How Erin ruined my vacation, part 1

So we're at the beautiful Rock Creek lake, and we'd just found the coolest little hike-in camping spot, and I'd FINALLY caught a little brook trout after months of anticipation, when we decided to move to the lake to fish. Here it is:

So I set Erin up with a spincast rod and a rooster tail, because they are the easiest and most likely combination to help her catch a fish. As I was just settling in and had my eyes on a roaming rout, I hear "Um, honey. I hooked my leg. Can you come get it out?"
Well, I figured sure, it'd be no problem. Wrong again. She'd lodged TWO of the tines on the treble hook firmly in her leg. I didn't have a knife or a razor, so we got the camp host to clip off the rest of the lure from the hook. It looked like this:
Anyway, we made an unexpected trip to the ER in Mammoth, where we had the quickest ER visit EVER, though they looked at Erin like she was a dope for coming in to get a hook out, until they realized it was two tines. Then the doctor tied string around both parts, gave a yank, and the hook was removed. The best thing (besides the quick turn-around) was that it cost us nothing at all... Hooray for E's bitchen insurance!
Here she is finishing the admittance paperwork. Notice the hook still in her leg.


We made it back to camp in under 3 hours, got a decent night's sleep, and were up and fishing at 7:15. I caught 5 fish this morning, and Erin hasn't maimed herself yet, so I guess all is well and I can forgive her for the lost hours of fishing last night. She even tried her hand at fly-fishing again this morning, though she promptly got tangled in a tree immediately following this photo:


We had to make a run to town (hence this blog-post) but now we're headed back to camp, and more fish. This morning was good, and though the five I caught were from 8 to 14 inches, I nearly fell in when a bruiser of a brown trout (he was at least 20 inches and 3 lbs.) swam right by my feet as I was casting to a pod of risers. I have needs to make said fish my bitch, and barring any catastrophe, will give it my best shot.
And by the way, you better not fall in, hook yourself, get bitten by the giant coyote roaming camp, contract rabies from a marmot or whatever else might interfere with my pursuit of fish Erin! :)

Gaaahhh!

Some people have too much time on their hands. I'm one of those people, at least for the next month or so. I'd like to be one of the ones who knows how to use their free time to do something creative, or constructive, or social, or whatever, but Elaine pretty much nailed it when she said "look around, say 'fuck it,' and go sit on the couch and look for more cool things on the internet" in response to my post a few days back.
We have had friends visiting from Cali for the last few days, which has been great, as it's gotten us out of the house. However, Toyota still hasn't finished our car yet, but they at least gave us a rental with AC so we can now leave the house without having to put up with extreme discomfort. I had to drive the van across town yesterday at 4:00, and I'm not exaggerating when I say it was at least 120 degrees in my car, because it was about 112 outside and my van was much, much hotter. By the time I got home, I was hot to the point of nearly tearing up, and I was practically delirious. But then Erin showed up in a scion with excellent AC, and I was so happy we just drove around the block a few times to recapture the feeling of driving without being miserable.
So anyway, we were out with our friends, hanging out by the pool after dark, and, to my horror, Erin was wondering "who the fat guy with our friend was," when she realized it was me.
Fucking ouch!
But it is true. My spare tire has expanded in the last months or so up toward my shoulders, and my thighs brush against each other when I walk, which is really, really annoying.
I don't look like a blimp or anything, but goddamn it if I haven't always assumed I'd be skinny as a rail without ever having to worry about it. And now I'm not.
I eat pretty healthy, but have done dick for exercise for the last few months, and it's starting to show.
So we went to the gym today, but I'm not very hopeful at the moment. I've been doing the gym thing on and off for several years, and I'm obviously not doing something right. Although to be fair, I've never really gained significant weight or changed pant or shirt sizes until the last few months. This simply will not do.
OK, enough complaining and enough whining. I'll post something more cheerful someday, maybe.

another reason why I LOVE Texas... The Texas GOP!

Ok, ok...

I really only am fond of Texas for its geography and the few of you that still live there.
BUT...
I am amused (in the same way you can be amused by the senile old uncle who's so brain damaged that he gets away with racial slurs and blatant sexism) of the shamelessly racist, anti-feminist, and otherwise bigoted way that the Texas GOP handles itself.

At least in Texas, they don't secretly pretend not to be racist while cracking nigger jokes and wetback jokes under their breath, no sir. They proudly hock things like this at their state republican convention.

Who says Texas aint great?

Trying to find something constructive to do

So since I'm not going to Switzerland, we don't have a trip to Tetons/Yellowstone in the works, and I'm not teaching summer school, and I just finished my second 6 hour doctoral class by writing a 24 page paper (with sappy accolades from the professor and a high "A" ), not to mention the fact that our only car with A/C needs a new engine (and it's been hitting the 100-teens in town the last few days), I find myself for the first time facing a summer break with no plans, no transportation, and no money (the car's only going to be about $2200 instead of $4000, but still). So I'm trying to find cheap, constructive things to occupy my time. Erin and I will go camping once the car is fixed, but in the mean time, I'm not sure what to do with myself, so I made a list, and here it is:

make a trailer for my bicycle

pack up my old classroom

fix things around the house, including but not limited to a broken window, loose faucet, roof leak, and broken tile in the bathroom

do some routine maintenance on the motorcycle

clean up yard

I fully anticipate having these things completed by this coming Sunday. The only hitch is all the outside things will need to be done early, because it's just too hot to sit in the driveway, for example, any time after about 10:00 a.m.
So anyway, while I was trying to find the link to the plans for the bicycle trailer, I found this site which is full of great DIY projects... Check it out.

Jesus Christ, did you see that?!

OK,
For what it is worth, I have sooo felt like Tammy before, wishing on the one hand that I had it in me to just give in to the fairytale of the prevalent Christian faith, for no other reason than to feel connected, both to others and to the big scary unknown, and on the other hand, being afraid of that happening to me against my will.
I've known too many good people over the years who, after not having seen them for awhile, have suddenly found Jesus, and become less than they were. I'm sure they would see it just the opposite, but I'm speaking selfishly here. When people I've known go all Jesus-y, they invariably become more shallow in every conceivable way as far as my interactions with them are concerned. Period. I NEVER want to do that. And I don't care to enter into any type of theological debate here either. I'm just saying that in my experience, every person I've known who has found Jesus has suffered a tangible loss that affects me directly. And it isn't just my bias against religion that makes me see it. I've noticed the change in certain friends before they revealed their new-found faith. It's nothing I want, and while I can understand their belief in the benefit of their new faith, I just don't believe it to be anything more than a giving -up, or a settling-for.
Death, God, what happens next.... all of it is so uncertain, and I as much as anyone else yearn for the truth... but not so much so that I am willing to accept anyone's belief structure because parts of it seem to ring true. I am constantly struggling with reconciling my belief that there is a God and the uncertainty of ever knowing. One thing I know IS certain is that life is short, very short, and it is all we know we have, and that the only consequences that I am concerned about relate to this life. I struggle not with the what-if's of what comes after, but with the choices I make with the limited time I have.
I'm not a person who needs a great deal of comfort, and I guess that is both a blessing and a curse.
My father's dying made me realize that I squandered a lot of time, and I wish I had worked harder at setting things right with him. But now that he's gone, I'm not concerned with ever seeing him again. What I have left of him that he left behind is nothing tangible, but it's enough... it has to be. There's nothing else.
But that's OK.
I used to be afraid of turning into my father. And there are parts of him, big parts, that I see in myself that I am still afraid of and that I don't want. But his passing has revealed to me the good parts he's left in me, and they are good things.
I believe in the divine nature of the human spirit. And I don't mean spirit in the sense of some entity that goes on after our bodies perish. And I don't mean divine in the sense of some omnipotent power. I mean spirit in the sense of a human willingness to step into the unknown boldly and joyfully, embracing the fear and uncertainty that comes along with doing so, just to see what is possible. And I mean divine in the sense of brushing against something larger than just one life. Whether that's an idea, or a force of nature, or some collective subconscious or whatever, it is connecting to something bigger than just our own limited experience.
Though my dad made his way back to church in his later years, that is not what he left me that I value. He left me something greater than that.
His appreciation of performance art and music verged on awe, and this perception is something we share. It is a huge part of what gives me comfort. It is the way I see the divine, and it doesn't come from an outside source; it is purely human.
It's in the amazing stories of people exceeding the limits of what came before, whether in art or science or politics... in all the thousands and thousands of ways people do it every day, that I find comfort and hope and connectedness. And most importantly, inspiration to join in and participate in the unique gift of being human.
To illustrate my point, I offer these few things; they are just examples of some of the amazing things people can do that happened to come my way today.

