These are few of my favorite things...

I always suspected that eventually, some of my hobbies may turn into big-time, professional-type, money-making businesses. Two of these seem to have now done so, except for the "big-time", "professional", and "money-making" parts. I never expected that it would take having children to do this.

The first hobby is juggling. My friend Mark turned me on to it, or maybe I turned him on to it. I can't remember. What I do remember is working at Bob's Big Boy and spending my lunch hour in the walk-in refrigerator with three lemons. After months and months(and lots of bruised lemons) I finally got the hang of basic juggling and started on tricks. (Maybe Mark did catch the bug from me, because I distinctly remember the jealousy I felt (and still feel) when he quickly outclassed me.) I always imagined we'd hit the stage as a comedy juggling duo. Well, there's still time. Maybe after retirement. We can do a senile act. "Mark, what are we doing here in front of all these people with these clubs?" "Hell if I know. Seen my antacid?"

Anyway, I ended up getting a gig as a juggler. Unpaid. At my daughter's school. For the spring fair. And more than juggling, I'll be teaching it. Someone is bringing a boatload of yarn balls for me to use to teach kids how to juggle. Well, it's a start.

Another hobby of mine is decorating cakes, which until recently I thought I could actually make money from. I say recently, because I've just tuned into a cable show on the Food Network called "Ace of Cakes", and whereas I once thought I was getting pretty good, I now realize that in the grand scheme of things, I'm still only fooling around.

Anyway, I'm making a wedding cake. Sounds auspicious, until you hear who it's for. It's for Q and U.

No, that's not the initials of the bride and groom. Those are their names. Q and U.

My son is finishing up kindergarten. They have "Letter People", like Mr. M who has a munchy mouth, and Mrs. T who has big teeth. Well, the last two Letter People they are covering this year are Q and U. And next week, Q and U are getting married. The kindergarten is having a party, and needs people to bring cups and plates and juice and snacks. And cake.

I really don't think the teacher is expecting an actual wedding cake, but hell, why not? It's good practice, and I've never done a tiered cake before. It's a good way to try it. If it works, great, and if it doesn't, not a big deal. I won't have ruined someone's wedding.

Although I'm going to have to work a little bit to find an appropriate cake topper. A matched figurine set of a quail and a unicorn might be hard to come by.

3,2,1, Contact!

This is an unusual post. Its only purpose is to appeal to one particular person reading this blog. Belgarion Longbow, you know who you are. I'd love to hear from you again, but for the life of me can't figure out how to use your comment to my last posting to respond or contact you.

Although I'm not going to put my email address up here, for anyone to see, you know my name and hopefully remember how to spell it. Look me up! If you happen to contact the people at the address I lived when we met, they will be able to tell you how to get in touch with me.

There are others from that same summer I am still in touch with who would also love to hear about/from you.

(I'm putting the onus on you because my last name is much more unusual than yours, and you are more likely to find me than the other way around. Besides, last time I heard about you, you were in Germany!)

Call, write, email, something! I look forward to it.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire

I had just finished editing and posting that last entry when I hear rustling in the back room. I hissed at the cat that I thought was rummaging around behind the TV. Ten seconds later, that same cat comes out making a very strange sound. The only time I've heard it before was when he had caught a mouse. So I start flipping on lights and chasing him down.

I catch up just in time to see him drop my children's pet hamster on the living room floor.

Now understand, this would be exceedingly bad, considering that just this past weekend we held a funeral for the other hamster. Yes, a funeral. Graveside, with some words of condolence for the dearly departed, followed by sniffles and tears. I actually said Kaddish for a hamster.

Having dealt with it once already, I was in no mood to do a repeat performance. I grabbed the cat and held him still, wondering how the hell I was going to get the hamster back, since it had run under the chair (the chair which was next to the couch on which both of my children decided to sleep tonight).

I only had a few seconds to think about it, because that was when the hamster waddled out from under the chair and into my hand.

I must be really tired, because it took two of us to figure out what happened next. See, I had the hamster cage in the downstairs bathroom, with the door closed, because the wheel is squeaky and it was driving us nuts. So when I go back to put her in the cage, I see the bathroom door is still closed! Inside, the cage (which had been perched on the sink) was on its side on the floor. I figured, the hamster running in the wheel gradually edged the cage closer to the side of the sink until it fell over and made its escape. It was very thoughtful of the hamster (or, possibly, the cat) to close the door after herself, but how the hell did she do it?

