W: 23 of 26

Ah, the 11th installment of the More Than Random Alphabet of SRH. Since Wifey is in town today, I have defaulted to the normal “randomly ask Wifey for a letter” method of letter generation. Today’s letter ended up being “W.” The 23 rd letter, W, is one of the later additions to our alphabet. It was added to denote the soft “V” sound which makes me wonder why it is not referred to as “doubleV, but that is beside the point.

W: W… w… w… Willy Waterloo is washing Warren Wiggens who is washing Waldo Woo

(Who said Dr. Seuss wasn’t into the homoerotic subtext?)
Hmmmm… Sometimes I think that Wifey is a bit on the self serving side of things. I think after she saw me do “P is for Progeny,” she figured W would be for Wifey. Well, she is incorrect. W in my world stands for Wendigo.

The Wendigo is a Native American mythological creature that is much like the yeti or sasquatch or Bigfoot. It is a large furry bipedal creature known to inhabit the mountainous wilds of North America. These creatures are distinctly different from yetis, sasquatches, and bigfeet due to their penchant for human flesh…

Oh, who am I kidding. W really is for Wifey. We got married almost 10 years ago, in fact this September will be our 10th anniversary. We were young kids at the time; the tender age of 23 without many real cares in the world. Well, I guess we cared about things like “where should we order pizza from tonight?” and “How late should we sleep in this morning”, but those aren’t really “cares”, per se.

But much like I did not belabor you with tales of Little Man, I also shall not regale you with tales of Wifey. Instead, I will focus on a few things that have changed in my life due to Wifey’s influence.

I learned to communicate my feelings better: Being married to an ex-therapist has its upsides and its downsides. While she will give me a quick-fire psychological profile of my friends and really nail their true selves to the wall with her clinical eye (hilarious upside), she sometimes will use those very skills against me (unfortunate downside). She often makes me really think about my motivations and what feelings are causing me to do various actions. She is typically 80-90% correct, but you did not hear that from me.

I learned that buying clothes that fit will make you look better: She introduced me to the idea that clothes that fit were not only comfortable, but that they were also more aesthetically pleasing. She has me wearing clothes that fit and make me seem like I am in a state of relative physical fitness, instead of shoving myself into pants that are too small and make me look like a be-panted sausage. She has helped me to get a more accurate self body image than I had before, and more than that she has helped me to accept what that image is with a small bit of grace. That is one of the greatest trivial life-lessons she has taught me.

I have learned that cheese is really over-rated: Wifey hates cheese; therefore most meals at Casa del SRH are cheese-less affairs. You know what? I don’t really feel like I am missing anything at all. We still cook tasty meals with a full bouquet of flavors and aromas. Since close to eliminating cheese from my diet, I have noticed how many people rely on cheese to make the meal. It is a culinary crutch, in my opinion. I know that there are a boat-load of you jokers out there who are going to come to the defense of cheese and insinuate that I have never had really “good” cheese. That may be true, but good cheese, as I understand it from the connoisseurs, is supposed to stand on its own not become a bland “sauce” to be slathered over some kind of breaded chicken.

I have learned to love who I am: I don’t necessarily know why, but Wifey fell in love with me. She has spent the past 12 years teaching me that I am worth loving. Because she loves me, I can love myself, but not in that way, you gutter dwelling porn fiends! I mean I guess I could still love myself that way, but that was not what I was getting at. Great, now I am flustered.

To recap:
It looks like Little Man likes painting pictures that in coloring book
He is surprisingly good
He will also body surf down our neighbors bank
He’s surprisingly good at that, too
I am not sure what will be for dinner tonight
It will not be cheesy though
Wendigo’s are not as scary as vampire bears, but you might not want to meet one.
Have a great weekend everyone
If you are in the States, have a great extended weekend but be safe

I love it when they call me Big Papa

Before Little Man was born there were some decisions that we had to make as a couple and as individuals. These were not earth-shattering, life-altering, monumental decisions, but ones that had to be made nonetheless. These decisions were not things like will we let him play with toy guns or will we instill the usage of “Mam” and “Sir.” Those decisions can be taught later when the child is a little older and able to “get” the concepts better.

One such decision was what Little Man was going to call me. With my cultural and ethnic knowledge there were only a few to choose from for this momentous moniker. There is, to my knowledge, Dad, Daddy, Father, or Papa. Dad didn’t work for me. This seemed a bit too old for a young child to use when referring to me. Daddy felt too common. I am nothing if not un-common. Father would have worked if I were Darth Vader or this were the 1800’s, but otherwise it is too formal and stilted.

The lovely Wifey decided that she wanted to go by Mama and not Mommy or Mother, so I went with Papa, the typical paring with Mama. But I did not choose “Papa” just because it went well with “Mama.” I chose Papa because it has a more intimate feeling to it. I chose Papa because I wanted to hear a little voice calling me Papa. To me Papas are supposed to be fun and silly men with deep resonate voices, men who smile often and laugh easily. They love their little ones and like to scoop them up in their outstretched arms. They let contented babies sleep on their chest, and smile warmly when their 2 year old wants their sandwich. So I chose Papa.

There is another side to Papa that I hadn’t really considered until after Little Man came into our life. There is also Papa Bear. Papa Bear does not come out much but when he does he is swift, firm, and sometimes brutal. Wifey saw Papa Bear once when a boy threw a ball at Little Man’s head in the young kids’ area of COSI (Kid's museum type place in Columbus). Papa Bear has also had to intercede on his boy’s behalf at a playground’s sand box due to the limited amount of shovels and buckets present. There have been at most a handful of appearances for Papa Bear. All of them have been swift, all of them decisive, and all of them have been rather effective

Turns out that Papa Bear also wants to protect Wifey too. Wifey was dealt with dismissively by someone she is supposed to work with, and Papa Bear is not happy. No Papa Bear is not happy at all. No one laughs dismissively at Wifey without Papa Bear emerging. Unfortunately Papa Bear is powerless in this position and therefore Papa Bear must merely post about his frustration.

Papa Bear could also be blowing things out of proportion (actually I am sure of this since Wifey is not still spitting mad) because he is rather biased and protective where Wifey and Little Man are concerned.

To recap:
My left calf feels like tenderized meat today
The second day after exercising is always the worst
Yesterday was Little Man’s last day of pre-school
That makes me sad
He really liked it a whole bunch
Sometimes I sit and think
Sometimes I just sit
No really
I do not have enough work shirts for the upcoming summertime
Scissors
People make fun of me for my collection of history of math books
There are soooo many better reasons to make fun
Math history books are too easy
Work for it people
Papa Bear also likes to talk about himself in third person
I have decided that instead of having a balanced diet, I will instead take supplements
Fish oil, magnesium, B-complex, multi-vitamin, glucosamine…
I am not sure what is for dinner tonight, but I hope it is not in tablet form like the rest of my nutrients

P: 16 of 26

Here we are with the tenth installment of the Ever More Patternless Random Alphabet of SRH. It is later than usual, but later is better than neverer. Today’s Random Letter Meanings for SRH comes from the anonymous comment from yesterday. Today’s letter is the 16 th letter of the English alphabet, the letter P.

P: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O…. P, Painting pink pajamas, Policeman in a pail. Peter Pepper’s puppy. And now Papa’s in the pail.

P is one of the letters that didn’t take me long to figure out. The word that immediately came to mind when I thought of the letter p was “Pee,” but everyone pees so how personal is that for my alphabetic identity? The second word that came up was progeny. So today’s word, boys and girls, is progeny, my progeny to be exact.

Today’s post will be about Little Man’s impact on my life, not necessarily about Little Man.
Rapidly coming up on four years ago lives were altered permanently by the arrival of our baby boy.

Here is a partial list of things that have changed since the arrival of Little Man:

• My hale and hearty yoga instructing brickhouse (she’s mighty mighty) of a wife sustained significant injuries to her back and hips due to labor complications
• My sleep deprivation hit all time highs, or is it lows?
• I started significantly losing hair (unfortunately not on my back)
• I think that had to do with sleep debt
• We started cooking almost all of our meals due to Little Man’s food allergies
• Housekeeping became a thing of the past
• Work only mattered due to the paycheck
• Priorities were re-arranged
• Amount of trains seen in person and via YouTube
• I became a little boy’s hero
• That one is scary, because heros always end up letting you down eventually
• Superman isn’t real, Batman is psychologically messed up, Captain America is dead,
• And my brother has a hard time looking past his own reflection in the mirror
• My TV viewing habits
• Amount of computer game time
• I started checking my language at home
• I started cursing more at work
• I achieved a cursing/noncursing balance
• A harmony of coarse and smooth language
• My knowledge of asthma and food allergies
• I started driving different
• More erratically due to lack of sleep
• Amount of conversations surrounding the topic of poo
  

Here is a partial list of things that have not been changed (much) since Little Man’s arrival:

• My wardrobe
• Love of Wifey
• The sheets on the bed (yee-uck)
• Sense of humor
  

All in all the changes in my life due to the arrival of my progeny are all worth it. When he falls asleep on my arm it is amazingly sweet. That is until I cannot feel my fingers due due to his noggin resting in the crock of my elbow. I love his inquisitiveness and how it makes me create plausible answers to a 3.75 year old’s burning questions.