Read about how scientists are combining viruses and nanotechnology to be beneficial.

Read here to check out one of my favorite poems by on of my favorite poets.

Now watch these videos. I mean, DAMN...

Second Childhood

My dad wrote for his church newsletter. The following piece was written by him, about a week before he died. I think it's the best thing he wrote.

Second Childhood
By Tony Downey

When I first heard the expression, "He's living his second childhood," I had no idea what it meant. I thought it referred to an older man purchasing a flashy sports car, marrying a woman half his age, or dyeing his hair and using tanning lotion - actions resulting from a desire to look many years younger and recapture his long lost youth. But now, after more than seven decades on this planet, I've come to realize what the expression really means, at least in my case. It is a mixture of nostalgia, youthful innocence, forgotten potential and unrequited love. I find all of these images in my recurrent memories, drifting back to my own childhood when everything was so clean and simple. I recall the sound of music, the taste of sweetness the thrill of cold rain on my face on a hot day, the unbridled freedom taken for granted, peer status with my pals, the smell of earth as Spring thaws the frozen ground; the softness of my mother's touch, the absolute authority of my father.

But then I grew up and learned the ways of the world: ambition, competition, conflict, jealousy, selfishness, arrogance, hatred, lies and frustration. Surrounded by these elements, I fought to stay above them, but fell victim to many - many more than I wish to confess. It is only by God's grace that I have survived, bent, but not broken. While not yet counting my days, I can see these final events looming on the not so distant horizon.

Falling back into my second childhood, remembering and relishing these boyhood memories of blissful ignorance, I am able to bask in the enduring peace and forgiveness and look forward to that ultimate reconciliation, when all that was will be again, and I return as a child of the light.

I don't hold to my father's religious convictions, but I am happy that they gave him solace, and that he died as he always hoped he would: quickly and unexpectedly, and at peace with all his children.

I have to admit, this is pretty uncanny...

So my brother sent me this link, and it is pretty cool... check it out!

Putting things in perspective

I am not always a good friend, a good husband, a good father, or a good son. In general I try stick by my ideals, but as I get older, I find myself more and more often living in the gray areas between. It hasn't always been this way.

When I was younger I was fiercely loyal; I sought to be just in thought and action; I had a high moral standard. I knew what was right, and more importantly, I recognized wrong, especially in matters of family, friendship and love.

Or so I thought.

I took great pride in being right, ocasionally at the cost of hurting or even losing people important to me. I realize now that I am older that being right isn't always the most important thing. Especially concerning the people I love.

It is no secret that I have never thought highly of my father. I could list all his shortcomings as a parent, all the ways he failed me, the instances where the choices he made came at the sacrifice of his children. I have been, to varying degrees, angry at him for most of my life.

It's been 12 days since his stroke, and 10 since he took his last breath. I don't know if I am handling things well, or if I am not. I feel ok about things at the moment, but that may change.

What I have come to accept, though, is that I didn't really know my father, and that I think I probably would have liked him had I had the opportunity and the circumstances of our relationship had been different.

I am not suddenly stricken with a whole new view of my dad now that he is gone. I am not romanticizing him; all I'm saying is that I wish things had been different between us, but it just wasn't possible; it didn't happen, and it it probably couldn't have been any different.

However, I know he wished the same, and right now, that's enough.

I've seen enough of my own imperfections and the havoc my choices have caused people I've loved in my life, to know that it's not always possible to undo the damage we cause, even though we'd love nothing more than to be able to do so. Though it wasn't always evident to me, I think my dad felt much the same, and it is comforting to know that he saw, and he wished.

And everything changes

My dad just had a stroke. He's not going to make it.

A Goldmine

Perhaps most of you won't be as amused as I, but I stumbled upon this website and it's had me laughing for hours. Like most sites, there's alot that's mediocre, but I've found quite a bit of stuf to make me laugh outloud. For example, they feature a "Photoshop Phriday" which produced these comic book covers:

If those don't make you laugh, how about these Science Fair projects?

In addition to the pictures, you can browse forums with topics such as

Compare your genitals to Musicians or

MSpaint your illogical childhood notions.

Anyway, that's how I've killed the better part of an evening, when what I really should be doing is reading my American School Law text because I have paper due on Sunday.

Choose your own adventure

I was poking around the nets when I came across something about choose your own adventure books (CYOA). I loved them as a kid, and I even bought a series of used Endless Quest ones for my classroom a few years ago on Ebay.


So anyway, as I was poking around, I came across this picture:


And I thought, "How cool!"
I remember reading many CYOA style books as a kid, and most weren't of the official line, but were clones, and are lost to me. I even had a few that were romances, fantasy fiction targeting a girl audience by having smarmy smooches mixed in with all the dragons and magic and stuff.
While I wasn't able to find reference to some of the more obscure series (I have fogotten their names!) I did come across some interesting new books, campy CYOA style books that are sort of a tongue-in-cheek combination of B-movie and harlequin romance.
With titles like Tangle in Tijuana, Beauty Queen Blowout, or the best one (shut up Michael!), Escape From Fire Island, how can you go wrong?
I remember writing a comp. program in BASIC in 7th grade where we were basically copying a Zork story, and I think it would be fun to try to perhaps do an audience participation type event where we make a CYOA story, only the choices would send a reader to someone else's blog; it might be a fun thing for those of us who wish we were writers to do this summer...
Anyway, I have to think on it for awhile. If you have any suggestions, let me hear them.

Dames, ya gotta love 'em

Especially if the Dame in question is Dame Juliana Berners, quite likely the first author on a sport in the history of modern English. I did a report on her as an under-grad for a History of the English Language class, and she is very unsual historically-speaking.

At a time when nearly everyone was illiterate, and little writing was done outside of religious treatise, here was a woman writing about fishing. Pretty cool, if you ask me.

Anyway, I am getting the fishing/camping/mountain bug pretty bad lately, and what with not getting to go on any trips last summer (I mean fishing trips; Switzerland doesn't count!) I'm just itching to get on the water. I get out of school a week earlier than Nick and Erin, so I am trying to plan a trip for a few days between the 30th of May and the 4th of June. Possibilities are:

The Sierra Nevada

Utah

Northern Nevada

Colorado

I love all these places, and each is great in its own way. I just can't decide which will be best for such a short trip.

Erin Nick and I are tentatively planning on going to go to Colorado to visit my sister on the 5th, so one possibility is to take the motorcycle and get there a few days early. As an added bonus, when they arrive I won't have to drag them around while I selfishly fish for 12 to 14 hours straight, and having a cycle in the mountains is just cool. However, the down side is that the weather there has been horrific (for the fishing) this winter and Spring, and I certainly don't want to be there if the run-off makes the waters unfishable, or if the ice won't be off by then. For example, it was an already-too-hot 92 degrees here last Saturday , while in Silverthorne, where Nicole lives, it was only a high of 30 degrees... and it dumped a few inches of snow as well. Nicole assures me that the snow melted the next day, but with weather like that h fishing might not get started until early July.

