May 2005 Archives

In what seems like another lifetime ago, my buddies and I would toast ourselves with our favorite suds, generally strike out with the women in bars (a good thing, considering they were women in college bars), stumble furtively through the darkened University of North Texas campus and end up sitting beneath the bright lights in a booth of an International House of Pancakes (Where America sobers up™). I wonder if it was purposely perched on the edge of campus to facilitate the walking (albeit drunkardly, shaky, impeded) from Fry Street – the centerpiece of Denton's smoky stinky bar scene.

Beergoggles notwithstanding, and maybe being a lonely sort of guy at the time, many of the waitresses at that IHOP were totally hot. Even the youngest ones had seen it all after only a few shifts at The Hop and had likewise learned the art of drawing as much tip-money from foggy customers with flirtation, sisterly concern and french toast.

It was on such a night we met her, the "her" being a fellow college student trying to pay her way through school. Can't remember – it being thousands of moons ago – how the topic came up, but she told us her bicycle had been stolen. Luckily, I had just purchased a new bike and was looking to jettison my old one.

My theory is, you can tell a lot about a person by what magazines they subscribe to. What it really tells you, however, is simply what they like to read. Sure, someone’s book reading list can sort of do that, but magazines transcend the need for knowledge and enlightenment. Uh, right?

My fascinations have changed over time. Here’s a rundown:

Want to be reminded how fragile life is? Want to be kicked in the gut to make sure you don't take anything for granted? Want your world to come crashing down? Well, of course not. But you parents out there know that all it takes for all three (and more) to become reality is your kid to become sick. Such powerlessness. Such worry.

The Cutlet woke up late Saturday night and kept saying "ow" over and over. He was also apparently having trouble breathing. We called the doctor-on-call, who said it could be something minor (i.e. tummy ache) or something not as minor (i.e. appendicitis), and we needed to take him to the hospital. We scooped him up, grabbed the diaper backpack and headed out the door. By the time I'd unlocked the truck, he was laughing and giggling and talking. Like a normal, healthy kid. We looked at each other (of course, it was dark so we couldn't see either one's facial expression) and decided we'd at least head to the hospital and see how he was. A few miles down the road, it was apparent the little guy was just peachy, so we turned around.

Whew. So then the sky regained its rightful place above us instead of weighing down on our noggins. Crisis averted. Then, of course, the Petite Filet had surgery on Monday. Let me start out by saying it went well, and she is doing as best as could be expected. It was minor, outpatient stuff and in the scheme of things, no biggie. With the Cutlet's health a bit shaky, we were unable to take him to alternate childcare (our main provider just having had a baby, she's out of commission). Our Sunday school teacher's wife volunteered, dragged our teacher and had their daughter over, too, and proceeded to cook, clean and do laundry for us (as well as mow the entire lawn) while we were at the hospital. Christian friendship, my friends, does exist.

• The woman who cares for the Cutlet four days a week gave birth to a healthy baby boy. His lungs were not fully developed yet, but he is expected to be fine. If they're still in the hospital today, we're going to visit them during lunchtime.

• Our alternative childcare is working out great. So great, in fact, that the Petite Filet considered making it a permanent gig.

• We decided, only half-heartedly at times, to fix our old SUV to keep it going for at least a few weeks. We don't want to be pressured into buying something we can't afford or don't want, nor did we want to sacrifice the vehicle to the low-bidding trade-in gods. It's in good shape except for the oil pump, which is currently being fixed. Plus, it's still hard to find a decent, used Subaru to test-drive, much less to buy if it's what we end up liking. If I could, I'd start commuting by bicycle (again), but I need a car for work.

• The Petite Filet is having minor surgery on Monday, and that's good news. My mother-in-law is coming down Tuesday to help out.

• For those interested in the song swap, I'll be sending info. out soon. Read "Poddy Talk" if you have no idea what I'm talking about and want to know.

• The grass is green and the sky is blue.

• I got invited to see "Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Nerds" during the day on Friday, but I am unable to go. As mentioned before, that's really not a big deal. I'll be sithing on my behind at my desk around then. I've decided "sith" is just a lisp-pronounced version of sit.

• Today is also "walk around with something stuck to your face" day. So I ask you, what's stuck to your face? I hope it's a smile. (How corny is that?)

As galactic geekdom whips itself into a frenzy over a movie I don't really care to see, the planets in my little universe are falling out of line and taking swipes at my head. Yesterday was one heckuva day. Between learning that repairs on our car needed in an effort to sell it will cost nearly as much as its value, and really not being able to drive it anywhere until we decide what to do, and hearing that the woman who cares for the Cutlet four times a week is having late-pregnancy issues, and with my sister about to pop with Kid No. 2, and the Petite Filet heading into surgery next week to cure (we hope) what ails her, and with the Cutlet feeling out of sorts, well ... that should paint a Picasso of life right now. There's more, but it's only details, right?

I drove a few cars last night, but I'd really like to find a freakin' used Subaru Outback in good condition before I buy something. Why is it so hard to find a used Subaru here, you might ask? While two dealerships are under construction a boulder's roll away from Casa del T-bone, there seems to be few used ones in supply around here because there are only two low-volume dealers currently operational in the DFW Plex. We'd be tripping over them if we were in Colorado or Maine, of course. Stupid love of warm weather! I may not even like an Outback, but it's become an obsession just to find a decent one to drive to make sure.

