November 2006 Archives

The weather turned nasty overnight, and I was feeling a little caged in the house. But my buddy Flip must have had it worse. Wasn't even noon and he was calling me up wanting to test out his new toy, a Hummer HT pickup, in the ever increasingly inclement conditions. I was up for the trip. Anything to get out for a bit and get some fresh air. Flip promised it would be an epic odyssey that would test the limits of sanity. But that's what his trips to the grocery store were. His version of an odyssey was more Homer Simpson than Homer.

Anybody aware of 80s glam bands will now have that song stuck in their heads for at least a day. Sorry! Or not! Ha!

We're rounding third base for the final stretch in the Petite Filet's pregnancy, the last one if all goes according to plan. The kiddo is scheduled to arrive Dec. 11, as I've said before, but gravity and fate may have its way a little early. That, of course, means I've got to work harder and faster to make the house at least sort of ready to accommodate Son No. 2, various houseguests and leave room for some sanity. Right now the space sanity would normally occupy is filled with baby crap, holiday decoration mess, the Cutlet's toys and an assortment of my very own hand and power tools. Yay!

So here are 10 things I would like to get done in the next few days (keep in mind, I work during the day like most of you's):

We typcially like to travel for Thanksgiving up to the Petite Filet's family in Okla Homer, but because of the late stages of her "condition" it probably wouldn't be prudent to wander far from home. We wouldn't want our little butterball to plop out during the traditional large-family-gathering potluck.

So, we were hoping my parents would host a semi-traditional dinner so we could all get together and appreciate the fact we don't live too close to them. Turkey, dressing, mild arguments, etc. But their idea of Thanksgiving is to go to Golden Corral on Friday. What fun is that? It's usually too loud there to have mild arguments!

We will be doing that, but first we're going to have our own Thanksgiving. Turkey. Sweet potato casserole. Broccoli-rice casserole (the PF's signature dish for some reason). Fruit salad. Homemade dressing. Banana pudding. I guess not all of it's strictly traditional, but I bet the Indians and Pilgrims made a fruit salad, even if it happened as a result of an accidental Reese's-peanut-butter-cup collision ("Hey! There's apple in my oranges! And it's great!").

But it won't just be about food. Family is key. And this will be our last major holiday as a family of three. After trying not to stuff ourselves silly, we'll do a little more work to ready our abode for the coming bundle. Maybe hang some Christmas lights outside the house (the inside is pretty well decked). Arrange our guest room so it's functional. Go through baby stuff. Drive around a little at night to see just how jiggy the names got wit the decorations. Just enjoy being us. We know becoming a bigger Us is a blessing, but it's still a change.

I hope you are thankful for what you have, and what you've got coming. Enjoy whatever it is and wherever you are.

Decided to go for a jog Sunday afternoon (third time in my new running shoes). I'm a morning runner, and any fellow joggers might know what I'm talking about. My body wakes up and is ready to run. However, allow time for my brain to catch up with my body's get-up-and-go-ness, and my brain says "No way!" Running later in the day doesn't agree with me much.

But I went anyway because I didn't wake up early enough to get out before church, I was getting a bit stiff and it had turned into a beautiful day. And I'm glad I did.

The Cutlet attended a "big brother's class" this month, where he gained a little knowledge about filling that role and also a surgeon's hat. It made me wonder if maybe I would have benefitted from the class when I was about to be a big brother. I was about the same age (he's 3 going on 4; I was 4 going on 5). But then he's going to have a little brother and I have a little sister. I don't know which is better for a big bro, to have either one or have neither one. Then there's the people blessed with younger bros and sisters.

It takes more than gadgets to become a secret agent (see post from earlier this week). You have to have nerves of steel, guts of iron and a personality of plastic. Or something along those lines. So here are a few things I did today that prove I have what it takes. The name's Bone. T-bone.

• We had dinner out this evening, and like everywhere we go there was a wait to get a table. Instead of giving my name as "T-bone," I told the hostess my name was "Captain Fantastic." My code names rock the block.

• After we ate, we hit the strip for some gambling. By "strip" I mean "strip shopping center," and the "gambling" was whether or not the ice cream shop had ever cleaned its tables. My money's on "no."

• I parked our superspy transport vehicle (minivan) expertly between the white lines. Man, I'm good.

• Despite being a born risk-taker, I showed my sensitive side by taking an hour off work and attending a baby shower for T-Spawn 2.0 at the Petite Filet's office. Then I accidentally mowed over some cholesterol terrorists while speeding through the Krispy Kreme parking lot. World saved. Again.