To recap:
Day 3 is down and Day 4 is almost over, a little over a day left for the sole care provider role
It will be nice to have Wifey back
I think I might be zoo-ing it tomorrow
It would be fun to look at the tigers
And relish the hippo free zoo
Little Man and I will be doing something fun, gosh darnit!
2 of the 3.5 digital mounds of dirt rendered
1 more, but three versions of it
Ham, green beans, and crispy crowns for dinner tonight
Little Man’s menu
I haven’t slept an average of 3.5 hours of sleep a night without Wifey here
Lordy, am I tired
I still think REVENGE is the best name for a soft drink ever!
Open up a can of REVENGE
The secret ingredient is vengeance
Have a nice weekend everyone

C: 3 of 26

In the ninth installment of the More and More Random Alphabet of SRH and This Here Blog, the letter C came up. That is right, the third letter of the English alphabet, C.

C: Big C, Little C, What Begins with C? Camel on the ceiling, C…, c…. C

I have a list of the words I want to write about for theis series, and I still have 3 blanks that I am trying to consider. C was a letter that never had a blank associated with it. For me the letter C stands for Cat.

I have always been a cat person. My dad is insanely bad relating to people, but cats flock to him like he is the crazy lady in the dilapidated house down the road that every neighborhood seems to have. Stray will flop in front of the man so he will rub their belly. He has stopped cat fights by bellowing “Hey” and the cats slink off in opposite directions like they were chastised by their authority figure. It really is something to behold. He hold sway over felines. “Sway,” I say “Sway!”

Anyway, Dad instilled into me a love for the creatures as well. I love cats, I always have loved cats and always will love the little beasties. Alas and alack we had to give away our three cats upon the diagnosis of Little Man’s asthma. It seems that, in general, asthma and cats are not a good mix. It also doesn’t help that Little Man had a virulent reaction to cats with his allergist’s tests as well.

I know, I know, many people say that their animals are their children. These people don’t have children. I love those cats dearly, but they had to go. I miss them greatly. They are wonderful little creatures. I have had 7 cats grace my life.

Sox: A cat who adopted my brother and I as her kittens. She was a black cat with white paws and a white bib. The most loving cat I have ever encountered. She was wonderful. Sox passed when I was in High School. She was a really good cat.

Boots: A cat who adopted my family and demanded attention. Sox was the first cat I met, but Boots is truly my first cat. He too was black with white paws and a white bib. He was a stray tom when he started hanging around the house. He and Sox tolerated each other, but they were never friends. Boots left me while I was in college. Ksig and I went and had drinks in his honor. Ksig still calls me out about that.

Mama Cat: A Siamese who decided to have her litter of kittens on our back porch without our permission. She was so cross-eyed that she could see the past and the future. Her 4 kittens were Ferrari, Spiderman, Snowflake, and Clyde. We gave all five of these cats away.

Geisel: Named after Dr Suess. We adopted him on the day the news reported that DR Suess had died, ergo the name. He was a short and squat tabby. Actually our exchange student Janne adopted him. This was not the brightest of cats. We think he has some hearing issues as well as sight issues. He was louder than a stampeding elephant and would regularly thump into door jambs as well. He left on night never to be heard from again. We aren’t really sure what happened, but with his hearing and sight issues…

Senor Don Gato: For short, Senor. He is an all black and currently living with my parents. He is a belly loving whore. He flops in front of most people asking for belly love. Doesn’t matter if he knows them or not. Wifey and I got him 4 days into our marriage.

Lenny: Senor’s litter mate. He is a “Russian blue” in his coloring and sheds like a mo’fo. He has not been in the house for 2.5 years and we are still finding his sheddings in the house. Lenny suffers from PTSD. He is hyper vigilant and rather skittish. Lenny and Senor are both reformed farm cats, so they were never really all that lap cattish. Or so we thought… My parents were wonderful enough to take them when the Dr advised us to get the cats out of the house. Turns out that we were holding Lenny and Senor back somehow. Dad, because he is the King of Cats, has transformed our non-lap sitters into lapcats, much to my parents’ chagrin. Now those 2 cats won’t leave mom and dad alone. They are thriving in that environment.

Charlie: Charlie is a brown tabby. She is a handful to say the least. We got her when we foolishly stepped foot into the local Cat Welfare shelter. He actually hugged Wifey when we took her out of her cage. She is a very loving little cat, and it broke our heart to give her away. We gave her to a co-worker, who in turn gave her to her sister. Word through the grapevine is that Charlie is doing okay.

I miss the cats. I miss how alive they make the house seem. Without the animals in the house, I notice just how un-occupied the house is when we come home.

On this somber note, I shall go to the recap.

To recap:
I miss the cats
Wifey doesn’t so much
She misses them just not as much as I do
I need some new pants
The next 2 cats I own will be named:
The Lizard King, and Captain Sisko
Not sure when that will be exactly
Maybe when Little Man opts for allergy shots
Little Man knows that he is allergic to dairy, eggs, treenuts and peanuts
We are proud of him for knowing that
It could just save his life
Wow, I am late in posting today
Have a great weekend everyone

N: 14 of 26

I usually have Wifey choose the random letter of the week (to ensure non-author bias of letters), but she is all meetinged up at the moment and cannot assist in my letter choosing. So I did the next best thing. I threw something at my keyboard from the walkway by my cube and went with the first letter that I had not yet done. Sure it took 5 tries to blindly hit the keyboard and not get / or ` (oddly I got % as well... I haven’t figured that one out yet). Today’s randomly selected letter of my 8 th installment to my Increasingly More Randomer Alphabet of SRH is the 14 th letter of our English alphabet, the letter N. So without further ado…

N: Big N, Little n, What begins with those? Nine new neckties and a nightshirt and a nose

It was pretty easy to choose my own personal N-word… Whoa! Wait a second. That did not come out right at all. Let me try this one again, the first thing that came to mind when I thought of words near and dear to me that start with the letter N was absolutely Nothing.

That’s right, dear readers, I shall again wax eloquent about nothing (I am down to “dear reader” now, aren’t I? Oh well, the show goes on).

The concept of nothing is a difficult one to talk about because, well, how does one describe the idea of absence? Because of that intrinsic difficulty nothing truly isn’t anything without, well, anything. One cannot directly describe nothing, one has to skirt the edges of nothing. You can only make inferences about nothing. Its description is implicitly defined. It is everything, something, and anything’s antonym. That is just how it is when you are dealing with nothing.

Why is nothing important to me? Well, the irony of it all… The irony of the lack of it all? Oh, Hell, even I am confused now, and I am writing this drivel. Truly nothing is interesting to me because of the simplicity of the idea and just how earth-shattering a concept it truly is. The idea is simple because even a 3.75 year old can grasp the concept.

Little Man, How many rocks are in the box?
Papa, you silly! None!

But it is also difficult, because, as I mentioned above, it is basically not explicitly definable. Truly its definition is a conundrum because when you give it definition, you give it substance, and when you give it substance, it loses its nothingness

The earth-shatteringness of the concept comes from its application. If one removed the concept of nothing from our world system, it would collapse under the extra weight of itself, because there would always have to be something… anything.

My love of the concept of nothing harkens back to when I was in college studying some of the history of math. Yes, yes, I know… History is already dry, Math History was something beyond arid. It was desiccated. It was beyond dehydrated. I don not wish the fate of a history of math class on anyone, but I digress. The interest in the class did not occur during monotone lecture during the class, or the mandatory slumber inducing reading outside of class, but when the ideas from the class re-hydrated later by beer.

Ah, beer induced mathematics and philosophy… In some ways I miss it and in others I am glad they are over. I love the semantics associated with nothing. I love the mathematical semantics as well as the grammatical semantics. Nothing defies most typical conventions. The conundrums associated with nothing is where I reside.

To recap:
Franklin the plastic owl is Little Man's good friend now
Little Man's favorite thing to do with Franklin is launch him down the slide
Or kick him off the slide
I am not sure I would want to be Little Man's good friend
Wifey can sleep through anything except Little Man's feet on her throat
Or sleep next to him, now that I think of it
I have been playing phone tag with a doctor's office
All I want is some allergy medicine!
Have a great weekend everyone

G: 7 of 26

The letter G is the 7 th letter in the English alphabet. It is one of those letters that would be very noticeable if it were not available to use. I asked Wifey last night what letter today would be about and she immediately said, “G.” She said that she chose G because she was going to be “Gone all weekend.” She is bitter like that. Without further ado…

G: A, B, C, D, E, F, … G! Goat. Girl. Goo-goo goggles. G… g… G

I have found that this process of coming up with a representative word for every letter of the alphabet is difficult at best. So far, out of the 6 letters I have worked with in the Increasingly Random Alphabet of SRH and His blog, only 3 of them have been easy to come up with a definitive word. G is one of these difficult to come up with ones. Of all 26 letters I have not figured out 7 words. G rests firmly within this category of “undetermined.”

It took some real thinking to come up with it, but I think for me G is for Grape Soda.

I know I have waxed eloquent before about the joys of the grape soda, but I will endeavor to do so again. Previously I went into different brands of grape sodas and how I liked them, today’s post will focus solely on what a grape soda means to me and why they are an integral part of my life. Without even further ado…

I had my first grape soda when I was in Venice, Florida with my grandpa on my father’s side. I think I was 7 or 8 at the time. I liked grape suckers (who remembers Dum Dum’s?), I liked grape Jelly. I liked other grape candies. I did not like grapes, for they did not seem all that grape flavored to me and I studiously avoided fruit as a child and sadly as an adult. Anyway, prior to the grape soda I had with Grandpa H, I had only been exposed to the 2 main colas and Sprite. When the first drop of soda hit my tongue, I knew that my relationship with soft drinks had been permanently altered. Now there was a drink I would actually crave.