If the weather doesn't cooperate, we'll go visit her at the end of summer and I'll go to one of the remaining places on my list. Now that I'm thinking of it, I haven't been to Angel Lake in about 4 years, and the last time I went, it was a bust; it was a draught year, and the river was dry.

But the first time I went, it was Memorial weekend, the lake had just iced off, and the trout were stacked up like firewood in little holding areas in the drainage creek. The fishing was great! Plus, there's a little alpine lake about 2 miles up and around the escarpment from Angel lake that is supposedly little visited and filled with arctic grayling:

a rare find in the lower 48 west of the rockies, and especially in Nevada! I couldn't hike in that first year because the trail was still covered in 10 feet of snow, but maybe this time will be different.

So all told, I just can't make up my mind. But I suppose that's half the fun.

In other news, check out this alligator!

And you can click here to see me man-handling him. :)

IRC day!

According to the internets, May 4th is International Respect for Chickens Day! So everyone get out the party favors, cue up this song, and dance and drink to your feathered compatriot's glory!

For my part, I thought I'd post a few pics of our local fowl celebrity from across the street. When I cam home today I saw him strutting around and snapped a few fine photos. According to Nick, this cock was pimpin' as he literally crossed the street:

leave it to an engineer

This comes courtesy of Nicky's mom. You cat people will understand.

PBS, Bitches

So I just went down to the pub to get some pizza and they were playing a bunch of early 90's club music, and a bunch of people were dancing, and I suddenly got very, very nostalgic for that period of my life. Most of you who read this were gone from my life during those years, but I was a dedicated club-rat, athe the time when clubs were all Night at the Roxbury style....




?!!


Sorry to do that to you, guys... here's the right one.









Oops, no, that's not it... Maybe this one:




Yep, that's the one!



Actually, I am really amazed at how many variations of the Roxbury dance appear on youtube; I've been distracted for like an hour looking at all the clips, like this one:



and this one:



Boy, I did love to dance.

It was one of the more pleasurable periods in my life, and I just kind of phased into a heavy-duty euphoric recall while I was there. Then I got my pizza, walked back to my room, ate my pizza, watched a Law and Order, and then flipped to PBS, where a most interesting show was on.
It's called History Detectives. It's really a very well-crafted program. Click here to read a transcript of the show, or better yet, find the show on a bittorent site... or if you're too lazy, click here for a short synopsis.

PBS, bitches.

Perhaps the second most awesome thing ever?

Once I got over the initial pre-judgement "this is gay" hurdle, I realized that this may just be the second most awesome thing ever (behind this, of course)!


Seriously, I'm going to use this with my class on Monday.
The clip comes courtesy of Teachertube. I can't believe I've never heard of this site before!
In other news, I think I'm changing the focus of my doctoral study from professional development for teacher retention to development of international learning communities, but more on that later. I have lunch, then another session to go to.

Fundamentalism is the bastard child of Imperialism and Nationalism

Man, I just spent the last hour and a half reading one of the links from my last post, all about Zionism and the 6 day war. All I can say is, Holy Shit! I've learned more about the Middle East in the the last hour than I did in the 37 years before, and I am having a hard time believing how poorly our government interacts with the governments of the region... it makes me say "Aah!"

Perspectives

Our keynote speaker today was Jeffrey Goldberg, author of Prisoners: a Story of Friendship and Terror. The topic was "Bringing peace to the middle east: an impossible dream?" There are several colleges within Walden University here for their residencies, so I wasn't particularly excited about this plenary presentation. I have to say that I was very pleasantly surprised. This guy was amazing! I'm too tired (or lazy) to go into detail about his whole series of stories, so I'll put this link (be sure to read all 5 pages of corespondence!) and this one (which is probably the best one) for you to check out. Basically, he just recounted some of his amazing story for us, emphasizing the usefulness of tolerance and the ability to live with uncertainty as ways to bridge the gap between Jews and Muslims. What was really interesting though, was that during the Q and A session, nearly every questioner was either from an African country where "rebels" have been labelled as terrorists, or Muslims who were so emotionally attached to the conflict that they couldn't hear his message. There was one pertinent question about terrorism by an irate man, who it seems had a personal vested interest in Lebannon (I think he was from there.) The questioner pointed out that in some cases, organizations like Hezbollah and Hamas were at least somewhat representative and military in nature, and therefore legitimate in a way that Al Quaida, for example, was not, and he wanted to know why Jeffrey referred to them as terrorist organizations, but not the Israeli or US armies. Jeffrey responded by saying he considers Hezbollah and Hamas terrorist organizations because they target children. The questioner then asked about "collateral damage" by the US military, but by this point his emotions had gotten the best of him and he was shouting, quite agitated. Jeffrey actually handled things remarkably well, in that he simply told the man not to judge him or his positions until he'd read his book (which I decided I had to have!), though I'd like to have heard his take on the collateral damage, which he didn't offer.
Now remember that all 900 plus people here are working on either PhD or EdD degrees... so what happened next is all the more surprising...
The final questioner went on a tirade about Zionists (Jeffrey is an admitted Zionist; I had to look it up to understand exactly what it meant; its a long read but an interesting one!) and was shouting "Shame on Walden for it's biased support of Zionism!" He was so outraged by Jeffrey's invitation to be keynote speaker that he renounced his affiliation with Walden, presumably quitting the doctoral program.
I really felt sorry that he didn't hear what I heard, which was a (mostly) humble accounting of one Jew's experience in trying to gain perspective on the war between the cultures of Arab and Jew. The outburst was a perfect demonstration of how difficult it is to look at your "enemy" as human... which was the whole point, I think.

Existentialists rejoice! (or beware?)

Man, what DOES a doctoral program with a minimum investment of three years and 30 thousand dollars have to offer? Well HERE IT IS!

...and I offer it to you for free.

(You can thank me later!)

... or maybe I'll over-sleep 'til noon

Well, when I hit "snooze" this morning at 7:20, I "snoozed" until 11:50. I guess sleeping only 2 1/2 hours yesterday afternoon caught up with me.

I'll get my schedule in about an hour, and hopefully I'll have a morning off tomorrow or Saturday, otherwise I may not get down to the national mall after all. I may have to play hookie if I can get away with it, I just don't know yet.

First Impressions of Virginia

I caught a red-eye out of Vegas last night to come to my first Residency for my doctoral program, and I had hoped to sleep on the plane, but had no luck.




I arrived at 7:30 local time, which was 4:30 my time, and though I originally intended to do the DC tourist thing today, I couldn't find a locker to stash my bags so I decided to go to the NCC (where I'm staying) to catch a few hours sleep.




This place is pretty cool, though it is the most confusing building I've ever been in; it has no windows, 3 buildings connected in the center that fan out radially, and cement hallways remniscent of a soviet gulag you might see in a 60's era James Bond flick.




So after literally 2 hours of walking around trying to get oriented, I finally found the dining hall. All meals are included with room prices, and I wasn't expecting much, but found myself pleasantly surprised.




I had a sweet potato bisque, fish, boston cream pie, and ice cream, which was great, because aside from the kick-ass cookies Erin sent me off with, I hadn't eaten in about 20 hours.




So impressions...




Not many so far. After dinner I walked around a bit, and the cherry trees are blossoming.










Aside from the cool trees, and seeing several diplomats at the airport, I haven't got much to go on. Tomorrow I am going to catch a 7:30 am shuttle to the National Mall, and I plan on seeing a few things. Unfortunately, the Museum of American History is frickin' closed for renovations, which really bums me out, so it looks like the National Air and Space Museum, and beyond that, I'm not sure what.
I'm thinking maybe the White House. Since the Pope happens to be in town, I figure I can give both him and Bush a piece of my mind...
Or maybe I'll go and visit some memorials to presidents who didn't totally suck, like Jefferson, Lincoln and my favorite, FDR.
I'll post more tomorrow.

