the other hand, there is my wife. She is also a vivid dreamer…and worse, a rememberer. That’s a terrible combination. It leads her to not only remember her dream, but to want to discuss it. And by discuss, I do actually mean analyze. And by analyze, I mean with me. I admit some amusement remembering and thinking about my own dreams…when I can, but to have to sit and analyze my wife’s dreams. Kill. Me. Now.

Here is a quick analysis of my wife’s dreams though. Apparently her imagination is not as active as mine, and her dreams…well…they are limited in scope and they basically suck. I have done something bad. I have left her, cheated on her (sometimes even with a family member), killed someone in her family, killed myself, killed her or shot our dog. That’s the Beeley themed dreams. The other ones are that someone in her family died, was maimed or left. I can’t described to you the number of times I’ve gotten an evil look from her upon her waking up. Or, sometimes in the middle of the night she’ll role over and hug on me…hard…like can’t breath hard. And it’s because she’s happy to see that I am alive, or haven’t left her.

Occasionally she’ll have a good dream. Usually a sex dream. I like those. I think she needs more of those. I think we need to spend a significant amount of time analyzing those instead. Maybe even recreating them.

…but I digress…

On Growth...

2006-09-27T09:58:00.000-04:00

Man, where has the time gone? I know that the lack of postings in many months is probably somehow my fault, but I’m still compelled to blame you. I’m trying to figure out exactly how you were involved, but until I do, let’s just agree that I’m not taking any responsibility for the absence.

And you may be surprised that although we are talking about me (or I am at least), there actually has been a lot that has gone on in my life while I was absent. For one, I changed jobs…and then didn’t. I’m not exactly sure how that worked either, but there were interviews and job offers involved. Then there was a matching offer from my current company with promises to move me soon. It all added up to me getting an insane raise to sit here and do basically nothing. I’m currently in the final week of the government fiscal year, so that has provided me some excitement. But honestly, I’ve chosen this week to be the one that I start blogging again, so how taxed could I possibly be?

If you are at all interested in science…specifically biology, you may have come to the conclusion that baby humans seem to grow much slower than babies of the animal species. Most animals pretty much come out of the womb ready to rock and roll. Horses, elephants…most of the animals that could be pretty much eaten right away by Simba don’t take any time to get moving. Heck, even gerbils, which come out looking like a human fetus in the first trimester are pretty much ready to conquer the spinning wheel in a few short weeks.

If you think that human babies don’t grow fast, you are…well, not a parent. This past Monday, I had the privilege of taking care of a two month old at the same time I was watching K-Mad, who is now almost nine months old. This little adventure was without the help of my wife. I did this alone. I am man, hear me roar. Before I get to my point, I was to clearly state that no children were harmed during my oversight of them.

Nothing illustrates the fast growth of a child like having an infant in one arm and your nine month old in the exersaucer (or, as I like to call it, the sit-n-spin). It is amazing to me that in six months difference, there can be so much that changes. I think that babies are not unlike dogs in that respect. Not only are they like training wild animals, but six months is a huge amount of time in their development. K-Mad is not mobile yet, atleast not in the conventional sense. She can roll around the floor with the best of them. She is also vocal. She likes to be heard, especially when she has discovered a new sound she can make with her mouth…or a new decibel she can reach with her voice. It amazes me quite frankly.

So, allow me to hit you with a cliché on my first post back. Kids grow up fast. Too fast…

On Dad...

2006-06-27T10:44:00.000-04:00

What a difference a few weeks makes. I’ve been too long on hiatus…I guess, so obvious bloggish duties have been completely ignored. Let’s just say a perfect storm of work, finding new work, taking online classes and yet further work has been my life’s story for a bit.

A number of things have passed me by that were worthy of a post. The most significant of those was certainly Father’s Day. This being my first Father’s Day, it was particularly special. Now I no longer get pseudo-cards from our dog. I get the real deal…and that is cool to an epic degree. It is also totally terrifying as I further come to grips of being a father.

However, I have been completely lucky in my life that all I really need to know about fatherhood I truly could learn from my own Dad. I’m no psychologist, or sociologist, but I really do believe that there is something to the theories that in life, a son really does need a solid father figure. There are many boys out there who do not have this for one reason or another, and I believe that those boys go through life really missing something that only a father can provide.

…and I have never, not for one day, had to worry about that. Much of who I am morally…but also personality wise, comes from what I learned from my father. He is without a doubt the person I look to when I define what being a man is about. As I have become a father, even to a daughter, I have often found myself wondering what characteristics K-Mad will associate with me as she grows up. What impressions will I make on her? What will she learn from me about what to look for (or not look for as it may be) in a male when she looks to get married one day?

I hope that she thinks that I have a fraction of the character that my Dad does. I cannot pay enough tribute to what he has done for me in my lifetime. Not once has he ever let me down. Not once. Do you know how priceless that is? Yes, I know he is human and I have seen him make mistakes, but they were never about things that really counted.

He is honest. I’ve never heard him tell a lie. Seriously. Never. I don’t think anyone who knows him would tell you that they didn’t feel like they got the truth from his answers. That’s integrity that has become more and more rare. It’s the kind of integrity that I’ve learned to try and emulate (failing miserably most of the time) and certainly surround myself with in my friendships…particularly with other males.

He honestly cares about those around him. My father is not one to talk anyone’s ear off. He is largely the silent type, but he is not mute. He knows the power of healing words of kindness and respect for others. I know a long list of people who would say that with very few words, he was able to meet a need they had.

He always listened to me as I grew up. I knew he wanted to see me succeed. I knew that he’d rather be at one of my soccer games that anywhere else on a Saturday morning. He was a disciplinarian, which I am so thankful for. The discipline he provided in my younger years gave me the understanding I needed in my teenage years to make good decisions and to know that he was there for me. I come from a spanking family as a mode of punishment. I can remember getting spanked by my father, but never for the pain it caused (which I can’t remember any of), but because it seemed to hurt Dad more than it hurt me. I learned quickly to fear Dad’s disappointment rather than his hand. That was the lesson, and he taught it well.

His version of masculinity is not the squishy kind that you particularly find that today’s Church demands of its Christian men. Nor is it the bravado that thumps its chest. It’s the best of both worlds. Always show you care, always look out for others. Loving others is the first order of business. If a bully hits you on one cheek, turn the other one. But while he’s in mid swing, quickly duck and put your fist firmly in his nose. Hopefully his own blood and blurred vision will make him think twice.

Above all, I think what I admire about my Dad is inner strength and his faith. He has not had a totally easy life. There have been many hardships. I know that the loss of his oldest sister at a fairly young age really tore him up. The ordeals his own daughter has gone through in a disease he cannot defeat himself, nor does he understand also hurts him more than he’ll let on. But he perseveres and has never doubted God through any of it. That is a lesson that I am still learning from him.

I’m thankful every day for being a person who does not have that hole in his life. We all suffer from something or another. But there are some who get a leg up simply because of who their parents are, and I can say that I am definitely one of those people.

Thanks Dad…And again, Happy Birthday.

On The Busy Season...

2006-06-14T12:33:00.000-04:00

I've been insanely busy lately. Work has really picked up, especially since one of the programs I "analyze" has nearly been gutted by the voodoo we call military budgeting. I just finished course two of my higher education into that voodoo...and I'm starting the process of looking for new jobs. All this has formed a perfect storm that I like to call "No Blog Yet Again Today". However, I will leave you with an interpretive picture of how I am feeling over the past few weeks...

On Visual Confirmation...

2006-05-31T08:08:00.000-04:00

Do not be distracted by the baby. This picture is simply posted as evidence of my stunning weight loss due to sugar starvation.

On Waisting Away...

2006-05-30T11:37:00.000-04:00

I’ve been conspicuously absent from the blog for over a week now and some explanation is in line for why there has been no posting. You see I was tired. Actually, I was drained of all energy due to the insidious nature of The South Beach diet. If you are not familiar with it, let’s just say that the first two weeks are what I imagine the totality of Hell will be like. No sugar, very little carbs. Basically, anything that might make your life worth living…awake…is not allowed.

I don’t think that you realize just how much of our everyday food has some sort of sugar in it. Even canned vegetables have sugar. Avoiding sugar is something tantamount to avoiding oxygen. It almost cannot be done. Trust me.

My wife and I cut short Phase I of the diet by 24 hours. There was only so much chicken and vegetables we could eat without wanting to end it all. I would just be satisfied for something that has taste associated with it from time to time. So Phase II was ushered in this morning complete with its allowance for fruits and some bread products. We can also have milk and other dairy like yogurt again. At this point, it really is the little things.

All in all this diet has been a very good thing for me. Despite my intense hatred of the first two weeks, my eating habits and the way I’m currently looking at food have totally changed. Even my cravings have diminished somewhat. I was never much of a vegetables guy. But when you are basically only allowed to eat them, and meat, you start to get over some of the hang-ups you previously had. I haven’t eating squash or zucchini since I was little and probably refused to eat it after the first bite. I eat them now though. I’ve actually gotten so used to bell peppers that I don't even have to hold my nose before swallowing. I even had eggplant… I’ve confirmed that I will never have another reason to eat eggplant again. I’m actually going to call for its abolition. I figure if you can't bring yourself to eat it on a limited diet, it will never be one of the chosen.

More frightening however, is that I started to look forward to when we could introduce fruit into the diet. Fruit is a particular nemesis. It is a texture thing I guess, but the seeds don’t exactly send me into rapture. Still, I was excited for there introduction into the diet, along with the bread. This morning, as I was eating my cereal of bran, I was introduced to blueberries. It was not a beautiful union, but more of a grudging alliance. We agreed to meet again in the near future and see if we can work out our differences. Next up will be strawberries, of which I do have a little history. We’ve been introduced but never had much of a conversation. I hope we can get to know each other better…that is, if he isn’t totally annoying to me.

It’s hard to argue that all this dieting hasn’t given me results. I don’t feel like I look much different, but the scale tells me that there is 10 pounds less of me than there was two weeks ago. To me, it wasn’t so much about the weight as it was about looking healthy. Since it is pretty hard to look healthy without actually being healthy, well, I was left with no choice. If I was 215 pounds of muscle (even mostly muscle), then I’d still be eating pizza 3 times a day (with a milkshake chaser). As it is, I find myself going to Chik-Fil-A and getting the garden salad…as a treat. My, but the time they are achangin’.

The cool thing is that my wife and I are doing this together. This means that we spend less time in front of the TV and more time preparing meals, or going to the store to hunt down that elusive beast called…”Things We Can Still Eat”. We even went to a grocery store that was one of those places. You know, lot’s of organic stuff. No major brand names. I’d heard of them, but wasn’t sure if they even existed…but apparently they are real, and legal. And apparently I was wrong. If you eat organic you are not required to vote liberal. And I didn’t see one hippie in the entire store. Truth be told, I was a little disappointed by that.

On Significant Events...

2006-05-19T14:51:00.000-04:00

There were two fairly significant events that occurred on Wednesday this week. Both will reverberate for a while here in the Halls of Mental Midgetry.

The first is that my wife gave her final notice that she will be staying home next year to take care of K-Mad through her first year on the planet. The past few months she has been on an extended leave of absence and that in itself has been a tough thing for her. She has done a great job so far, despite the fact that being relatively stationary all day without being surrounded by hundreds of people is not her natural habitat. She much prefers chaos…middle school chaos. Yet she also craves the time with K-Mad.

So you might imagine that the decision did not come easily. There were many tears. Dana was emotional too. It’s not an easy thing to make a definitive decision to forego your career for a year…or for any amount of time really. It really stinks when your career is something that you love doing. You know, it’s strange. I keep hearing about all these burnt out teachers in our country, but I guess I don’t have any real experience with that phenomenon (well, not since high school anyway). Every day I’m around a highly motivated teacher who loves her job and misses her students. I don’t know whether that is commendable or if I should have her committed. Of course, K-Mad will benefit from a great mother who is also a great teacher. I fully expect that she’ll know her ABC’s by next week.

The second major event that occurred this week is that a true war against my ever expanding waistline has been declared. For the first time in my life, I’ve joined the ranks of the dieting horde. The South Beach Diet has come into my life and, needless to say, I hate you all and I hope you die. The good thing is, my personality has not seemed to change at all with my new dietary restrictions. This is totally new ground for me. I still view myself as the guy I was in high school (on many fronts actually) and wonder who that guy is in the mirror every morning. Dieting was just not something I ever imagined doing. I used to have a metabolism that allowed me to burn off almost anything that entered my system. Alas, more evidence that my youth is lost.

So fair warning, you may see some post next week that are a little more angsty than usual. I’ll try not to take it out on you…but again, no promises.

On Mom...

2006-05-16T14:30:00.000-04:00

I had hoped to do another Mother’s Day post yesterday, but was unable to attend to it due to unforeseen circumstances. Work. The fact of the matter is, I’ve been too long remiss in giving kudos to the female who raised me to be the man I am today. I guess some might consider that questionable praise, but I happened to think that things could have been worse…much worse.

The fact of the matter is, my Mother should probably get more praise than on just one day of the year. Back in the 1970’s this woman married herself to the Army (oh, and my Dad) and moved from a small town in SC where all her family lived, and went to glamorous locations like Ft. Knox, KY and Korea before landing in Arizona where her two children were born.

To hear my Mom tell the story, she had a rough go in her early years of motherhood simply because no one prepares you for the massive changes that occur with a new baby. This is particularly true when your first born (me) decides to be very vocal about their existence, their likes and dislikes and the fact that they just soiled their britches for the umpteenth time that…hour. The stories of my infancy and early childhood have become legend in my family. So much so, that my wife was sure that God was going to pay me back by our child being the same as I was. That has not been the case though.

The fact of the matter is, despite Mom feeling like she started out totally inadequate for the job of motherhood, she did a pretty awesome job. The Army took us a few other place, notably Germany, and she played the role of military wife and mother admirably. My earliest memories start in Germany and I distinctly remember playing Master Mind in the kitchen of our apartment. I also remember breaking the Korean lamp my mother loved in the living room.

Then came Virginia after a brief stop in Ft Leavenworth, KS (where Dad was not incarcerated in case you were wondering). We would settle here for the duration of my schooling until Dad finally retired and they moved back to SC to much rejoicing.

During my formative years, Mom was always there as a cheerleader, comforter and day laborer who always made sure that my sister and I knew we were loved. She was the mother of two totally different types of children and was able to provide the finesse needed for both. I was always more independent, and hated help with my homework or other things, and Mom gave me the breathing room I needed while not letting me make a total ass of myself.

Much of my morality comes from my parents. Mom was instrumental in instilling good values into me even when I would intentionally pull her strings. Often she did this through her great sense of humor. On one epic event, I mouthed off about something. She said, jokingly, that if I didn’t stop it she would pour her cold coffee over my head. I told her that she didn’t have it in her… She had it in her, and I had it all over me.

Even though she is the one that taught me the value of a good nap, she seems to be tireless in all that she does. I know that I do not have that same fortitude in me. She has been the frontline in my sister’s battle with an eating disorder, she worked for many years down in SC and now she is taking care of her mother since her step-father has been diagnosed with cancer. It doesn’t that there is much rest of the weary. All of this, and I’ve never heard her complain. The love she shows for those around her amazes me.

Add all that to her first grandchild being born and her traveling almost every month to come see her…I’m frankly tired just writing this Happy Mother’s Day message to her.

So Happy Mother’s Day Mom! I’m going to go take a nap right now…and yes, I am still at work…

On Too Cute...

2006-05-12T14:20:00.000-04:00

This folks...this right here is why I'm in so, so much trouble. I assure you, it only gets far cuter from there.

On Motherhood...

2006-05-12T14:10:00.000-04:00

I wouldn’t say that I’m much of a morning person, but I’m also not militantly against the idea that I do have to wake up and start my day. I just don’t see the point in belaboring my rising and my shining in a war that I simply cannot win. I am a man of routines, and I do have a one for the morning. Lately that entails getting K-Mad from her room and delivering her to the food supply unit. Then I get myself nekkid and into the shower. Now, while in this birthday suit state, I won’t say that I exactly check myself out. I’ve been fighting a losing battle of the bulge that I don’t need to be reminded of daily. Let’s just say that my once emaciated looking college body is gone…gone, gone. Years ago I had someone tell me that I might actually want to eat a sandwich from time to time. I did…repeatedly. Although I take care to avoid visual confirmation of my waistline, I do always take a quick peak down to my gibblies to assure that the presence of wang is still there…

…and then I always take time to thank God that I am a male…

And this is how I’m starting my Mother’s Day post…

My wife is far superior to me in quality and…well…basically about every other way imaginable. Except in Scrabble. I still own her in Scrabble. She has put her career life on hold for the time being to take care of K-Mad. She has pored herself into the comfort and care of our child from day one with no complaints even at odd hours of the morning. It has not always been easy. I can see the toll it sometimes takes on her, especially when she is sacked out on the couch waiting for to hook herself up to what I call the Bessy Machine. But K-Mad is turning out to be a total delight, and that is in no small part to all the efforts of my wife. I’m not totally absent, but the special care K-Mad gets from her mother is huge, and I am so thankful for it…

…but you couldn’t pay me to take her place. I’m not talking about staying home, or taking care of K-Mad full time. I’d love to do that actually. Stay at home Dad is exactly how I’d like to spend my life…in theory. Since parents often view public school teachers as babysitters for their children, I think they should be paid accordingly. Then my wife could go back to work and make hundreds of thousands of dollars a year if you think about it. Hundreds of children and 8 hours at a conservative $20.00/child rate… We could make a bed of money and just roll in it.

I would never want to be a mother in today’s society because of the mix signals, and downright hostility some women have for those who either choose to stay home, or choose to go back to work. As you might guess, that is exactly where we find ourselves today. My wife has about two weeks left to determine what she will do for the next year. This is not the first time we have dealt with this question, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. The process of making that decision is influenced by what I see as two very different and distinct philosophies, neither of which is very accommodating to those who disagree with them. This is particularly the case if you are an evangelical Christian and my wife and I are. I’m not an expert, but I do know that in making her decision, these to viewpoints weigh heavily on her.

Naturally, the more conservative Christian viewpoint on motherhood is that, if at all possible, a woman should always stay home with her child(ren). There is little to no room for a woman to think about her career because her duty is to raise children, not worry about her place in the workforce. Proponents point to all kinds of scripture that they feel supports this view, particularly highlighting gender roles as they believe they are outlined in The Bible. Stepping down from that extreme, other Christians do recognize that woman may actually like to work and desire a career outside of raising the family. However, there is still the expectation that for a while, the mother should stay at home (usually until school age). Even in that case, the woman who might actually enjoy working and not want to put her career on hold to stay at home for much beyond maternity leave is, if not shunned, certainly made to feel awkward (most of the times not even deliberately).

On the other hand, today’s society seems to play the exact opposite card, but with the same inability for any kind of flexibility. Women who decide to stay home, forgoing their career for a time or forever are looked down upon by the more extreme elements. They are made to feel like they are striking against the cause of feminism and adhering to outdated gender roles for motherhood. You here it referred to as a 50’s woman, or June Cleaver. That or you are passed off as some sort of religious freak, or a trophy wife somehow not as strong and independent as the woman who chooses life outside the home. Either way, you are subservient to the wishes of males, or you have no ambitions of your own. My favorite part about this viewpoint is often it is supposedly the champion of open-mindedness. In theory it is. In practice, it is often a form of reverse narrow-minded demagoguery because if fails to take into account that 1) a woman can choose to stay at home as an expression of who she is, or of what she truly wants for herself and family and 2) even if it is out of a sense of faith, that does not reduce the woman to a caricature of servitude.

There is a middle ground. Many of the folks I know live in it. However, it seems that they are few and far between. My viewpoint is that I am going to support my wife regardless of what she and we decide for her next year. The fact of the matter is, she is an awesome teacher. Although I would love for her to stay home, if we can swing it, I do not share in the belief that there is enough Biblical evidence to suggest that a woman cannot work and be a mother at the same time. I’d even support her if she goes back to work for the sole purpose of her career. I just don’t support a society that tells her she has to do that or she will be less of a woman.

So, on this coming Mother’s Day, I say enjoy it babe. You are an awesome Mom no matter what the future holds!

On Taking Stock...

2006-05-11T13:46:00.000-04:00

It’s bad enough when work invades my home life, but when work invades my work life, that is just unbearable, and uncalled for. This is about the busiest season that I have, so I’ve been unable to get online and spread my own version of wisdom. I’m very liberal with the definition of wisdom, and I think you might consider being too. My newly found workload couldn’t come at a worse time for a couple of reasons. Mainly, my personal Loaf Quota has not been met in the past four months now, and worse, I was just getting my second wind regarding posting to this blog. Work and fatherhood have allied against my lazy essence and are threatening to change me as a person. I could not be more devastated.

So in honor of my new found desire to “blog it up”, and my changing persona to a more goal minded and hard working individual (please attempt not to faint), I have decided to dialogue with myself, chronicled on this post, and figure out just what I’m supposed to be doing here with Odes to Mental Midgetry. To be sure, I have made it very clear to my very being that no form of Mental Giantry would be tolerated in my premises. I think myself got the message because I still feel pretty stupid this morning.

I really never had an idea of what I wanted to blog about when I started this. I just figured that I would pretty much write about anything that came to mind. It’s been a blast so far, even if, embarrassingly, it appears what comes to my mind the most involves something to do with Netflix. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised considering I sometimes forget to eat whilst I am reorganizing my queue… I’ve had some positive feedback from many folks, most of which say that they enjoy getting to know me through reading this blog. I think when I hear that my first reaction is really to die a little bit more inside. Seriously, I hope that you know that this blog is primarily about exaggeration and sometimes outright falsehood. I would be devastated if you thought that I was really a Woody Allen clone, particularly since I loathe Woody Allen.

So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll keep at this for a bit longer. I will probably continue to avoid the overtly political since one of my goals was not to be like 95% of the other blogs that exist. I’d rather have my comments section spammed by my family and not by irate folks who disagree with my worldview. Heck, I disagree with my worldview most of the time I see it actually written out. I hope you will forgive my occasional forays into more serious fare though, considering my life is not all about hi-jinks as my Flight 93 post may suggest.
I hope you enjoy continuing to read this as much as I enjoy writing it. Maybe you’ll learn a little bit more about me…and lose that last ounce of respect you had for me.

On Travelling (Part Duex), Screams and Wedding Things...

2006-05-04T12:04:00.000-04:00

This weekend will be another travel weekend, and we here at The Halls of Mental Midgetry are trying to hold back the tides of panic that are already threatening to wash over us. CINCHOUSE called before 9:00a.m., before my seat was even warm, to inform me that she already had lists of stuff we needed to do and to pack before we hit the road tomorrow. I think she enjoys doing this to me. It’s not like we just met. We have known each other for over a decade…we are about to celebrate five years of marriage. And in case none of that educated her, she does read this blog. So evidence suggests that my stress is some sort of perverse joy for her.