When we made our way back to Birmingham from that fateful trip to Florida I had a new mission. That mission was to make grape sodas part of my everyday existence. Luckily, at the time there was a local bottling plant in Birmingham that made it’s own grape soda. Buffalo Rock Bottling Company was the proud manufacturer of Grapico. I think Grapico was a less than clever word play of Pepsico and Grape. Well played Buffalo Rock, well played indeed.

Today when I drink a grape soft drink (by the way I am quite the drink snob. I like bottles… not cans. It can be plastic bottles, but I prefer the glass bottles. It just tastes better without the addition of the aluminum aftertaste) it takes me back to a more carefree time in my life.

A time when I thought that my parents were typical. A time when I thought that those skinny assed tiny crappy meat breakfast pork chops were the only kind of pork chops in existence. A time where I thought that since my parents didn’t want cable TV, that people who had it were being extravagant. A time where I thought that to be in good health my leg length should be longer than my waist size. I swear in junior high school some of my jeans were painted on. I was soooooo happy when baggy jeans came about.

Grape soda for me accompanied cream horns as a snack. (Not that many cream horns mind you...) Grape soda was an afternoon treat when I watched GI Joe, Transformers, DuckTales, Looney Tunes, and other afternoon cartoons (Thundercats, Bravestar {Shudder}, Silverhawks {double shudder}, et al…). Grape soda was the drink of homework completion celebrations. Grape Soda was comfort.

Now, grape soda is a bit bitter sweet because while it sends me into a nostalgic tailspin, but it also reminds me of the naivety of my childhood and the vast amounts of denial I grew up with. What it all boils down to is that I dig me some grape soda. It is fizzy, it is hyper-grape flavored, it has a substantial amount of salt in it… making you want more. It is a wonderful product. Just plain wonderful.

To Recap:
I am still solo parenting it this weekend
Not looking forward to it
Speed of the PUMA!
WTF?!? Speed of the puma?
Why not speed of a cheetah?
Bravestar you make no sense
And 30-30 is just a moron
Grapico is one of the top ten search strings that lead people to this blog
They typically don’t stay
Mainly because I make fun of Alabamians
But who doesn’t
Have a great weekend everyone
I hope I will

R: 18 of 26

Today’s installment of the Random Alphabet of SRH is the letter R. The 18 th letter of the English alphabet is a very useful letter. It is used very extensively within the English language. In fact I used it 8 times in the thirty-four words of the above three sentences and four (now five) times in this sentence alone. It is truly an indispensable letter of our modern language.

R: Big R, Little r, Rosy Robin Ross. Rosy’s going riding on her red rhinoceros.

One would think that with the Letter R being soooooo darn useful that I could come up with some word that starts with R to help illustrate to you, the anonymous reader, a better sense of who I am. The truth is that I am not that bright and I am having trouble thinking of an R-word. So, I am going to open a dictionary to the “R’s” and pick a word at random. From the Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary published waaaay back in 1988.

regardant \ri·‘gärd·ənt\ adj {MF, prp. of regarder} (1500) : looking backward over the shoulder – used of a heraldic animal

Heraldic?!? Heraldic? Okay, maybe I need to look in a more recent dictionary before the next word chosen is “rampant”. One the has the word Internet in it. The best I could find is a dictionary from 1999, The Randomhouse Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (yes, Internet is in it).

rhe·tor·ical (ri tôr’i kél, -tor’-), adj. 1. used for mere effect. 2. marked by or tending to use bombast. 3. of, concerned with, or being rhetoric [1470—80; L (us) (Gk rhētorikós) + -AL] – rhe·tor’i·cal·ly, adv.

Yeah, I think that one will work. That one will work quite nicely. For today R is for Rhetorical. Tomorrow…. A different story

Now after I read the definition (the official definition, not the one that I had in my head from contextual clues left strewn about in the English language) of rhetorical it came to mind that most of this blog is all about the rhetorical. I typically do not write about anything of import on this here blogarooney. This blog is an exercise in writing for me. I use this platform to blather on about various nothings and very rarely touch upon anything profound or meaningful. I also tend toward the bombast, but, really, when one can tend toward bombast, shouldn’t one?

There are enough blogs out there that attempt to be more political, spiritual, or controversial than I do, and some are really really good ones at it. I do not have the time or the energy necessary to do the research necessary to appropriately write a political blog. I am not nearly spiritual or religious enough to have an uplifting spiritual blog. And without blogging about current events or politics or religion, controversy is typically minimized. I can live with that.

I like my blog to be a refuge from the politics and religion of the real world. I like to use this space for a little homespun inanity and from time to time, I want to inform the public at large about the comings and goings of Little Man and our trials and tribulations associated with his existence. These trials and tribulations take the form of asthma, food allergies, pre-school, childcare, vampire bears (I am telling you, "You, dear reader, should fear these fearsome beasts."), Yetis, etc…

So, basically, this blog is full of bombastic statements and unanswerable questions regarding nothing. There could be worse things. There could be worse things indeed.

To recap:
Still juggling those last 2 tasks
Kinda…
Little Man and I are watching a soccer game tonight for his bed-time ritual
I am really looking forward to it
He does not know about it yet
Left-overs for dinner
Although we do not have any left-overs for adults
There is a good bit of Orange Rice in the fridge, but if I go near that, there is a good chance I could lose a hand
And I need my hands
The both of them
"Strewn" is not used nearly enough in everyday language
Neither is "Yard Gnome"
The yard gnomes were strewn across the lawn like so many discarded fish.
I feel better now
My heart goes out to ZingerZapper
She knows why
Sending positive thoughts your way, Chicka
The only two off-line dictionaries I could find were 19 and 8 years old, respectively
That is just plain pitiful
Have a great weekend everyone

K: 11 of 26

Ah, the 5 th installment of the Random Alphabet of SRH’s Blog is the 11 th letter of the English alphabet, K. K is one of those letters that harkens back to the proto-Phoenician alphabets. It is one of those letters in the west that has been part of our societies as long as there has been the idea of letters. So without further ado, I give you the Letter K.

K: Big K, Little k, Kitten. Kangaroo. Kick a kettle. Kite and a king’s kerchoo.

Oh, blessed K. I actually had to pick between 2 possibilities for K. At first I was thinking Kent State University because that was such a growing period of my life. I blossomed at Kent, well, err, ummm… as much as rugged manly men blossom, that is. My college experience was a really good experience. I absolutely loved it. I really became who I am today because of my growth as an individual in college. All of you can blame my time at Kent State for who I am.

But I chose another word that begins with the venerable K, actually a pair of words. A pair of words that helped define me as a person long before college started to mold and shape me. So for me, for now and for always, K stands for Krispy Kreme.

Oh, Krispy Kreme, how I love thee…

I have a special place in my heart reserved for doughnuts in general. Doughnuts are the perfect stand alone confectionary food. They are hand held, and easily portable. They have been deep fried (always a flavory bonus). There is typically a nice wide variety to choose from. They are, in essence, perfect. But even perfection has degrees. The highest of which, in doughnutdom is the pinnacle known as Krispy Kreme. For Krispy Kremes, or the Double K, are light and airy, yet sweet and flavorful.

I salivate at the thought of this sign. At it’s sight I have to use massive amounts of will power to stay away from the drive through.

Some people think that Double K’s are too sweet and that they shouldn’t be truly considered to be doughnuts because the meat of the doughnut itself is not cakey or a full blown yeast doughnut. Some people are idiots… plain and simple, idiots. They are simpletons and dullards, if you will. Simpletons and dullards.

I used to partake of the Double K more than people who worked there. Whilst I was in High School, my Boy Scout troop used Krispy Kreme as one of their fundraising schemes. It was REQUIRED that each boy sell 10 dozen doughnuts either every month or every other month. A door to door salesman I am not, so my family always ended up buying at least 8 of the 10 dozen. The fam would freeze 6 of the 8 to 10 dozen, and the other 2 to 4 dozen would be ravenously consumed within 48 hours of purchase. Those 6 dozen frozen delicacies would then be eaten as an afternoon snack until the next fundraising event. As and FYI: Double K’s heat up rather nicely in the microwave. The microwave brings them back to glisteningly wonderful life.

I will wrap up this Ode to Krispy Kreme with some random Double K facts about SRH.

The most Krispy Kreme glazed doughnuts I have eaten in one continuous sitting is 24. Yep a full 2 dozen. The first 18 were easy, but the last 6 were purely consumed via will power. I was going to finish 2 dozen, Dammit!

Favorite Double K equals…I have two to choose from.

Firstly is their glazed. That is the everyday/every minute doughnut. When these are “Hot Now,” they are like eating flavored air. I can eat 8 without blinking. I have to conscientiously watch myself if someone has brought Double K’s for a meeting at work. By the time other people might have thought about picking up one, I could easily be on my fourth.

Secondly is there vanilla creme filled doughnut. This one is for special occasions, like when I want to enter into a sugar coma. Capt. McArmypants’s favorite doughnut from the Double K is the chocolate iced creme filled doughnut. Growing up, the Double K’s in ‘Bama would also run those bad boys through the waterfall of glaze. Oh, that’ll hurt the pancreas. Sugar shocked Ohio just puts on the chocolate icing ONLY ON THE TOP HALF OF THE DOUGHNUT!!! What is up with that?