Chicken Story Redux

For some reason, one evening Tim brought home several baby chicks, a duckling, and a full-grown rooster. He said we would eventually BBQ and eat them when they were full grown, but I had my doubts.
Well, the chicks died during a thunderstorm, leaving only the duckling and the rooster. The duckling was very cute, as all ducklings are, but it grew into a very large duck very quickly. The rooster was a pain in the ass, making noise and drawing attention from the neighbors. We found this out when the police showed up at our door to inform us that we couldn't keep "livestock" within the city limits. We were about to move anyway, but the cop told us we had to get rid of them that day.

There was a little old lady down the street that Tim somehow knew, and she'd been eyeing the duck hungrily for quite some time. The last we ever saw of the duck was his little black eyes, as he cocked his head, looking backward over the little old lady's shoulder at us as she waddled down the block with him.

The rooster was another matter. I tried to take him to a farm out near where our trailer had burned down, but the process of putting a chicken into a milkcrate, strapped onto the back of a motorcycle, is much more difficult than it sounds. So the chicken stayed. We were afraid of the police coming back, but they never did, and a few days later we were moving out the last of our things. Tim still hadn't found a home for the rooster, so he decided that the humane thing to do was to "euthanize" it.

Our back yard was full of dead branches that had been cut from a tree which had grown into the powerlines overhead, and as such it was very hard to navigate. For a human.

For a chicken, on the other hand, it was quite easy to get around, affording all kinds of nooks and crannies to hide in.

Anyway, the time had come, and Tim had originally intended to just shoot the rooster with Rodney's shotgun, but we convinced him that gunfire in the back yard was likely to draw the attention of the nasty neighbors, and eventually, the cops. So Tim decided he could just kill it by whacking it with a 2x4. The problem was, that rooster was fast. Much faster than Tim, as it turned out.

After several misses, with the rooster running in and out of the debris in the yard, Tim finally connected with it. Only he didn't hit it in the head; he hit it right in the side. The rooster went flying sideways across the yard as the result of the blow, but the blow didn't kill it. Far from it.

It was definitely messed up though, and at this point so was Tim. You could tell right away that the rooster was badly injured, but because of al the debris in the yard, Tim had to chase the thing for several more minutes and hit it 3 more times with misplaced blows before the thing finally died.

All in all, what makes for a funny story in a short retelling was a gruesome episode of good intentions evolving into violence. Not a pretty sight.

If the lady across the street ever decides to do for her chicken, I'm going to be somewhere else, thinking of puppies or some other happier thing.

There's a chicken in the tree across the street, and he's pretty

Yup. A CHICKEN.

Erin saw it a few day ago, and yesterday I had to go over and check it out.

The lady who lives there doesn't know where it came from, but she's been feeding it and it looks like he's here to stay. He's pretty cool. And very pretty.

Other things are happening around here, but I kind of put the cool story out there first, and the rest would just be even more boring by comparison, so I'll just leave it at that.

COOL
CHICKEN.

Oh, and if any of you read this and you haven't called or sent me an email with your phone numbers, please do; I lost all my numbers when I lost my phone a few weeks ago.

This is why I love the internet

Seeing's how I've been low on inspiration and stuck in self-pity-land the last several days, it's nice to know that there are strangers out there who can still make me grin. For example, as you all know, I just LOVE Dinosaur Comics. Ryan North, the comic's creator, is a linguist. So naturally, he has other linguist viewers who occasionally get into heated debates (well, as heated as a debate about linguistics can be anyway) over content of one of his comics. Usually I just read the comic, but today I was scrolling down to read the blog part, and I came across this link which is in reference to a days-old debate about the lyrics to the Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song. The blog, which offers commentary on Chinese culture as it relates to US culture through the lense of linguistics, is simply awesome. Just read this post, and you'll know what I'm talking about.

Pure Gold.

Ah, the internets... Gateway to different worlds.

The manic, surface part-of-me

There is some stuff that makes me happy in my daily life, and not just the obvious stuff, like Erin or Nick, or any of our too-numerous pets.

What stuff, you ask? Well, for one, there are a few webcomics that are literal hi-lites during my day. Dinosaur Comics, XKCD, Questionable Content, and A Softer World are a few. Do yourselves a favor and spend a little time going through their archives... I'll be surprised if you don't find them entertaining. These people write with such wit that it makes me envious. If I could hang out for a day or two with anyone, these writers would top my list, along with Trey Parker and Mat Stone. How they can sustain such cleverness is beyond me, but it's uplifting.

Other things lately include this picture

and the story attached to it. I mean, how cool is that?

What else?

Well, aside from Battlestar Galactica, The Office, Reaper, and My Name is Earl all coming back with new seasons here in the next few weeks, there's the fact that after 8 years, I am finally switching campuses and moving to teach 5th grade at our Middle School next year. While it isn't exactly what I wanted, I am ripe for a change, and I'll have opportunities to put some of the leadership practices I am studying in my doctoral program to use.

Another cool thing lately was our climbing trip to Red Rocks last week. Nick, while I love him, has terrible couch-potato tendencies, and a general lack of enthusiasm typical of an 8th grader, so I was delighted with how excited he was to climb, and even more so with his efforts. The climb was a frictiony 5.8 , and he was totally determined to climb well, he took instruction, and he was way more persistent in his efforts than I could have imagined. We'll be going again on Thursday where we will climb something a little more traditional, and I'll post more pics. In the mean time, here are a few of from Red Rocks...

And finally, I got a cowboy hat. Yes, a cowboy hat.... and I LIKE it.

The inner turmoil part-of-me

My brain has been all over lately, and hence, no posts. I mentioned in my last post that I am suffering from a possible mid-life crisis, and that is still true. But rather than dwell on my own mortality and the what-ifs of squandered youth, I am trying to focus on how to make life more exciting and beautiful and substantive. It isn't easy, but I am hoping that that will change once I can just accept the fact that I am no longer a kid.
Anyway, I've always been the type of person who walks the edge between introvert and extrovert. When B and I were first rooming together 17 years ago, I remember taking a personality test in which I scored as an INTP. About a year later, I took the same test and scored as an ENTP. I seem to go through phases in which I bounce between really liking the world, people, and social interaction and really being disapointed in the world and people, preferring instead to duck my head and pretend they don't exist. I just took the test again, and am currently an INTP. Take the test yourselves and post your results...
Anyway, I think that I have become increasingly isolated these last few years, and though I'd like to blame it on the culture here in Vegas, or on getting older, I am not entirely convinced those two things are solely to blame. Though, to be fair to myself, I am not the only one who feels this way. And being back to Texas for Christmas and seeing old friends reminded me that I am not incapable of feeling comfortable and connected to people other than Erin.
I often get caught up in my head in trying to determine if my lacking connectedness is because of my age, and wondering if I'd be able to be friends with any of you if we didn't have history. I know it's a pointless mental exercise, but sometimes I can't help it. I AM grateful to have you all as friends, it's just that I wonder at my inability to find others like you in the 8 years we've lived here. Is it really THEM (meaning the 2 million or so people in the Las Vegas Valley) or is it me?
It's not like Erin and I don't socialize; we do, albeit infrequently. It's just that it always seems so shallow. Or, we'll meet people we really seem to connect to, only to have the relationships evaporate. It's something that I can't figure out, and is definitely a part of the larger package of mid-life issues I'm dealing with.
Bleh. I feel like I'm getting all whiney now, and that's not what I wanted to do. I'd intended to just briefly mention my whole nut-job obsessive thought-processes and then move on to more interesting things, but since I've used up so much space already, I'll save the various fluffy bits for my next post, which will be immediately after (or above) this one.

Some realizations, in no particular order.