• I spilled my drink in the superspy transport vehicle (a.k.a. "the wife's car"). Only someone who's not afraid of death would do that in a new ride.

• I decoded several electronically encrypted messages today. Sounds a lot cooler than "checked my e-mail."

We were talking briefly about serial monogamy in the office today, and I'm not exactly sure what it means. I have an idea, that it probably describes a person who is prone to enjoying a string of committed relationships, one at a time, that fall just short of marriage (serial matrimony would be someone who gets married multiple times; hoping that is also one at a time).

I'm married, happily, to the woman I hope is my first and last wife. As for cereal monogamy, it just isn't me. I was a diehard Cheerio fan growing up, but I also liked Rice Krispies (that was the sweetest cereal I was allowed; my little sister comes along and mainlines Cocao Puffs. How fair is that?).

In honor of the new James Bond film opening this Friday, I've been thinking about what kinds of gadgets would make my life easier. Actor Daniel Craig is taking over the role, and it's a reset of sorts, based on Ian Fleming's first novel of the Bond series, Casino Royale. Gadgets are reportedly not a big part of the film as it's more a study of how the character became 007. Whatever, gimme some gadgets!

Here's 10 supersecret spy gadgets I wish I had:

1. Stapler-watch. It's almost 2007, and I should be able to fasten pieces of paper together with the flick of my wrist. Sheesh!

2. ShouldaSaidIt™ Translator. A device that would turn whatever stupid thing I actually say into something clever, suave and appropriate.

3. TuxFit. I actually own a tuxedo (something that's come in handy a suprising number of times), but I wish it would automatically fit me whenever I put it on. Um, it doesn't. Hard to look like a double agent when the butt-seam on your pants splits wide open when you pop out of the ol' Aston Martin.

4. Solar-powered, portable margarita machine. I've never been a fan of martinis, shaken, stirred or jostled.

5. Bumper-mounted machine gun mounts. This one is obvious to anyone who's ever been stuck in traffic.

6. Hovercraft/bicycle. Do I really need to explain why?

7. Magic calendar. I wish I had more days off. Get right on that, won't you, Q?

8. An expense account. I know it's not really a gadget; I've just always wanted one. And while we're not talking gadgets, how about give my boss a hot secretary who flirts with me?

9. Ballpoint pen/grappling hook. Whenever my writing hits a wall, I'd like to be able to toss a line and climb over it.

10. Flying umbrella. That's probably more Mary Poppins than James Bond, but wouldn't that be neat? Chim-chiminey, chim-chim-charoo!

So the people at the Petite Filet's office are wagering that the baby won't wait until Dec. 11 to make an appearance. The way she looks and feels, it might be best if he boogied on out a bit early. But the stuff I'm supposed to finish on the house will probably take a while, depending on how much I can get done on my day off tomorrow. Maybe I need to take a piece of the action and hope that if L'il Nipper does come early I can win the pot and hire somebody to paint the guest room. Fat chance.

Here's my list, in no particular order:

• Clean out and paint the guest bedroom, which used to be our home office.
• Install a new shower in the master bathroom.
• Buy a new oven (and let someone else install it).
• Clean out the nursery, get the furniture, assemble the furniture.
• Find the boxes of hand-me-down baby stuff in the attic, bring it down and let the PF sort it.
• Go through the house looking for various flotsam to jettison.
• Sort whatever is sellable and gear up for a yard sale.
• Have a yard sale.
• Finish doing a few things in the Cutlet's new room, including emptying the closet, painting it and installing new floor to match the room.
• Find another way to make a few extra bucks to help compensate for our April of Doom when the PF's paycheck drops to nothing because her maternity leave (paid vacation days) runs out.
• Fix one of the sinks in the hall bathroom.
• Relax.
• Enjoy the new baby.
• Try to be a good daddy.
• Mow the lawn.

I voted today. Had wanted to get in during early voting because here the county uses electronic ballots at all early polling sites, but didn't make it. Thankfully the lone electro-booth today was empty and I didn't have to wait to cast my ballot.

The right to vote seems to be taken lightly across the country. I wonder if one reason is all the homework required to know what on earth you're voting for; Texas now has what it calls "uniform election dates," which means under most circumstances elections can be conducted twice a year on specific dates (in May and November). This is an effort to get more people to vote by pairing crowd pleasers like the governor's race with local questions such as bond elections and whatnot. What it means for voters today is there are a ton of offices and questions to consider all at once. I smell backfire!