Krispy Kreme doughnuts are made using milk and eggs. Little Man has not yet had the pleasure of partaking in the goodness that is Double K. I hope he grows out of those allergies, just so he and I can have some doughnuts together. Since the birth of Little Man and our recognition of his allergies, my Krispy Kreme consumption has curtailed severely.

I miss them, but I love Little Man more.

To recap:
Innovation requires buy in from people allowed to make decisions
I have too many irons in the fire right now
It takes asbestos gloves and a heat shield to get them out of the fire
I have neither of those 2 objects
I am only getting burned
Enough of this jibber jabber
I have work to get back to
Have a great weekend everyone

F: 6 of 26

Today I asked Wifey to give me the random letter to use for the fourth installment of the Randomized Alphabet of SRH. She gave me the sixth letter of the English alphabet, F. Honestly, other than the kick off of A, she has supplied me with the randomness that is the Non-linear Alphabetic posts of SRH.

F: Big F, little f, F...f...F Four fluffy feathers on a Fiffer-feffer-feff.

The letter F is a tough one. But it thinking on it has caused me to alter the idea of my Randomly Assigned Alphabet of SRH to the Alphabetic Haphazard Jumble of SRH’s Blog. Therefore, F is for Headaches as shown through Fluffy, the pine marten in my skull.
Hello Fluffy!

Usually I only flash up Fluffy’s picture when I am experiencing severe head pain. Oddly, that is not today. I am a bit surprised that I don’t have a blinding headache at the moment since there was such a significant weather shift in the past 2 days. That usually triggers the old noggin pain.

Headaches have been a part of my life for a long long time. On the under 12 soccer team for which I played, my nickname was “headache.” I can only assume it was because I missed a number of practices due to cranial acheage. Surely, it wasn’t because I was a pain in the coach’s ass. No, that couldn’t be it at all, definitely the missed practices due to nonspecific head pain.

As it is, I have started seeing the warning signs of my migraine headaches much earlier. So luckily, I have been able to mitigate them before they become full blown immobilizing headaches of doom. I cannot say that I get migraines often, but I definitely get them more than rarely. Therefore most of the headaches I suffer from are not migrainal, just average everyday run of the mill headaches. Most of the non-migraintorial headaches tend to be sinus headaches. Fluffy, the pine marten in my skull, is usually associated with the sinus pressure in my cranial area wanting to escape but having no where to go. It is much like an unfortunate woodland creature clawing its way out of a tiny enclosure.

Fluffy has transcended from being a one time throw-away image illustrating the pain in my head, to being an on-going theme of the blog with it’s own label.

To recap:
F is for Headache
Deal with it
Little Man got $5 in an Easter card yesterday
He immediately used the card as a tunnel on his train table
And decided that he was going to use the $5 at “the train show”
I believe he spent his $5 at a local train store today for a Sante Fe hopper carI think Wifey had to chip in
Then she bought a swing set for him
I need to disassemble said swing set
And then assemble it again
Not looking forward to that
Little Man ate a boat load of ravioli last night
"A boat load," I say, "A boat load."
Have a great weekend everyone

L: 12 of 26

It is that time of week again. the time of week where I wax eloquent about a random letter of the Alphabet and its tenuous relationship with me. Today’s letter is the 12 letter of the English alphabet, the letter L. So dear readers, today I give you the 3 rd installment of the every increasingly more Random Alphabet of SRH.

L: Big L, Little l, Little Lolla lop, left leg, lazy lion, licks a lolli-pop

I thought long and hard about what L-word actually meant something to me, and frankly, I came up with nothing. Then I realized I was hungry. Then I realized that I am typically hungry when I write these posts. Then I realized that I typically write the posts before my lunch and finish them after lunch. So without further ado, in the SRH Randomized Alphabet L stands for Lunch.

Lunch is a time of day that is near and dear to my heart. Much to Wifey’s consternation, I have really gotten out of the habit of eating breakfast. Therefore, lunch is the first meal of the day for me. By the time lunch has rolled around, I am quite famished. Lunch is truly the break to my fast.

Lunch is also a time that is fairly difficult for me. See, I love going out to eat for lunch. I absolutely love it. LOVE it. I dig eating out at lunch because I did not have to prepare in any way shape or form that meal. I know I have mentioned most of this before, and even recently, but not for the official SRH’s Wacky Random Alphabetic Soup. There are 2 main issues that I have concerning lunch. The first is very general, and the second is more work related.

I have a need for warmth in my meals (aside from the random breakfast excursions of cold cereal). Meals are just food if there is not thermal heat associated with them. Cold cut sandwiches do not hack it for me. They just don’t. I know there are a boatload of you out there who are willing to tell me about the “best” cold deli sandwich ever. I am sure it is made with the most delectable thin sliced meats and cheeses with gourmet sauces. That might be the case, but I can make a Jim Dandy Fine deli sandwich, I just have to make sure that I have some kind of hot vegetable or pasta with the cold deli sandwich in question. It is just how I roll, deal with it.

Now there are times when I have a cold lunch. These times are few and far between and usually associated with me not paying for the meal. Lunch work sessions where the project has purchased the ubiquitously bland “box lunches” are such an instance. It is not my preference, but I do like the food for free. Somehow my pride has not gotten in the way of that issue just yet.

The other issue I have with lunch, is no matter how much I love or hate my job, it is just nice to get the heck out of the building for a little bit in the middle of the day. That is why I have found a group of folk that I will typically lunch with from the company. It is an integral part of my business day to pick up stakes and leave the business building. It just makes the stress levels go down. The conversations at lunch typically head to the gutter to places where mortals fear for their very souls. It is nice.

The barrier issue here is that lunches out are quite expensive over time. I just don’t make the kind of money necessary to go out for lunch 5 days a week and expect to have creature comforts at home. Truly, I do not make the kind of money necessary to eat out all the time and still have digital cable. So far, push has not come to shove, but when it does, the lunches will be done.

To recap:
Coming up with words for each of the letters is hard
And I have only done 3, as of yet
Tomorrow I will be eating in again
Little Man talks in his sleep
Quite enjoyable babble as well
Wifey’s tumor is hurting today
And she didn’t get lunch at a lunch meeting
She is quite unhappy about that
I have work to do that I am neglecting
So I have to get back to it
As soon as I am finished with this post
Yep, right after I hit the “publish” button
Shortly after this post hits the ‘Net, I will be working diligently
That is what I have to look forward to
Work that I am neglecting
Ooh, I cannot wait
I guess I should get it over with
Have a great weekend everybody

Inter-racialocityishness

One thing that I often forget is the fact that Wifey and I are an inter-racial couple. There are many reasons for this memory lapse, the main reason being that in Columbus, we don’t get stared at like we are circus freak shows on display for our aberrant union. It is rare indeed when we go out for dinner and are the only inter-racial couple/family in whatever restaurant we happen to be going to. The other reasons tend to come from my own whacked out philosophy and weird ideas about humanity, but today I am not going to get into the race politics in the U.S. more than saying, sometimes racial stuff comes up with my family from time to time. Granted, I get to say all this from a really privileged point of view though, being an adult white male in the U.S. between the ages of 25 and 45, and since I am in the power majority of the US (I am “the Man,” so to speak) it is very beneficial for me to say I don’t feel like dealing with the race issue. That way I can hire another white guy and feel okay about it.

Anyway… all that crap being said, this weekend was one of those moments where our inter-racialality was brought into sharp focus. There are places in the world where my family does not feel safe (hello, Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, etc…), and there are places where we just don’t feel comfortable. This weekend was one of those discomfort escapades.

Wifey and I went to a wonderful wedding this weekend. It was a nice low-key affair with some great music and sweet and sour meatballs. The event was about 2 hours to the southwest of Columbus. I won’t mention town names because I don’t want to start a blog of name-calling (unless it is about making fun of Alabama that is a different story all together.). After the wedding, Wifey and I decided that we were going to grab a bite to eat. We went to the local mall to find some food. With Wifey’s gall bladder issues and recent tumor discovery we have found that fast food is really difficult for her to stomach, so we eschewed the food court and went to one of the restaurants inside the mall. As we walked though the mall to find our restaurant, I started wondering if Wifey’s tumor was visible. People were just starting at the 2 of us like… like… like they could see Wifey’s more than golf ball sized tumor pulsing with purple light (I am not sure it pulses with purple light, but it makes it scarier in my mind’s eye, so I go with it). Wifey had to stare down a few people on the walk to the restaurant. It is funny, usually when people stare and we confront them with a return stare (Wifey is better at this than me), they usually look away pretty quickly. There is always at least one 65+ year old white guy who will just keep staring, so offended by our union that he cannot look away.

The wait was only 15 to 30 minutes, so we didn’t forego the mall eatery and just head to a Bob Evan’s (which was plan B, ‘cause we are “down on the farm,” yo!). We did decide to wait outside of the restaurant since that is where the empty benches were. It was alarming to see all the people come in and stare at us sharing a bench in the mall, and to realize that we were only 2 hrs away from home. Again, there were many a person caught staring at the spectacle of inter-racialocity. Our inter-racialness probably burned holes in their retinas and corrupted their very souls. I like to think we left that mall with many a person tainted by our un-recommended and looked down upon, yet legal, union.

To recap:
Tomorrow’s 20 Questions Tuesday will be about “letters”
Little Man likes wearing shorts
We found a new restaurant for him on Friday
He likes the steak nachos with black beans and no cheese, guacamole, or sour cream
Come on people! A white man with a biracial/black woman should not be considered so weird!
I have all sorts of rose thorns in my left hand
The right one just has scratches
I have to work out tonight
Yeeee-uck

T: 20 of 26

Ah, the second of my on-going 26 part series on the Alphabet of SRH. So in the ever increasingly out of order alphabetic jumble, I bring you the letter T.