I feel wiser now, having turned another year on the calendar. Here are some of the things I have come to realize lately, in no particular order:

1. The years of 1992-1996 were THE BEST for independent films, when they truly were independent, and not mainstream-fashionable, as they later became. This group of films includes, but is not limited to, The Last Supper, Welcome to the Dollhouse, and a movie that featured a trio who killed a guy then had to dump the body; they drew straws to see who had to hammer out the corpse's teeth, and the loser eventually moved into the attic where he went kind of nuts, drilling holes in the ceiling to view what was going on in the apartment below. I can't remember the name, but Brannon will help me out by remembering for me: we saw it in Austin and it was awesome!
Anyway, this morning as I was grading a Science Test, I realized that the actor who plays geeky professor-guy on this season of lost is the same guy who played the lead in Spanking the Monkey (which definitely goes on the list). I haven't checked yet to make sure, but I'm 99.9% positive it is him. The movie had an awesome soundtrack, particularly the song that played as the credits rolled, and after more than a decade, I finally found it.

2. No limit Texas Hold 'Em, which holds the top place (in a tie with fly fishing) as chief among my obsessions, might actually not be the greatest poker game ever. That title may ver well belong to the game of Pot Limit Triple Daw Lowball, Deuce to Seven. Don't ask why... there's not enough spaceon my blog if you get me started... just trust me on this!

3. I'm actually filling up (slowly) with relevant reflections and witty comentary about things these days, but I'm not yet up to the task of presenting them to the world; I think I am suffering a bit of a mid-life crisis, and, as usual, I prefer to suffer alone until I get things figured out; that's just the way I am. I AM figuring things out, at least a little, and when I'm ready, I'll actually post something I feel is important or worth-while.

4. You should bug Erin to post more; she's easier to push around.

passing the buck

I haven't blogged much lately, so for those few of you who check here hoping for something, I'm posting my friend Michael's blog... He's a funny motherf*cker.

http://michaelrossmayer.blogspot.com/

We miss you Popo.

Uuuhhnngghh.

There's been an epidemic at my school involving a bug that for many has led to pneumonia... I was hoping to dodge it, but it finally caught up with me. The sucky parts are

a. I can't keep any food down so I've been surviving on pedialite and Ensure, which are both gross.

b. We have to drive to Phoenix tonight for Nick's 14th birthday gift of going to the Rennaisance Festival tomorrow (our hotel and stuff is already reserved)

c. My first doctoral course ends on Sunday, and I have to write a paper between n0w and then.

d. Today is my 19th AA birthday, and I can't go to a meeting to celebrate it.

I tell you, I hate hate HATE being sick, especially when it involves throwing up, which this bug does. I went to the doc yesterday and got an antibiotic shot and some amoxicillin, so hopefully it will clear up in a few days.
In other news, our new dog Charlie is cool, and I'd love to post some pics and tell you all about him, but I'm headed back to bed. Get onto Erin for dog updates; she's better about posting lately than I am.

Ugh.

Sorry I haven't posted much lately. We just had to put Sebastian down, and I'm completely bummed. You just don't realize how much you love a dog, or cat, or whatever, until you're missing them and they are gone. I'm just very sad right now, so I'll write more later.

... and for you harmonica fans

This just made me giggle. Alot.

Being a guitar aficionado

I just love kick-ass guitar solos, so I decided to share this Gem with you guys. Woot!
And check out Ozzy's rhythm!
When you're done there, click here for more guitar kick-assery.

Update

First, let me begin by saying sorry for not posting or inviting you guys until today. I've been busy, and as usual, haven't had much to say. If I've left anyone out that you know of (like Brannon) send me his email or tell whoever it is to send me their email, and I'll invite them.
Anyway, let me fill you in on the story of why I had to go private.

It's Wednesday morning and I get an email from the president of our school. It is vague, and only says "Can you come up today so we can meet about an important sensitive matter." Hmmm. I spend about 15 minutes grading papers and wondering what on earth this could be about when I decide to call him. He just says "we need to meet as soon as possible," which is a giant red light to me, because no one EVER has good news when they tell you, "We need to discuss this in private." I wonder, "What have I done that might warrant such a meeting?"
So I go through the next 45 minutes of teaching Science before I get a break. I go down to ask my boss if I can leave early to go to the other campus to meet the president, and I explain to him about the mystery email. I go back to my room, and get on with the day.
About 15 minutes later my immediate boss comes to my room and tells me that all he could find out was that I have "some sensitive matter on the internet," and that our campus president is not happy because the president of the entire corporation found whatever the sensitive stuff was, and is not happy about it.
Shit.
Immediately the paranoia sets in. I am racking my brain to figure out what it could be, because I can't for the life of me figure out where my name in relation to my current life might possibly come across the computer screen to the eyes of the head honcho.
Now, there are maybe a half dozen skeletons in my closet that I'd sooner no person I work with ever find out, and as unlikely as it was, those few of the worst started to seem likely candidates for what was happening now.
Without getting into the details, suffice it to say that certain parts of my private history would absolutely shock most people, and would certainly be hard to explain. I began to feel literally sick to my stomch with worry.
On the other hand, everyone has skeletons in the closet that they would rather pretend never existed, and I couldn't imagine how any of mine could be so bad as to negate the positive things I accomplish at work every day.
So I wander through the rest of the school day like a zombie, doing my best to teach while the phantoms in my head get larger and larger, until I am seriously wondering if I am about to get fired.
Lunch rolls around, and as I am heading back to my class, my boss catches me again, and asks if I've come up with anything yet, and all I tell him is that there are maybe half a dozen things in my past I'd be worried about, but I can't imagine how any of them pertain to my job.
Then he says, "Do you keep a blog? Because apparently they found it while doing a web search, and they aren't happy about how critical you are."
Sudden relief flows over me. All of this is about the blog post I wrote when I was venting about them cancelling my professional development day. And while I could still be in some trouble, I at least was prepared to explain. In fact, despite what my immediate boss was saying, I would have been very surprised if the president of our school, or the president of the corporation, didn't at least on some level agree with what I was saying in that post.
So I re-read my post before going for my meeting, just to make sure it wasn't too critical (it wasn't) and then I headed up to my meeting with him. The short version of the events afterward were that
1. I should use better judgement in posting a personal blog with critical opinions of my employment situation on it, and
2. I was pretty much right on track as far as my actions were concerned in relation to improving my career.

The prez had printed out the entirety of my blog, "just to make sure there was nothing so bad as to cause us legal problems," and aside from suggesting I make it private, he was very encouraging about expanding my career opportunities. He did say that the two heads of school (we have a campus headmaster, my immediate boss, and a school-wide headmaster, who is in charge of all academics) were probably not going to be too happy about what I had to say, but also that there are many places where my drive and hard work would eventually pay off. He even gave me the emails of 2 other school presidents, one in Phoenix and one in Houston, and suggested I start plying them for job opportunities. The corporation is buying about 15 schools this year, and will continue to buy schools into the near future, and I should start agressively pursuing opportunities all around the corportation now, so that when I finish my doctorate, I will have connections beyond just here where I live.
So. Here I am. I doubt that any real opportunity to move into administration here at my school is going to present itself in the next few years, but I am pleased (and incredibly relieved) that things went so well with my meeting.
I went from worring about being fired to being told that I was an asset who has good things for his future, and I was even provided personal recommendations to two other school presidents. All in all, not bad.

Yikes!

It's late and all I'm going to say now is that I'll give you all the full story later about why I had to make my blog private. G'night.