The PF and I did have a dinner & movie date on Saturday, and that was fun. We sent to see "Sahara," and despite the fact that critics hated it, the flick had some funny moments. I think reviewers ask too much. We just wanted a simplistic plot, some adventure, some explosions and a few catchy one-liners. In those respects, it was a good time. It's a great alternative to that Star Wars movie that's apparently opening nationwide on Thursday: you can escape the dorks who haven't showered for weeks because of their urge to stand in line, and because "Sahara" has been playing for awhile, you'll have the place virtually to yourself.

That is all for now.

I've waxed poetic – or tried to – a couple times about my car, er truck, er SUV. Whatever it is.

After we were married, we drove off in it into the sunset (or just around the corner so we could remove some of the toilet paper), and then drove down to the Texas coast for our honeymoon. I used it many times to move from town to town. I towed my grandfather's old boat from Virginia to Texas with it. We have gone camping with it. We drove the Cutlet home from the hospital in it. I've been off-roading many times and, more recently, got stuck in the mud and then unstuck. It has been a faithful, albeit inefficient, daily commuter. And up until now, I had faith that it would take me wherever I wanted to go and then some.

Now that I'm one of the Pod people walking around with white earphones attached to my head 8 hours a day or more, I've had to face the limitations of my current CD collection. I am also up against the dialup wall when it comes to downloading digital files from iTunes (although if we opt for a higher speed connection, that ship will have docked at Happyland). Back to my original point, the hundreds of CDs I've jettisoned the past few years have left me sans song choices. I kind of miss Quiet Riot's Greatest Hits.

I'd like to do a CD-swap thingee (all four of you left reading this, listen up!), but I'm not in the mood to have a complex, organized swap-em with 100 people. I participated in one of those once, and the results were mixed. Basically, because I got too lazy to send out a couple of my CDs and so were some other people. Sadly, I was part of the problem.

I am simple-minded; to wit: my iPod is an iPod Shuffle, so I don't deal in playlists or thousands of tunes at once. So let's keep this simple.

Maybe everyone should simply send CDs of their favorite songs to me. Then, I could compile them into a single Summer Mix 2005 CD using the songs I consider the best (or we could have a vote) and ship them out to the people who contributed. What do you think? Anyone? Anyone?

In the meantime, my Tune Town is shrinking. I need a new-music fix!

If "practice makes perfect" holds true, then how come so many things we do continually are often not things to be proud of?

• Yoga instructors often have to teach their students how to breathe. I don't know about you, but I've been breathing a long long time and – last time I checked — still do it quite frequently.

• Many of us in certain parts of the country drive a lot of miles. The structures of our commutes are getting more complex, requiring more of our time and giving us more practice. How come hardly anybody is a good driver anymore?

• Cell phones have filled the air with conversations that didn't exist 20 years ago. I often see someone get in the car and instantly flip open a cell phone and start talking (maybe this explains why we're such bad drivers). With all the added practice talking, how come there is such a lack of phone etiquette? If it's not someone making or receving a call at an inappropriate place or time, it's somebody squawking about their appendix surgery (see entry below). It can also be a total lack of phone manners. Instead of saying something like, "Hey, Ed Bob? (grunt)" why not say, "This is T-bone. May I speak to Ed Bob, please?"

• Eek. With all the hands I've shaken in the past several years, it's the people who don't know how to do it that get my attention. Wimpy grasp, moist palms, not enough pressure, too much pressure, too short, too long. Knowing the right way: firm, fleshy and I'd hope dry, should be a requirement of becoming an adult. Sheesh.

• Food is fuel, although it can be pleasurable. Bottom line is that eating is something we've done from birth, yet we either eat the wrong things or not enough or too much. I am not making light of eating disorders; my sister suffers from bulemia, so I know it is a real, serious issue. However, for just the couch surfers who decide an entire bag of Doritos® is a good idea, this one's for you.

In many of these cases, practice makes no difference or lets us slip into rudeness, complacency or larger pants. What's the cure for it all? Stay tuned!

The Cutlet's first dentist visit was this morning, and it went as well as could be expected when the object of the appointment is 2 years old. He's got nearly all his teeth – and no cavities – with the last two of his 20 on their way in now. The office was nice (there was even an indoor castle for the kids – and uh, some adults – to climb in) and overall the experience wasn't so bad. They had the best magazine selection I'd ever seen outside of a bookstore or library; most were but a month old and included mags on cars and cameras. What's not to like about that?

While we were waiting, a woman was gabbing on her cell phone about her experiences when her appendix was removed. Me and the Petite Filet wondered who on earth she was telling this to, with horrid details like having to drink some red stuff and ending up yakking it into a trash can. She said she wanted her husband to have his appendix removed voluntarily, because he often flies across the big pond and my oh my how awful it would be if it burst mid-flight. Then she said over the phone that President Eisenhower had his appendix removed before the Battle of Normandy for the same reason. I'm not sure that would be on my list of to-dos before launching a military attack, but maybe it's just me.