This will not be a long trip in the sense of how far we have to drive. We’re only going to Richmond, a mere two hours away. In Northern Virginia Time to Real Time conversion that’s still only a 4 hour trip. So it’s not like we are going down to SC or anything. Plus, this weekend we are going to participate in a wedding of a long time friend to the Beeley’s dating back to our youthful days at JMU. Good times are virtually guaranteed. I’m even getting gussied up in a tux. Not surprisingly, I don’t often gussy up, so that should be an event unto itself. I imagine my friend's stress out paces mine for the weekend. But this blog is really about him, now, is it?

To make matters even better, I have definitively proven the existence of God. Theologians, historians, athiests and dogmatic followers can finally put aside their differences. The proof is simply this...the fox hound will not be joining us on this journey. A dog sitter has been found for He Who Vomits Muchly. (And seriously, I’ve watched this dog jump over couches, turn on a dime repeatedly when chased, navigate wooded areas at full speed and outrun most other animals except greyhounds and cheetahs. How is it possible…how is it POSSIBLE…that he has motion sickness!?!). I take great comfort that I will not be spending any time cleansing my car from his morning meal. K-Mad is another matter, but we can at least put a bib on her.

However, we are still traveling with an infant. I’ve discovered that K-Mad is very much like a rock star and her mother and I are her entourage. She has been known to make unreasonable demands about her car seat like: “I want to get out of this car seat!”, or even “I’m hungry, feed me now!”. She is turning into a diva...minus the cocaine addiction. There are three people going to Richmond this weekend, but 80% of the cargo will be K-Mad related. If it’s not the Pack N’ Play, it’s the swing. We are even bringing her bouncy seat. There might be room for her mother and I to bring a change of clothes, but I'm willing to turn my underwear inside-out if I must. I can relive college for a weekend.

Of course, all of this is in an effort to make sure she has the comforts of home so as not to totally flake out on us. That is the cause of much anxiety at the moment. Along with the really cool new things she is doing, like laughing and smiling, she has also started her period of…less pleasant communication. The past two nights have been learning experiences for me personally. To this point, K-Mad has cried, and at times those cries were sustained and loud. But they were cries. We have now entered the screaming stage. Two nights ago, while trying to put her down for the night, she decided that she didn’t want Dad. She let me know this with screams of displeasure. I thought maybe she was in pain, but that proved to be false because she shut up the second Mom took her.

Last night was a true baptism though. My wife had gone to get her nails done for the wedding. She was gone for about an hour and a half. Of that time, K-Mad screamed for about 45 minutes straight. I was sure that all 15 of our neighbors living next door thought I was murdering my child. I had to leave her be at one point and just let her cry for 15 minutes before trying to re-engage. Long story short, I prevailed in the end. I think that bout may have been gas related, but still, only when she got her first round of shots did she scream like that…and that ended after 2 minutes. I told me wife had she returned in the middle of that, I would have given her the child without a word, made my way to the shower, waited until the water was poring over me…and cried my eyes out in frustration. That was brutal. Don't judge me. You weren't there. As it was, she found me calm but totally wiped out on the couch watching Weird Al in UHF…I was that screwed up.

But I grew some thicker skin, and will not be as affected the next time. My worry is that my mother-in-law, who will be caring for K-Mad for two nights in a row as we participate in wedding activities, is not prepared for this. Now, I’m about to wade right into controversy here. I want you to know that I could not ask for better in-laws all around, especially not a better mother-in-law. Yet, I must say that I would not be feeling angst if my own mother was watching K-Mad instead. Now before everyone starts diving for cover thinking that I just started some war, let me explain. My wife and brother-in-law must have been absolute cherubs, because for some reason my mother-in-law honestly believes that if a child is crying for an extended period…especially screaming, then a) they must be hungry or b) if they aren’t hunger then something must be medically wrong with them and a pediatrician needs to be involved. On the other hand, my mother raised me. I’ve watched her rock K-Mad for about an hour in the early morning while she wailed…and my mother would still smile at me as I came into the nursery. What a freak. She was totally unaffected. I got the sense from her smile that she was saying “You were worse. This is nothing”.

The last family gathering with K-Mad and my in-law side did not go well either. K-Mad didn’t scream, but let’s just say happiness was not exhibited to any great degree. I felt like my mother-in-law took it personally that K-Mad did not respond well to her attempts to calm her down. Like she had failed or something. I felt like taking her aside and saying “Woman. (I’m all about respect you see) You need to realize that the little girl in there is a Beeley spawn. You just don’t understand. We turn out alright in the end, but the beginning can be a loud, rough ride”.

I am, of course, doing my blog bit here and speaking in hyperboles. My mother-in-law is well equipped to deal with her granddaughter. She has three grandchildren already and my niece, her son’s daughter, was known to pitch a fit too. I would just feel awful two of her nights are not spent seeing all the great qualities of K-Mad, but seeing the…brutal.

Oh, and the real beauty of the weekend schedule is that K-Mad has her second round of shots tomorrow morning. Seriously, who planned this day?

On Fatherhood...

2006-05-03T09:27:00.000-04:00

K-Mad has not made much of an appearance here in the blog of late, and for that I truly apologize. Lest you were worried, she is still breathing, and not so underweight anymore. Apparently she inherited both her mother and father’s genes of a high metabolism. If so, she can be sure that this gift will end suddenly and completely when she hits 25 years old. Lately she is tipping the scales at a whopping 11 pounds and some odd ounces. We do another weigh in this Friday. We are hoping to get out of the 25th percentile at some point.

She’s finally out of her newborn clothes too. I remember the days when her mother and I talked about how much money (mostly other people’s money) was spent on clothes that she would probably fit into for a month or so. What a joke that turned out to be. We have got our…or your…money’s worth out of her clothes. But can I be honest here…maybe even a little mushy? I’m sorry to see some of those outfits go. It’s not that I just liked the way they looked…it’s that she is growing…and growing means she is changing…and I hate change.

For a while I thought that fatherhood was not living up to its billing. I mean, in the way that it was supposed to be all “hard to do” and such. Please. I had come to believe that I was some freaking natural or something. She was helpless against my innate abilities to rock her to sleep at night. Her 4:30a.m. diaper changes were a breeze. Sometimes she could be overly cranky, but if that’s the best she could do, then this parenting thing was no problem.

Something happened to me last Friday. I was already in a mood regarding United 93’s release. Obviously, I chose to blog about that instead… Make no mistake, in some ways this event impacted my psyche every bit as much…

…Thanks to my insistence on making friends with total computer geeks, my Thursday nights are spent online doing geeky things. I’m not proud of that fact…but I’m married and have no one left to impress. Plus, my troll character is becoming uber…and uberness is next to Godliness. Friday mornings are fairly brutal, especially because Congress has not, so far, acknowledged my idea for permanent three-day weekends. Thus, I must depend on my friend…let’s call him Mr. Starbucks…to give me a little pick-me-up.

Have you ever seen one of those TV shows or movies that start out by following some average joe in his regular routine. You may see him going to the grocery store, or the dry cleaners… Then he makes his way to the bank. Now you, the viewer, also see the van pulling up full of guys that are about to rob the same bank that our average joe just entered. You might even scream something like “Don’t go in there!” He is in the wrong place at the wrong time.

On Friday, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I stroll up to the Starbucks and enter not realizing that today would affect me in profound ways. I would be forced to deal with a crisis for which I was not prepared. I hadn’t taken any of the self-defense courses that I promised myself I would. I didn’t check to make sure I knew where all the exits where in case of emergency like you are always supposed to do. No, I went in the door in a sleep deprived coma and missed an obvious bad sign standing right in front of me…

…two teenage girls in their Paul VI Catholic school uniforms were ahead of me in line. I could barely make out the bleached blond hair of both girls through the crust that still covered my eyes, but their overblown sense of self-importance hit me like a wall. I think some of it even got in my nose. And then they began to communicate. It is the communication of girls that are obviously high school seniors and know all about life. This communication requires a slightly upturned nose and copious amounts of fixing your hair. Giggling is also involved and apparently we have re-entered the valley girl era of the 80’s and no one told me because everything was “oh my god” followed by a pronouncement of something that I’m sure God could care less about.

If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know that one of my biggest fears in life is the thought of rearing a female teenager. It is not that I view them as the most useless thing ever. Some of them are quite lovely…at times. It is that I have zero experience with what in the heck they are thinking at any given moment. I do have a sister, and she was a teenager at one point...but that only serves to validate my inability to decifer their very essence. Male teenagers are easy. They are certifiable morons. But I was once, and some would say still, a certifiable moron myself. So at least I have a foundation for dealing with a male. I have enough trouble understanding what my wife wants.

At the bottom of all of this angst is really my feelings of total inadequacy regarding parenting. I know…I just flaked out on you. I went all “girl” myself by even uttering the phrase “feelings of inadequacy”. It’s the truth though. What the heck do I know about guiding anyone through the road of life. I fall asleep during road trips…this one hasn’t been much different. Now I’ve got to be the driver? God help us…and He’s going to have to for this to work at all.

Of course, this angst I feel could all be for naught, you never know how K-Mad will turn out over a decade from now. She’s just barley staring to show her personality now, so I’m not sure what I’m hyperventilating about. Besides, I married smart. I married a Middle School teacher. I figure one half of this parenting corps is somewhat prepared.

I think this calls for a self help book….

On Flight 93...

2006-04-28T12:57:00.000-04:00

By now, unless you eschew most forms of media, you are probably aware that the movie Flight 93 opens today. Chances are that you have already formed an opinion about the movie, or more directly, about the release of a movie that rehashes the events…and more importantly the emotions of 9/11. There have been a line up of folks that have come out in support and have come out…if not against, then at least questioning a studio’s motives.

I will admit, before this week I did have some idea that this movie was releasing soon, but had not really thought too much about my feelings towards it. That is not surprising. I’m an emotional procrastinator. I don’t think about how I will or should feel about something until the moment before the “event”. I think it is safe to say that I’m not against emotions…I can, from time to time, be quite emotional. A well-cooked slab of some sort of meat makes me quite joyful and even a bit weepy. Not putting the puck into a wide-open net can make me quite vitriolic. Overall though, I like my Delayed Emotional Response policy even when it sometimes bites me in the glutemous regions.

I will not be going to see Flight 93. That was really a forgone conclusion since I haven’t been to a theater in nigh on a year now. Even though I see an unhealthy amount of movies in a year, they are almost solely on the small screen. The arrival of an infant daughter precludes most forms of going out, and theater attendance has evaporated. However, what I mean is, even if given the chance to, I don’t think I would see it at this time. I’m not sure I’ll even rent it when it comes out…

…and it’s not because I think the movie is too soon, or that I have a problem with a movie studio making a movie about 9/11 that will ultimately profit the company. I’ve done some research. I know that the director, Paul Greengrass, received the unanimous consent of the families of Flight 93 victims to make the movie. That makes this their collaborative effort…it makes it their story. I also know that 10% of the profit will go to the memorial fund for the victims. In addition, I like that none of the actors seem to have done this for a big payday. In fact, most of the folks apparently aren’t really actors…or at least not A list folks. I would have a huge problem if Brad Pitt or another very popular actor had done the film and made their usual salary. Not to disparage Mr. Pitt, I’m just using him as an example. I’d still like to see the studio do more with the profit than just 10%, but if the families thought that was fair, I’m not going to be overly picky.

By all accounts, Flight 93 appears to be a major success too. Critics or giving it huge praise. I’m not sure how you really “criticize” this movie, especially as an American. I suppose if the actors had really been poor…like a made for TV movie, that one might pile on criticism. However, I do tend to believe what I’m hearing that Flight 93 is very well made and does honor to those involved…especially because it avoids the political. Frankly, I find that astounding in and of itself. No, that was not a jab at Hollywood. That is a statement that the director stuck to facts, let the audience decide (as they probably already have) who the fault lies with, and simply tells a story of brave folks in a really, really @&$%# day.

I will not see this movie because it is too soon for me. Remember that Delayed Emotional Response policy I spoke of earlier? Well, that comes into play for me in a big way when talking about 9/11. As many of you know, had the plane that struck the Pentagon been about 25 to 50 feet to the left of where it actually impacted, I would definitely not be here. I’ve meant to write down my experiences on 9/11 for a long time now. I think most people in this country have had that same thought, or have actually done it. I haven’t, and I think I haven’t because of my delayed emotional response. Over the past five years, it has increasingly dawned on me how lucky I was/am.

I don’t know why God makes the decisions He makes. You may not believe He exists, so I’ll state it another way. I don’t know why I got so damn lucky when hundreds of other folks were not. I do know that a series of fortuitous events/facts saved my two months married wife from receiving really bad news. Rapping my head around that has been a five-year experience so far, and I’m still not quite there. As my marriage has progressed and I’ve become a father, I think the realization of the things I could have missed set in. And, I think ultimately why I never wrote down my thoughts or feelings about that day is because they were so different than what most of the country was feeling…and I felt a little guilty about that.

My experience on 9/11 was one of horrified exuberance. I know that may sound insane, or even completely wrong to you, so allow me to explain. I’ll start at the beginning. I had arrived in office at about the time I normally do that day. My usual routine was to see if there was anything “hot” that had come in the after I had left the day before, or that had come in early that morning. Usually there wasn’t and this day was no different. Once I’d established that a light workday appeared to be on the horizon, I settled into getting a quality and, of course, healthy breakfast….Mt Dew and Pop Tarts. I am truly a physical specimen magnificent to behold. While I ate this essence of good dietry, I started to surf the web.

My first sites are typically movie news. I don’t know why, this was even pre-Netflix. I guess I just like to get the light stuff out of the way early. Besides, for some reason, CNN was just not loading for me that morning. WashingtonPost.com was also slow for some reason. I can’t even remember what movie I was interested in at the time, but once I had received the latest low down, I tried CNN and the WP again. No dice on CNN, but the Post came up…sort of. All I got was a headline that read “Plane Hits World Trade Center”. I commented to my boss, a Lt Col who sits next to me about it. We wondered, how could a Cessna not see these two giant buildings in New York. Maybe it was some sort of deranged protest. It had happened at the White House once. We had no idea, and the thought that it was a jetliner never crossed our minds.

Still, we went into the Colonel’s office to check out the footage since it was obvious this news was what was slowing down all the news websites. When we turned on the TV, I think it was already set to NBC or something. I just remember seeing the plane hit the World Trade Center, and the announcer saying that this was a visual of the second plane hitting the other building. We had literally just turned on the TV set, so our eyes hadn’t even seen that there was already a burning hole in the first building.

I think you know what happened then. It was a lot like what happened in your personal experience. The room was silent on the realization that this was no accident…and certainly no Cessna. Questions bubbled in my brain as it did yours. Were there people in that plane? How many people where in those buildings…or on those floors? Can those buildings possible stay standing? But there was also a significant difference that I don’t think a lot of people had. War had been declared before our eyes, and I was standing in probably the one building besides the White House and Capitol where that realization would impact the most. And what I sensed from those around me, especially those in uniform was not panic, or anger…it wasn’t even fear. It was determination. Not wild, emotion driven determination either. It was the realization that something was happening that could directly affect some of the personnel in the room first hand, and they were determined to do their duty.

Before I go further, I don’t want to give the impression that the office I support as a contractor is a war fighting office. We are responsible for two programs: Arms Control and Counterproliferation (think Counter-WMD). Most of the officers I work with are former satellite or nuclear missile officers, although we did have a few bomber pilots/co-pilots/navigator types. Basically, folks who would have first hand knowledge of nuclear weapons in the Air Force. Since most of the treaties affecting the Air Force deal with the reduction of nuclear missiles, that makes sense. So you can see that a declaration of war, such as 9/11, would not directly impact our office in a policy way. It did end up impacting Counterproliferation though.

We watched footage of the attack for a few minutes. It then dawned on me that I might want to call my parents to see if they were aware of what was going on. My wife was in the middle of teaching class, so I could not reach her…and I figured that word had spread by that point. I called my Mom and ended up waking her up, so she was totally unaware. I waited as she turned on the TV. She was stunned, as was the normal response that day. I don’t remember much else about our conversation, but I do remember her telling me to get out of the Pentagon. I also remember my response: “Mom, they aren’t going to attack the Pentagon”. I believed that too. It was stunning that “they” could get a hold of two airliners…but I was sure it was impossible that they would have hijacked more.

Flight 77 hit the Pentagon roughly five to ten minutes later. I had just left the Col’s office again after watching a little bit of footage. I was looking back at him saying something when the building shook. I couldn’t see his window, but I could see the reflection on the wall and hit had gone completely orange for a couple of seconds. I turned to look over at my desk, which did have a window. The blinds were drawn, but I could tell the fire was flickering outside my window and dust or smoke started to come through the cracks at the bottom.

At the time my office was divided into two actual offices. I sat in the “main office” that held the Colonel, his deputy, the MSgt that basically ran the office logistically, and my direct boss a Lt Col who was in charge of the budget. I supported him directly. The rest of the office that handled policy was directly across the hall from us. It sat about 20 or 30 Air Force officers and contractors.

The MSgt had been across the hall watching the footage there. Seconds after the building was hit, he busted into the main office door and told everyone to get out. That was a foregone conclusion, but still, he was our security manager. I remember my first three steps being all jelly legs as the realization that something…a bomb, a helicopter (the helicopter pad was on that side of the Pentagon at the time) or another plane had just hit us. One thing was for sure, it was no accident and now we were pretty much all thinking that anything could happen that day.

At the end of the hall we took a left to go towards the outer ring, the E Ring. We were on the D Ring on the top floor (floor 5) and coming down the 5th corridor I believe. Smoke and dust had really started do come in. I vaguely recollect and Marine officer directing people towards the staircase down to the ground floor. At that point, I still didn’t realize that our side of the building had been hit, or even how bad it was. But when we got down to the ground floor, a number of Pentagon Police officers were directing us not to go out the set of doors that were right there, but to go into the center of the building and work our way to the Metro, South or North Parking exits. Along with two other guys from my office, we actually listened to that instruction and went towards the center of the building. The rest of my office basically said “screw that noise, those doors look perfectly fine to me” and exited the building…and saw the impact site, the detritus of what little of the plane remained and made a bee line for Ft. Myer a couple of miles away. The somewhat amusing ending to their story is that they ended up going to the Officer’s Club and succeeding in getting the bar open. I could relate, a drink wouldn’t have been a bad thing at that moment.

Separated, I made my way to the Metro exit. There was a glut of folks there trying to get out. Later, I would really recognize the total difference between the attack in NY and the attack on the Pentagon. There was almost no panic at the Pentagon. It was insane how orderly we exited the building through one set of double doors. Behind me folks were talking about the work they needed to get done once they were allowed back in. That is not a sad commentary on how driven folks are in DC…it is an amazing statement about the resilience exhibited. They new, as well as I did, that suddenly much of what they were doing would matter…not in the abstract, but in the present. It was the realization that not only had war been declared, but that this building, the one that had been hit, was not out of commission and would play prominently in a future response.

The rest of the day I basically made my way, over three hours, to a pay phone where I called a friend. He had been in contact with both my wife and my family and quickly relayed the message back to them that I was alright. This was a real blonde moment for me. No offense to blondes of course. I don’t know if it was shock or what, but I was definitely aware of what was going on around me, and oddly, there was no place that I’d rather be. It never occurred to me that my family was going insane with worry, or that my wife was probably slightly interested in my well being. I remember distinctly being told to walk away further and further from the building because another plane, Flight 93 it turned out, was unaccounted for and heading our way. I remember F-16s flying overhead, including one that “buzzed” the Pentagon. I’m not sure why he did, but I like to think that was his way of telling us “I’m on it.” I remember some kid walking onto a now dead stopped I-395 that goes right by the Pentagon and waving a huge American flag.

Finally, I remember getting to that same friends house with my wife and watching what had happened over the entire day. I never saw the towers fall down. The panic and total chaos, although not unseen around the Pentagon, was nothing like that. In a lot of ways, I think 9/11 was more terrible for the folks that could only sit there and watch it unfold, and especially for those who had loved ones unaccounted for.

I could not have been more proud of my country than that day, in that area. A lot went so entirely wrong not just to get us in that situation, but in the handling of our response. Our response to the crisis that day was so disjointed, mostly because we had never dealt with it. I believe the movie Flight 93 shows some of that…not as indictment, but just as a fact. But here at the Pentagon, if it was chaos, it was inspiring, determined and effective chaos. It shows exactly why we have one of the best, if not the best military in the world. It showed that while I may disagree with some of the leadership, both civilian and military, there is no place I’d rather work.

But years away from that day, I don't really want to revisit it...not yet. Flight 93 shows exactly how strong we can actually be as a people. It shows folks that really did save the country from further death and destruction by their own sacrifice. I truly hope that the movie can do it justice as I hear that it has. While I can't bring myself to see it, I do believe in the idea of people remembering that day, and that there was some really beautiful things that happened, even in the midst of terror and chaos.

On Green Thumbs and Index Fingers...

2006-04-25T11:26:00.000-04:00

One of the nice things about living in Northern Virginia…and to be sure, sometimes it seems like there is not exactly a glut of “nice things”…is that we do tend to get all of the four seasons. That is not to say that the weather here doesn’t behave strangely, or sometimes even just flat out badly. Frankly, I’m not sure two seasons have ever been the same in consecutive years. We might have a frozen tundra of a Winter one year, followed by 70 degree days in the middle of January the next. Spring and Autumn are particularly unpredictable. Sometimes they behave “normally” but other times these seasons can be indistinguishable from the Summer or Winter.

However, Spring has definitely arrived here. So far, it appears we are having a normal, if only slightly dry season. Well, dry until this past weekend that is. The trees are in bloom and are driving my sinuses crazy. There is a nice lime green sheen covering my car every morning and I’m enjoying the fits of sneezing it induces…sometimes to the 9th power.

Spring means manual labor though. As you might imagine, manual labor…and indeed any labor…is not conducive to my Netflix habit, nor my virtual World of Warcraft existence. Plus, this labor tends to be under the sun. The sun is a particular nemesis of mine who has burned me on many an occasion. I’m not Gollum, but the sun isn’t exactly my precious either. Let’s just say that I appreciate its key role in supporting life on earth…but I’m not going to send it any thank you notes to that affect.

Surprisingly though, I learned that I actually like the manual labor involved with yard work. Despite being heavily annoyed by grass pollen, one of my chores growing up was mowing the lawn. I decided then and there that mowing lawns was not something I wanted to do for a living…but that it could actually be quite pleasant at times. Still, mowing and the raking of leaves were about the extent of my yard working abilities. I think I may have watered a plant or two at the behest of my mother, but I was no green thumb by any stretch.