It comes and goes

So last night I read over my blog. I haven't done this for some time, and it was nice. I like having a record to remind me of the life I've lived. That being said, I realized that lately I haven't really had much to say, and I'm not sure why. I think part of it is that most of my thoughts have been consumed by the mundane; that I haven't thought much of interest lately. But another part of me feels like that is a cop-out. So I'm going to try to be more diligent in writing. In one of my previous posts I wrote about the joy writing brought me when I was younger, and I know that writing begets more writing. It's like going to the gym; you just have to make yourself do it until you want to do it. So... here I go again.
I started my doctoral program this week. It is an online university, Walden, which at first cracked me up because Walden is the name of the totally mediocre university in the Doonesbury comic, but who am I to look a free degree in the mouth? Actually I have been surprised at how thorough the online classroom is, and I am looking forward to it. I am totally convinced that I will be an excellent administrator, if for no other reason than that I will be a leader. That is what is lacking in my school. For example, the curriculum professional development day I spent two months working on was cancelled by our headmaster at the last minute, and he didn't even have the courtesy to offer me an explanation. Hell, he didn't even tell me; he left that to my immediate boss, 3 days before I was to present. Now, I'm not really surprised, and not really even pissed off anymore. What I am is enlightened; for I finally see that it is more often the norm in the field of private education for the administrative leadership to be of the type running my school; aloof, evasive, and separate. My bosses are not bad people, but they certainly don't lead their staff towards better practices. I am not being bitter. It is simply the truth. through the last two years I have done everything I can to move our school in the direction that our parent corporation wants to go, and at every step the real work I've done has been either ignored, credited to someone else, or minimized by my boss, while at the same time he's telling me ""yes, yes... it's a great job, etc."
What can I do though? The short answer is nothing. I can keep making myself available, and I can keep doing things set before me without worrying about their outcome. For example, I've been appointed the leader for our campus to get together a team to do a video-conferencing collaboration with a school in Mexico; cool, I can handle that. Of course, when I've sent numerous emails to my boss asking for information like the dates, time allotted, etc. he has done the same thing he always does, which is ignore me; no response from him whatsoever. So I'll just keep plugging along and hope he doesn't cancel things again at the last minute. My main hope is that some of the higher-ups see what I am doing (I know they do) and that sooner or later they will present me with an opportunity to work where I can have some real authority. Worst-case scenario, I work in 4th grade for 3 more years, finish my free doctorate, and get employed by someone who appreciates my ability to lead.
OK, OK... I'm hopping off my high-horse now. I realized after proofing this post that I sound kind of whiny and conceited, but the truth is I will be much better at being an administrative leader than my own administrators because as a teacher I know that the key to success for a whole school is strong and involved administrative support. And we just don't get very much of that at my school.

Anyway, aside from the job/school stuff, all else is well. Nick's doing fine, and he's starting to make some friends, and some girl has a crush on him, which has improved his spirits greatly. He asked me if he could take her on a date, to which I replied "Hell no!" Well, I didn't exactly put it that way, but I did say if he wanted to go out with a group of friends, I would unobtrusively chaperon, but a one-on-one date was not going to happen just yet. He's going to get back to me on that.
Otherwise, it's been mostly work, swim practice, and TV. Since we finished with Lost, we've been kind of floundering around looking for another good show to watch. Among our current playlist are the Showtime shows Weeds and Californication. These are great shows, but not for when kids are around. With Nick we watch Reaper, The Office, and Aliens in America.
Oh, and books... Well, I'll post on books later; we had our school bookfair last week, and as usual, I got all the books on my wishlist. Lots of goodies!

Memoir, or a belated thank-you to my big brother

So I am teaching my students about writing memoirs, and I decided to write one myself while they are writing theirs. Here it is:

When I was in second grade, my brother gave me a special watch for Christmas. It was special because he had moved away the year before to go live with my dad in Texas, and I really missed him.
The watch was so great because it had pictures from my favorite movie, Starwars, on the front, and it was digital, which at the time was new and cool. My brother really knew what I liked, and I was happy he remembered so much about me!
When we returned to school a few weeks later, I wore my watch proudly. I wanted to show my teacher and my friends what a great gift I had gotten from my brother.
That morning at school I showed off my watch to everyone I knew. They all agreed it was a great gift, and I felt special that my brother had picked it out just for me.
As the school day wore on, I pretty much forgot about my watch. In fact, I was an absent-minded boy, and my parents were always nagging me about lost mittens or boots or books. It No matter how many times I got in trouble for losing things, I just couldn't seem to help myself. Well, on this day I just happened to learn a painful lesson about responsibility.
I didn't realize it until I was on the bus on my way home, but when the bus driver asked if he could see my watch, I realized I was no longer wearing it!
Now, I had lost things before. A lot of things. My toys, my clothes, my lunch box... I had lost these things, many times, and though I felt bad about my parents yelling at me about them, I never really felt like it was a big deal. It just didn't matter that much to me.
But this time was different. In my family it was a rule that we write thank-you letters for all the gifts we received, and I had not yet written to my brother. As I sat there on the bus, I began to cry, and not just a little. I cried a lot. I'm not sure if it was because I was getting older, or if it was because I was afraid I'd have to tell the truth, but for the first time in my life I felt horrible about losing something. I didn't realize it then, but what I was feeling was remorse. Remorse is a complicated feeling, like guilt and regret and embarrassment all rolled into one. It sat there in the pit of my stomach making me feel sick all the way home.
When I got home my mom could tell there was something wrong. I wasn't crying anymore, but my eyes were still red and puffy and it was easy to see that I was not ok.
When she asked me what was wrong, I broke down again and started crying as I told her about the watch. Though I could tell by the look on her face that she was annoyed that I had lost yet another thing, she just listened patiently as I wailed on about what a terrible and ungrateful little brother I was and how I didn't deserve to have such a caring older brother.
My mom didn't disagree with me as I sat there verbally beating myself up. When I finally ran out of words she just looked at me and said, "I think you had better write that thank-you letter to your brother."
I knew she was right. I knew that I had to write the letter, and I had to do it soon, before I stopped feeling so awful.
You see, it is a truth that the adults we become are shaped by the choices we make, and I knew then that the choice before me was a huge one.
On the one hand, I could fulfill my duty by writing my brother a letter, saying all the usual things but leaving out everything I was currently thinking and feeling. I was old enough even then to know I wouldn't keep feeling this way forever.
On the other hand, if I didn't tell him about losing the watch then I knew I was not only being a coward, I was also being dishonest. I was learning a lesson about what grown-ups call integrity. I faced a choice about accepting responsibilty for who I was, the bad parts and all, or hiding myself safely away, telling myself that if my brother never knew, then I could just act like it never, ever happened.
I decided to write the truth. Even though I was afraid of hurting his feelings... afraid of what he would think of me. Afraid it might kill kill me to say out-loud the secret feelings inside me.
Today I doubt my brother even remembers the watch, or my letter. But I remember. It was my first decision in a long line of decisions about what kind of person I wanted to become, and each choice since then continues to mold me.

... and addiction rears its ugly head

OK, don't worry. I'm not drinking or doing dope. Those things hold no interest for me. It's graphic novels. I am now hopelessly hooked on graphic novels, and, worse, I think I've passed this malady on to my son.
You see, he had to do a project for school on some aspect of Shakespeare's life and times, and his area was the Bubonic Plague. So instead of just writing a regular report like a normal kid would, he decides he wan't to make a comic out of it... and THEN he makes the mistake of asking ME for help. So what do I do? Well, I spend hours online looking for a free comic creator, and finally I came across this site. It was here that Nick came up with his final product, which earned him the praise of his teacher. In fact, she liked it so much she was showing it to all the other teachers and is quite smitten with Nick at the moment. Read the thing here, here, and here.
Anyway, contaminating Nick with my current obsession isn't the only thing I have to worry about. I just can't help but go to the book store every week or so to get a new book. Graphic novels, literary ones, are in their boom stage at the moment, and it's like being part of a really monumental, culturally revolutionary movement before it really catches on. I know there have been graphic novels out there for decades now, but I never was much a fan of superhero stories. I like literature and fantasy primarily, and there is just such a wealth of great stuff out there.
For example, I just finished reading Laika, a graphic novelization of the story of the dog that the Soviets put into space on the Sputnik II. This is the first book to make my cry in quite awhile. It's historical fiction of the least-fictional kind, and it is really amazing.
Then there was Fun Home. This story is about growing up w/ a closeted gay English teacher father, and it is really great tragedy.
And of course, another current favorite is Blankets, a high school coming-of-age story about a kid w/ religiously nutty parents.
Hmmm... what else? Oh! True Porn 2 is an awesome book of, well, porn... ok, not exactly porn, but autobiographical sex stories by current graphic novelists which are so odd they have to be true.
And I shouldn't forget about The Rabbi's Cat, the story of a cat who for a brief time is given the power of speech, and is constantly challenging his owner's religious convictions. Set in Algeria in the 1930's, a time of rising anti-semitism, it is an enthralling read (and to be honest, one hell of an accurate portrayal of your typical cat!)
OK, I could literally go one for dozens more books, but my other addiction, Lost, is calling, since Nick just finished his homework.