T: Big T, Little t, what begins with T
Ten tired turtles in a tuttle-tuttle tree

Oh, venerable “T.” The history of T is long and varied. T is one of those letters that seems to have always been. There is a proto-semetic version of it and a Phoenician version as well. This letter has been around for a long long time. The longevity of the letter and its storied history sadly culminate with the letter representing the word “topology” for little old me.

Had I continued in mathematics I would have done the bulk of my research and studies in the branch referred to as Geometric Topology. Here is where I get all “mathy,” as Wifey likes to put it. Topology is the study of geometric properties which are dependant only upon the relative positions of the components such as adjacency, containment, connectivity, etc…, and not on any measurable component such as height, width, angular deformation, etc… Topology is kind of the intersection of set theory and geometry. It is pretty much a hybrid area in mathematics. The people who dwell there are often not the stuffed shirt pocket protector mathematicians that one typically thinks of. I am not saying that these few souls are cool or even non-geeky, I am saying that they are usually drunk.

The problem with being a topologist is that there are not many jobs out there looking for people who can determine if two spaces are homeomorphic or topologically equivalent (most spaces you can think of are, by the way… even that one… that one too. Those spaces are not homeomorphic, well done Peefer*).

My junior year in college, I decided that mathematics was not the long-term future for me. It was around that time that I took a cartography course and found a “new” career path. Mathematics as a career died for me when I failed the first part of a 2 part class in my senior year (mainly due to a particular professor’s teaching style and our particular brand of personality conflict). Those 2 classes were the only hitches to graduating, so I started the series again in my “super-senior” year, this time with the prof who actually wrote the text book, and aced the both of them.

I have not taken a math course since, and have subsequently lost most of the knowledge that I had crammed in my noggin that dealt with convex hulls, non-Euclidean geometries, metrizable spaces, Poincaré groups, etc… Right now, I recognize those words as things that have to do with topology, but I could not tell you what. At one time in my life, for a very brief instant, I was intelligent.

To recap:
I think I might be off the alarm duty in the mornings
This morning, I messed it up again
This time I accidentally set the clock ahead 1 hour
Little Man was up at 6 am instead of 7 am
Hijinx did not ensue
One of these days I will re-study one of the topo books that I have on my desk
It will probably bring me one step closer to ruling the world
Have a great weekend everyone

*Just playing the odds here. There may be some others of you that could come up with 2 spaces that are not homeomorphic, but my bet is that Peefer came up with it first.

A: 1 of 26

Here we go with the alphabet of SRH. This is going to be a 26 part series wherein I give, you the fine readers of Under Construction a glimpse into me, SRH, by blathering on for a while about a letter.

A: Big A, Little A, what begins with A? Aunt Annie’s Alligator, A… a… a…

The most significant thing about me that I can think of that has to do with the letter “A” is the fact that I spent the majority of my childhood in Alabama. I was born in Oklahoma, but the fam moved to Alabama when I was 3, I think. My dad was in the Air Force and got stationed at Gunter Air Station in Mongomery, Alabama. If I remember correctly we moved there on my 3 rd birthday. My only real strong memory of that time was when this kid bit my nose when I slid down the slide he was climbing up.

A couple of years later, Dad retired from the Air Force (not his choice, in fact, no male in my family has ever switched jobs by choice, they have either been fired/let-go/permanently laid off or stayed until they retired ) and took a job in Birmingham. While I was able to get out of Montgomery, I was still stuck in Alabama. I stayed in Birmingham from age 5-ish til I was 18, when I fled to an out-of-state-state college. While stuck in that horrid state I was lucky enough to actually go to a high school with some college prep classes, so I was not too far behind when I got to college. Even though that school (much like most schools in ‘Bama) had an insane drop-out rate. My freshman class was something like 600-650 students in size and my graduating class had 365. You do the math. People who transferred out should be cancelled out by the people who transferred in, so a good chunk of the loss was just that, loss.

It has been almost 15 years since I spent the majority of a year in that state, and, honestly (because if I cannot be honest on my blog, where can I be honest?), I am quite happy to not go back there anytime soon. Since marrying the Wifey almost 10 years ago, I think I have been back “home” 4 times. I don’t miss it at all. Beyond the overt and covert racism that exists down there, there is an accompanying religious fatalism that infests the state as well. It is an overwhelming sense of “If that’s how God wants it to be.” For an extreme instance, there are some people down there who won’t go into a tornado shelter because, “If the Lord is calling me back to the flock, then who am I to say ‘no?’”

This fatalism gives the general populace the righteous power to do nothing. That, my friends, is why I do not like Alabama (aside from the un-educated boobery and rampant –isms within that "culture").

To recap:
Only 25 more letters to go
Still deciding if I should go alphabetically or follow whimsy
If I follow whimsy “Q” will whimsically be last
Looks like it will be orange rice for dinner
Little Man deserves it
40°F shift last night
16.67°C shift last night
But the temp only went from 294.26K to 277.59K
There is a good chance my sinuses will hurt me for that shift tomorrow
Only time will tell
Have a great weekend, everyone

Cars

For the last hour I have been watching a progress bar indicate how far along my data transfer from the Cincinnati server to the Columbus server is going. I still have 30 minutes of transfer to go. Our IT department absolutely loves it when I clog up the bandwidth like this. I am one of their favorite people. They love me.

On to the meat of today’s post. Data transfer was only the aperitif, don’t you all feel insanely lucky now? The main course is much more, shall we say, robust?

Today was the first real snow of the season, and, in Ohio, this means that no one is capable of rudimentary driving skills. In Columbus, it usually takes a good 3 or 4 days of snowy driving before people remember how to drive. On the way into work today I saw 2 bumps and countless hazard lights. These types of incidents will fall out of fashion in the next few days when everyone gets their “snow legs” under them.

All the crappy driving I saw today reminded me of all my car woes. So here is the run down.

Car incident 1: Year 1994, Car – 1988 white Mazda 929. Story: Capt McArmypants when he was merely “G-Money” and I were heading down to Auburn University from B’ham. Whilst on our way on venerable US 280, a turkey decided to commit suicide on my car’s windshield. I did not lose control of the vehicle.

Car incident 2: Year 1995, Car – same as above. Story: On my way home to B’ham from Kent, Ohio from meeting up with some friends from KSU, I have a rear tire blow out on a rear wheel drive car and slammed into a guard rail twice on I-65 outside of Louisville, KY (pronounced Llllll-vlllll). Totaled the vehicle.

Car incident 3: Year 1995, Car – Brown 1989 Mazda 929. Story: On my way home from purchasing the vehicle from the previous owner, I hear a KA-chunk and the car goes absolutely dead. The timing belt broke. Previous owner agreed to put a new engine in the car.

Car incident 4: Year 1996, Car – same as above. Story: On my way to work at the local Norictrack Store on July 4th , I lose control of the car at the mall parking lot entrance. I total the car while driving less than 15 miles per hour by hitting a tree (that had been hit 3 times already that week) with one of the “crumple zones” of the car. I totaled the car without spilling my 34 oz cup of Mt. Dew. I still get the business from Capt. McArmypants on this one, even though his brother nearly recreated the same incident about 5 years ago.

Car incident 5: Year 1997, Car - Blue 1989 Isuzu Trooper. Story: On my way home from somewhere, I stopped for a pee break at the Tennessee Welcome center on I-65. I came back to my Trooper to find smoke coming out of the engine compartment. Yep, I had an engine fire. I put it out with my last 24oz Mt. Dew bottle. The car was never the same and less than a year later, it was done.

Car incident 6: Year 2002, Car – Red 1990 Toyota Camry. Story: On my way to an appointment, I turned left in front of a guy I just did not see. He was speeding around a curve, I didn’t pay as much attention as I should have, and WHAMMM! My car totaled. His car totaled and I get cited for “Failure to Yeild Right-of-Way.”

Those are the 6 car incidents of my past. So in 16 years of drving I have been dealt with 6 significant car debacles.

To Recap:
I change cars like I change my underwear
Once every 2 2/3 rd years and only after a big accident
You are all kind of sad about the set up now
It was an awful long set up for that punch line now that I think about it
I have the afternoon off with my kid today
Have a great weekend!

Christmas Gifts

I have no idea what I want for Christmas. This is a problem of mine. Every year when December rolls around I come up against this wall. I have no idea what I would like for Christmas. No idea whatsoever. While it sucks for me, it is really bad for Wifey and her mom as they attempt to find gifts for me. They constantly ask me what I want, and I constantly have no idea.

I think my lack of gift ideas for myself stems back to my childhood. My parents abstained from comforts and didn’t spend much money on anything whilst I was growing up – and they passed this tendency toward self-deprivation onto their children. Well, not both of their children. My brother has been known to buy a $400 sweater, but I balk at spending more than $50 for one.

Both of my parents came from households where, while they were not poor, money was pretty tight, and so they have never allowed themselves to have anything nice. For example, the sofa that they have is one that they got as a wedding gift 41 years ago. That’s right, they haven’t replaced their couch in 41 years. “They just don’t make them like they used to,” says my miserly father. No, Dad, they don’t, no one uses stone and un-tanned animal skins now. They were incensed when they had to replace their 18 year old microwave oven. It was the size of a steamer trunk, and took forever to “cook” anything. It was the premier technology of 1981, though. And when their refrigerator finally gave up the ghost it had been in the house since before they signed the mortgage 28 years earlier.