After college, my living arrangements were all in apartments. There was no mowing or raking…or a even lawn for that matter. The extend of my yard work was going out onto the balcony and sweeping off any leaves that may have collected there…and let’s be honest…I didn’t even do that. My skin was going an even pastier shade of…uh…pasty. That was okay though, I looked good in ultra-white.

When my wife and I bought our townhouse, it wasn’t exactly like my yard work chores suddenly increased dramatically. Even though we have an end unit, that just means we have about eight square feet of lawn rather than four. It takes me about 15 minutes to mow the lawn…20 if I edge. Raking is another matter. It still doesn’t take long, but the patch of woods we have next to our house assures that any raking is for naught. The trees produce more…they always produce more.

Last year though was a crowning achievement for my wife and I. After we put in a deck in the back yard, our lawn was even less…expansive. So we decided we would try and put in two flower gardens. This was quite and undertaking. Both of us were complete novices to the art of planting bushes and flowers. But we had high hopes and a totally unrealistic budget to fuel our desires…and so we set to work. The first step was to turn the mud pits that had developed into garden beds. Top soil and I became well acquainted friends. I believe a third world country out there is missing all of its soil, because I walked bag after bag from my car to the backyard. It was probably only like 15 bags…but when you are a weakling, that feels like you’ve really accomplished something. We even purchased stones to make the walls around the garden. Finally, we went to the local “overpriced and only for suckers who don’t realize you can get the same thing for cheaper at Home Depot” nursery and spent an arm and a leg on plants and flowers…

…that were all annuals. If you don’t know, annuals are not plants that come back. The word annual in fact means that should you decide to go this course with your garden, you’ll spend this ungodly amount every year. Apparently what we should have looked for were perennials. Needless to say, we are starting from square one this year, and we won’t make that mistake again. But we had one cool looking garden last year.

This year is going to be as busy as last. Thanks to our phone and cable companies putting in new lines, we have large patches of our lawn that are in need of repair. This weekend I got some topsoil and filled in the uneven ground that had been created when the new fiber optic line was put into my house. Then I re-seeded much of the lawn. I don’t have one of those nifty seed and fertilizer carts, so I did it all by hand…assuring the most sporadic coverage possible. We’ll see if this works. My lawn looks like a disaster right now, but at least I’m committed do putting some effort into it…and it’s kind of fun. Just don’t tell my wife I said that.

Oh, and to bring this story to a dramatic close, the bushes we have in the front of the house have really grown unwieldy the past few weeks. So I decided it was time to trim them back. Apparently I also thought that ten fingers were too much to keep track of. So I did my best to take off one of them with the trimmer. Okay, so in reality it was really only about three stitches worth of repair, but I am now typing this message to you with my left index finger enveloped in gauze.

And I’m going to need that index finger for when Kaleigh grows up and starts smarting off. How am I supposed to point to her room and her impending confinement to it without my pointer finger? It’s not like you can use your pinky…

On Resolutions...

2006-04-20T10:30:00.000-04:00

I’ve given this birthday thing a whole week and a half to seep in and fester. I’ve started to get used to the idea that my life has made an irrevocable change for the old. I think I gave you the impression that this birthday was especially hard for me. I don’t think I meant to be that dramatic, but let’s just say I did hang out with my homies and poor out a forty for my lost youth…yo.

That’s actually totally untrue. I spent that last fleeting moments of my youth on a subway platform for 3 hours as illegal immigrant after illegal immigrant packed the trains on their way home from the rally on the Mall that day. My birthday dinner came at 8:30. I was in bed by 9:30. Good grief, I am old.

Last year, which was supposedly the pivotal year when I turned 30, I did not have this crisis of age. I was working under the principle that 30 did not constitute me actually be in my 30’s. You know, the same idea behind the year 2000 not actually being the new millennium….that 2001 was really the beginning. Well, I guess my personal new millennium has officially started. I am now no longer a youth. I have made my first foray into Middle Age. Nothing good can come of this. It’s not like The Middle Ages was some sort of high point for humanity. Except for jousting…that was just cool.

I guess it would be a bit premature to have a midlife crisis in my first year of middle age. I barely even qualify at this point. Still, I feel like I should resolve to do something. That is, I should come up with some resolutions for my next year. I was a little busy this year around New Years. Unalterable life changes were about to pop out of my wife’s abdomen, so my customary intentional refusal to make New Year’s resolutions went untended. I merely forgot to not think about them this year. But now, with oldness creeping in…I guess it is time to actually come up with a plan…or maybe just some goals…

…It’s time I made a contract with myself to actually get something done this year. It’s time to come up with some parameters. So without further ado, I give you my Year 31 Resolutions, Goals and Parameters.

RESOLVED:

Beeley IV resolves to make certain and epic life changes on this his 31st year on Earth, location USA, further location Virginia, Northern. The writer of this blog promises, under threat of public derision, familial nagging and spousal guilt to complete these resolutions by April 10, 2007.

1) To take any and all medication that will reduce cholesterol from astronomically high numbers down to something more…attuned with acceptable medical parameters.
2) To keep in touch with Grandfather.
3) To continue to ignore Aunts.
4) To achieve status as U.S. Government employee.
5) To continue “higher education” through the Defense Acquisition University.
6) To rejoin the under 200lbs club. In other words, to lose three pounds.
7) To write first children’s book. To shoehorn friend into illustrating it.
8) To not drink a soft drink. Chik-fil-A sweet iced tea is totally on limits, however.
9) To be more sociable, less of a homebody and, generally, to see the outside world from time to time.
10) To go to the gym atleast once a week.

11) To update the blog more than once a week.

Yea verily, woe unto the Beeley who does not do these things within the next year. A plague desendeth upon his abode and upon his household. So sayeth the blog, so leteth it be done.

On Hiatus...

2006-04-13T13:48:00.000-04:00

I know, I know, for one week it seemed like I had gone back to my old, dependable ways. I will not have you guilt me though. I have a job to do. It does not include constantly regailing you with my literary genius...or mental illness...you decide which one is an accurate description. The fact of the matter is, someone here must have let the word out to someone else in a higher position that I actually know how to do budgetary things...and they've actually made me work. I guess this is what they mean by gainfully employed.

I am pretty anti-Masters Degrees. Someday I'll write a post about my theories on higher education. I assure you that they are ridiculous. My wife has even bribed me with tales of big screen TV-ery if I get a Masters. I am not easily duped. It's not that I don't believe she'd actually purchase said TV nirvana. It is that I have done a pain analysis, and the pain of getting a Masters is not worth the orgasmic qualities of movies in large format... However, I have recently entered upon some higher education of my own, in a format I find attractive. Mainly, it's web based, I don't have to take a GRE and it's pretty much pass fail. I speak of the Defense Acquisition University. I'm learning to acquire things in a defensive manner. So far it's been all about methodology, acquisition structure...blah, blah. I'm hoping for a future class on pole arms though. All that to say, I'm my "free" work time has really started to dry up.

I'd love to write more of my missives from home, but you see, I'm a father...and a geek. Because I'm feeling generous, I'll also let you decide whether my parental duties or my slavish devotion to a digital troll in a World of Warcraft environment keeps me busy in my "free" time.

And finally, I realize that I turned 31 this week. It's taken some time to adjust. I actually have another post about that coming. I want to leave you with a bit of forewarning since it will not be a pretty message. I didn't want to catch you unawares and send you into shock. It details my angst. It identifies personal changes that need to be made...in the form of resolutions. I believe it actually gives you my current weight too.

Hopefully tomorrow we will go there...

On Travel, Relatives and Rear Enders...

2006-04-04T13:09:00.000-04:00

Once again I’ve been derelict in my duties to produce worthlessness in a blog format. I hope you forgive me, but you need to understand that my trip to see my family two weekends ago was that exhausting. His Vomitousness, my motion sick Fox Hound, produced wonders only known in one’s stomach lining twice on the way down, and once on the way back. The one on the way back was epic. Think dog food. Think floor air vent. Think not so beautiful union.

K-Mad did really well though. She slept most of the way. So did her mother. I was not accorded that same luxury.

I would also like to state that last week I was hit by a car…for no good reason. I was in my wife’s Honda Civic and thought for sure that life as I knew it…and I knew it to be alive….had just ended. I was stopping at a stoplight, which some are wont to do. The person behind me did not agree with my decision to observe normal, legal vehicular operating rules. She made her presence known…that is to say, we communicated with a jarring attack on my rear. I guess I decided that the car in front of me also needed to be in on this conversation and so I lightly caressed her posterior too. We all stopped. The woman in front of me and I exchanged numbers. The woman who started it all decided she had adequately determined that no visible damage was done and that no one was injured and that driving away was an appropriate response. I spent some time with one of Fairfax County's finest police officers. The end.

As you’ve come to know, I’m not all that adventurous. The last week or so was more than I really cared to handle. To be sure, my actual time in SC was pretty restful. Having a newborn is great. You can pretty much pull the pin, throw the child into the middle of the room and watch the ensuing lovefest from afar. And for the most part, I think K-Mad enjoyed her time in the Land of Milk and Honey. Her parents were a little more stressed by being removed from the workable routine we had established in Virginia. It’s always hard to figure out a travel routine, and K-Mad’s sleep patterns were murderous once we did return home. I hear that is normal. Which means that there will be no more travel with her until she turns 18. And that will only be to deposit her at college…

There was also a pig. A barbequed pig. It resided it all its glory…minus the head…on the kitchen counter. This is the portion of the trip that always produces much joy in me…at the expense of my wife. She is simply not used to folks milling about, talking Citadel and sticking their hands into what was once the place where the pig’s organs functioned, and pulling out huge chunks of barbequed perfection. She is not opposed to meat. I think that she actually has a good idea about how meat actually comes to land on your plate. I just don’t think she likes picking meat from something that resembles that which it once was. In this case, she said it reminded her of Wilbur from Charlotte’s Web. I don’t recall ever reading that book, but if I do in the future, I’m sure it will only succeed in making me hungry.

I guess the only other notable event of that weekend was being told to extend the family line by having a son…and that I don’t keep in touch enough for my Granddaddy’s liking. I can see that second point. I’m a pretty poor communicator is general, and especially with family. After all he’s done for me, it would only be right to let him know, from time to time, that he’s actually in my thoughts. But the first point. Well, I couldn’t give two craps about extending the family name. Despite the horror of multiple girls going through puberty around the same time, if I have all daughters from here on out, I can deal with that. Especially if I get to have a man room. This would be a room that I retreat to where estrogen is not invited. It's a room of various forms of visual media. It is a room that would be soley mine.

Oh, and my cousin Elizabeth has a eyebrow ring. I swore I’d give it a “shout out” as the homies say. I believe she is going through a period of trying to find herself. Why else does one get pierced? That makes sense. She’s about that age. Let me give you a hint, dear cousin. Leave SC for a few years. It will help with the process….

On I-95 (For The Weekend)...

2006-03-23T14:36:00.000-05:00

Contrary to popular opinion (popular being that of my wife), I do not hate to travel. I mostly hate to travel. It’s not as if I believe that the location I’m in is the end all be all…nor even the bees knees. I could stand to see other parts of this country…maybe even the world…well, minus Antarctica. My dislike of migration is primarily due to the method of transit and not so much that I just hate the concept. I think that if we ever did develop some sort of transporter device like they have in Star Trek, I’d trot…I’d trot the globe in fact.

I do loathe car travel though. There is seriously not one redeemable quality about car travel, except with the possibility of its conclusion at your destination. Not the packing, not the driving, not the stopping for gas…or lunch…or urination… The very first thing I do when I get in the car before a long trip…even before turning the key in the ignition, is wish that it was already over. Sure, I've participated in road trips during my college days. Every one of them started with the heady exhuberance and excited chatter of our nation's youth. After about two hours though, the serious thoughts of suicide to end the...whatever you want to call it...settles in.

Most of my travel has to do with going to see family in South Carolina. I guess that is redundant to say, because as you already know, I don’t actually have any family that doesn’t reside there. Virginia, for you non-geography types (or products of the New Jersey education system), is only two states north. In other words, it is just close enough that a plane trip isn’t really justified, but that a car trip…especially from Northern VA, is murderous. If you recall high school English, it’s one of Dante’s rings of Hell he wrote about in…that book he wrote. It’s 8 hours of soul reducing tedium.

One of the “joys” that my wife and I added to the travel process a couple of summers ago was a dog. In general, I don’t find dogs odious…not like cats anyway. My wife waged a successful campaign against me to get a dog, but it took two years for her to claim a final victory. At the end of this two years, we have finally found the perfect pooch, one that could always be counted on…to yack every single time he was in a vehicle. Every. Time. It doesn’t matter what we do, or try, that dog is going to vomit up the entire contents of his belly within the first 30 minutes of the trip. It’s not all bad though. Our Boy Bailey will not be with us the whole time. We’ll be dropping him off at the in-laws in Richmond. So I will only have to survive two hours with His Wretch-edness.

This trip to SC also features another article of stress…K-Mad. Besides the fact that this trip is primarily due to The Patriarch calling a “family meeting”, we are also using this is our official victory tour for the birth of our daughter. This is her first long trip. The fear of the unknown is causing all sorts of stress. Usually K-Mad loves the car…in a passed out sort of way. Will she love it for 8+ hours. Let’s just hope she doesn’t share Dad’s genes on that issue. At least she's wearing a diaper... If I could get my wife to do that, we' make it down there much faster.

So, tomorrow the Halls of Mental Midgetry will be taking this show on the road. You will not see my words of wisdom for nigh on a week. I’ll need a couple of days on the flip side to decompose…er, decompress. Until then…this post makes four straight days suckas… Bet you didn’t think I still had it in me!

On 50...

2006-03-22T14:08:00.000-05:00

Could it be? Could I really be writing a two-fer today? Are you so lucky as that? Well, most of you can tune out I guess. You see, one thing I am known for both inside and outside the confines of my family is that I am fairly horrible at keeping in touch. The phone and I have a relationship that is stormy at best and depends a lot on my proximity to it at the time it indicates an incoming call. I’m not sure I was even aware that my phone could make outgoing calls at all. And letter writing is so archaic. I cannot be relied upon to affix a stamp on anything (unless you won one of my Ebay items, in which case I promise your item is in the mail).

So it goes that I have to use this blog as my primary form of communication with the outside world…

And the thing that I simply must communicate today is: “Dude Martha, you’re like…old. You turned 50 today. How does that feel?”

Happy Birthday Martha! You are not long for this world, so I just wanted to send along my congrats before I’m placing flowers on your grave…and reminiscing about all those family events…that I missed.

See you this weekend. Try not to blow out a knee...

On Basketball Tournaments...

2006-03-22T13:45:00.000-05:00

I’ve certainly dug myself a hole with my ill advised promises of blog fidelity for the week. I don’t know why I feel like I have to fulfill that particular vow. It’s not like the blog and I stood in front of some clergy type and proclaimed a sort of matrimony. Yet nevertheless, my pappy always told me to make good on my word, so here I be…

I have never had much use for this thing that you call basketball. It’s not because of any height issues either. I stand a respectable six feet vertically and can sometimes actually see over people’s heads. Besides, I love to play volleyball…a sport where height does make some sort of positive difference. My athleticism, while never astounding, did exist as my peewee days of baseball and soccer will attest. I dabbled with tennis and played a mean game of two-hand touch. Sometimes there were even flags... A respectable amount of the wiffle balls I hit did land over the fence, although I was a bit of a line drive specialist.

So I’m not sure what happened between basketball and me, but we just never hit it off. Don’t get me wrong. If you gave me a basketball, it’s not like I have no idea what to do with it. There may be a high percentage chance that I’d never get it to actually go through the hoop, but I would at least get it in the area. There was even a time in college that I ran around the courts making a fool of myself on a daily basis. My two roommates were known to “ball”…they may have even had a certain amount of “game”. I guess I figured it was exercise and why not… Because I’m terrible at it is why…but I was in denial at the time. I guess it’s really about the only experimentation I did in college. I experimented with basketball…and I am ashamed.

I think the real reason I didn’t much care for that kind of activity was because I had no desire to watch pro basketball. To this day the NBA seems to me to be a total waste of time. We do have the Washington Wizards, and I do recognize that much of the total idiocy that plagued that team from the past two decades or more is finally over, I'm not exactly glued to the TV...or the stats line in the paper. No, I am not immune to the feats that Michael Jordan apparently performed on the court, but I can promise you that I may have missed some of his more amazing moments behind the yawn I was currently engaged in.

The only time I’ve ever enjoyed watching basketball was in attending the games at JMU. For the first two years of college, we actually had what passed for a team, and even made it to the NCAA Tournament in 1994. You may have heard of this tournament. It’s going on right now…well, maybe not at this moment, but it will resume again at the end of this week. I’m not sure why I caught the bug then. I guess there is something about being in attendance that always makes you feel more into it. I bet I'd feel the same way about a Monster Truck rally.

For my roommates and many of their group of friends, March Madness was something special. Just like most offices around the country we had our “pools” where we meticulously calculated each and every bracket. One of my roommates who eschewed the finer things, like Shakespeare, even created a replica of the brackets that took up an entire wall. He had a lot of free time. Hotel/Restaurant Management wasn't exactly taxing him. And of course, I was one of the lemmings… I even put down my parents hard earned tuition money on this idiocy.

You may think that I bring this up now because, as stated, the tournament is at hand. Well, sort of… But something even worse has happened. Let me provide some warning beforehand though, for those of you who are members of my family. We are about to talk about Virginia things here. Things that are way out of your comfort zone…if not above your head.

I am, of course, talking about George Mason University making the Sweet 16. How this happened, I’m not sure. I mean, GMU, as all Virginians know, is a commuter school. Of the tens of thousands of people who claim this as their institute of higher education, about a dozen of them have ever lived on campus. I’m not saying they don’t have dorms…I’ve seen actual evidence of them, I’m just saying they aren’t all that…used. I'm just saying, you don't think GMU when you are trying to get the normal college experience. You think commute...and traffic...and parking authorities...

GMU has been whooping my alma mater for the past few years in the unsweet science of basketball. They are in the same Conference, the CAA. For years, the CAA, which I believe is one of the automatic bids for the NCAA Tournament, was synonymous with low seed…and an easy win for the big schools. It's not like the CAA ever really proved otherwise, although JMU did almost take down Florida (a 4 seed) in 1994. That GMU is the team that is giving the CAA cred…that’s incredibley embarassing to me. I mean, they don’t even have a football team. No American school can really be considered accredited unless they have a football team. And one of my good friends is a GMU grad…he’s going to be insufferable now.

The worst thing about this whole fiasco is not simply that it’s GMU's accomplishment. It’s that I’m actually rooting for them…in a basketball tournament. I've done some pretty unforgivable things in my life, but this one goes further than I've ever been. I'm in uncharted waters here...and I'm digging it...

On Phases...

2006-03-21T13:48:00.000-05:00

Remarkably, K-Mad is still alive. I find this to be further evidence that, on occasion, I am capable of some things. Apparently keeping another human breathing for over two months is one of those things. I take satisfaction in this fact, although my wife does share in the accomplishment. I guess technically since she has the feeding instrumentation that I lack, her portion of the glory is somewhat larger than mine. Still, at the very least I haven’t hindered the life process any…and I do…uh, rock a mean rocking chair. I have mad skills in the art of sleep inducement. I wonder if that can be put on a resume? Actually, I wonder if that is a character flaw…

First time parenthood is certainly an interesting experience. It amazes me constantly how much really has changed…and how much really hasn’t. I think what is more amazing is how quickly you tend to learn what to do, even in the midst of being terrified of failure…or at the very least some sort of damage to K-Mad’s frail psyche. When it comes down to it though, you live and learn and try to sift through the mass of information (much of it contradictory) thrown at you constantly.

We’ve also started to recognize the different phases that K-Mad is going through. It’s been a real treat watching each of them. First was the eat, sleep, poo phase of the initial month or so. In this phase, getting the feeding and sleeping schedule down is the prime concern. Of course, there are scientific and soulful discussions about the amount and consistency of poo being produced out of this new, and totally wild animal we’ve created. During this time one notes the changing colors, amount and alternative fuel possibilities of the dirty diaper. There are even congratulations from parent to child on creating particularly righteous amounts of bright orange…excretions. Sometimes charts are kept that identify how many times a day our little bundle of defecation provided desired results…and there is much consternation if poo is not present and accounted for…

You also start to learn the cries of your child. This is particularly frustrating at first. Was that a hungry cry? Is she in pain? Is she dirty or wet? Does she have gas? It’s not like there is some Rosetta Stone of braying babies out there. This takes analysis…something I am infinitely qualified to do if you remember. In the first month, all the cries sound alike to the untrained ear. Thus, a checklist of cry remedies is created. This may be a mental process, but nevertheless, it's real. For example, the baby cries...the parents immediately go into lock down mode. Is she wet...no (check in the box). Okay, is she hungry...no (check in the box)...and on down the line until the crying stops, or the parents give up.

We are currently in a new phase. The crying has become much more identifiable for one. There is a real difference between the “something’s wrong with me you cretins” cry and the “I’m annoyed, bored or cranky” cry. We're a little bit more scheduled on the poo train too. We’re on the two-a-day track now, although when those two come can still be a mystery. Of course, Mom and Dad still don the lab coats to examine just what was produced in this diaper and confer, write technical reports and run test to make sure all is acceptable.

But there is one defining thing about this phase that did not exist before…cooing.

Cooing. This is probably the most insidious part of this phase. Adults, particularly men, are helpless to stop the flood of emotion that comes when your child looks at you with blue eyes that have yet to change and smiles…and then emits some sort of happy noise. It’s unfair really. I mean, I’ve been trying to build up my defenses for when she becomes a teenager. I thought it appropriate to start the process early so I’d be ready. I can’t have my heart melting constantly every time I’m holding K-Mad. Walls have to be made sister, so wipe that smile of your face for goodness sake.

Next thing you know, she’ll be calling me by name. I’m not sure I’m ready for that…

On Regularity...