It took both of us to realize that we're talking about a hamster. A rodent. A thing that can squeeze into tight places.

Like under a door.

Phone service at Ellis Island

Today I spoke with a friend of mine about a cute little incident involving my oldest daughter. He suggested I write about it (I was about to say "blog it", but I'm still not comfortable enough with the format to call it that), so that's what this entry is about. Note that what I used to call "my daughter" I am now calling "my oldest daughter". This is another story that another good friend has told me I should write about, and I will, but I haven't figured out the words yet. Keep posted.

By the way, the words "cute little incident involving my daughter" are code words. They translate to "highly amusing anecdote to those people with children, and a really boring post to those without". You have been warned.


Anyway, I'm hanging about the house today with nothing better to do except wonder when the PTO will call me back when I glance outside and see a strange sight. All the lawn chairs and the bench have been lined up in two rows, one behind the other. Sitting in the second row is my (oldest) daughter. She is dressed in a petticoat, with a shawl around her shoulders and a bandanna on her head. In her lap rests a wicker basket, and her hands are neatly folded on the handle. She is just sitting there, seemingly doing nothing.

Curious, I call through the screen door, "Sarah, what are you doing?"

She answers, "I'm emigrating. I'm waiting my turn." And then, as I watch, she moves up a seat. And waits.

She's the only one out there. No one is there calling her name or stamping passports. She's the only child on our street (or town, or borough, or probably state) who plays "Emigration".

I felt like Gomez Adams. Strange and different, but a little proud to be so. What kind of child plays emigration? My kind, I suppose.

(On a related note, five minutes later I look out and my son is sitting on one of the chairs with a blanket around his head. "Alex, are you emigrating too?", I ask. The answer: "No, dad, I'm Luke Skywalker.")

-----

That's part one. Part two is the lovely experience I had with our telecommunications company over the past few days. I won't tell you which company it is, but I will say that it starts with a "V" and ends with "erizon".

Our roommate moved out. It was clear when he moved in that the situation was only temporary, but then again, that was seven years ago. Anyway, he left, and we didn't see a point to receiving phone bills in his name. So I called Verizon our phone company last Monday to have the name on the account changed.

They can't do that.

They can provide the latest in fiber optic communications, but they can't change the name on the account. What can they do? Close the old account, and open a new one.

I'm fine with that. They do so. Tuesday, our phone, TV, and internet go dead. I call (on my cell phone) to have the new account put up. Here's the gist of the conversation that follows.

Me: I'm calling to have a new name on our account. I'd like the same phone number if possible.

Sales Rep: Yes sir, no problem. We can have a technician out there Monday.

Me: No, that's not necessary. We already have all the equipment. We just need it turned on.

Sales Rep: We need to send out a tech, sir. Technically, we should have picked up the equipment when the account was deleted. Then we would send someone out there with new equipment.

Me: You don't understand, it was just working yesterday. Just turn it back on the way you turned it off.

Sales Rep: We'll have someone out there Monday between 8am and 5pm.

Me: Listen, if we didn't pay the bill and you suspended service, would you need to send a tech out to turn it back on?

Sales Rep: Of course not, sir.

Me: Then you can just do that, right?

Sales Rep: Would you hold a moment, sir? Thanks.

(Two minutes of conferring with his manager)

Sales Rep: Would you hold just another moment please? Thanks.

(Five more minutes of conferral.)

Sales Rep: Well, sir, when we delete the account we clear the posts and they need to be reset. The tech will be out there Monday. Thank you for choosing Verizon us.

Well, the tech comes, and I explain the whole thing to him again. His response?

Tech: Yeah, I figured it was something weird. On the sheet they gave me where it says "Problem description" they wrote "undescribable".

Anyway, what the tech expected to be an 8 hour day turned into a 40 minute day. Everything now works, hence I am able to post this blog.


Finally, a plea for help. I can't for the life of me figure out how to get this blog to accept the "tab" key. If someone could show me how to do this, I wouldn't have to keep skipping a line every time I want a new paragraph.

Berkeley Breathed, eat your heart out!

So I've run across a website where you can easily make your own comic strip using predetermined figures, objects, and shapes. It's pretty neat, especially for those of us who are artistically challenged. Presented here is my first attempt. I know the sizing is a bit hard (it's easier to see by clicking on the image at the original website. It retells a scene that occurred last week while gaming.