All that is pretty sad, actually, but let’s get back to me.

I was never taught to think about getting stuff. I wear the hell out of clothes. I am still using a cell phone from 4 years ago. I have been trained not to think of new things for myself. In fact, I remember one time …

Fade out SRH at his work desk…

Fade in...*

…Young SRH is sitting at the kitchen table. The same kitchen table he has sat at for the past 12 years. His seat has a tear in the cushion, the same tear in the cushion that has been there for 9 years.
Hey, Mom? I was wondering if for Christmas, this year, you could get meTron on tape?
But, you already have that copy that the Hendersons made for you when they taped it off of HBO.
Yeah, I was kinda wondering if I could get a copy that wasn’t grainy or didn’t have sync issues with the audio.
Your video still works, you don’t need a new one.
Speaking of HBO, Mom, maybe we could get cable this year?
Cable?!? We are not paying to watch TV! But I will grow up never having watched Fraggle Rock…

Fade out young SRH at his dilapitated kitchen table

Fade in SRH at his work desk**

… I just have no idea what I would like for Christmas because those thoughts have been slowly eroded out of my system by long nights on a lumpy couch with only 3 television channels. Maybe when I have been married for longer than I lived with my parents, I will finally figure out how to come up with a Christmas list.

Any ideas to share?

To Recap:
I have a terrible time coming up with Christmas gifts for myself
Maybe a Graphire 4?
How about some S H O E S?
I need 2 CD’s from A Perfect Circle?
So accessories for the Nano I got last year?
As evidenced by yesterday’s post’s comments, my blog facilitates free and open communication between couples
That makes me proud
Little Man is going to be unhappy when we put his Thomas pajamas in the laundry tonight
They are a little ripe smelling at the moment
3 nights and 1 day seems to be the limit that his poor ‘jammies can take before Wifey and I have to condemn them to the hamper
Maybe my love for Tron can be directly traced to my parents’ unwillingness to buy me a copy, it’s an “I made it” kind of feeling
No really, if you have any ideas for Christmas gifts for me, I’ll take them

*the sitcom flashback sequence is harder to do in a blog than I would have thought
** no, really!

20 Questions Tuesday: 18 - SRH part the second

It seems that enough of my background and sense of “who I am” must not come through very clearly because I got sooo many questions from people for the 20 Questions Tuesday focusing on little old me, SRH. So today I would like to thank IC Yellow, Dustin, Lsig, JW, and Atmikha. Everyone who has ever sent in questions, again, thank you sooo much. Without you I would be at a loss as to what I should write about on Tuesdays. On to the questions.

1. What is your very first recollection of meeting "Wifey"?
I am sure I “met” her previously at a party that an old roommate of mine invited me to, but I met tons of people that night and remembered less than I should have, so we will ignore that party. I truly met my wife at a meeting for a college honor society. Our nerdiness brought us together, but our dorkiness kept us there.

2. What was the worst fight you and your brother got into as kids? Who won?
Hmmmm, I don’t remember what the fight was about, but I won because I had a hatchet. He backed down like a chump.

3. What is your biggest pet peeve?
People with a ranking system for their pet peeves. Ooh that really chaps my hide, but not so much as people running their nails down a chalkboard…

4. What is your best quality? Your worst? Can we answer this one?
Best: How laid back I am about things.
Worst: How laid back I am about things.
Can you answer the question: I require it!

5. If you could be the king of any country, what would it be and why?
Scotsylvania, because it would rock! Vampire Highlanders! For teh win! “Ack! I gonna bite you-ur neck, lassie.”

6. You find $500,000 in cash on the street. Do you keep all it, some of it, or none of it?
Ummm… I don’t know what you are talking about. I only found $200,000.

7. What kind of shaving utensils doth thou usest?
A Mach 3 shaver by Gillette. I hear Gillette is the best a man can get, which really is kind of sad when you think about it.

8. What's your general feeling concerning neck ties?
I absolutely hate neckties. They serve no useful purpose anymore and I find them greatly disturbing. I understand why they were invented and what purpose they served when they started out, but they have no use in modern society. And they get hot and uncomfortable and make me feel like I am choking all the time. Heck, I am the wrong person to ask. I cannot even wear turtle necks because of a “choking incident” in 4th grade. Stupid kid's name was Bobby, and he was quite the oafish brute of a 9 year old. Downright Neanderthalish.

9. What is the main difference you've found between the state you grew up in and the state you live in now?
Well, there is a huge disparity between the State of Denial that I grew up in and the State of Change where I am now residing. Denial was pseudo comfortable but stagnating, while Change is a bit exhilarating but somewhat tremulous.

10. Discuss your feelings regarding "Magnum PI".
One of the most perfect TV shows ever. It had action. Magnum would get in 1 to 2 dust-ups per episode. It had romance. Every week Magnum would get the hook up. It had humor. There was a whimsical sense to the dialog and interaction between Rick, TC and Magnum, not to mention the comradery-esque tension between Higgins and Magnum. It had intrigue. He was a private eye afterall. There was also the on-going intrigue associated with the whole Robin Master’s issue.

11. Is there anything (realistic) that you wish you'd done/seen/accomplished before you became a parent?
Interesting question. I can’t say that I have any real regrets prior to the introduction of Little Man into our household. I would have liked to do more traveling with Wifey, but we were not financially stable enough to do world travel frequently. So, I would have liked to travel more, but it really wasn’t the kid holding us back as much as it was the wallet.

12. If you were to be abducted by sci-fi aliens, which would you choose and why? (Wookies, Cardassians, E.T.s, etc.)
That alien race that Vanessa L. Williams played on that one episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Yowzas!

13. Because we have the technology to rebuild a man better... faster… stronger... what ONE bionic capability would you have?
Jaw. It would come in handy, but not be hampered by lack of supporting issues. One strong leg makes one run in circles faster. A strong arm with no back support is bad. Super hearing would get annoying. Sight would be cool, but there are enough vision engancement gadgets out there. Biting through shit! That wuld be the stuff.

14. Which of little man's dvd's would you consider rolling over with your car/rubbing with sandpaper/warping with an open flame/flinging across the room/and snapping in half- then lying about what really happened to it?
Luckily he broke the darn thing himself! It was a DVD of just trains around Ohio.

15. What is your most prized possession?
My sense of humor.

16. What annoys you most about family gatherings?
My family.

17. What is the THIRD luckiest thing that has ever happened to you?
Hmmm, the annals of history might have missed this one, if you had not asked. 1 and 2 are notable due to Wifey and Little Man. I would have to say the 3 rd luckiest thing would be the time I found $20 just sitting in the ATM machine. Wow, I need more lucky things to happen to me. That was pretty pitiful to rank number 3.

18. What is your earliest memory?
I got bit on the nose by some kid trying to climb a slide while I was trying to slide down the slide properly. The little jerk! It was at Gunter Air Station in Montgomery, Alabama. I was 3. Oh the trauma! Oh crap. Little Man is 3! He could, 30 years from now, potentially remember things currently happening.

19. Is your Celtic heritage important to you?
It is a common link between my wife and I, so yes, it is important. Would I feud with someone from a different clan’s lineage? Nope, but I do identify heavily with my Gaelic heritage.

20. Is there a particular work of art which has fascinated you?
I have always been haunted by this work by Caspar David Friedrich.


To recap:
Wifey gets home today
Capt. McArmypants gets into town today
I am neglecting work as we speak
Little man wasn’t too keen on preschool today
Until he got there
Then it was hard to get a kiss goodbye
Grandpa R had a surgical procedure on his nose yesterday
He has raccooned up quite nicely due to the procedure
I am not coming into work tomorrow
I might try to do some stuff around the house with Capt. McArmypants
By “stuff” I mean: lounge around
Not sure what is for dinner tonight
I am sure it will be good though
Little Man is done with the Orapred
Hopefully he will be back to an even keel by tomorrow
He is going to be all over Wifey tonight
He = Little Man
He ≠ Capt. McArmypants
I think Capt. McArmypants is a bit scared of Wifey
He should be…. He should be

20 Questions Tuesday: 17 - SRH part the first

Turn about is fair play and all, so this week’s 20 Question Tuesday is, well, all about me. I sent out my typical email asking for questions and so far I have 45 questions. So, next weeks 20 Questions Tuesday will be about me as well. I am one of my favorite subjects after all, and it seems that I am one of yours as well. Anyway… Narcissism aside, thanks this week go to Anon in love with Wifey, J.A. Coppinger, ACW, and Bomber. I just went in order of receipt, so everyone else will be take care of next week. Here are the questions and answers.

1. If you could be spokes-model for any non-food product, what product would you choose?
Clarks Shoes. I love me some Clarks shoes. Although I am wearing Merrell’s right now. That would probably get me fired from the spokesperson job.

2. If Wifey had said no, who was your backup?
I had no back-up. All my eggs were in one basket. It was all or nothing. I would have been plinking freshmen off from a bell tower, ummm…. Strike that last comment. I would have been plinking freshmen off from a bell tower Good job, Blogger!

3. What is your favorite Broadway musical number to fantasize about restaging, starring yourself?
Ummm… I am not sure how or why I would restage it, but the animal procession in The Lion King is my favorite. So I guess I would probably make it look very similar to how it is now, but the spotlight would be on me whilst I did my 90’s hip-hop dancing in Hammer Pants. I would love to tell the Rhino, "Stop! Hammer Time!"