2006-03-20T10:43:00.000-05:00

I figured I’d let the furor of the On Family Ties…post subside before my next installment of these Odes. I like to think that the point I was trying to make was clearly proven by the insanity the ensued in the comments section. Needless to say, although my allusions to “red clay shores” was a fairly obvious jest about the dominant topography of South Carolina, I was truly delighted to get a lesson on the real soil composition of the state from my aunt. I feel both enlightened and tearfully bored at the same time…

And seriously, what’s with everyone trying to claim that they are the actual black sheep of the family? I have reviewed your petitions for my title, but I find them…lacking. Actually, I find them another failed attempt to be like me. Although, as my Dad pointed out, driving Chevy Impalas cannot make the Patriarch happy. Still, I feel pretty confident in my delinquency…

And with that, I move on…

I’ve really been slipping here lately. I want you to know that I have actually been unfaithful to you…although I wouldn’t necessary call it infidelity. I’ve just found other things to do with my time rather than to post Odes lately. For that I apologize. So here is the deal. I know that I’m in the virtual doghouse with you. I endeavor to become the man that you always hoped I’d be…a daily Ode writer. So for the rest of this week, you can expect my missives to be…regular…bran muffin regular if you get my meaning…

You should know that I will be out of town this Friday. Leave it to me to start cheating on the rules I made already. It cannot be helped. I have a date with my extended family this weekend in SC. Needless to say, I’m bringing all my wits with me…and it will be on.

On Family Ties...

2006-03-10T11:09:00.000-05:00

If my emails are to be believed, some of you…particularly those of you who are my aunts…have gone into a weird kind of withdrawal from my lack of consistent posting on this blog. My mother has jumped on this bandwagon of…nagging, which I now call the NagWagon, and told me last night that I “really should be updating more”. Right…I’ll keep that under advisement. Seriously woman, I provided you with a grandchild. I thought that guaranteed me a guilt free existence from here on out…

I know why this is happening though. It’s been happening my whole life, and I’ve gotten used to it. It’s not surprising that it finally invaded my internet life either. I’m only surprised it took this long. So forgive me… I’m about to make it awkward here for you. I’m bringing you into the family feud that has existed since the beginning of creation...my creation. I’m going to force you to take a side. I’m going to force you to take my side.

You see, in my family, I’ m the Black Sheep…

I’m that cousin…

There are certain rules that apparently came along with being born into my family. The first has to do with geographic loyalty. Despite where you are born…or even where you currently live, you are expected to pay homage to South Carolina has the finest state of the union. You are also supposed to pine away for the day you will return to it’s red clay shores. Unless you are an atheist, it can be generally assumed that at the end of your life, you’d like to end up in Heaven…or at least a place that allows for guilt free dining at Taco Bell. I firmly believe that my family would tell you that heaven will be great, it just won’t be no South Carolina.

I’m a Virginian…

You see the problem now…

Further exacerbating my familial non-compliance, I did not graduate from The Citadel. There is an understanding among the males of my family that extends to those cousins who do not share my last name. Basically, if you have the blood of Beeley Jr. in you, there is only one acceptable establishment of higher education. My grandfather, father, one of my uncles, and two of my three male cousins have all graduated (or in the case of one, hoping to graduate) from said institution. I grew up on The Citadel like Catholics grow up on Notre Dame. I had a “provisional appointment” to the Citadel hanging on my bedroom wall…since birth. If The Citadel were a lonely country street light, my family would be the moths mysteriously attracted to it. I ain't no moth...

I went to James Madison University…

In Virginia…

The picture may be getting clearer for you…

Now, I’m not trying to get you to believe that my family harbors any ill will towards me. In fact, they get great pleasure in reminding me of my…shortcomings. Let me tell you how the next family gathering is going to play out. My grandfather will tell me that I can “still get an education at The Citadel” if I’m so inclined. My aunt will remind me that her son is currently there. My other cousin will remind me that not only did I not go to The Citadel, and that I do not live in South Carolina…but that I did not produce the first great grandchild either.

The honest truth of the matter is though, that they are enamored with me. How could they not be? I am, in point of fact, dead sexy…in a love handle kind of way. I represent something totally foreign to them. Mystery. I don’t think they know what I’ll do next. I have them totally of guard…and it makes me giggle. Maybe I'll move out west...or overseas. Maybe I'll cheer for Furman...okay, that's a little too much even for me. I think that’s why they flock to this blog seeking some sort of entrée into my mind. They want to know exactly how a brain produced by the Beeley line went so totally in the opposite direction.

Okay, maybe not in the totally opposite direction. I still refuse to live above the Mason-Dixon line for crying out loud. I do have limits to my rebellion after all.

On Inoculations....

2006-03-03T15:43:00.000-05:00

Have I really neglected my bloggish duties for over two full weeks? Did I really leave up a post about my obsession with a video game as my last public offering? I am truly ashamed of myself… Okay, I’m really not, but I figured I offer you some note of contrition…even if it is clearly forged. I will lay the blame squarely on my job though. I remember, vaguely, a conversation we had about my job being feast or famine. Let’s just say I’ve been eating well lately. Let’s also just say that I’d appreciate a little forewarning from my bosses when they are expecting me to actually produce. And while we are saying so much, let’s all agree that Stacy Keibler was totally shafted in Dancing With The Stars.

I feel like there is so much to say to you. I hope I’m not being awkward, but I’ve actually missed you these past few days. Not to the level that I miss the A-Team, but you are way ahead of Jimmy Carter’s presidency if you must know. Okay, so I was barely alive during Carter’s reign…but I’ve heard…things. I just don’t want you to think that I’m apathetic to our burgeoning electro-literary relationship…At least not more apathetic that usual.

So it took a particularly jarring emotional incident to remind me that I actually do have a venue to vent my parenting…angst. Today, as many of you will note, is K-Mad’s two month birthday. The fact that she has made it two months under my jurisdiction is an accomplishment worthy of accolades…and a pay raise I’m thinking…or maybe just a big screen TV? Don’t just do it for me, Kaleigh needs to watch Baby Einstein videos on the largest screen possible…so it permeates. I think she would like a kickin’ surround sound system too…for those sing-alongs…it makes her feel like she’s part of a group…

But I digress…

We here in the Unites States celebrate two months of life on earth by stabbing our infants with sharp objects in the name of inoculation. I’m not sure when it is that my heart is supposed to harden. In fact, I think that I’m on medication that prevents that sort of thing. It would have been nice if someone gave me a little more time to not care when my daughter is in pain before jabbing needles into her though. Like, when I’m 80…and comatose would have been preferable.

I knew today would be rough. Two of my friends had warned me. One told me to be a man and stay in the room. I thought that was a ridiculous statement until I got there. The other wisely stated to not be the one holding her as she got stuck so she didn’t associate me with pain. I figured if the nurse was going to stick her, she could hold her too.

So I’m wondering why I found myself having to hold her arms down as the nurse pinned her legs. K-Mad knew something was amiss, but barely had time to register her displeasure before the real fun began. Let’s just say that I have never heard her do that…sound before. She looked at me as if to say “You wait until I’m 13”. I looked at the nurse as if to say “I’m giving her to you when she turns 13”. I also looked to my wife for some sort of emotional support. She was near tears though and looking at me as if to say “Now she’ll hate you when she’s 13”. Seriously, she’s the female in the relationship, she’s supposed to be the strong one.

All in all we survived. K-Mad held me accountable for her pain for all of 1 minute after her shots. Then she fell asleep. I mean, all that sound and fury and she didn’t even remember it 2 minutes later. Must be nice to have such a short-term memory. I’ve been thinking about it all day…

On Crack...

2006-02-16T15:05:00.000-05:00

Today, for your assured derisive pleasure, I present you with another edition of “Beeley’s Idiotic Social Disorders”. I will once again produce for you, my jury of…peers, evidence of inanity for you to judge me according to your tribe’s standards and customs. Just a note, last week you used too much tar and not enough feathers. You have to cover the whole body or otherwise it just looks like you don’t have your heart in it. And I’m supposed to be barefoot when you make me walk over hot coals. Amateurs.

Last Thursday saw me admitting my addiction to a particularly odious form of optical assault, “Dancing With the Stars”. Not to beat this dead horse or anything, but it did take me almost a full week to deal with the fact that George Hamilton got the boot. I did manage to cope though, especially since my wife told me that she only had time to console one crying family member, and was not that person. K-Mad and I are developing quite the rivalry.

This week I dive back into my Hopeless Addictions and General Chicanery file to bring you another juicy tidbit of embarrassing information. This is a post in serious need of a disclaimer though. So, if you are a jock, a prep, someone who steals or once stole lunch money, a redneck, a cheerleader, prom queen or any kind of leader of snobby females…this post is not for you. You may feel yourself desiring to do some sort of physical harm to someone, say like giving them a wedgey. Or you may be looking around in desperation for a toilet to dunk someone’s head in.

In other words, the rest of this post will be ripe with “the geek”. You’ve been warned.

I play online games. I am a gamer. I would not call myself hardcore. I do occasionally come up for air, make sure my marriage is intact, confirm that an actual sun exists and even sleep. Nevertheless, the glow of the computer monitor produces an energy…maybe even an essence that I am drawn too. Like every good gamer…well, of my generation, the hook was put in at a young age with the Atari. The Atari was my marijuana…a stepping stone to other more powerful and illicit mind altering devices. Nintendo. Sega. Ah, the hours of waking life I gave to NHL ’95. I’m not proud to say it, but I even dabbled in the Playstation before I recognized the depth of my depravity.

It wasn’t until a “friend” of mine (I’ll give him the pseudonym Jimmy Larkin to protect his actual identity) introduced me to desktop computer games that I was a complete lost cause. It started with old Apple computer games like Ancient Art of War at Sea. That was also the last time Apple produced any machine worth playing games on… Then came college, a naturally experimental time in a young man’s life. Away from my parents, Jimmy pushed Command and Conquer on me…my first PC gaming experience. It only took one hit…and now I can’t get clean. It’s in me…it’s in me always.

I’d still call myself more of a casual user. I may not be able to exactly stop when I want to, but at least it doesn’t affect my work. I can still play this game called “normal life”. I look respectable on the street. I can hold a conversation about acceptable things like investments, Vice Presidential firearms and formula vs. breast milk. Yet I know… I know that helplessness I harbor inside. PC games were good enough for a while. They produced a high that I could live off of for a few years. But it wore off…

I needed that next fix and it came in the form of online gaming. Online gaming allowed for competing against other people…other presumably human people across the digital nothingness of the internet. It started with first person shooters. Games where you go around “fragging” other players through the first person eye of your “character”. It’s like virtual laser tag…except without the threat of exercise.

I had a line though. One of those places I would never go. One of those places that I saw from the outside, saw the faces of the truly hopeless souls glued to a virtual reality called Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Games (MMORPGs). This insidious tool of the devil (and I’m not exaggerating, there are people who would argue this) creates entire worlds were people build online lives doing…stuff…with seemingly no end game. I mean, there may be an actual end to the goals created by the game, but after you complete those you still can…mill about.

Take The Sims. This is a game where you create a life…a character that essentially does all the totally mundane things you actually do in real life. I’m not kidding…down to washing your friggin’ clothes or making the bed. That’s a game? Then there are the fantasy worlds of almost every stripe. The Matrix Online. City of Heroes. City of Villians. Ultima Online. Dark Age of Camelot. Star Wars Galaxies. World of Warcraft.

Ah yes, World of Warcraft. This was the one I knew could cause trouble. It wasn’t long before it’s true moniker of Warcrack came out. I saw friend after friend go down that path never to return. Not me though. I would stay strong, keep up my ability to stay casual…stay functional. I stayed with in my first person realm of Battlefield 2 defeating terrorist organizations with the forces of good. I would not succumb to that life sucking force.

And then came Jimmy again. And Dan…and Mike. Guys I grew up with. I should have known better. I had tried to stay away from this crew. In High School these guys forced me to do awful things. Things that involved trees and toliet paper. I will admit, they were works of art, but I'm not sure the owners sanctioned most of those...collections. You can never quit them though. They drag you back in. Before long I was in some dark isle searching for Warcrack and downloading it to my hard drive.

The one complaint I had with these MMORPGs was that while you could run around doing things like fighting enemies or creatures, there was a large group of people that didn’t do anything but “farm”. It some games, that was literal. You’d farm crops. Or bake food. Or some other such nonsense.

Which is of course why I find myself going around mining ore in World of Warcraft. That's right... I'm mining virtual ore for virtual money in a virtual economy. I knew this crap would happen. I knew I’d spend mindless hours doing nothing important and yet, I’m not going to stop. Oh no. I’ve got armor to make…you know, for my fake warrior in my fake world. I’ve got to level up, so I can get the new weapons and go to the new territory without getting my Troll (yes, I’m a troll) butt handed to me.

In other words, I’m a complete loser….and I’m loving it.

On Commitment...

2006-02-14T15:51:00.000-05:00

Ah, Valentine’s Day. I’ve started, deleted and restarted this post a dozen times this morning. Thankfully, it’s a slow morning… I first started out my blogging on this subject with cynicism and sarcasm for what is, essentially, a holiday revolving around card and flower companies. I know you'll be shocked that I was thinking about being sarcastic... Then I was going to go the route of humor that detailed the best and worst of my gift giving on this “holiday”. I decided that those stories are best left...within the sanctity of my marriage...

Nothing seemed to flow, so I just ditched it. Why do I even need to produce a V-Day post anyway? It’s not like you come here for advice on love and relationships. If you do, seriously…stop. And seek psychiatric help…

Later I was reading a blog entry from the Pastor at the church my wife and I attend. He had an entry regarding “commitment” where he was basically lamenting the skewed priorities we have in life. For example, being more committed to our hobbies and leisure than to relationships with one another. Basically, and especially in the highly driven DC area, we have no problem with commitment…to things we deem important. Those “things” we commit ourselves to are the problem though. Much of his message had to do with other “things” being more important than our faith, which you’d expect a pastor to say. But one thing he did say that really caught my eye was “…people are committed to work, but not wedlock…”

That gave me pause…and my blog entry for today. Now, just about anyone who knows me well will laugh along with me at the thought of being committed to work. I mean, I’d have to actually experience this thing you call work to be committed to it… Don’t get me wrong; I try to produce a fine product when it finally finds its way across my desk. I do “know my stuff” in the particular field I’m in. I’ve had some accolades thrown my way. My bosses are more than satisfied with me as far as my performance evaluations state. But committed to Air Force budgeting…please.

Frankly, one of the things I respect the least about myself is that I don’t commit to much of anything. I played all sorts of sports growing up, but I never practiced or thought much about them outside of the season. I certainly didn’t try and make myself some sort of standout. I showed a lot of aptitude for music when I was in the band…but the thought of committing to anything regarding music was laughable and terrifying. I did okay with high school grades, but college was an exercise in mediocrity, mostly because I didn’t care…something I am paying for now.

In other words, when I look back at my life…or even where I am now, there are a lot of things I know I could have been better at if I had been committed to being so…

But one thing that I’ve done right…the one thing that I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m excellent at…is showing my wife how much I love her through my absolute and non-negotiable commitment to our marriage. Actually, I did two things right. I married a woman that feels the same way about our marriage. Simply put, infidelity or even just growing apart until we split due to ‘irreconcilable differences” is just not an option. Heck, I got married under the pretense that we had unreconcilable differences. I thought it added flava' to the marriage.

I’m not some sort of saint. I’m not going to try and sell you on the idea that I’m somehow hardwired for fidelity. Any honest male will tell you that we don’t suddenly become blind to other females that surround us on a daily basis. Commitment implies a conscious decision, and that is very much what it is. I’ve decided that the grass is not greener on the other side. Frankly, I consider myself to be standing in a freaking field of lush greenness. Seriously, someone needs to call a freaking lawn service over here.

On Knocking Down Pedestals...

2006-02-13T15:18:00.001-05:00

This is a sad day here at the Halls of Mental Midgetry. I am not totally unlike you. I have not become so cynical and jaded that I won’t admit to having people, beliefs or ideas that make up the foundation of my very being. I will not pretend that when those beliefs come into question that it doesn’t affect me at all, that I become some sort of stoic. I can be wounded…especially when one of my icons, my pillars, is revealed to be imperfect.

You’ll remember that my first experience with this was finding out my own mother, someone whom I had revered, was found to be a reality TV…purveyor. You'll also remember the devestation that wrought upon my world. Her betrayal will not soon be forgotten…I mean, after I find out who wins Dancing With The Stars…

Now comes truly horrific news. As you are no doubt aware by now, I tend to count Netflix as one of my inner posse. I confide my hopes and dreams in it, laugh at its jokes, cry at its pain…basically we spend a lot of time together. I can’t help it. I’m hooked. I believe I was born this way. While the other little boys were noticing other things, I was pining away for a mail delivery system for movies. I mean, is that so wrong? My passion for Netflix was preordained…

The Washington Post, an organization which has confirmed links to hell, apparently did not see fit to let my utopian beliefs on Netflix last. An article appeared in today’s Post that took Netflix to task about a practice that is being called “throttling”. Apparently, this concept affects those who rent the most movies from Netflix every month, and not in a good way. The average Netflix user rents 2-11 movies per month, but there are those of us who try and get in as many movies as possible. This maximizes the already great deal we are getting for $17.99 a month. The allegation is, Netflix doesn’t make as much profit from those of us who are passionate for the love they are selling, so they cater to those who rent lesser amounts. I could not believe what the Post was selling, so I had to do a little research on my own. I went to the Netflix’s Terms of Use and this is what I found:

"In determining priority for shipping and inventory allocation, we give priority to those members who receive the fewest DVDs through our service. As a result, those subscribers who receive the most movies may experience that (i) the shipment of their next available DVD occurs at least one business day following return of their previously viewed movie, (ii) delivery takes longer, as the shipments may not be processed from their local distribution center and (iii) they receive movies lower in their queue more often than our other subscribers."

Come again. You mean there is truth to this. I feel so…blind. I have about 15 movies at the top of my queue in some sort of waiting period. I thought this was a sure sign that Netflix had just become so popular that wait times had increased. Once things stabilized, those waits would go down and things would return to normal. The truth is, I'm being punished for loving them too much. Netflix is intentionally sending newer movies to lesser customers to keep them happy. They know I’m addicted. The know I’m easy. They know they are not profiting as much by my patronage.

Even worse, judging from the Post’s article, there are other people out there like me. That’s disturbing in itself…

I can understand why Netflix has this policy. You always want to cater to your newer customers, which in this case means giving them first dibs on the just released movies. I can wait to see the newer stuff. My queue currently has 480+ movies on it, it’s not like I don’t have something else to watch. But deliberately “throttling” back my pace of movie consumption seems to go against what Netflix was supposed to be selling. I can see not sending me The Wedding Crashers upon release, but why delay my copy of Tootsie…is that movie really that in demand? Listen, there are just some of us who have no lives, or more directly, some of us are currently trapped in the house with a newborn…give us a break.

I’m still a Netflix shill, the company, and the deal is still way to good compared to anyone else. Plus, in all truth, I haven't really been inconvenienced by this policy. It's just the thought of it that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The bloom is off the rose.

On Addictions...

2006-02-09T13:36:00.000-05:00

Can you deal with a bit of honesty on a Thursday afternoon? If you are like me, I usually reserve this portion of my week for out and out lies, but I’m willing to make a sacrifice for this post if you are. I warn you though, this particular bit of honesty may make you uncomfortable. It deals with a bad habit I’ve recently acquired, and I’m not sure if you have the maturity level to handle what I’m about to tell you. I don’t want you to giggle uncontrollably like you did during sex education class in the 6th grade. I’m exposing myself here, and I’d appreciate some adult behavior. So here goes nothing…

I’m addicted to Dancing With the Stars…and I’m not sorry.

I know exactly when it happened too. I experimented at a vulnerable time in my life, leaving myself with little defense. To make matters worse, the person who introduced me to this vice was my own mother. We had invited her to stay with us for a week to help out with a newly born K-Mad (I’ve changed her name once again). I meant to speak to her about her TV habits and to not bring those with her, especially the addiction to poor reality shows. But I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time, and in the door she came. Sure, she was supposedly excited to see K-Mad, but I know her plans were far more sinister than that…

And then Thursday came. She worked on my wife first by emphasizing the dancing angle. We’ve been through this I believe. You are aware of my wife’s affection for that dark art. Once the term “ballroom” was used, well, my wife was turned with nary a struggle. I don’t know what it is with women, but ballrooms must take them back to their girlhood dreams of princes, puffy dresses and debutante balls. It must have something to do with Cinderella…that hussy.

I was being a nice guy that night too. I relinquished the TV controller so that they could watch what they wanted. It was only fair since the two of them had been fighting the good fight with K-Mad the whole day. You know how tough it was back in the days that K-Mad basically slept the entire time. Thank goodness we had two of them…

…I’m getting snarky. Sorry, but I’m a little stressed out since I’m revealing this to you. My man card is in serious duress. I mean, even though I was basically set up by the two most important women in my life (those hussies!), it’s really my own fault. I was hooked from the first twirl…hey, at least I’m still manly enough to no know what those “twirls” are technically called. Okay, okay, they’re called botafogos…happy? This is so embarrassing. Originally it was like watching a car wreck, I just couldn’t pull my eyes away. I can’t help it, I like car wrecks…. (Oh stop judging, you know it’s the only reason people watch NASCAR as well as I do).

And then I saw him. Jerry Rice. Jerry Friggin’ Rice. He, like, catches footballs and stuff…lots of footballs. And he’s out there doing some foxtrot…thing. So I kept watching. It was mesmerizing. Those movements. People don’t do that kind of moving. I didn’t know humans were even capable of that kind of body movement. Seriously, a few weeks later, after my addiction had…seeped in…I got up and did a spontaneous imitation of the Samba…and I pulled something (*pssst* something=groin). My wife was very impressed. I decided to go walk the dog at that moment…

Oh come on. Go ahead and sit there in smug satisfaction. Every guy has his weakness. It’s not exactly like watching those female dancers…and those outfits…is an affront to my masculinity. Seriously, just because I don’t like to personally dance, doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s pretty amazing what these folks are doing out there. It's art afterall. Perhaps I'm just more well adjusted than you...pigs.

…and it’s not like I’m watching another season of Survivor. I mean, seriously. Hello, standards...

On Friends and Netflix...

2006-02-07T14:35:00.000-05:00

We all know that there are probably 653 great things about Netflix, but the one that I harbor some of my most gushy feelings for has got to be the Netflix friends concept. This concept allows you to see what your friends are renting and how they rated those movies upon their return. Ostensably, these ratings help each other pick movies that might appeal to them, especially if you know your tastes are in line with your friends. Or, they also create witty banter between friends who totally disagree with each other's assessment. Seriously, who can resist witty banter?

My "friends" can, apparently. I'm not sure if it's just that you feel like you'll wither under the torrent of my derision for your movie choices, but seriously, rate your frickin' movies! Some of us (ahem...me) really are interested in your opinion. I don't often say this, but daresay that I even value it? There, see, now you got me to go and get all mooshy....

On Parenting (Part I)...