Mo Money... I wish.

I've been a little stressed out lately, what with being a newly full-time parent. Nick's had some problems with some school bullies, and he is wanting to see a therapist (this is a good thing, but still stressful.) We're stuck playing a waiting game as far as getting him health insurance, and in the mean time we're paying out of pocket for his visits. We're by no means in dire straights, but we ARE more strapped than usual, and the radiator just happened to go out in our van, which was $900 worth of unforseen expenditure. Unpleasant, but not a huge problem. We just had to wait 9 days until payday to get the work done, so I've been carting Nick to school and myself to work on the motorcycle. Fortunately it is no longer in the triple digits, and the bike has been fairly nice.
Well, payday rolls around and SURPRISE the IRS seized most of my last check for back taxes. I was not informed about this until I saw the small paycheck deposit in my account. Apparently my employer has had the paperwork for a few months, but didn't tell me, and then they had an impending deadline so they took all but 300 dollars of my check. Ouch. Fortunately, I was able to take an advance on my Science Club pay to pay for the van repairs, but that means smaller checks for the next several months.
Anyhow, as I said, we're not about to get evicted or anything, but it is a bit stressful spending all this extra money. I am still paying Nick's mom $400 a month in support to pay off back support I owe her, and once that is caught up in December things will be a little easier, but the real issue is not having Nick insured. Dr. and therapist appointments are going to cost approx. $600 a month from now until we get him on Erin's plan, and we can't do that until January unless the AG in Texas writes new orders saying we HAVE to insure him. As soon as we can get that, we'll be able to have the insurance pay for N's appointments and meds.
So anyway, stress galore, and I was in need of some relief. It's a known fact (known to Erin and I anyway) that I go kind of nuts unless I get some good quality outside time every six months or so, and until this weekend, I hadn't been fishing since last summer. So we packed up the van and made the 4 hr. drive to the Sierras this weekend for a last effort to catch some fish before it freezes for the winter.
All said and done we saw beautiful Autumn colors, I caught a few fish, and I remembered how totally awesome Fall in the mountains is. It was a rejuvenating trip, and just what I needed.
Now I'm half way through the week and feeling pretty good.
Oh, I almost forgot the good news. I applied for a doctoral program a few weeks ago, and I got my acceptance notice today. WOOHOO!
I'm too excited to worry about the fact that in addition to my regular job of teaching 7 hours a day and the demands of going back to school, I still have:

1. Three days of after-school programs to coordinate each week
2. to plan and implement the Professional Development day for all three of our campuses for both this Fall and Spring
3. to coordinate our video-exchange programs grades 2-4 with 4 other campuses world-wide by December

Erin just zapped my boys

DAMN it's dry here...and that explains, in part at least, how
Erin just inadvertently shocked me in the privates because she's so static-y.
I will no longer lounge around in my briefs; it's not safe.

Transference, among other things

PRELUDE
I wrote the following post mostly to help myself clarify some confusing and conflicting feelings today. Reading over it now I can see that I blew things out of proportion a little bit with Nick and alot with myself. I am totally proud of Nick, and I am not too worried about his social development. There are some problems there, but they are not as big as I was feeling earlier, and I know he'll learn. I think I've just been transferring some of my own fears and insecurities about myself at his age onto him, and I let those fears get the better of me a little today. So take this post with a grain of salt.

I rarely ever feel like I did something completely wrong, but today was one of those days.
I could make up excuses (I can be quite convincing) like I was tired, not feeling well, my allergies blahblahblah... but the fact of the matter is I had some lousy parenting moments today.
Nick had his first swim meet today, and we drove across town, spending 5 or so hours at the pool. So he's 13, but he's still sized like the average 10 yr. old, and he was competing against bigger kids, some of whom are a good 18 inches taller and 60 pounds heavier than he is. He is definitely the smallest in his division by a huge margin.
Now, I told him that I didn't care if he placed or not (I don't) and that I just wanted him to perform his best so we could get some times set for him to compete against in the future. At this point that is all I think he needs to worry about. He's a good swimmer, and yes, very small, but that doesn't worry me. What did worry me was that he didn't put his goggles on correctly, so in the middle of his medley he kept stopping his stroke to refit them; then they eventually fell off. He also disqualified himself in his first heat, and he did the butterfly and the breast stroke like he had never learned how to do them. Even while doing the backstroke, which is his strongest, he was zigzagging and his legs were limp. He was a good 20 seconds behind the next to last competitor, and he was disqualified for not touching the wall correctly.
So anyway, I wanted to be supportive, but at the same time I didn't want to tell him he did a good job when he very obviously fucked up; if he were a new swimmer, that would be one thing, but he's not; he knows how to do a proper butterfly and breast. So when we were waiting for the next event, I told him not to worry about the first heat, and to look at the mistakes he made and correct them in the next events. I told him I didn't care what place he came in, only that he finishes the upcoming races having done the strokes correctly as best he was able.
So anyway, as we're talking, I was getting increasingly frustrated with him because he simply does not know how to carry on a conversation. I would be talking, and out of nowhere he asks a question about something completely unrelated to swimming... then he stares away, then he starts humming... it was really starting to irritate me, so I started to berate him about how disrespectful it is, and how people feel like you have no regard for them when you show them that what they are saying is so unimportant as to not be worthy of your attention.
Anyway, I just couldn't let it go for the rest of the meet, because he just kept on not listening. It's like when I used to call him and we'd be talking on the phone and then he'd start talking to his mom in the middle of my saying something. Sometimes it is like he just doesn't have the time for you when you are talking to him, and when he's like this it is very frustrating...