4. Do these jeans make me look fat?
No, there are other factors at play.

5. If you couldn't do what you're doing now (as a job), what would your dream job be?
My dreams have nothing remotely jobby about them. My dream job would be independently wealthy philanthropist.

6. Name the person from history you’d most like to eat lunch with.
When I first read this one, I read “Name the person from history you’d most like to eat for lunch.” And I thought, "This is an odd question." Then I re-read it and was much less confused. So I will answer both. Whom I would dine on and whom I would dine with.
On: Middle Years Henry VIII (late 20’s to 30’s)
With: Salma Hayek. She is historical, right?

7. Why that person?
On: He is still moderately fit, but starting to put some weight on. So he is not too gamy but fat enough to be flavorful… mmmm kingly fat
With: Do I really need to explain this one? If I must: Hawt!

8. If you could live in any time period other than this one, which would you choose?
The Star Trek future. Everybody on Terra gets along just swimmingly.

9. Character of the opposite sex -from a novel- you’d most like to meet?
Sofia from The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell.

10. Six words that best describe you (individual words, not a sentence!)
Sarcastic, Sardonic, Acerbic, Cynical, Caustic, and Laid-Back

11. How much soccer did you play? Favorite position(s)? Any championships/titles?
I started playing soccer when I was 4, and I stopped playing when I was 17. That breaks things down to playing for 13 years. In those 13 years I played every position on the field and even keeper. I would have to say that I was best at playing either stopper or sweeper in a 4-4-2 or 4-3-3 scheme. When I was 14, my team won our state tournament and basically promoted ourselves into a stronger league. That year I scored 21 goals from the sweeper position. I was the leading goal scorer on the team. 15 of those goals were from un-assisted corner kicks. Bend it Like Beckham my ass. Bend it Like SRH. At 14 goal keepers weren’t able to cover the back corner very well. In U-16 soccer I only scored 5 on corners. In high school, I sat on the bench. I peaked waaaay too early.

12. Why did you really attend Kent State? I believe KSU is too far away from Alabama to be known.
My parents are both originally from Northeastern Ohio. My mom is from Stow and my Dad is actually from Kent. I got an alumni scholarship there and the rest is history. Actually, I can think of 7 people from my family who graduated from Kent.

13. What weird twist of fate bought you and Wifey together? (If you really think about all the decisions that had to be made for the first meeting even to take place)
Honestly, the watershed event of my life had to occur for my compatibility with Wifey to actually be possible. If that had not happened, things in my life would definitely be different.

14. What about "little man" part 2 - when is the happy family becoming a foursome?
You know, Wifey is at home today with a sick Little Man. He has a fever and a bit of a cough. We need to have his hearing evaluated to make sure that there is not some kind of hearing deficiency going on there. We are still dealing with multiple life-threatening food allergies. He is in his full-blown bad asthma season. We are giving him at least 3 breathing treatments daily, when he isn’t sick. Ummm… You tell me, should Wifey and I load that genetic gun again? This one is a tough enough case to deal with.

15. What are your current hobbies? Hobbies that you wished you stayed active in?
I draw somewhat, I write occasionally. I play World of Warcraft way too much. I wish I had kept up with my drawing. Those skills are quite rusty.

16. You seem to be an open book, so confess something that most people don't know about you!
I, ummm… this is a more difficult question than many would think. I am pretty open on this blog without being a completely “naked blogger” (one who writes everything that they feel, good bad, ugly, pretty, emotional, etc…) I am pretty open about foibles and what-not. I guess I would have to say that I am not nearly as knowledgeable as many people think I am. I speak and write very confidently, and this is how I get through life. Basically, I am a sham.

17. Borrowed from "Inside the Actor's Studio"..."If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?"
There’s nothing to see here, move along. Move along…

18. When you've had a really crappy day, what movie is guaranteed to make you laugh?
The frying pan scene from Throw Mama from the Train. Anne Ramsey (this crodgety old woman) is Danny Devito’s (Owen) mom, and Billy Crystal is an acquaintance of Devito’s.
Ramsey: Who are you?
Crystal: I’m Owen’s friend.
Ramsey: Owen doesn’t have any friends. He’s fat and he’s stupid.
DeVito: You lied to me!
{Whacks Billy Crystal in the face with a frying pan}
I laugh every time.

19. Someone else asked what person from history you'd most like to have lunch with...I want to know what you'd eat - where would you go and what would you order?
Actually I like me some Costa’s Famous Bar-B-Que in Birmingham, Alabama. Best damn B-B-Q I have ever had. Although, if the meal was with Salma, I would want it to be at some place that has 8 to 10 courses so she could not run away too quickly.

20. If you could move to another country...name it.
Without really knowing that much about really living there, Scotland.


To Recap:
Little Man is sick today (as mentioned in answer 14)
I got waaay more responses to questions about me than I though I would
I would have thought reading my constant blather would get tiring, but you like me, you really do!
Spaghetti for dinner tonight?
Had to layoff one of my intrepid cartographers this week
That sucks
It really really sucks
Did I mention the suckitude associated with this?
Cause it Sucks

Four things

There were a couple of things said this weekend by Little Man that bear repeating.

Thing the first: Albeit a day later than he said it to his mama, Little Man without prompting or any sort of stimulus (that I know of) said, and I quote, “I wubove you, Papa.” Which I believe translates into “I love you.” This really can make one’s day, week, year, World Cup qualifying cycle, decade, lifetime. To see my wonderful little 3 year old earnestly say from the bottom of his heart that he loves me is simply earth shattering. My world changed in that instant.

Thing the second: Saturday evening due to my own not feeling well and Wifey’s desire not to cook we went to a local restaurant for dinner. Pig Iron BBQ is a local favorite of the fam. They have a pretty good BBQ sauce. Their pulled pork and beef brisket are good, their ribs are tasty, but a great reason to go there is the fact that they serve the Old Bag of Nails’s fish’n’chips. For my British readers out there, this is the best fish’n’ships I have had since that place in Manchester a little ways off from the University of Manchester dorms (way back when I was 12 or so I went to the Bobby Charlton Soccer and Sports Academy for a week long camp. I was quite the little defender when I was young.) Anyway, there was this little place just off campus (if I remember correctly it was at the University of Manchester so long ago, but I honestly don’t remember because at the time I did not care) that was a hole in the wall fish’n’chips place that still wrapped the deep fried goodness in newspaper and sold soft drinks in glass liter bottles. It was amazing, but I digress. So, Saturday we take Little Man to get a pulled pork sandwich. He politely ate a bite of the sandwich and then proceeded to impolitely mow down a basket of onion rings.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon when he got the left over pulled pork sandwich from the fridge. After I heat up the cold sandwich, he brings it out to the living room, where sandwiches should be eaten. He looks at the plate and states, “Sandwich: soooooooooo cuuuute.” Yes, the sandwich, as far as pulled pork BBQ sandwiches go, is rather cute.

Thing the third: Little Man seems to have another personality that he reverts to occasionally. It is pure harmless play, so Wifey and I are not really all that concerned. He has given up the personality of the puppy (puppies being too obedient, I guess) and has taken on the personality of “Fluffy” the kitty cat. Once while Fluffy was having me scritch his head, Fluffy gave me a more detailed picture of this persona by stating rather emphatically, “Fluffy, a big fat yellow kitty cat.” Great, now my kid has weight issues as an imaginary cat.

Things the fourth: This weekend, Mimma got Little Man a wonderful wooden train toy. It is made by Whittle Wooden Trains. This company tries to produce trains and train cars that will fit on the same size track as the wooden Thomas the Tank Engine toys, but their trains and cars resemble those of the actual real world. Anyway, Mimma got Little Man a brand spanking new CSX Diesel Engine, and it and Little Man have been inseparable since.

Sunday afternoon, I overhear the youngster secretly wisper whilst he is playing at the train table, “I wubove you, CNX Engine.” 2 things to remark about this turn of events. Number 1: I don’t know why he will not call it a “CSX” instead of a “CNX,” but no amount of correction will make him change what he calls it. Number 2: My world changed again in that instant. He loves me, he loves a toy train, he loves the TV, he loves this, he loves that... etc. I do not feel so special anymore.

To recap:
I am still a bit under the weather
But I am feeling much better
I think I am going to skip the workout and just concentrate on feeling better
Not sure what is for dinner tonight
My entire under 12 team went to England for the soccer camp
We played 4 exhibition matches against 4 different equivalently aged British teams
They kicked our asses
Every game
It is okay because we didn’t expect anything different
We had some snow flakes this morning
Little Man “wuboves” banana muffins too

The dream is dead

This weekend I came to a realization. A realization that I think my subconscious did not want to… ummm… realize. (AUTHOR’S NOTE: wow, I realized a realization? Aren’t I something special?) I realized that even if I got myself into my peak performance condition, increased my footwork skills, and brought my tactical knowledge up to snuff, I would still be too old to play the game of soccer professionally. The dream is really dead. Now, I know full well that even at the height of my abilities I was not good enough or even on the track to be even remotely professional level, and I understand that I have never been in the physical shape necessary to even seriously think about playing, but I was at least young enough that if I did have the talent and the physical abilities it could be a possibility. Not so now. I am just plain too old.