2006-02-07T13:41:00.000-05:00

I’m taking a break from my usual wacky blog hijinks to bring you this first installment into what will likely become my masterwork…a primer on parenting. As you no doubt have realized by now, I am already some sort of expert on this subject, although I am waiting on some university…hopefully one with the words “Ivy” and “League” associated with it…to give me an honorary doctorate. Actually, let’s be honest, I really just want one of those robes…the ones with stripes on the sleeves that denote “smart”.

I may be overstating my case a smidge. Smidge does mean “miles from the truth” right? The fact of the matter is that once the dust settled and we realized we were not actually just babysitting for someone else…unless “they” are just eating one long dinner…we have no clue what to do next. Well, atleast not beyond the basics of feed, clean and put to sleep. We had a OB/GYN appointment a couple of weeks ago were I told the doctor that he had failed to extract the owners manual from my wife’s innards and asked if it would be possible to go back and retrieve that. My fear is that it got misplaced behind the liver. He didn’t appear to even know what I was talking about. That’s got be some sort of malpractice.

So, in absence of that manual, I suggested to my wife that we move on to Plan B. Plan B involved giving the child to her grandparents…those same people we raised me. I figure they know something about how to raise children. Look how well I turned out………I didn’t say look hard. Just take a glance actually, there’s no need to take out the microscope. I mean, these people are clean, upstanding citizens and firmly reside in the middle-class. They are suburbanites for goodness sake. That's like heaven, right? She’d have a good life so long as she could sleep through my Dad’s chainsaw snoring. I told my wife of these this plan and she asked “What is your Plan C”? Hey, I thought she liked her in-laws. Holiday’s are going to be so awkward from now on…

Plan C is obviously to send her to a convent. Those nuns are no joke. They have rulers, and they smack. They are fully clothed, they don’t smoke or drink, and they can speak Latin. I think some of them are even Latin. She could learn to speak a dead language. How cool is that? Okay, so we are not Catholic, and yeah, there’s that whole Pope and Purgatory thing that us Protestants aren’t theologically enamored with, but I’ll take a few quibbles for some future guarantees of teenage chastity.

I was quickly told that I might want to come up with a Plan D, one which might involve our raising the child. I’m not sure that is possible though. There has to be some sort of law against giving me parental responsibility. I mean, how the heck am I supposed to be a father. I don’t think I’m a bad guy. I do have some responsibility. I change my oil every 3000…well, 5000 miles. On occasion I can color coordinate. I’ve never been in trouble with the law…mostly because they never caught me TPing people’s houses in high school. Still, it's not like I eat my veggies or anything...

You might be saying that it’s too late for me to be thinking of this now. I mean, that train has sailed. It’s only that back in the day when this was all theory, well, I made one heck of a father. You should have seen the things I could do. I knew multiple languages. We lived in a house with an actual yard. My bank account overflowethed. Heck, I even taught Kaleigh how to throw a curve ball…which she went on to do as the first female pitcher in the Major Leagues, striking out some dude in the bottom of the 9th to win the World Series.

Well, reality set in. And the reality is that I don’t have a clue. And I don't even know how to throw a curve ball…

On Banshees...

2006-02-02T14:02:00.000-05:00

I can’t believe I got through the entire post below without once mentioning parenthood in general, or Kaleigh Madison (for now on known by her rapper name – K.M.) specifically. I had planned on rolling out an email detailing her exploits in the world of sleep over the past week. I know her sleep patterns were on your mind lately since last weeks message identified her nighttime rebellion.

Last Friday night, Dad (that would be me, scary as it may seem) decided to give Mom a break for the weekend. She had fought a hard good fight the whole week, and it was time to bring in the reserves. Armed with my steely determination, Baby Wise manual and fresh pumped breast milk, I sent the woman off to bed and started to plan my strategy for baby domination. She eyed me warily from over the top of her Pack N Play, and I regarded her with my best Clint Eastwood spaghetti western scowl while on the couch. It was a Mexican stand-off…well, without the required third person…or the Ennio Marricone whistling soundtrack in the background.

The first step, as any good role-playing geek knows, is to roll initiative. She clearly took the roll and started in with her “Banshee Wail of Eternity”. I made my saving throw, and was unaffected by her attack, despite the quivering lip. I quickly pulled out my “Bottle of Warm Mother’s Milk” and went to work. The affects were almost immediate. I had defeated her, if only for a time. The real worry was what would happen once my ammunition was spent. Round 1 was mine.

I failed my initiative roll again at the beginning of round 2. She tried for the “Whimper of Three Hours” tact. I didn’t budge. I held my ground and quickly pulled out my “Straight Jacket Swaddle of Permanence”. Before she knew it she was wrapped up like a mental patient, and my second weapon “Rock N Move, Rock N Move” was descending on her. She was unable to resist the barrage and her eyes grew heavy.

It wasn’t fair really. She didn’t have a chance. She’s basically powerless to stop the charms of Dad. As she slept into her milk coma I gently returned her to the Pack N Play. I’ll admit, due to her previous antics I was not buying what I thought was her psuedo-sleep tactics. I returned to the couch to settle in, ready to spring to action should she emerge again. I checked the clock…12:30a.m.

…to my surprise, we both woke up around 5:00a.m. I had done it! Four and a half ours of blissful sleep has been accomplished by me…Dad. I took the now whimpering and hungry baby up to Mom careful not to look smug. I think I did a good job too. I handed her the baby, said that I thought she might be hungry and quickly left the room. Honestly, all I said to her about the whole evening was “Igothertosleepforfourandahalfhoursanddidn’thavetodealwithhoursofcryingnannernanner.” I don’t like to brag you see.

I was ready to collect my father of the year award. In the following four nights, K.M. put together 4-5 hours each night. I started to clear a place on the mantle for my trophy. I wondered if they could really fit the words “Best Dad Ever” on the side of the shiny gold cup. I mean, big enough for everyone to see. My wife, well, she was less than supportive. Said something about “big head” and “you wait”.

Women are so transparent in their jealousy. I can’t help it that I have the touch…

Until last night that is… I don’t know what happened, but at about 10:00p.m., K.M. attacked in force. There was no time to prepare. I’m not sure what you call her method of attack, but she cried louder and harder than I had ever heard. I seriously thought that I had broke her. I was checking limbs to see if I sprained, or worse, broke something. It wasn’t pain though friends…it was revenge. She did the old sleep and wail, sleep and wail routine we all know and love so well.

Faced with that kind of attack, one that I was powerless to stop, I did what any self respecting father would do… I handed her off to Mom and ran for the hills!

On How DVD Killed the TV Star...

2006-02-02T12:57:00.000-05:00

I know my delinquency has reached new lows of late. I should justify this as stating that my normal operating procedure is one of delinquency, or maybe a just delayed production. In other words, the first month and a half of my blogging was a massive over-achievement for me. So I’m going to make it up to you… since I know my words have become a life-blood to you…okay, maybe they’ve just become an interesting character study into my life. Whatever. The point is, I’m going to write two posts today. Try not to faint (I’m talking to myself here and not to you…but if you could also refrain from fainting that would be cool).

Finding something that both my wife and I agree we really like to watch on TV or Netflix is not an easy thing to do. That is one of the pleasures of marriage I’m told. I think I might have once expounded on the household remote wars that have been waged. To summarize that post, they were bloody. In addition, my wife knows my username and password on the Netflix account, but she rarely throws around her influence over the queue. That could be because I’ve filled the queue beyond capacity so there is no more room for her stuff. A clever defense, that. However, I have agreed to put “good Netflix steward” down as one of my husbandly duties.

That puts some pressure on me. Despite what you may think, I don’t really have much experience thinking like a woman. I also don't have mcuh experience thinking, but that's a blog for a different day... Even though my wife and I have known each other for over a decade, I still don’t know for sure what she likes to watch. I mean, romantic comedies exist for the X chromosome don’t they? They should be a sure thing. Apparently not. I have found out, to my great dismay, that many of these movies get a “lame” or even “this is dumb” from the peanut gallery I apparently married. Well excuse me Ebert, I’ll try better next time.

There have been successes however. Just about anything with Colin Firth is a go thanks to his BBC portrayal of Mr. Darcy in Pride & Prejudice. Even if the movie stinks, I get a little credit for the try. There have been some odd successes too, Firefly and the movie follow-up Serenity being the major ones. Scifi does not usually go over well, although comic book hero movies do. Do you see what I’m saying…the woman is schitzo… I’m also finding anything that might fit the description of thriller or mystery works, although not universally.

To date, the one sure thing has been TV series that have been released to DVD. Recently, it seems that there really isn’t any show, past or present, good or bad, that hasn’t made its way onto those shiny discs. This is a good thing because neither my wife nor I really watch a lot of real time TV shows. I guess our lives are just busy or that we are actually that popular. I do know that Lost, 24, Alias and Firefly saved our marriage. Okay, maybe love and undying commitment had a little to do with it…

Except now I think I might be becoming unfaithful. I mean, I’m starting to not like viewing TV shows on DVD. Sure, there are major plusses to watching them via that media. The prime example is no commercials. The obvious breaks in the story still exist, but I don’t feel like my train of thought is being violently molested to buy some detergent that washes out dirt, grease and…blood. (As an aside, I’m thinking that anything that bled on me that much, or worse, if I bled on me that much…well, that’s not likely to be my favorite shirt anymore. It’s time to invest in some new threads). Another plus is you can watch multiple episodes at once and not have to wait another week…or you can devour the entire season in mere days rather than tuning in next week….

…but is that a plus? Take Scrubs. I find that comedy to be one of the funniest on television currently. I’ve only got through Season 2, but still, it has not worn out its welcome with me. One of my favorite characters is Dr. Cox the grouchy, sarcasm spewing, angry doctor that eats residents for breakfast. The problem is, a little Dr. Cox goes a long way. He’s funny in a couple of episodes, but by the third one in a row, it’s old. That character was meant to be seen once a week, but not for 2 hours at a time. If I allow myself to watch too much at one sitting, I’m afraid it would spoil it for me…

Which brings me to my real point. As stated previously, my wife and I have shows we like to watch together. That is starting to unravel though. Firefly was short lived. It’s dead, probably on the big screen too. Lost Season 2 won’t hit DVD for ages. Alias, decided to start sucking in Season 3, and Season 4 sealed it. So 24 was our last defense. Jack Bauer can save the country repeatedly in one day, he could definitely save our TV marriage, right?

Afraid not. DVD has spoiled 24 for me too. The problem is that my wife and I cannot keep ourselves from binging on multiple episodes at a time. We can't help it, we get nervous for poor Jack. A show like 24 really suffers from this inability for self-control. Taken in multiple hour installments at a time, the show becomes way too spastic, with Jack and crew going from one crisis to another. Taken in weekly doses it might be far more palatable. I also think a weekly dose masks how totally implausible most of these crises are. Furthermore, you can really see how formulaic each episode becomes when you see them back to back. That is not saying there are not major surprises from time to time, but you can rest assured that until hour 24 hits, Jack is going to go through a series of near misses, some major successes which only serve to thrust them into another impossible situation, and finally a major character development before the day gets saved.

Now, we are currently Tivo-ing Season 5 of 24. We have watched the first 5 episodes of it, and I will admit to being mildly amused once again. We are nearly caught up to the real time show, so it remains to be seen if watching it weekly will make a difference.

I certainly hope so, or it’s back to the drawing board once again…

On Cabin Fever...

2006-01-27T12:58:00.000-05:00

This full disclosure…thing I’m doing here is getting a little uncomfortable. I’m starting to realize that I don’t really advertise myself in the best of light. I’m not saying I eat puppies or anything, although I have heard from my sources that dog is a good meal. I’m just saying that it must amaze some folks that anyone, particularly my someone, would be interesting in a lifelong commitment to me. Much less procreation of any sort, which I’d like to point out once again did happen. Whatever. I have idiosyncrasies, big deal. It’s not like I’m pining away to be you. I know about your life, and besides, your shoulders are hairy.

You might as well know though, that I consider myself a master homebody. That is, I’ve got some aptitude for not liking to go out much. That’s not to say I never go out. In fact, I believe that bowling alleys hold an allure that I’m basically powerless to stop. One look at my pre-Kaleigh credit card will tell you that I’m not exactly allergic to restaurants either. But with a 3 hour round trip commute each day from work, plus a second job at an undisclosed “trend” store that may start with a P and end in ottery Barn, I certainly don’t hate getting home and kicking back.

My wife is a “doer” in her own terminology. While I knew of her Christmas tree habits before hand, I don’t think I realized that she also came from a tribe of doers. During and after college, one of the things she particularly liked to “do” was dance. Now, it may come as no surprise, but I don’t like the night life…I don’t like to boogie. I can “get down” if I have to. Some may say that my coordinated mating dance was what attracted her in the first place. It may also have been the plumage…get your mind out of the gutter…I meant my clothing style. However, some of our more epic disagreements have revolved around her wanting to go out and me wanting to…die.

I remember distinctly leering in smug satisfaction as the pediatrician told my wife and I to not take Kaleigh out in public for a couple of months. I had won a victory. The woman would have to admit defeat for two blissful months. And it was medical too…that’s some kind of science I think. You can’t question science. I could virtually see movies flying of the Netflix queue at record…no, Olympic record pace. And I had a new ally with Tivo. It was like a double barrel blast of time wasting goodness.

I was wrong. So very, very wrong. Not that I think it is some kind of mental illness, but if you want the cure to homebody…uh, ness, then I suggest you get yourself one of these infant things. Suddenly your utopia of docility becomes something all together ugly…something that I had not had much experience with…Cabin Fever. While not technically a true fever, I think I’d rather have something physically wrong…just so long as I can leave the house!

As bad as it is for me, I atleast get to go to work. That’s supposed to be some sort of freakin’ consolation I guess. My wife however...let’s just say when I return home, her eyes…well, they are wild. Hair isn’t pulled out…yet, but it certainly is disheveled. I’m serious too. I, being the model husband, told my wife to get out the house one evening this week. So she did. She called to tell me she was just driving around…I won’t claim it was driving aimlessly…but she didn’t have a destination. If you just drive around in Northern Virginia to relax…you’ve got Cabin Fever…chronically.

So you can imagine that I am pining away for the day of ballet, soccer practice and brownie/girl scouts (and not just for the cookies). You can also not be surprised when we show up on your doorstep…

On Tree Philanthropy...

2006-01-24T10:30:00.000-05:00

I know the season is beyond us now, but I can never resist the temptation to get one final parting shot in to prove how right I am on an issue. In this case, I’m not only right, but possibly one of the saviors of mankind. It seems there is another reason that you fake Christmas tree…people…are to be condemned. CNN ran an article yesterday that identifies why real Christmas trees are not only superior, but moral as well. Huh. I wonder what your plastic needles and pinecones are good for? Do let me know when you get the chance.

This avian flu thing really isn’t a joke, and I don’t mean to make it out as one in my otherwise ridiculous blog space. I did find it interesting though what can possibly be done with discarded trees. I guess mulch isn’t all they are good for after all.

On Ultimatums...

2006-01-23T13:06:00.000-05:00

When exactly is the time that you start, you know, training your child to not be that girl? I am speaking of the hellaciousness that was our past night. I shall remember it eternally as the night she would not do that thing that all of us generally do…sleep. In other words, it was The Night Of No Sleep. Or maybe: The Night Of Anti-Sleep. Seriously, there was a vortex in my bedroom last night and it was consuming my ability to snooze…

…are you getting the point? Do you understand that I am posting with very few of my witty faculties about me? Are you impressed that I, at one point, had a faculty? Someday I hope to have a staff. Someone to write these dialogues we have going between us…that is, you and I…so that I can nap.

To this end, I write an open letter to one Kaleigh Madison:

“Kaleigh,

We, your parents (I will speak for my wife in this case) have concluded that your antics on the night of 22 Jan and the following morning of 23 Jan were unacceptable and highly inconsistent with our family’s stated position on sleeping. Frankly, missy, when I rock you for 30 minutes at 2:00a.m, and you close your eyes to sleep, I expect that you are being honest and forthright and are not just waiting for me to lay you in your bassinet before resuming your crying. I can appreciate being sneaky from time to time. I like a good practical joke, but really, it stopped being funny the third time in a row.

And while on the subject of crying, if you are not wet, soiled, hungry or hot/cold, kindly provide us some kind of explanation…perhaps even a sign as to what ails you so that we may make every effort to provide you comfort. While I am happy that you are already starting out bilingual, you must remember that neither your mother nor I speak “Wah”….although your mother has been known to whine at times…but that is not the same dialect.

In addition, your mother would like to remind you that she works hard to provide you a healthy and full meal every three hours or so… It would be nice if you could be awake during those time periods without us resorting to cold washcloths to assure your proper attention. Failure to comply will meet with the introduction of ice. Don’t you think I’m bluffing neither kiddo. I’m skilled with all forms of ice torture and you will wake up. It would also do you and especially your mother’s psyche good to retain all food that enters your body. We are a pro-milk family, so you just need to learn to like it and not spit it up all over the place. Particularly not on anything that needs to be dry cleaned.

I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement here. I propose that we come up with a schedule. You may remain a cute, lovable and occasionally cranky infant during the hours of 5:30a.m.-10:00p.m. Your best behavior is expected during the other hours. That mainly means sleep when asked to. And if you must act out, please use your “inside voice” and we will get along famously.

Sincerely,
Your Father and Mother"

Kaleigh is a good girl mostly. But do not be surprised if sometime in the near future I have to call you over to participate in an intervention. We are going to nip this in the bud right now…

Right. Now.

On Hiatus...

2006-01-19T11:59:00.000-05:00

I don’t know where to even start. You may have noticed my conspicuous absence from the blogosphere for the past three weeks. Some of you may have even heckled me one of my comments sections. Heckling is, of course, the highest form of flattery and I thank you profusely.

I would like to put to rest the rumors that have swirled around my absence. I was not, in fact, saving the world from certain destruction. I am no Jack Bauer, even though I am currently enjoying a Netflix orgy detailing his adventures. I also have not run out of things to say. No, the Halls of Mental Midgetry have been particularly raucous of late with all sorts of blog worthy items. And for once, I can claim that it wasn’t laziness that kept me from my writing duties….well, not solely at least.

Because I like to pretend that thousands of people who don’t know me in real life read this, I will act like you didn’t know that the aforementioned Kaleigh Madison joined us recently. It is also worthy to note that although scheduled to be delivered on 9 January, Kaleigh decided on other plans. That is to say, water broke when it was not supposed to and Kaleigh arrived almost a full week early. She must have heard my opinions on planning and decided she agreed with Dad. This is something I hope to see more of quite frankly.

Weighing in at 6 pounds and 13 ounces, and 19 inches long, I was surprised to find that such tiny fingers could have me wrapped around them already. Life has certainly taken a turn for the surreal as both my wife and I adjust to having another person…a very little person, living with us. We are also adjusting to Kaleigh’s notion that nighttime is for being awake and daytime is for being comatose. This is not totally unlike her mother during our college years… I, of course, believe that being comatose is appropriate for all times.

I will catch up with you more tomorrow. Right now, I think I’ll try and catch up on some sleep. I’ve never slept as well as a I do here at work….

On Fair Weather Fans...

2005-12-30T11:55:00.000-05:00

I’ve vowed to nobody in particular that I will refrain from writing anything today that is remotely baby related. It’s not like we are 9 days out or anything. There is certainly no reason to start panicking…or losing sleep…or vomiting…

I think I’ve also exhausted the Netflix issue. Suffice to say, it still does it for me…

So it must be time for more personal reflection. Believe me, this hurts me worse than it hurts you. I have to open doors…doors emblazoned with the words “soul inside” on them. These are doors that should remain closed at all times. Not because it is particularly dark in there. It’s just…untidy. I have opinions flying around all over the place in there. Some are even strong. The most annoying are the undefined opinions though. They are always trying to get me to clarify…usually by way of research. You remember my policy on research. I swear, if my Opinion On American Military Power in the Southern Hemisphere doesn’t stop asking for this clarity thing, I’m banishing it. I’m serious, I’ll just go without…

However, one opinion that has been elevated to my Beeley Personality Canon is on Fair Weather Fandom. You know these people. They are the ones that jump on the bandwagon when a team is doing well in a particular sport and act as if they had been there all along. They are the people that drive up ticket prices at what was once an empty stadium/arena during the good times, but seemingly vanish during the bad times. They are pretty easy to spot too. Make a reference to a player on that was on the team during the bad years and they look at you with a blank stare. They have no idea who that guy is because they weren’t watching during that time. Some of these fair weather fans don’t even know the players on the good team either.

You should know that I am that guy…

…proudly so in fact. I wear my badge of Fair Weather Fandom with pride. I simply do not understand the fan that punishes themselves week after week (in football) or night after night (hockey, baseball) just to watch their team lose…again. It's not like God awards you some sort of crown for commitment to losing causes. Heck, everyone in Arizona would be a saint if that were the case...in any sport. Or, if atheism is your thing, it's not as if you were better at life because you stuck with the Clippers. Seriously, I noticed around age 22 when I left college that there was a severe shortage of one thing in my life…and that was time. With 24 hours in a day, and the need for 8-10 of them being asleep, I had to start prioritizing. Losing sports teams are not high up there in the competition for my attention. I’ll give you some looks in the newspaper, or online, but don’t expect my devotion or anything. With a baby on the way (crap, oh well, I tried at least), what do you think the outlook is on increasing my free time…?

The reason this comes up, and perhaps you were unaware, but the Redskins are heading into a crucial weekend that will establish their playoff appearance. That is to say, whether or not they will be appearing. The Redskins are my team. They’ve always been my team…well, since I moved here in 1983. I do remember some affinity for the Bengals, but that had more to do with being 8 years old and their helmets being tiger striped. I will admit, there was a definite lack of…passion on my part over the past years for the 'Skins. Let’s call those years the “Non-Gibbs Years”. During those years I’d tune in for the first few games of the season just to get the barometer reading on things. Usually the barometer reading was “outlook uncertain” followed by a distinct “bail out”. Needless to say, bail out I did.

Not so this season. I’m in for the duration, even if it all goes down in flames. This season has been nothing if not entertaining. That is, after all, really want I want from my sports teams. Domination is nice, but you can’t ask for a better final game than one where you control your destiny, but success isn’t assured either. This game has meaning. That it could potentially knock out the Cowboys makes it doubly delicious…or that much more excruciating if failure occurs. That a win Sunday would mean the trifecta, that is, wins against not only the hated Cowboys, but the godless Giants and loathsome Eagles is just bliss. It’s football heroin. And I'm a hopeless junky.

Fair Weather indeed…

Indeed…

On Best Of 2005...