So anyway, he did much better in the next heat, which was the 100m freestyle. He didn't come in last, and his stroke was much better. The 3rd event was the butterfly, and he started out awesome, and was totally beating the kid he was racing, but he just didn't pace himself correctly and completely fizzled out in the last lap; his opponent beat him by .3 of a second. I was really happy with the way he did these two events, even though he came in second to last and last; he was doing his strokes the right way and he was pushing himself. We had a good-sized gap between this and the next event, so we bought a sno-cone and sat in the shade trying to stay cool.
Then he had the 100m breast stroke. This was the one that disqualified him in the medley, and I really wanted him to do it right. The short story is be bombed it; he didn't get DQ'd, but that was only because they didn't catch him making the same mistake he'd made before, but we did; he only touched the wall w/ one hand. Then he also didn't take his 2 1/2 strokes under the water, which is a huge deal in swimming this stroke correctly. He also wasn't putting his head under, and he wasn't doing his kicks correctly. I was pretty pissed. He finished 26 seconds later than the next to last competitor, and a full 1:10 less than the first place finisher in his heat.
Now, I really don't care much about how he places, and I know breast is his weakest stroke, but he swam it like he had never learned how to do it. The mistakes he made, though, were not from a lack of knowing how, and they weren't even from his lack of power (which he's working on.) I don't know where they came from.
Anyway, when he came over to us and asked how he did, I told him it wasn't very good. I didn't yell, and I didn't harp on, but I didn't lie either. Then, I felt tremendously guilty for being a little angry and embarrassed that he had bombed it. I know now that I should have told him that I was proud he completed the event, and that the point of entering all the events was to see where his strengths were, but I didn't. I just told him we needed to work on that stroke.
Anyway, when we were leaving, I tried to shift the focus back to the fact that the main thing that was important was that we now had times, and that his goals should focus on improving those times and on getting more endurance, especially in his kicks. And while we're talking he does the whole let me show you that I'm ignoring everything you are saying by not looking at you while you speak and then saying something completely unrelated to what you are talking about routine, and I just kind of snapped. I didn't say any more about his swimming, but I did yell at him about how totally rude it is to respond that way to someone who is talking to you, and then I started into him about how if that is the way he participates in conversations with his peers, he can expect people to either ignore him or pick him out as someone to tease. No one likes to be discounted when they are speaking, I tell him, and he'd better learn how to listen to people if he wants to succeed in school as well as swimming, or anything else for that matter.
Then he switches back to swimming. I can see he's trying to do like I'm asking, he's trying to keep his end of the conversation, and so he says do you think I'll win a medal? I think probably will. And in my head I'm like what? he can't be serious. But all I say is, well, not if you don't improve over today's performance, and he says what do you mean? And it's like he hasn't listend to a word I've said all day. He doesn't seem to realize that with the exception of the 100m freestyle, he came in last in every race today. So I tell him, and he looks genuinely suprised. I tell him not to worry about it, that our goal today was to get times, and that now that we have them, the goal should be to improve on them. He says I'll probably get a medal for backstroke tomorrow, and I say, well, you certainly have a chance if you put in your best effort, but don't focus on what place you take, focus on doing your strokes correctly and pushing yourself. Then I add, you'll have to focus better than you did today though, and I immediately regret it and ask myself what is wrong with you?
And so the rest of the evening came. We grilled Quesadillas, then did our chores. His is to clean the bathroom, and I was in there with him, showing him how to use this extended scrubber for the tub, and the whole listening issue came up again. He was doing it all wrong (I wasn't being a nit-picker here, he really wasn't getting the area clean) and I had to repeat to him several times simple instructions like to turn on the water. He was just ignoring me, and was doing things wrong, and in my head I'm like, why the hell should I have to even be sitting here explaining to a 13 yr old boy how do do something as simple as scrubbing the tub, a 9 yr old could figure this out on their own, and on top of that, he's not even listening to me?!
And then, I start raising my voice repeating each simple step over and over again until I'm yelling at him to do what I'm saying. I'm just frustrated. I'm thinking how goddamned hard is it to figure out that you've got to turn the water on before you can rinse something off.
So then I wake up and realize I'm yelling at him, which isn't doing anything productive, so I pause and tell him, look, it's not ok to do a half-assed job, and he looks back at me and says sometimes it is, and I just wonder, where the hell does this attitude come from? I realize then that he's not being belligerent, he's just got no idea that any of the things I've been nagging him about today are a big deal. He just seems to think that I'm blowing things out of proportion, and he's just waiting for me to be done so he can go back to doing the same old thing he's used to doing.
Anyway, we end the evening by watching the season 2 finale of Lost, and having had a few hours to reflect on the day, I realize how many stupid things I did today in the parenting department. I tell him I'm glad he competed today, and that I know I was hard on him, but not to take that as my not being proud of him. He goes to bed, and now I am asking myself, am I really proud of him, or am I just saying that to ease my guilt over my own behavior today? The fact is I AM proud of him. I just don't know how to be supportive. So I sat down and googled "how to be a supportive parent" and I came across this link. Reading over it, I can see where I need to do things differently at the meet tomorrow. Thinking on the day, and rereading my post, I can see that I went a bit crazy today. I didn't do a good job of letting him be himself, and I really need a lot of practice in finding the line between being supportive and being controlling. Tomorrow I'm going to do better.

It was bound to happen...

Sad, but true... Today I finally succumbed to a pop-up ad. I didn't actually buy anything, of course, but the ad was entertaining enough to make me pay a visit to it's home-site.
I guess that it says something about me how easily I am amused, but in honor of Brannon, I typed in "Would you like me to be your sausage wallet?" and the result (in several languages and accents) made me giggle like a school girl. Click here if you'd like to know what I'm talking about.

Buttering up the whisker biscuit

OK,

I've been berated into posting and accused of intentional withholding (which is not true, btw) and so I'll fumble through a post and hope for the best. I did post on my other blog, but whatever.

I want to thank E for the link in her latest blogpost, because I laughed outloud more than once.

Not much of interest is happening right now. We are just adjusting to the new life of school and parenthood, and the oppressive heat is keeping us from doing much (still hitting 108 plus ever day for the last several weeks, barring 1 day.) It has been a joy with Nick here, and he's doing well. We're beginning to realize how much he costs though (alot,) and we're waiting for his mom to call the AG so we can stop paying the support now that he's here. He's taking viola, doind an hour an a half of swimming every day, and basically just living the life of your average 8th grader. I am resisting making my blog a Nicky fan-site though, so enough about him (except this pic!)

So when I feel inspired, I'll post more. :)

For now, the heat, school, and day-to-day life are just sort of settling over me and I'm still adjusting.

Oppression and Depressing

Ok, you can stop your bitching now; I'm finally posting.
School's been in for a week for me, and my class is pretty cool. And small. I have 1/3 fewer students than last year (only 14!) I also somehow became responsible for being the support guy on my campus for Edline, which is ALOT of work, on top of my 3 science clubs, the curriculum development and assessment committee, and regular teaching stuff.
But it's all good.
In other news, we took Nick for swimming try-outs, and he was so good the coach wants him on the JO team. We also got him registered for school. AND Erin went back to work this week.
So, what's up with this blog's title, you ask?
Well, it was 113 degrees F today, and as I was riding my motorcycle home from work, the phrase "oppressive heat" came to mind. And I thought, you know, most people who use that phrase probably don't have a clue what oppressive heat is. Its kinda like a middle-class white guy for Ohio trying to tell an impoverished black guy from Tunica Mississippi that he sympathizes, because he too has experienced oppression.
The way I figure it, as far as analogous words go, most people who say "oppressive heat" are more likely experiencing unfriendly, or at worst, discriminatory heat. To qualify for oppression, as my thinking went, one must have an impending sense of fear for their safety from the oppressor, not just a feeling of discomfort or unfairness. And let me tell you, the heat today was more than just uncomfortable. It was truly menacing.
Now to the depressing...
I had to take Sebastian in to the vet again today. He has absessed anal glands (eeew!) and the $600 worth of medicine we gave him didn't clear them up. Basically, his butt is swollen and painful, and there's nothing much to be done about it. He is getting old, and I just found out today that the the anal gland problem is symtomatic of a deeper, more serious and permanent problem. He has perianal fistulas, which is an immune system condition with unknown causes, and it is incurable. His immune system has turned on him, and is attacking the tissues around the abssesses. The vet basically said sorry, but Sebastian probably has a year at most to live before his pain gets so bad that we will have to put him down.
So, shit.
I really love this dog.
I am not looking forward to the inevitable end, though I realize it's par for course in owning a pet. It just made me consider today that pets guarantee tragedy on an installment plan. Am I reconsidering having pets? Not for a moment. But I am thinking, perhaps for the first time, that this kind of tragedy is not in my future for the last time in my life. It is a heavy price.
Anyway, I know that as posts go, this is a long way from Zermatt, just as my life is. Reading my last few posts right now is like looking at someone else's life. Not that I am dissatisfied with things (I'm not; I'm glad Nick is here, work is good, Erin's great, etc.) I'm just a little melancholy that it already seems such a distant memory.
So there you have it. I'll try to get back into more consistent posting soon, but right now I simply am not thinking as much, and therefore, have't had alot to say. :)