Looking at most professional sports, my mere 32 years of age puts me over the average age of the professional athlete. Don’t get me wrong, there are still some people who play well into their mid-30’s, but these people are the exception to the rule. Most pro careers tend to end after the tender age of 26, it seems. Superstars typically last until the ripe old age of 31 to 33. Well, dear readers, I am 32 and even if I were at the pinnacle of performance for all of my 32 years, I probably would not be able to hang with the 22 year olds “knocking the ball around the pitch” these days.

This saddens me somewhat. I am officially too old for the dream. The fantasy doesn’t even have a glimmer of possibility anymore. Woe is me! Woe is me! For I am too old to be “Man of the Match” even in my dreams. My fantasy will now consist of the guy in the stands who deftly and quickly returns the ball to the pitch so the home team can restart play and maintain the fast break advantage. Ooooooh, doesn’t that sound like a great sports fantasy? Yeah, it does suck. Maybe I will be the one who purchases the ticket that pushes the team’s profits high enough that they can afford the next superstar. It is to dream. Or maybe I am the old guy in the stands that shouts, “For Chrissake! Shoot the Damn Ball!” at just the correct volume and pitch that the striker thinks it is his own internal monologue causing him to shoot a wicked ball into the upper right hand corner just past the outstretched keeper’s fingers. Now that is a sport’s fantasy.

Maybe I will just have to start fantasizing vicariously through Little Man. I am sure he is going to be the next asthmatic 16 year old phenom who is going to be snatched up by the… let’s say Tottenham Hotspurs youth developmental system. Because, really, that is what Tottenham really needs; a 16 year old Yankee asthmatic with some severe food allergies. His nickname could be “The Yankee Wheeze.”

To recap
The Yankee Wheeze is doing much better today
I think we are having some sort of soup for dinner tonight
I will only be working a half day tomorrow
I just got out of a 5 hour long “webinar” meeting
I was really close to clawing my eyes out during the “webinar”
Capt. McArmypants is deploying for Middle Eastern desert duty sometime next year
Both he and I wish he were deploying for Middle Eastern dessert duty
At least I haven't gotten too old to save the world from blood-thirsty aliens in my fantasies
Tomorrow’s 20 questions is a continuation of the cereal questions
People are oddly interested in breakfast cereal

20 Questions Tuesday: 12: My So-called High School

Ah, for lack of better judgment, I have decided that today’s 20 questions will be centered around the topic of high school. Which means it will be centered around my high school experience. So, gather the kids around and listen to the answers of my High School. Imagine that it is way back in 1990 again, and everything will be okay.

Some disclaimers. I hated HATED high school. I am a Hewitt Trussville High School class of 1992 grad, and since high school graduation I haven’t looked back. Why a high school in Alabama would choose a sled dog for a mascot, I am not sure. Anyway… my school was a good school, but not the best. Much like most Alabamian high schools there was an insane drop-out rate. My freshman class was about 750-ish (if I remember correctly) and my graduating class was 365. That is a goodly amount of people who “dropped out” or just didn’t finish on time. I was not hated by anyone that I know of, but I wasn’t popular either. I never truly fit in with any one particular group and constantly longed to be more popular. Of the 365 I graduated with I only keep in contact with 2 and I am only remotely curious as to what happened to maybe 4 other people. Some of my responses today will probably seem jaded, because, well, I am jaded about the whole high school situation.

Thanks this week to The Em, ContinuityGirl, Dustin, and J.A. Coppinger. (A special “Thank you” to Wifey for her last minute questions.)

1. What is the point of having a homecoming king and queen? Popularity isn't accentuated enough without it?
The whole idea of the homecoming court was to really make the marginalized feel even more so. Actually, I think that was a big part of the whole high school ritual in general. High school really helped to marginalize the marginalizable and popularized the ones willing to conform. High school was a Petri dish of polarization.

2. Everybody had that one teacher in high school that everyone made fun of or was totally wacky. What was your's like? And how are people like this even allowed near kids?
Mrs. Eyslande (not her actual name. I don’t want her googling this post). She was my Sophomore chem. Teacher. She was flighty and really scatter-brained. Made for interesting labs. One time whilst she was doing the “electric pickle” demonstration, she knocked the pickle over and then picked it up bare-handed. Clarification: for those of you who do not know, there are a boat lode of salts and minerals and electrolytes in pickles, so much so, that if you attached the wires from a plug to each side of the pickle it will light up and buzz and hum due to its ability to conduct electricity. This makes the pickle, in effect, an exposed wire that is plugged into an outlet. Her picking up the pickle did not go over well with her whole “I don’t like to get shocked” philosophy.

3. Most high schoolers participated in some extra curricular activities, what were yours?
Hmmm… Other than the Honor Society and ΜΑΘ (the Math Honor Society), which were less activities than things that they made me go to, I was a member of the varsity soccer team, scholar’s bowl (Quiz Bowl), the Physics Club (they had good breakfasts and I enjoyed annoying that sponsor/teacher), I think that was it.

4. You were voted "mostly likely...." what?
If I had tallied any votes it would have been for “Most Likely to Get the Hell out of Alabama.”

5. What's your best moment/memory of high school?
I have mentioned this before, but one time the aforementioned sponsor/physics teacher said to me
Teach: SRH, do you know what your problem is?
Me: No, what?
Teach: You’re apathetic.
Me: So…
I am not sure she really even got the pithiness of the response, but it was at that moment I decided top join the physics club.

6. Which John Hughes film most closely resembles your time at school?
This is a really good question. If you subtract the love interests, science experiments, the ability to pull off a gigantic party, the creation of a hot chick from 1980’s with crappy computer systems, and the transformation from Geek to popular at the end of the movie, I would say “Weird Science.”

7. When you were at school what did you want to be when you grew up?
Up until my senior year I was gunning for being in the US Air Force. WTF was I thinking?!?!

8. Did you eat school dinners (lunches) or bring your own in, in a brown paper bag?
Funny thing. I actually only went into the cafeteria, I think, maybe 10 time during the entirety of my high school tenure. I found ways to get 2 half period study halls to replace my lunch period. I didn’t eat lunch in high school, brownbag or otherwise.

9. What's the worst thing you ever got caught doing? and the worst thing you got away with?
Hmmmm, I got caught with a gas mask in my locker. Let me clarify, I had an old Mark V gas mask (a black mask with 2 air filter canisters on the mask) in my locker that I stored a whole bunch of Skor Bars within. Mmmmmm toffee and chocolate… And I guess during one of the random locker searched they “confiscated” the mask, but they also took the Skor bars, the Bastards!

That I have gotten away with? I actually got out water colors because I was tired of just sketching in my Latin class. The teacher found it better for me to be occupied than fully engaged.

10. What is it with High School lunch ladies?
Honestly, they were one of the reasons that I avoided the cafeteria. That and the fact that the “salad bar” had three colors of “salad dressing” but they all tasted the same.

11. What is the funniest High School mascot you've ever heard of?
Why anyone would name their high school mascot the “Mighty Trojans” and be angry about the eventual condom jokes that ensued?

12. Did you ever have a crush on one of your HS teachers?
Nope, I wanted to crush a few of them, but I never had a crush on any of them.

13. Private or Public...which is better?
From a pure cross-section of humanity preparation for the real world aspect, I would have to go with public. In public school, you sometimes had to put effort into making the learning experiences happen.

14. Do all male PE (Physical Education) teachers have excessive back hair (i.e. is that a job requirement)?
Furrowed brow is a requirement. I never saw my PE coaches’ backs without their shirts on. Are you trying to tell me something scary and private, Dustin? If the big back hairy man did something to you, you can tell me.

15. Were you a prep, jock, burn-out, or a geek?
Most definitely a geek

16. What was you best HS moment?
Being done with it

17. What was the most embarrassing HS moment?
I will wait and see if Capt. McArmypants and B-dawg want to weigh in on this one. I honestly have nary a memory about embarrassing moments in High School, but that could be because I have blocked them from my memory.

18. Would you –for any price- return to HS?
There is a price for everything. I have not put much thought into what price that would be.

19. Compare your feelings about your hair in high school versus your feelings about your hair now.
I absolutely hated my brillo pad-esque hair in high school. Straight hair was in and curly hair was something to be tamed. My hair was untamable, and I hated it. I like the curls now (even though I just got them cut). All in all I like the hair sitch, I just wish that I did not come into this comfort with my hair after I started graying and balding.

20. Would you have dated your wife in high school?
Well, there are a couple of things that we need to clarify in this question. Knowing who I am today I would have, but we are talking about the “me” of around 15 years ago. 15 years ago I was a white 17 year old in Alabama who was non-popular. My wonderful wife is black-white biracial, so the superficial-17-year-old-why-don’t-people-like-me SRH would not have found Hottie McHotness (Wifey) attractive due to the color of her skin. I grew a whole bunch between graduating from high school and my junior year in college.

All that being said, and removing the skin tone from the equation, I would not have wanted to date Wifey in high school. See, she was a cheerleader, class president, president of the Honor’s Society, and super popular while I was merely a jaded geek. I would have disliked her due to envy, and therefore probably not talked to her much. Flip that coin and she probably would not have dated me either. I was not in the “in crowd” enough to have made it into the realm of her possible datees. She too grew up a bunch in college.

To Recap:
High school sucked
Finger feels fine today
I miss my cats
I had a big lunch today, but I am still hungry
Not sure what will be for dinner tonight
I am loving Tool’s 10,000 Days
But I have a thing for Tool anyway
I am sore today because I started at a new gym last night
Wow, I am sore
I was sore before I left the gym
That is NEVER a good sign