2005-12-29T10:53:00.000-05:00

I’m having trouble thinking of a more worthless time period during the year than the week between Christmas and New Year’s. If you are unlucky…or a poor manager of your vacation time…you are at work. I’ll give you one guess where I am right now. However, as a contractor supporting the government…and by supporting I of course mean analyzing since I am an analyst…this is probably my favorite time of year. The traffic is light…I can get a seat on the Metro…and there isn’t really anyone around to actually, you know, manage me…

This is also the best time of year to be an internet surfer. My job is such that I have periods of rain followed by periods of drought (this is a workload metaphor, so stay with me). I don’t want to give you the wrong impression that just this week is a drought. Basically, this whole year has been like the freaking Sahara. It’s the little things that get me excited now, and this week is surfing gold for one reason: the various and assorted Annual Top Ten Lists…

…You might be confused about now because not two days ago I lamented the existence of lists. I think I was fairly convincing in that post, probably enough for you to change your lifestyle and rip up your lists. I have that affect. So I’m sorry to throw you this curve. You should realize that I mostly just hate lists that somehow involve my labor, or worse, remind me of the things… Lists that involve someone’s opinion on a myriad of subjects fascinate me…or give me something to ridicule.

Since I have some affinity for movies, the huge amount of Top Ten Movies of 2005 lists can keep me entertained for…man, like a whole two hours. That much waste of time usually inspires me to waste even more time…It inspires me to make my own list.

For the past couple of years I put together a little mental list of the best movies I’ve seen. Since I don’t actually get out much, most of the movies I watch are Netflix rentals. So my list is the best of the movies I saw in the year, not from the year. The other stipulation is that the movies on the list are all ones that I saw for the first time. It is really the only way I can assure that Tombstone doesn’t appear on the list every year.

2005 was a sparse movie year for me. I average probably 10 movies a month. Actually, to be more accurate, I average 10 DVDs a month from Netflix with the occasional foray to the theater. In 2005, TV shows dominated my Netflix queue. Thanks to Alias, Firefly, Lost and Battlestar Galactica, the list of movies I saw this year is much more manageable.

Here are the best (maybe more than ten) movies I saw for the first time in 2005:

12) The Revenge of the Sith (2005): Star Wars III was certainly the best of the prequel movies. Frankly, I’m just glad to see it over and done with. My biggest complaint for the prequels is that models and muppets were replaced almost entirely with CGI. Still, it is hard to argue that the movie did not deliver on finally showing how Darth becomes Darth. No where close to the originals though.

11) War Games (1983): My wife made the comment that my 80’s cred is in severe question because I did not catch this in my childhood. Personally though, if a movie didn’t have John Cusack in it, is it really an 80’s movie? I enjoyed this particularly because I work with many of those Air Force dudes whose career was somewhat portrayed in the movie.

10) Whale Rider (2003): A girl riding a whale is not something I would normally put high on my list of things I gotta see. It is certainly one that I look forward to watching again with a young Kaleigh though.

9) Where Eagles Dare (1968): Old school Clint Eastwood in something other than a Western? If that something else is a WWII movie, count me in. This is a reminder of the day that action movies kept things simple and yet, the story was still superior too much of today’s fare.

8) The Professional (1994): I’m not sure how I got through college without seeing this, but I finally got around to it. This is the beginning of Natalie Portman’s career. This was also a fairly simple plot line that was executed very well.

7) The Incredibles (2004): I bought this movie before I had even watched it. Pixar is that solid that I know that I have not wasted my money. Of course I justify these animated purchases with “it’s for my kid(s)”. Yeah, I don’t think anyone is buying that line.

6) The Wild Bunch (1969): This was really my introduction to Sam Peckinpah’s films. I’m a sucker for a good western for some reason, and this did not disappoint.

5) The Aviator (2004): I have a bent against Leonardo DiCaprio for some reason. I thought he was way overrated in most everything he starred in, especially Titanic. However, Catch Me If You Can was excellent and he carried that over into The Aviator.

4) Serenity (2005): What can I say? My wife and I fell for the TV series on DVD like a lot of folks it seems. Our daughter’s name even came from Kaylee on the show since we liked it so much. However, my wife would be quick to point out that our daughter was not named for the character.

3) The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (2005): I’ve already said more than my piece on this.

2) Batman Begins (2005): Of all the movies, this one probably left the most of an impression on me as a whole. It was certainly the DVD I anticipated purchasing the most. I think that Christian Bale was the perfect casting for Batman. I was glad that Warner Brother’s finally treated the series with some respect. I know there is some fandom out there that liked the more comic book version of the first Batman. I enjoyed that Batman too (well, the first movie), but I do prefer my comic book heroes darker.

1) Hotel Rwanda (2004): I give this top billing for my 2005 movie watching mostly because of the real life story it portrays. I was certainly not my favorite movie to watch as far as subject matter. I liked Hotel Rwanda not just for the portrayal of a remarkable life, but for the questions it generates about humanity, and especially the policies for the world in response to humanitarian crisis.

Well, that is it for 2005. The hardest part about these lists is that I try to only put movies on my Netflix queue that I know I really want to see…the same thing I do with the movies I choose to see in theater. That makes it tough. I will say that I saw a lot of Asian films this year, mostly from China and Korea. While none made my top 12, I certainly enjoyed them. I especially enjoyed Shoalin Soccer, Kung Fu Hustle, Oldboy and Tae Guk Gi. I also liked Ray, Million Dollar Baby and Shine.

And I’m spent…

On Narnia (Part II)

2005-12-28T11:50:00.000-05:00

I was finally able to take a gander at The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe over the long Christmas weekend. As you’ll recall, this movie was of some importance to my wife who absolutely loved the books. That is not to say that there was not some desire to see it on my part either, but there was considerable less…anticipation. I say we finally saw the movie because our previous attempts to see Narnia were foiled by pregnancy related tiredness, and non-pregnancy related lethargy…on my part.

It’s almost impossible for me to review Narnia without making comparisons to the Lord of the Rings (LOTR) movies. I guess that is natural considering the now famous friendship and common love of myth that Tolkien and Lewis shared. I will admit, it has been a couple of years since I read the Narnia series so I did not go into the movie with the same attention to detail that I did for LOTR, nor did I watch Narnia through the eyes of a purist. I cannot tell you accurately what was left out from the book and what was added onto the screen that did not exist in the original work. For example, my wife reminded me that the reason that the four Pevensie children enter the wardrobe in the book is different than the one given on screen. Whatever. I was just happy that they got through and the real fun could begin.

Although I’m no purist, I think there are two components of Narnia that must be done well to make a successful movie. The first is the Pevensie children. If any of the four turns in a particularly weak performance, the whole movie could stumble. Happily, this is where the major strength of the movie is found. The four actors portraying the Peviensie’s are well cast, particularly Georgie Henley who plays Lucy. She carries much of the first half of the movie. Skandar Keynes plays Edmund, the child that eventually is seduced by the White Witch to sell out his siblings and Aslan. I’ve seen other reviews that are upset at how dark Edmund is played in the movie and that his counterpart in the book is simply more naïve than angry. I’ll let the purists debate that, but for me, the movie portrayal of Edmund worked. The other two Pevensie’s, Peter (William Moseley) and Susan (Anna Popplewell) are also well played. All four children will eventually become Kings and Queens of Narnia, but one gets the sense that Peter is the real King and he plays that role well.

The second major component is Aslan the lion. In both the book and the movie the story drives towards the Pevensie’s and the reader/viewer meeting Aslan. His name is spoken with reverence and anticipation from all the woodland and mythical creatures of Narnia, including Father Christmas. He is obviously viewed as the Savior (more on that in a minute). Aslan in the movie was impressive, but more due to the CGI that went into building him than for his actual role. I think that is more to do with books versus movies though. Aslan in your imagination takes more awe than any character on screen possibly can. When Aslan finally comes of out his tent I was somewhat let down. I also think that Aslan in the book is much more of the authority/father/friend figure that he is in the movie, probably owing to time constraints.

Narnia itself is done very well. The creatures, the land and the buildings were all very cool to look at and built that sense that you were very much in a land of fairy tale. The contrast between the land of internal winter produced by the White Witch and the springtime thaw that comes with Aslan is sufficiently stark. The CGI is not as meticulous as the LOTR, but I like it that way. Where LOTR needed to be ultra realistic in it’s portrayal of Middle Earth, I like that there is something a little less so about Narnia and its characters. It is, after all, a fairy tale land meant to appeal to children.

Before I go into what I really want to highlight about the movie, I do also need to state that Tilda Swinton was a perfect choice for the White Witch. Her performance is strong and, in some ways, I’d say she outshines Aslan in many of her scenes.

Okay, so all that is really the set-up for what really impressed me about the movie, and ties back into my original Narnia post of a couple weeks ago. I stated then that there were two controversies occurring over Narnia, the first being whether the story was really Christian allegory. I was interested in seeing if somehow the movie toned down those allegories from the book, because frankly, I didn’t think there was much question that they existed. To my surprise, the allegory is very obvious in the movie. I’m not trying to be a jerk here, but if it is not obvious to you then you are not familiar with Christian theology. This is not just a movie that uses western themes, of which a savior/messiah has been prominent for centuries (e.g., The Matrix). This is distinct representation of Jesus as a big CGI lion dying to redeem the sins of Edmund (man) to redeem the world (Narnia). I’m not saying you have to agree with the theology, but don’t be blind to what Lewis was trying to do. If anything, I believe the visuals of the movie do a better job of telling that story than the books do. That alone makes Narnia a success.

On Lists...

2005-12-27T09:50:00.000-05:00

Well, that’s done. Christmas is now off the list of things that need to be accomplished before Delivery-Day (D-Day) arrives. I’m not saying that we viewed Christmas as a chore or anything. In fact, thanks to some great friends of ours, both Christmas Eve and Christmas were very enjoyable. And the loot…well, I think I’ll enjoy my Tivo and Battlefield 2 very much thank you. I may even look presentable at work, for once, with some styling threads provided by Mom and Dad. Some things never change…

The Fake Tree Princess is now retired…but not before she got a parting shot off. Normally we’d keep the tree up until after New Years. Not this year though. I was forced to remove the tree to make room for more baby swag. Honestly, I’m not even sure how babies lived “back in the day” if they didn’t have all absolute necessities we have today...like a Pack N’ Play. So on my way out the door with our tree, The Fake Tree Princess notes that the evidence for fake tree-ery is literally all over our living room. I’ll admit, the real tree did shed a bit on the way out…but honestly, at least 50% of the needles were still on the tree so I fail to see what the big deal was. Maybe she meant the remaining water in the tree stand that I managed to pour all over our carpet…

In place of the Fake Tree Princess has come Her Majesty of the Lists. Her Majesty is gifted. She has lists listing the lists she needs to make. And she cannot be stopped either. Once the juggernaut gets going, it consumes everything…it’s favorite food being my free time. I already got a call this morning (at 7:45a.m.) telling me she had made a list of things for me to do today. Goody. I’m just hoping that the list doesn’t require the assembly of anything... You may have heard that I frown on that sort of thing.

I guess it is not really my wife’s fault. I’m list deficient. Actually, I’m list inept. And don’t bring up Netflix. That is a queue. Queues I can do, lists chafe me. Living via a list is not my natural state of being. It is not were I am generally found operating…. Okay, so I’m not usually found operating anywhere, but that is besides the point. The point is, these babies seem to generate more lists than even I’m used to. The further point is, someone, possibly even you, should have warned me!

On Poetry...

2005-12-22T10:39:00.000-05:00

The following poem was created by my wife's 7th period class as an ode to her. Each kid wrote at least two lines and passed it on.

Mrs. Plowden, Mrs. Plowden, what can I say.
Having you teach us just makes our day.

We love you Mrs. Plowden, and someday maybe
You’ll come back and show us the new baby.

Hey Mrs. Plowden, I won’t fall anymore.
But I’ll continue to read classics, Quoth the raven, nevermore.

We are sad that you are going away,
You are nice, and we want you to stay.

Thank you for being a great teacher all this time,
Yeah, I can’t really come up with a good rhyme.

Mrs. Plowden you were too kind,
A teacher like you is hard to find.

We will miss you a lot when you’re gone,
But we are sure you will be a good mom.

You have cleared the path to lead the way,
To a bright future that will guide us all the way.

You’re the best English teacher ever.
Good luck with your new baby and we’ll remember you forever.

Mrs. Plowden, I’m sorry to see you go,
I hope you come back with baby in tow.
Oh my, I hope you visit us soon.
We’ll be waiting, an hour after noon.

What can I say,
besides the fact that I’ll miss you everyday?

Mrs. Plowden’s the best,
Even when she gives us tests.

Mrs. Plowden why are you leaving us? We are all in a fuss.
English and Ta were the best,
Why can’t you be here for the rest?

I think you’re pretty dandy,
Even when you don’t give us candy.

Dear Mrs. Plowden and Kaleigh,
We will miss you two.
The fun times,
The sad times,
But we always had the talking time!

I will really miss you,
You are such a great teacher, the teachers that can match you are few.

I will miss you, I will cry boo hoo.
I sometimes went coo coo, but I will miss you.
Yours always,

Dear Queen of English, you are pretty much the coolest teacher in like a long time.
I will miss you sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much.

Dear Mrs. Plowden, You are the very best.
I hope you have a good mom quest!

Mrs. Plowden, understanding and help me learn.
My passion for you deep inside burns.

Even though I’m really sad,
I hope when you have your baby you are really glad.

Even though we would like you to stay,
Your new born baby is on the way.
We will miss you much,
We will miss you well,
We will miss you more than we can tell.

On Change...

2005-12-22T10:28:00.000-05:00

I have been told by no less the 10,000 individuals that the coming of a child, especially the first, will change your life forever. I believe the exact phrase seems to be “Everything is going to change” and it is usually followed by “No seriously, you have no idea how much things change”. I have no doubt this is true, but after the third person told me, the message sunk in. I’ve been saturated by it…there is no need to continue to cliché me to death…

However, for my wife, change is not just academic or something that will occur in the future. It has been a constant for the past few months. Starting at the end of the 1st trimester her eating habits changed. That is to say, she made a habit of ralphing up everything she ate, sometimes during car rides. She even stopped eating chocolate for a while, which I thought was a sure sign of the Apocalypse. Then came the body changes, and more importantly, the limitations that they imposed. I am greatly amused by this sometimes, especially the hilarious attempts to get off the couch. She is not as amused…at least, I think that is what that hand gesture she keeps giving me means…

Today starts what may be the biggest change for her though. As I stated yesterday, my wife is an 8th Grade English teacher. This is a job that you couldn’t pay me enough to do… Interestingly, they don’t actually pay my wife enough to do it either. That she enjoys it is further proof that she and I are not cut from the same cloth….I’m not even sure we are the same material.

But I digress…

The Winter Break for schools in this area starts tomorrow. Since we have decided that my wife will stay home for at least the rest of this school year, today is her last day of classes. We are also in the process of deciding if she will stay at home for longer than just this year. Obviously, this is a big change for her because she is stopping something she loves to do. And the change could be semi-permanent, or at least until our child and possibly children start school of their own. In affect, this is a double life change that she is going through, and that can be scary.

So babe, I just want you to know that I appreciate what you are doing. I know that this is not an easy day for you, and I know that there are a lot of question marks about the future. You will, however, make a great mother just as you made a great teacher. Enjoy today as your students and workmates show you exactly how much you will be missed. That should be a testament to what kind of a person you are. I cannot wait for the next few weeks to play out and for our family to add its new member. And, as you know, I will support whatever future work decisions we make…

…unless finances dictate that I have to give up Netflix. Then, I believe, the answer is obvious…

On The Old Testament...

2005-12-21T15:06:00.000-05:00

And on a completely different note, I just needed to trumpet a personal achievement of mine. I decided a little over a year ago that I needed to read the Bible in its entirety...you know, just to see what all the hubbub was about. I finally finished the Old Testament yesterday. While I'm sure the would be much disagreement among some of my faithful readership, I think we can all agree on one thing. That Testament is long.

On a pagan note, today is the Winter Solstice. Okay, I guess that is more scientific than pagan, but I for one am glad that today is the shortest day of the year. I'll be happy when I'm not leaving for work before the sun comes up and getting home after its gone down...

On Princesses...

2005-12-21T13:48:00.000-05:00

…and while we are on the subject of princesses, so rudely thrust upon me by my so called “friend”, I’ve got a few things to get off my chest. I don’t want to suggest that you are about to hear me rant, but I will just state for the record that there is foam in my mouth. I would never admit to losing sleep over this issue, but Starbucks is currently an associate of mine with some standing.

I’m resigned to my fate as a father of a girl. (Actually, truth be told, I’m ecstatic, but I have to keep my game face on for this rant so just act like you aren’t…aware). I know that pink will be in for a while. There will be lacy things, frills and accessories that I’ve never worn, but have probably bought for the fairer sex at some point. And I know that unicorns, fairy tales, princesses and pandas will invade my inner sanctum like a prostitute in the Vatican, but I think that I can deal with all that. I can even deal with sitting and watching some silly Sally Macguire, or whatever the heck her name is, on the Disney channel.

However, something started eating at me as we received articles of clothing with some version of “I’m a princess” on them for Kaleigh. Now, I have zero problems with a baby or little girl wearing something of a princess advertisement. That is an acceptable age where everything is a fairly tale and full of wonder anyway. But if the little princess onesy gets replace at age 13 for a mid-rif shirt with “Princess” written in material that shines or glitters, that’s when Dad is going to invade her little kingdom…and I’ll be coming with minions…

You see, part of my problem…the problem I had at the sonogram when they stuck the camera up her hoo-ha and notice a distinct absence of wang…is that I never saw little baby Kaleigh, or even elementary school Kaliegh in my mind’s eye. No, I saw high school Kaleigh… I saw make-up, cell-phones and boyfriends. And you’ll have to forgive me, but I started building my defenses right then and there. As I stated elsewhere, policies started to form.

One policy is that my little girl will not grow up to be some women-princess hybrid that you see walking around these days. Princesses, after about 10 years old, does not equate to cute. It equates to @#$%^. I don’t think I need to spell @#$%^ for you do I? And yeah, sure, maybe it is that I’m the husband of an 8th grade teacher (more on that tomorrow…oooh, some foreshadowing), but I’ve heard one too many stories of the “princess syndrome” stalking the halls of our education system. To be sure, the boys have there own…issues, but since I am not having a son, they are excused from this rant. Be assured that my policy on boys would be much shorter and would involve Doc Martens, his posterior and no Vaseline.

I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to achieve this perfect young lady that I have envisioned. I will say that she has a good mother to help in the guidance process. I will also say that being poor should help alleviate some of the spoilage. It’s amazing what not having money can do. Regardless though, I think that not getting wrapped around her finger from the beginning is they way to go…

…if that’s the case, I’m already doomed…

On Blood...

2005-12-20T11:16:00.000-05:00

I will admit that this Christmas season has been somewhat of a challenge. You may remember that my wife and I are going to be spending this Christmas apart from family due to her limited ability to travel. Some very kind friends of our have allowed for our intrusion into their holiday planning however, and I for one am thankful for that. However, I also feel a little self-inflicted pressure to make this Christmas as special as I can for my wife while staying in our budget. This is no easy task, I assure you…

…but even if I was made of money, I don’t think that this would be on my list.

I’m thinking…I don’t know, maybe Halloween on that one. Certainly not Valentines Day, nor an Anniversary of any kind. Blood just never seems to be on my short list of presents for Christmas.

In seriousness though, anyone who gets pregnant these days will probably face the Cord Blood question from their OB/GYN. It’s usually one of the little glossy pamphlets they give you and is promptly ignored by the husband and fretted over by the wife. I had never even heard of it before my wife informed me that we had another decision to make. My first thought was – “They can do that. Excellent.”, which was followed by – “They want how much for it? Bogus.” (Yes, I do often think about major life decisions in my Bill & Ted voice). There are a few companies that will save the stem cells in the cord blood, but at this stage, it isn’t cheap. I think we were looking at anything from $2000 to $6000. The cheaper amount meant that you would pay an annual fee of around $250…every year.

As I understand it, which is not saying much I assure you, “banking” the cord blood assures that your child has a ready supply of stem cells that can possibly save them from certain blood diseases, and in the future, from even more things. For that money though, they better be able to grow an additional arm…you know, for grappling. Think about how useful that would be. Most of these diseases are very rare, which means you are likely buying the liquid equivalent of…nothing...if they never get sick.

And that's the sticking point of course. If on the off chance that your child does suffer from one of those diseases and you didn’t save the cord blood… Ah guilt, I know thee well.

On Smoking...

2005-12-19T14:16:00.000-05:00

Let me step back into the little confessional booth I’ve established here and tell you, my “priests”, about the real darkness of my soul. I have, through no fault of my own, found myself to be a member of the counter-culture. This frightens me to no end because I’ve observed that the counter-culture usually requires some sort of tattooing and/or piercing…usually in a place that hurts, or worse…oozes. I’m not into oozings of any kind…something that I hear first time parents learn to get over quickly. Well, I guess that’s another item I can add to the "Looking Forward To…" List. I'll put it right next to "worry about college fund"...

Besides a distinct aversion to getting a haircut, the one other thing I have in common with the counter-culture is that I am distinctly anti-anti-smoking. I know I just blew some of your English teacher minds with a double negative, but whose blog is this anyway? More importantly, I am probably one of a few non-smokers who actually likes second hand smoke. I’d say I was the only one, but I did meet another girl who also likes it and thus destroyed my originality. Oh well. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I saddle up next to smokers at a bar and position myself for optimal second hand smoke inhilation, it’s just that I don’t really think you’ve entered a bar unless a nice fog is hanging about. I mean, how else do you even know you’ve gone out unless you have some of the stink on you?

By the way, if you are tempted to read this post as sarcasm, don’t…I’m dead serious. Okay, maybe I’m just moderately serious, I’m certainly not going to die for this belief or anything… However, I’m totally against these measures banning smoking in cities, including the one that is likely to pass in DC. The one time I go into DC every two years is totally ruined now. I’m certainly not going to do anything rash, like become an activist or anything, but if there is a petition of some kind…preferably online so I don’t have to actually talk to anyone, I’m totally your man.

Lest you bring up my cigar smoking as some sort of proof that I am a smoker myself, I ask you to reconsider. One cigar every half-year does not make me a smoker. If you had to endure the ritual purification that I go through to be acceptable to my wife’s olfactory sensors after a cigar, you’d limit your intake too. She is totally opposed, and probably a bit ashamed of my beliefs too. Something about her parents smoking, blah, blah, blah. I usually tune out once I see her soap box coming out.

If it weren’t for that whole cancer thing, something that I do oppose, I’d take up the naughty habit myself probably. It would totally give me a legitimate reason to not do work 15 minutes out of every hour for a smoke break. Of course, I'd still have to come up with something for the other 45 minutes. And after having accompanied folks on their smoke break on a few occasions, let me tell you that you learn things on those breaks. I wouldn't know half the dirt I know in life if it wasn't for smokers. So there is something to be said for it...