Eragon review

As promised, here is my synopsis of the novels "Eragon" and its sequel, "Eldest". There are spoilers here. You have been warned.


The first scene opens with a young woman on a secret mission to deliver an object of utmost importance to the resistance movement. This item has the potential, if used properly, to bring down the evil empire. Unfortunately, she is captured by agents of the empire, but not before she desperately casts off the object into the great beyond. While she didn't send it where she wanted it to go, at least it is temporarily safe.

Cut to a farm on the outskirts of civilization. A farmboy stumbles across this vital object accidentally. Near the boy's village, yet secluded from it, lives an old hermit who is more than he seems. Later in the story, it turns out he was assigned to stay there to keep an eye on the boy.

Danger comes to the village, so the boy and the hermit set off. On the way, the old man teaches the boy some of the old magical arts, but not nearly as much as the boy will learn later on. The man also gives the boy a special weapon with a sordid past.

The old man dies on the journey, before he can teach the boy everything he needs to know. However, later on the boy takes up with a member of another, older race. This person, despite being crippled, knows even more than the old man and teaches the boy much. The boy leaves his teacher before his lessons are over, however, with a promise to return to complete them. The boy learns how to use the old arts to perform incredible feats such as levitation, communicating telepathically with those close to him, and affecting the minds of others.

The boy eventually meets up with the young woman from the beginning, by rescuing her from the jail, right out from under the eye of the evil empire. He develops a bit of a crush on her, which is unrequited. Later, he finds out she is a princess associated with the resistance movement.

In the second portion of the story, the resistance movement is forced to relocate, since their home base has been discovered.

At some point, the boy receives a crippling blow, which is later repaired.

It turns out that the boy's weapon, given to him by his first teacher, used to belong to the second-in-command of the evil empire. It is later startingly revealed that this man is the boy's father.

During a major battle, just as it appears the resistance is doomed, help suddenly appears in the form of the boy's cousin, who comes unexpectedly from nowhere and distracts the opposing army long enough for the resistance to land a severely disabling blow. There is an evil counterpoint to the boy, someone who can also use the dark arts, on the battlefield, but he escapes in the confusion.


Now, some of you may be wondering whether I just described "Eragon", or whether this is a review of the classic "Star Wars" movies. If you are wondering this.....well, so am I.

Back in the saddle again

It's been too long. Way, way too long, and too much has transpired. There's a lot that I could write, and I could conceivably fill several entries, but let's sum up and see what happens.

1. I'm out of a job.
2. We're having a baby.
3. We've lost someone dear to us.

I've considered leaving it at that, but I think I need to write more, so it's time for some detail. First, the job. As of the middle of October, I am no longer teaching. The reasons are complicated, and I'm legally bound not to discuss details yet, but suffice it to say I'm not happy with the situation. I'm working two part-time jobs, and it feels like I'm working harder than I was when I had a full-time and a part-time. My resume has been sent out, and while I probably haven't sent it to as many places as I should, I'm hopeful about the places to where I did send it. In fact, I've more or less placed all my eggs in one basket with one particular job opportunity. If it comes through, I'll be set for life. If it doesn't....back to the drawing board. I should be hearing any day now. Keep your fingers (and toes, and eyes) crossed.

Second, we're pregnant. On NPR recently they interviewed a guy from East Something-Or-Other University, and each year they compile a list of "banned" words. In other words, phrases or words they'd prefer never to have in the King's English again. Things like "awesome" or "TomKat" and so on. This year, one of the phrases that made the list is "we're pregnant". I know that technically, biologically, only my wife is pregnant. But pregnancy has been made into such a non-biological issue, what with having the proper car seat, the proper doctor, the proper clothing, the proper way to breathe, that there are plenty of books now for the father. "What To Expect When She's Expecting", and so on. And whereas before the dad was expected to pace in the waiting room and hand out cigars, now he is expected to attend the birth, cut the cord, and basically do everything he can except push. I'm all for that, and eager to participate as much as possible. As long as I'm involved, then, I may as well say "we're pregnant".

Oh, and it's a girl. Due early May.

Finally, just today we lost someone dear to us. Our good friend Keith, who we have known for about 15 years, lost his mother to bone cancer. She had been fighting it valiantly for years, and was a dear, sweet woman who made the best seafood chowder in all of New England. We will miss her much. If you are reading this, please hold Keith and his family in the light.


Topic for my next post: Griping about Eragon