Of course, if I see Kaleigh ever smoking, the cancer won’t be the thing that kills her…

On Woot...

2005-12-19T10:31:00.000-05:00

Short update today, but hopefully I’ll find time to shirk my regular work duties to come back and give you a further piece of my mind. I might also give you a good talking to, depending on my mood.

As I fully embrace the fact that I am a shill of some sort or another, I want to turn you on to another website that I find scrumptious. Woot.com is an online clearinghouse for electronic products that, frankly, rocks my socks. Its “business model” is simple. They will post one product a day starting at 12:00a.m. CST. That one product stays up for 24 hours unless it sells out, which I’ve seen happen on a few occasions. Usually the deals are a lot better than you will find anywhere else, which is why you only have 24 hours to take advantage of it. I'm not saying that I've used this site recently to purchase a Christmas gift...but then again, I'm not not saying that either *wink*.

Unfortunately, I’ve picked a weak date to tell you of this internet goldmine. Alas, today’s Woot is not what I’d call cool. In fact, it’s what I’d call “grandpa”. Don’t let that dissuade you though. Tomorrow is another day and will probably be back to delicious…

By the way Cowboys fans (*cough*davetilley*cough*) that was...um...interesting and enjoyable. I'd like to order that again for the next meeting.

On Hopes...

2005-12-15T12:40:00.000-05:00

Even long before Kaleigh Madison was a twinkle in our eyes, my wife and I would sometimes play the “I Hope” game. That is the one where you say “I hope our daughter(s)/son(s) have your (fill in the blank)”. This is a cute game designed to passively compliment your spouse, or to pass a gruelingly long road trip to see the in-laws…sometimes both.

This can be a dangerous game at times. One should not attempt to play if one is, say, an idiot. Take for example this completely “hypothetical” story that possibly happened to a “friend” of mine. During a televised Women’s World Cup match, my “friend” said to his then girlfriend and future wife: “If we get married and have daughters, I hope they are just like you…except athletic”. I won’t point out the mistake in that sentence, I’ll let you do a bit of your own analysis. Let's just say that there may have been tears, and my "friend" may have had to sign apologetic documentation entitled: “Further Proof That I Suck”.

Now that Kaleigh is on the way, we are no longer playing the I Hope game as amateurs. We’ve become masters at it. Police sketch artists would find it very easy to produce a drawing based on our detailed descriptions. This is no longer a passive attempt to compliment the spouse. It is business. Just the other day it was hoped that Kaleigh does not have my skin. It is true too, I’m basically a freaking lizard with scaly skin that you could make shoes from… I even shed my skin once yearly, and I’m in season right now as a matter of fact. Also, my nose is not desirable on a female. Apparently “big” doesn’t go well with any kind of prom dress. My eyes, hair and smile are a go though…so that’s something.

Personality traits are not immune to the game either. Now that we are about to be parents…which implies that we will have to do some level of parent-ing, we are hoping beyond hope that we don’t have a little hellion… In other words, we hope Kaleigh does not take after her father in her childhood years. Personally, I’d trade any amount of early childhood hardship over teenage female drama. It’s not that I dread her teenage years, it’s just that I’d rather, you know…. flee to the hills.

Regardless, I think that anticipation has fully set in at the Halls of Mental Midgetry. It won’t be long now…

On Remote Wars...

2005-12-14T13:15:00.000-05:00

There are many things about marriage that cannot really be explained to you until it’s way too late and you have been bound as one before God and “these witnesses”. Before getting married, my wife and I, in our wisdom and understanding of “what it takes”, thought we were pretty insulated from major marital confrontations. Our relationship was based on two founding principles of which we agreed upon completely: 1) Jesus is Lord, and 2) The New Jersey Devils are not Him. (If you didn’t get the second half of that, it’s okay, you probably were not the intended target). It was generally known that in everything else we were polar opposites. We were going to be two enlightened individuals, guided by the principles of compromise and above petty squabbles that afflict you weaker scum…er, couples.

It wasn’t until a while later (e.g., during our honeymoon) that the first major confrontation occurred. I like to call it “The Remote Affair”. I believe my wife calls it “The Day I First Asserted My Dominance Over You”. I like my title better, although I can’t explain why. I don’t want to get into the gory details, but let’s just say that at one point I had placed the remote on the floor, cocked my leg up and had given my wife a look of “Are you really going to make me mark my territory”? She countered with the threat of a double-barreled assault. In the first barrel was “nagging” and the second contained “guilt”…and her look stated clearly “Are you feeling lucky? Punk.” I didn’t even know she liked Clint Eastwood, and although slightly aroused, I was also terrified.

I am, of course, speaking in metaphors, but you get the clear idea. Sometimes compromise means relinquishing all that you hold dear. Compromise, in other words, sucks…

Which brings me to my point. Yesterday my wife and I received a package in the mail from one of my oldest friends and his wife. Since they are in Houston, they were unable to attend any of the now infamous showers mentioned previously. Within the package there were two gifts for me. The first was a baby “manual”, which will come in very handy once I’ve determined which end goes up. I eagerly opened the second gift because it was very obviously a DVD, something I know considerably more about…

Perhaps it is because my friend has been away for a few years living in Texas, but I had forgotten how cruel he could be. This was no DVD. I’m not even sure what you call it. I think he called it something like “your future”. Before I past out, I distinctly recall seeing the words Barbie…and I think something about princesses. I believe you’ll agree with me that there are some lines you do not cross…the first always being The Mason-Dixon Line, but I think I’m making a case for the other kind…

And that is when it hit me. While my wife won the first round of the remote wars, even our combined powers will not be able to stop the blitzkrieg of Barney’s, Wiggles, and assorted Barbie and princess derivatives that will arrive in the next few years. Not even my Netflix list will likely go unscathed. I mean, there are only so much cartoon unicorns a man can take before he needs his helping of Braveheart.

There is only one thing to do. We must purchase another TV and DVD player. How else can I keep my sanity while the TV raises my child for me? A little warning from you fathers out there would have been helpful you know…

On Narnia...

2005-12-13T14:12:00.000-05:00

I have not yet seen The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe despite the not so subtle hint from my wife that “this is my Lord of the Rings”. For those of you who where not around me during the release of the LOTR series, let’s just say that my geek was on… So the seriousness of her commitment to Narnia was not lost on me. I too enjoyed a bit of the Aslan from time to time, but still preferred my Hobbits. One thing I do know though is that when the pregnant lady speaks, you make it happen.

However, when Narnia (No, I’m not going to write out the full title) released on Friday I began to hear the first rumblings of controversy regarding the Christian allegory in the movie. To be sure, the rumblings were there for a while, but I'm usually late to the party. Actually, it is apparently two different controversies. The first is whether the Narnia series is actually a Christian allegory at all, and the second is what I call the Bizarro Harry Potter affect.

I want to apologize in advance though…you know, before I get into it. I did something in this post that I do not condone and certainly hope doesn’t become a mainstay here at the Halls of Mental Midgetry. I did research… Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike research as I do, say, planning…but it’s just that research is tiring. It cuts into my “staring aimlessly” time that I so cherish here at work.

I’ll admit, the controversy over whether Narnia is supposed to represent a Christian allegory had me scratching my head. I get that there are many non-religious or other-religious folks who have read the entire Chronicles of Narnia and weren’t strangely drawn to give their lives to Christ. There is certainly more in the stories than just a dressed up Gospel. There is adventure and grand story telling to name two. There are also many other characters and ideas drawn from the world of myth that he (and his pal J.R.R Tolkien) loved. But when Lewis states in other writings to his fans that Narnia represents how Christ would act in a world of talking animals, what more is there to debate? I know this is going to require additional research, but I swore that in The Last Battle (the last book of the Chronicles of Narnia) that Aslan himself states that his name is Jesus in the world of the humans. I could be on crack though…it wouldn’t be the first time. Regardless, there is significant documentation stating pretty clearly Lewis’s intentions.

The more interesting controversy to me though, is that there are those that fully get the Christian allegory in the movie and are most unhappy about it. I think this has more to do with the marketing than anything. Apparently Disney spent a portion of their marketing budget on specifically targeting churches and other Christian organizations. That portion was something like 5%, but of course this means that Disney is foisting an inherently Christian film on the unsuspecting masses. It all reminds me too much of the Harry Potter idiocy that Christians hyperventilate about annually before each movie release. The critics of Narnia are as predictable as the critics of Harry Potter. The Guardian, a U.K. newspaper, was pretty merciless as was the New York Times Magazine just to name two. The ACLU is taking on Gov. Bush over a reading contest on the Chronicles of Narnia, stating in violates the separation of church and state. And the band plays on…

Seriously folks. It’s is just because that now I’m an adult…loosely defined mind you, but adult nonetheless…that I now see that everything has to not only be debated, but fought over? Is it so terrible that an evangelical Christian go to see Harry Potter films, or that a child reads The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe in school? Are our beliefs that narrow that we need to treat each other like pariah? It's all just so...tiring...

On Man Showers (Part II)...

2005-12-12T11:16:00.000-05:00

You may recall my post a little over a week ago regarding the Man Shower. In that post I derided the so-called baby showers that women…do, and outlined how a Man Shower is superior in about every facet of partydom known. Perhaps you did not believe me even though I stated the situation clearly. Possibly you are of the female persuasion and were offended at my brazen attack on your time-honored traditions. But I am nothing if not a seeker of Truth, and the Truth is that cigars beat “gift-bingo” games any day of the week. If you are not sure what “gift-bingo” is, let me assure you that it is terrifying.

This Friday, the Man Shower v3.0 was thrown for me and two other prospective fathers. Approximately 20 men somehow tied to one of the expectant fathers attended the event. If I told you that we held the festivities on a piece of land bigger than .2 acres in Northern Virginia, you’d call me a liar. But I’m telling you, there was a barn involved, and even though it now houses a state of the art home office, outside it still looks sufficiently rustic.

We had the customary three course meal...dinner, cigar, dessert. The first course was prepared for us by Chef Blue Badger. Now, although my feelings of the Blue Badger are acclaimed, when it comes to food, there is an established détente. Frankly, the boy can cook. There was meat. Glorious, well prepared meat. Some of it was even sufficiently red and heart clogging. And starch was also “in the house” as the homies say. There were also greens. Usually I don't condone the eating of anything that was not actually slaughtered, but the greens were laced with meat making them magically delicious…so delicious in fact, that if all vegetables were prepared that way, I’d totally become a vegetarian.

The second course was a nice helping of tobacco in its cigarish form. I'll confess a bit here, I only partook of one helping of the tobacco since I'm a documented lightweight. Let’s just say that I sometimes suffer from a disease called projectus vomitus if I consume too much. I learned that particular hard lesson in college after eating cafeteria spaghetti and smoking a Dominican brand cigar. I believe a dorm courtyard was involved…and some bushes… I know that hating life and wanting to die were there in force.

Because there was not enough smoke generated by over a dozen cigars, we held the event outside between two bonfires. It’s a good thing too because that night was about 19 degrees. On the off chance that someone in, say, Minnesota is reading this and laughs at my whining, please note that you are the freak, not me. I think I'd get an "amen" from the congregation on that one. 19 degrees in Virginia breaks the U.S. laws regarding torture…or at the very least, cruel and unusual punishment. My first inclination was to blame the Bush Administration since that is en vogue. But I decided to send my complaints higher than that to Heaven with the attn: God. My memo was entitled “Global Warming: Get On It, Dude”. Somehow we persevered though, despite losing all feeling in our toes. Finally, for dessert we retreated back to the warmth for pie and cheesecake. Lacking anything really enlightening to say about dessert, I’ll just leave it at “it was good”.

The best part of Man Showers, especially those that feature more than one father-to-be, are the mix of guys you get to participate. The majority of those were from the same church I go to, but I also had some childhood friends there and two workmates who were sufficiently terrified to hang out with me outside of work. There were also a few guys I had never met, two of which sat at the same table as me. One of these guys was a linguist who knew like 854 languages. Next to him sat a guy with an obvious non-American accent, who asked the linguist to guess his nationality. To much hilarity, our table discovered that Kiwis (New Zealanders) don’t like to be mistaken for Australians.

In all seriousness, I know that many of you who were involved in the Man Shower are reading this. Thanks for your participation. Also, thanks to the planners and cooks and everyone else who spent their time making the Man Shower what it is…a gluttonous frenzy.

On Anniversaries...

2005-12-09T09:16:00.000-05:00

On Wednesday I marked my first full month as a blogger. Don’t be fooled by my first post on 19 Oct. That was the day I started the draft, but I didn’t actually post until 7 Nov. I must say, I’m rather surprised that I’ve lasted this long. I didn’t really think I had much to say. You who have read some of my posts might say that I still don’t have much to say.

The second anniversary…well, pre-anniversary I guess, is that we are officially a month away from delivery. In one month, and 2.5 hours (at the time of this writing), I will likely either already be a father, or moments away from it. How’s that for a wake up?

On The Christmas CONOPs...

2005-12-08T13:41:00.000-05:00

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’ve really been thinking a lot about parenting lately. There have also been one or two stray thoughts about Christmas. I generally don’t like having more than one thing dominating my thoughts at a time, so I decided to do some mental consolidation and combine the two. Ultimately, that led me to the conclusion that a decision needs to be made regarding how to parent during Christmas. As it has been noted elsewhere, I do currently possess a piece of paper, framed, that states my qualifications to be scientific about politics. I am a political scientist. As such, when faced with a decision like the one outlined above (e.g., parenting at Christmas) I find myself forming a policy statement of some kind. Perhaps even a Concept of Operations (CONOPs). At any rate, some sort of plan needs to be in place so I can change it when faced with a future reality.

So I began to develop my Christmas CONOPs with the awareness that Commander in Chief: House (CINCHOUSE) would ultimately have to approve. Some of you may be lost in all this military speak I’m throwing around. Know that I am sorry, but sometimes it cannot be helped. It’s my world; it affects me. Also, note that I am not CINCHOUSE and with the impending arrival of Kaleigh, I fear my position may be slipping further…

But I’ve digressed…

As I stated, the development of the Christmas CONOPs is currently on my radar. My wife and I are fairly conservative in our beliefs, and since those beliefs are of a Christian persuasion, not having Christ be part of Christmas seems a bit counter-intuitive. Since we have elevated Christ to the primary position during the holiday…perhaps even “the reason for the season”, Santa Claus’ usefulness is under review.

On one end, I certainly believe that Santa has totally supplanted any religious reason for the holiday, even among Christians. While the concept of gift giving is admirable, it seems like rampant and even aggressive commercialism so parents can prop up the Santa regime among their naïve children, undermines that value. Not to mention, how do I tell her that while Jesus, his miracles and his resurrection are real, that Santa, his reindeer and sleigh, and chimney dropping are not. I’m not sure that does much for the whole taking things on faith deal, especially your faith in your parents. Furthermore, it’s not like Jews and Muslims make up imaginary people…or even animals (yes, I’m looking at you Mr. Easter Bunny) to spice up their religious observances. Although, I must admit that I’ve been working on this concept where Mr. Ramadan Camel spits assorted sweet meats to good little Muslim girls and boys…but only after sundown. I think it has potential.

Totally negating religion, what do I tell Kaleigh when little Britney, the spoiled hell in pigtails neighbor with rich parents, gets more and better toys from Santa? She’ll know that Britney was a totally waste of oxygen the past year, but will not understand why Santa favored her. How do I explain to her that economics makes Britney’s Santa a little bit more forgiving (or flat out blind) while her Santa is trying to live off one income in Northern Virginia? Maybe I'm just bitter that Santa didn't bring me that 6 foot long G.I. Joe Aircraft Carrier in 1986...the bastard.

Then again, I know that there are other Christians who negate Mr. Claus totally. Their belief is that he has zero place in the holiday and our focus, specifically as Christians, should be solely on Christ. Some have even substituted a birthday cake for Jesus as the sole holiday observance. I don’t think they even have Christmas trees due to its ties to paganism. Of course, they’d have to ignore the whole reason we celebrate Christmas during this time…and by time I mean during the Winter Solstice…

In the end, I can’t really imagine celebrating Christmas without some of the non-religious pageantry. I’m for dang sure not giving up the tree, of which much has already been written. It’s not like Santa is totally without historical reference with the whole St. Nick deal. I think as long as we take care to teach Kaleigh the real reason we celebrate Christmas in the first place, allowing her to also force herself to stay awake on Christmas Eve on the off chance of hearing Santa on the roof should be allowed. Heck, even at 30, when I’m at my parents house for Christmas I still strain to see if I can hear them setting up shop downstairs.

On Assembly Required...

2005-12-06T13:03:00.000-05:00

Know thyself. I’m not sure who said that, but since they used “thyself” they have to be someone old…perhaps even ancient and of Greek persuasion. I have found this fledgling blogging experience interesting in that it has taught me a few things about myself; it has made me more introspective. In case you are wondering, no, I’m not typing this with a straight face. Introspection is not something I enjoy doing. There is just way too much going on in there that I think I’ll let my conscience and soul have some privacy thank you.

One thing I do know though, I do not enjoy assembling stuff. It is not that I’m bad at it so much as that I’m…okay, so it is that I’m bad at it. In the end, I get the thing assembled, it just takes about twice as long as it should have, and usually requires that I undo a portion of what I’ve already assembled. Diagrams and instruction manuals are not what I call intriguing, and most of the time I can’t be bothered until disaster has struck.

Let me give you a little hint. If you suffer (or thrive as I like to think) from this condition, do not get pregnant…or in my case, get someone else pregnant. Doing so firmly enters you into the world of “Assembly Required”, where everything requires some sort of engineering degree. I’m a political science major for goodness sake, we don’t know how to do anything… and that is by design.

To compound things, my wife is just about on the opposite side of the spectrum. We bought an outdoor grill two summers ago that required assembly, much to my dismay. We bought it on a Sunday and I agreed to put it together the following Monday evening. My wife, who was home for the summer break and cannot stand things standing around unassembled, took it upon herself to build the grill on her own. I returned home to find a fully assembled grill. Now, do you think that I was angry that my wife for this obvious attack on my manhood (grills are, after all, the domain of the man)? Are you kidding? That was like Christmas in July to me.

Unfortunately, my wife is currently Kaleigh impaired. I looked around the house for the B team to come in and get these things assembled. To my horror I discovered that I am the B team…or at the very least, I’m all we have. So last night I diligently sat down to assemble the bassinette that Kaleigh will sleep in for about 1 month of her life. I’ll skip to the end and say that we now have an assembled bassinette despite the existence of many bolts, screws and other assorted pieces…and much swearing. It’s not like I was totally alone. My wife did read me the instruction manual step by step and was very helpful in pointing out what needed to go where….and that is all I’m going to say about that.

There is a crib in my future that I will attempt to put off for as long as possible. I figure that means I’ll be assembling that tomorrow night.

On Life Results...

2005-12-06T09:43:00.000-05:00

I came to work today feeling a little incomplete. Quickly checking, I can confirm that I am wearing underwear, so that’s not it. Plus, it felt internal, like something of substance was missing. Maybe even a character flaw of some sort.

So there was nothing to do but to quickly head to my resource of knowledge that always seems to tell me what I need to know…the Internet. In times like these, I find it is most important to find a personality test, or something that might rate my life. Best of all, since it is on the Internet, it has to be scientific and proven. So I wandered over to this site to find what ails me.

My results were enlightening:

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	7.3
Mind:	6.7
Body:	5.7
Spirit:	8.4
Friends/Family:	7.7
Love:	9.1
Finance:	7.9
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

So with results like those, I think the only thing that can be deduced...via analysis is that I'm spiritual and know how to love... for a stupid fat boy.

By the way, it turns out what I was feeling was hunger. Water and two pop tarts later I now feel whole again.

On TCHS vs. TCOKM...

2005-12-05T14:50:00.000-05:00

Ah yes, Christmas time is upon us. You may think that an obvious statement, but I have decided that today is the day I officially recognize The Christmas Holiday Season (TCHS) so to me, it’s fresh. I generally wait until December begins to recognize TCHS, but since last week was shared with November, I decided, arbitrarily, that today was the day. I also had nothing else to blog about, so it works out…

Some of you might be of the persuasion that Christmas began the day after Thanksgiving. You may have even participated in Black Friday and started your holiday shopping. There is medical terminology for your condition…pathetic I believe is what it is called. Regardless of the fact that I purchased a tree on 28 November and then decorated it on 30 November, I did not internally recognize TCHS. I’m strong…I’m an oak actually. I didn’t even hum along with the Christmas music played ad nauseum everywhere.

The problem is that TCHS this year is in direct competition with The Coming Of Kaleigh Madison (TCOKM). So much so, that my wife and I will be grounded from travel over TCHS and will not share the holiday with either of our families for the first time ever. I’ve always wondered what Christmas would be like just the two of us. As that theory is starting to become reality, I think I liked it better when it was just a theory. Don’t get me wrong, I love my alone time with the Fake Tree Princess. Frankly, that alone time is what got us into TCOKM in the first place. However, it just seems like TCHS is supposed to be shared with the extended family.

I really want to make this TCHS as good as possible for the Fake Tree Princess. After all, she is starting to feel the real physical challenges of being pregnant and is not going to be up to the task of planning...and more importantly executing those plans. So, I need to be on my A game, especially because the 30 birthday...well, it did not go as advertised on TV. I need to come up with something good. Something that says: I-know-you-are-all-bulbous-and-swollen-,-but-we-are-going-to-have-a-fabulous-time-just-the-two-of-us-.-.-.ya-dig-? I’m a pretty creative guy, so I don’t necessarily need your help. You know, I just want to make you feel included. That being said…HELP!!

On Inevitability...

2005-12-02T10:55:00.000-05:00

Well, it looks like it’s a done deal. Despite serious questions to the real motives of the OB/GYN delivering our daughter we now have made the final decision to do a c-section. My wife obtained a second decision from an unaffiliated doctor yesterday (e.g., not a doctor affiliated with her current doctor’s practice). He basically admitted that he had not seen a case of a women delivering with a diaphragmatic hernia before, but that with modern c-sections successful about 99% of the time, why risk it? He ran down the risk factors if something were to go wrong with her hernia, including risks to the child if she were unable to push our daughter out and an emergency c-section were to be performed. That being said, he did understand the reason we wanted a second opinion. Apparently even he thought that not having a banana head baby probably wasn’t a sound reason to just up and have major surgery.

So it looks like 9 January at 12:00pm is around the time Kaleigh Madison will take her first breath outside the womb. I don’t want to freak any of you out, because I’m certainly not about to pass out or anything, but that is only about 5 weeks away. I’ve had certain foods stay in my gestational track longer than that. I’m not always able to describe my…uh…feelings well. So I’ll use a movie reference to describe what I’m thinking. Remember in The Matrix (the good one) where Neo and Agent Smith are fighting in the subway station. Neo is pinned down on the train tracks when you hear the train coming and Smith says: “You hear that. That is the sound of inevitability”.

Sorry for the movie reference, it was the best I could do right now. I thought of doing an interpretive dance, but those don’t translate well to blogs…

On Backpedaling...

2005-12-01T11:06:00.000-05:00

I was pretty harsh yesterday regarding the baby showers that women inflict on each other. I just want to clarify, for those of you who were offended, that I have zero problems with baby showers. I find the concept of a baby shower to be extremely cool…and lucrative. After three baby showers over the past month, and another this weekend, my daughter’s first year is basically already financed. Thanks to my wife’s genetic design, barring any unforeseen problems, I don’t even have to worry about paying for food for the first few months.

Seriously, the generosity of our friends has been overwhelming, and it amazes me that people who don’t even know us are giving us gifts. We had a baby shower in South Carolina that was attended by my parent’s Sunday school class…only three people of which I had ever met. At least 40 women (notice their husbands didn’t come…) attended and met my wife and I for the first time. Honestly, I need to learn how to parlay this generosity into other types of “showers”. Hmmm… I wonder what kind of response I’d get if I threw an Xbox 360 shower?

But I digress…

No, yesterday’s post was all about a battle of the sexes thing. In other words, I called women, not baby showers, boring. So see, now you know what to be offended about…

But please, please continue to invite me to your Southern Living parties. Frankly, those are just a freakin’ public service…

On Man Showers...

2005-11-30T10:13:00.000-05:00

I’m now in that age group where most of my friends and associates…my posse if you will, are married and embarking on that next major life stage…parenthood. A little over a year ago, the first Great Baby Infestation was imminent and baby showers started to spring onto the calendar with alarming regularity. I believe my wife was somehow associated with no less than 15 females in some stage of swollen belly syndrome. There was one month I didn’t even see my wife if it was a Saturday.

I felt sorry for my wife. Not only did she have to attend a bunch of showers during a time where our own “practicing” was not making perfect, but during my debriefings of her experience, I learned the truth about baby showers. They are horrid events. Don’t get me wrong, my wife enjoyed them very much…a thought that still amazes me. Apparently, the highlights of such events are finger foods, party games, coffee, pleasant conversations and watching the swollen lady in the corner open all her loot. In other words, it’s an elementary school birthday party for women, complete with frilly decorations.

During this time period, I did a lot of thanking of God that these were not co-ed events. However, the inequality of the situation was not lost on me. I don’t mean that I thought that I should have to go to some insanely boring event. I mean that all these women were getting together almost weekly to have what for them passes as a good time, while the guys stayed home. It’s not that staying home with actual free time was a bad thing, it just seemed that with that free time I could be doing something constructive…like playing poker, or attending a LAN party.

I wasn’t the only one who noted the disparity, other husbands were also rumbling about how we should have some event, especially because it would be so much better. I certainly wasn’t one of the prime architects, but somehow the Man Shower came into fruition…and there was much rejoicing.

Let me outline for you the parameters of a Man Shower. There are no finger foods. The Man Shower features the two most important food groups: meat and starch. I suppose you could eat with your fingers however, which would be sufficiently manly enough to not be called on it. To be sure, we do have coffee, but that is to keep us awake after we’ve eaten ourselves into a stupor, washed down with some fine wine. Usually that coffee is something very black that burns on the way down. And then come the cigars. No Man Shower is complete without the resident cigar expert passing out his wares. Usually we partake of these cigars around a fire pit, fire of course being another symbol of manliness. But most importantly, we are efficient. All the prospective fathers are invited at the same time so we don’t have to keep planning another event every week. And there are no gifts. The prospect of one man giving the other a boppy…well…frankly it freaks me out.

The best part though, is that my turn is coming in a couple of weeks…and I can’t wait.

On Music...

2005-11-29T14:04:00.000-05:00

I have a mental list of my favorite things in life. It get's updated on a somewhat less frequent interval than my Netflix list, but I do pay it some attention. For instance, I just added Zhang Ziyi to my list yesterday. I don't really keep an exact account but music, while on the list, probably comes in around 62… To be fair, I do have a rather large list since I’m a generally happy person and have many favorite things.

There was a time that music ranked higher. I distinctly remember receiving my first “boom box” for Christmas when I was in 6th grade. It had dual tape decks…and thus began my fledgling career as a mix tape engineer. At first, since I didn’t own many tapes, I perfected my ability to tape songs from the radio without getting much of the DJ’s voice or commercials in the recording. I remember Bon Jovi and Genesis “Land of Confusion” being pretty prevalent on those tapes. I remember listening for hours thinking that every song on the radio was speaking to me.

Of course, I graduated to a higher level of mixed tape engineering with my first real stereo system. That baby had dual cassettes and a CD player. My first CD was R.E.M “Green”…I was cutting edge. My tapes had meaning in those days…possibly even some angst…usually highly influenced by whatever girl I was obsessing over at the time. It is possibly during this time period that I even started to name my albums with esoteric meaninglessness like “Month of Mead” and “Flaccid Angst Muffin”.

Somewhere along the line I lost the bubble. I can name one protagonist in my musical decline: high school band. Specifically, the marching band. That was the first time I associated music with physical pain rather than just emotional. It’s not that I can’t take pain; it’s just that I prefer it not to have a soundtrack and specifically not one that I have to produce. It also required practice. Instead of me appreciating the rigors that artists go through to make music, it just made me tired.

I think the last mixed tape I made was in college. I may have even given one for Valentines Day. I think the shame of that also hastened my movement away from music.

That’s not to say that I don’t still purchase a CD from time to time. I even have a rather large MP3 collection on my home computer. I enjoy going to the occasional concert. Oh, and movies (which are significantly higher on my list of favorite things…I’m not sure if you were aware) would be nothing without a good soundtrack.

However, music is primarily a car activity now. Sometimes I’ll put some music on while surfing the web or even on the rare occasion that I work from home. I'm just no longer one of those people that plays music while I'm going about my business around the house. I certainly don't sit in the dark contemplating life while listening to the Garden State soundtrack. There is no closing of eyes to let a message seep in... I prefer to stay firmly in the land of the shallow thank you, and that land doesn't have background music.

It is with all that background that I finally get to the point of this post. Through a forum I visit I found out about Pandora.com. Specifically, this website was put together by music lovers…the kind of people that would generally tire me out…who put together the Music Genome Project. Basically, the bottom line is that you can type in a musician or song and the website will create your own “radio station” of music that is like what you originally input. I’m listening to it at this very second in fact. I typed in Oingo Boingo…what?…and all sorts of musical nirvana started to come to me. You can even create multiple “radio stations”.

I guess if you hear something you like you can download the song direct from Itunes, or even Amazon. Sure, that means this sight has a corporate angle, but whatever. The only downside I found is that you have to register. You can do the free version, which will have advertisements from time to time (on the website I believe) or you can pay a monthly fee to not have those. Regardless, any website that does the work for me is primo in my opinion.

So see, don’t say I never gave you anything…

On Tree Addendums...

2005-11-29T10:03:00.000-05:00

As an addendum to yesterdays post about real vs. fake, it should be noted that I am officially back among the land of the pure. A real tree of some kind of fir variety currently resides in it's Christmasy spot in my house. Crisis is averted...for this year at least.

I'd also like to answer the unasked question on your mind: Yes, I do prefer real vs. fake in other areas too *wink, wink*

On Fake vs Real...

2005-11-28T14:34:00.000-05:00

While I did state in my Very First Post Ever (VFPE) that I would not use this blog as some sort of catharsis, I do feel the need from time to time to use this as a forum for confession. You see, since I didn’t grow up Catholic I always felt like I was missing something…perhaps something that involved a booth. Protestantism just doesn’t offer that, which is why we all go around nosing into each other’s business, or worse, confessing things to everyone. Since two of you read this, I feel like you don’t really qualify as everyone. Luckily, since I don’t find confession cathartic in the least, I figure I’m upholding my own standards for this blog…such as they are.

Let me set up my sin, you know, provide a little foreshadowing if you will. From time immemorial (e.g. birth) I was part of a family that purchased and decorated live trees for Christmas. It was never stated explicitly, but I got the feeling that bringing home a girl from the fake tree tribe might be, well…not done. Which is why, in a fit of post college rebellion (I was a late bloomer) I went over to the fake tree tribe and courted one of their choice females. To be sure, she did have other assets (and how!), but I was always keenly aware of her holiday idiosyncrasies. This is not my sin, however… Once I married my Princess of the Fake Trees we made an agreement. We would always buy live trees in exchange for setting up for Christmas at the exact moment after the end of Thanksgiving, as was also custom in her tribe. I won’t say it was prenuptial or anything, but we did spit into our palms and shake on it.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t like people that do the fake tree thing for Christmas. I guess that’s just your thing. It’s just that I feel superior to you. Like, God blessed me with attributes you don’t have…like a soul, for one. You know, like if this was an election, I’d come from the Green (alive) States and you’d come from the…whatever color represents fake (and soulless). In fact, I feel good about saving my wife from eternal…well, from something bad that happens for a really long time.

I think you see where this is going; what I need to confess. Let’s just say that this weekend I ended up in a Hecht’s staring at a lady who just told me that the 7’6” Oregon Spruce was out of stock…and was disappointed! For those of you who can’t read between the lines, Hecht’s is not a purveyor of live trees!! Never have I fallen so far so fast. I’m still a Redskins fan for goodness sake, I don’t regularly have commitment issues. Oh, I had some great excuses like: “It’s cheaper in the long run”, “It’s easier to setup and clean” and “I don’t have to vacuum my car or the hallway with a fake tree”. I guess that’s what passes for fake tree excuses anyway. Still, I knew what I was doing was wrong, and was prepared to do it anyway.

I think it is important to note, however, that somewhere along the way I did pull back from the precipice. I came to my senses and realized who I was. The fake tree may have lifted its skirt a little, shown me a little lace, but I did not, in the end, partake of that poison fruit. So I’ll see you tonight in some strip mall lot holding up each tree and saying “How about this one?” to the Fake Tree Princess who came ever so close to converting me…

On Last Rites...

2005-11-21T15:09:00.000-05:00

There are few things that are able to raise my stress level like planning. It's not that I hate the word, it's more that I hate the thought of the word. There are certainly other words I hate worse like plague, genocide and Blue Badgers. The use of the word planning implies that you have something pending, or even impending, that has to be done...and usually during a time period you wanted to do something else. Thus, the most stressful time for me each year is when my wife takes down the calendar and proceeds to inform me of our engagements each weekend for then next few months. Usually the process is made worse when coupled with another word that I loathe...travel. This event happens twice yearly, once around the beginning of summer and once before the holiday season.

This holiday season is a special kind of trauma. Poor family planning has conspired to make this holiday season epic. The first example: My in-laws, for some unknown reason, thought it would be a good idea to have my wife be born around and sometimes even on Thanksgiving Day. Obviously, this is an annual stress inducer for me, but one I agreed to during the binding marriage contract. I also happen to like my wife's existence, but it's timing I am not thankful for...which is ironic really. Jumping on my stress dog-pile is the fact that this birthday is a milestone event....30 years on planet earth, and my wife recently reminded me that she's "really into birthdays". This is true, she has elaborately and creatively planned my birthdays. I'd like to point out though that my parents were courteous enough to have me born in April, a month of no distinction.

Example two is the red circle currently around January 9 (and subject to change) heralding the birth of our first born. Not surprising, although admittedly a little unnerving, is the white wasteland of nothingness on the calendar after that date. It's the days preceding then that have me tightening the sphincter. There are so many things crammed into each day, particularly the weekends, that it looks like someone has copied entire books of the Bible onto our calendar. So, in other words, I've followed my in-laws example...

Thank goodness that after our child comes things should start to calm down....right?

On Section C...

2005-11-17T14:19:00.000-05:00

I apologize in advance because this post will be my second consecutive post that features non-shallow material. I promise you that I’m not ordinarily this deep or full of substance. I rarely find myself staying awake at night because I have something on my mind. On those rare occasions that I do, it is more along the lines of “Is that burrito I ate right before coming to bed going to haunt me”? I’ll let you figure out what I mean by “haunt”…

It’s just this whole baby thing has me thinking of…things. One of those things is delivery. Until two weeks ago, my wife and I were under the blissful impression that there was only one way to deliver, unless some sort of emergency required a c-section. So when I went to my wife’s OB-GYN appointment, I was pretty sure I knew where our conversation was headed.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. I have recently read newspaper articles about the growing trend of women scheduling their deliveries via c-section rather than having to undergo the pain and the uncertainty of vaginal delivery. Yes, I did just say vaginal and totally didn’t giggle….*giggle*. My wife’s doctor is an older Romanian man who has been pretty conservative about some of the things has told my wife during her pregnancy, even more conservative that I think is warranted considering she is not high risk. So we were a little shocked when he appeared to come out strongly in favor of having a c-section. Some of his pro c-section arguments included:

1) Keeps your baby from having “banana head”…by which I think he meant “cone head”.
2) Eliminates the possibility of some major rippage “down there” during delivery, which could lead to major problems down the line.
3) Recovery is actually easier from a c-section in the long run (in the short term recovery would be tougher)
4) 80% of the women in Brazil do it.
5) It will save our sex life afterwards. You know, because the hole will be so big after delivery you can stick a fist in there (Yes, he said this complete with hand gesture).

Now, let’s get one thing clear right off the bat. I don’t for one second give two @#&% what women in Brazil did, are doing, or will ever do about anything. I also don’t think having a c-section to eliminate the “possibility” of problems from vaginal birth is warranted. Is it seriously your contention that a surgical procedure could not bring up more unsavory possibilities? And thanks for thinking about my sex life, but stop…

In reality, I think the two other points he didn’t state were 6) I get more insurance money for performing surgeries and 7) I want the convenience of knowing when we are going to deliver your baby. I guess there could be an 8) I don’t want to get sued if something goes wrong.

Here is the real issue though. As we are leaving the doctor pulls me aside and reminds me that my wife does have a diaphragmatic hernia that could limit her ability to push during pregnancy. He didn’t even tell my wife that, which made me question how worried about that he is. But still, therein lies the dilemma. My wife had another appointment yesterday where he talked more about the hernia limiting here ability (as well as reiterating all of the above arguments). If there were not a medical condition, my wife and I would tell him to stick it. Yet there is one and now it is up to us to decide how worried the doctor is about it in reality and how much he just wants to make things convenient for him.

Of course, the real issue to me is that this should not be an issue. We should not be going into the delivery with resentment towards the doctor. That seems a bit counterproductive to me. Plus, if there was a possible medical problem, that should have been brought up months ago. Thanks a bunch doc…

On Alone Time...

2005-11-15T13:22:00.001-05:00

I’ve noticed an interesting phenomenon around the Beeley household lately. My wife and I are expecting our first child this January. For most of this pregnancy, it didn’t seem all that real…I mean, other than her yacking all the time (and by yacking I don’t mean talking). If there were any bodily changes at first, it came from the loss of weight rather than gaining. Nine months seemed so far away.

Here is the interesting thing though. Now that my wife is starting to show, and you can actually see that there is something in there, and nine months has shortened into 9 weeks, I find myself wanting to be alone with my wife more and more. No, not in that way (although, it should be made clear I’m not opposed to that), but in just savoring all the stupid little things we do together and maximizing our time around each other. Like lazing around one the couch, or running our errands.

I think part of this is that Kaleigh Madison will be our first child, so neither my wife nor I has any concept of the massive life change we are about to undergo. The other part is that there will never be a time that we exist just the two of us again. Sure, we’ll have time alone together and such, but we’ll never be alone. Is everything we talk about going to be related to our daughter, or other responsibilities? Will our personalities change because of this? Am I going to have to stop being lazy? How about walking naked from the bedroom to the bathroom in the morning? I’m just saying…changes will have to be made.

I suppose there are all normal thoughts for those expecting. I suppose I also have to turn in my man card for this post. In my defense, I am a little emotional about the shellacking I took at the hands of the Blue Badgers last night. Losing at fantasy football does things to a man…

On Hatred...

2005-11-14T13:12:00.000-05:00

It doesn’t look good. Not at all. The Pentagon Five Sides are down by just under 20 points going into tonight’s game. The good news: Five Side QB McNabb plays tonight. The okay news: McNabb has twice this season produced over 25 points by himself. The bad news: Those Blue Badgers have Westbrook playing RB tonight which could eat into some of McNabb’s points.

Are you still awake out there? Does this fantasy football conversation bore you? Well, I’d certainly hate to bore you as my life hangs on the precipice of fantasy doom. Maybe you weren’t paying attention to my earlier post where I detailed the myriad of offenses that I’ve suffered at the hands of Coach Tilley. The Blue Badgers are just the latest tool he uses to terrorize me. You certainly weren’t there for our marathon sessions of NHL ’95 on that GPA killer called the Sega Genesis. You never saw him use Mike Modano in ways…well, indescribable ways. He once hit one of my players with Eric Lindros and made him bleed. BLEED!!

I can’t talk about it anymore. I’m liable to go into a fit of writing in all caps and exclamation points….

On Netflix...

2005-11-10T15:45:00.000-05:00

I do not normally consider myself a corporate shill. I regularly cheat on Coke by drinking Pepsi, or worse, Mountain Dew. I could care less if McDonald’s catches me going in or out of a Burger King with the obvious remnants of a whopper still on my face. If Head & Shoulders finds me in the shower with Pert, I won’t even stop that sweet, sweet lathering for a second….

There are obvious exceptions. Family pressure is such that I’d be better off marrying Tom Cruise and joining the Church of Scientology than being caught driving a Chevy. In other words, I can be a gay scientologist so long as I drive Ford, and only Ford.

Chik-Fil-A is fast becoming a new love, but I consider that an addiction on par with heroin so it doesn’t count…

I am, however, a Netflix shill (shill = fanatic). You may have recognized that by now, and if you know me, you certainly know the truth of it. If I could find a way to finance it, while at the same time quitting my job and all my social responsibilities…I’d bump my membership up to the 8 movies out at a time. Of course, I’d also lose my marriage, my health and any friendships I have left… So it would be a toss-up…I kid, I kid. Speaking of friendships, I have been known to convince a friend or two…dozen…to join, like some sort of bizarre Netflix missionary. I even recently led a friend of mine to the light and sat with him as he filled his queue for the first time with luscious movie goodness.

About that queue, I somehow cannot keep myself from organizing and reorganizing my mine on almost a daily basis. I’m perhaps one of…well, no other persons, who believe that the 500 limit to my queue is way too little…and borderline cruel. There is basically nothing else in my life that I plan that far ahead for, and yes, I realize how pathetic that is. However, I find much satisfaction out of building my army of Netflix Friends. Regrettably I cannot manipulate their lists, and save them from certain…wastes of time, or more importantly, impose my movies tastes onto their queue.

This begs the obvious question: Netflix, is there anything you can’t do?

On Bragging Rights...

2005-11-08T13:13:00.000-05:00

The Pentagon Five Sides, my insanely inconsistent fantasy football team, finally put back-to-back wins together for the first time this season. That it happened against the highest scoring offense in the league, the intimidatingly named tilley194 (the intimidation is in the 194 you see…), and on a week that tilley194 running back LeDainian Tomlinson scored a whopping 32.42 points, makes it all the more savory. I think it is due to superior coaching, but many folks consider it just dumb luck. The late game heroics of Five Side kicker Adam Vinatieri secured the win with three PATs to eek out the 1.33 point win.

It is just in time to, because in week 10 the Five Sides face off against our mortal enemies, the Blue Badgers. I don’t want to start a word war, one where Blue Badger players post my comments on a locker room wall to motivate them, but the bad blood between the Five Sides and Blue Badgers is well documented…it’s historical and entirely the fault of the Blue Badgers.

My feud with Coach Tilley (not to be confused with Coach Little Tilley of the aforementioned tilley194’s) began with a shared bathroom in our college apartment and was exacerbated by the repeated playing of U2 and “Brown Eyed Girl” at random intervals for over three years. That Coach Tilley finally won the Great Bathroom Cold War because a girlfriend of mine was coming to visit only made matters worse.

But then, of course, came the ultimate backstab when Coach Tilley dropped the Shakespeare class that we shared. Can someone tell me what kind of a world we live in when a man is allowed to commit Shakespeare adultery on another man? I think you see where I’m coming from…it’s just not done in civilized societies. It took a long time for my heart to mend after that one…

By the time the great No Electricity, Full Fridge/Freezer Debacle occurred, the rift was forever cemented. Five Side QB Donovan McNabb stated that “Despite coach benching me the past two weeks for Mark Brunell, I still want to win this one for him against those Blue Bastards”.

Even the pathetically ineffective RB Warrick Dunn stated “Despite my complete inability to find the end zone most of the season, I’ll be looking to finally do something like score this week rather than rack up useless yardage and then let someone else run it in at the 1 yard line…”.

I don’t want to say that I’ve had this week circled since the season began, but I’ve had this week circled since the season began. Coach Tilley, you need only go down into your basement and look at the sad, defeated eyes of Coach Little Tilley to see your future. I’m coming for you and all Five Sides will be with me you hear…ALL FIVE SIDES!!!

On Life, Love and the Pursuit of Netflix....

2005-10-19T10:07:00.000-04:00

Let’s get one thing straight in this, my first post on a blog ever. I did not wake up this morning thinking of ways to make myself even more like the millions of other people out there and begin a blog. I did not think that I needed to find ways to get my creative juices flowing. Frankly, I think the phrases “get my” and “juices flowing” were never meant to be put together…but I digress… I did not, and yea verily, do not think that I have anything important to say, and am dang sure I don’t think you have anything important to say either.

So why would I join the ranks of the millions of bloggers out there. Simply put, I got married. At first marriage and blogging would not appear to be linked by any rational person. There are two things you should know however, to prove my point: A) I am not rational and 2) my wife is under the delusion that what I write happens to be funny. Actually, now that I think about it, I believe it is my wife who is not rational.

This blog is thus dedicated to my wife. To the one that thinks that even though I have nothing to say, I atleast go about it in an amusing way. And while ordinarily I’d just ignore the constant campaign of nagging she has waged against me to get this going (much like the campaign to not throw my clothes on the floor), she is pregnant. I figure I owe her one…

I also figured I wanted to prove her wrong...

Do not expect me to use this as some sort of catharsis for all my angst. In fact, my goal is to keep this blog centered around the principle of boldly saying nothing, and for making the world a better place for napping… Or for Netflix watching, which is the one thing that I do actually excel at….