Another reason voting may not be the best way to spend a few minutes is the candidates themselves. The governor's race features five candidates (a Republican incumbent, and challengers representing the Democrats, Libertarians and two Independents). I can't agree on all the issues with one single candidate, and each one believes something so counter to my intelligence that it pains me to mark the box to any of their names. But I did my duty. Hope the winner doesn't do a doodie all over us.

In a statewide office like that, some officeholders believe their election is a mandate that their agenda is What The People Want. They don't lend an ear to many of their constituents on a certain issue because they believe that ship has sailed, docked at the Happy Place and whatever they do can't be wrong. What they don't realize, particularly in such a hotly contested race, the person who wins may have done so because he or she is the Candidate Who Doesn't Always Make Me Want to Puke, Despite Having Some Rather Stupid Ideas (wish that would fit on a bumper sticker). The winner will also likely garner only a small percentage of the total.

Local pols may be more receptive, but the key to democracy is realizing that not everyone's going to always be happy at the same time. Always going to be someone on the opposite side of the issue, swimming against the current and not being real happy about it.

So, did you vote? Or are you exercising your American freedom not to vote? Can't fault you for either one. That's what democracy is about, too.

It started out to be a normal day. Was getting ready for work when the Petite Filet called and said the Cutlet had injured himself at school. He was sitting in a chair and it apparently tipped forward, he hit his chin on the table and bit between his bottom lip and chin with his two front teeth. He was a trooper, but through it all the doctor said to come on in and see how bad it was.

It wasn't bad. We took him to the doc and it was quite anticlimactic. Treatment: little bit o' peroxide to clean it, and that's all. I stayed home with him through the afternoon so he could rest. But really we ended up sweeping the driveway and taking down the old nasty ceiling fan in the kitchen. So much for rest.

Here are some reasons it's cool to have a son like the Cutlet:

• He is tough. Apparently after his little incident he hardly cried. After some pain medicine and a popsicle he was hopping all over the place and laughing.

• Like I've mentioned before, he is absolutely 100 percent wired for fun. While it was a little annoying at the time, it was kind of funny to watch him climb in and out of cars at the dealership. He was totally enthralled. Slammed door? That's entertainment!

• Nifty that at times he looks like me, other times he looks like the PF.

• Awesome that he's so excited about the impending arrival of Kid No. 2. No doubt the reality won't be as pleasant for him at first, but he's going to be a super big brother.

• We love him so much (as we do our unborn son) that we shed our inhibitions and bought a minivan because it's safe and comfortable for wee ones. Lots of air bags and other safety features! Guess it was only a matter of time seeing as I drive a station wagon.

• I'm not worthy of it, but my heart swells because I'm somebody's hero. If you don't have any idea what it feels like, go adopt a dog from an animal shelter. That isn't quite parenthood, but it'll give you a taste. (The dog we adopted also sees me as a hero, but tries to molest me at the oddest times).

• Car toys everywhere. And the Petite Filet thinks I'm actually buying them for the Cutlet.

is that you've got to have a goofy grin and say, "Know what I mean, Vern?" a lot. Yes, that's being earnest.

So, a funny thing happened Friday. That afternoon, a guy called and said he'd seen our pickup truck on Thursday and wanted to come look at it. I'd washed and vac'ed it on Thursday and parked it by the side of the road with "For Sale" signs on the front and back.

He and a buddy came about 7 p.m. Friday, I rode with them on the test drive. They and the truck were gone, including filling out the required paperwork, in about an hour. And we had cash in hand � less than the original asking price but more than our baseline low-as-we-could-go figure.

That bumps my winning streak to three in a row. Of the three cars we have sold rather than traded in (1988 Acura Legend, 1995 Isuzu Rodeo, 1998 Dodge Ram), the first people to test-drive them have bought them. And they're always impressed with how clean they are.

So Saturday we were on a mission to procure transportation for the Petite Filet. It is a long walk to her office, after all, and her being pregnant means that joke wasn't all that funny. We had driven a few things previously, did a lot of looking, did a lot of sitting in cars at the fair and sort of had an idea what we wanted. I'd done a lot of Internet research, checking prices, professional reviews and consumer reviews. That's when I came across the Mazda 5.

We were dyed-in-the-wool antiminivanalists until we experienced the joys of dual rear sliding doors, activated by the touch of a mere finger. The space in this small car is incredible ... it seats six using three rows of two seats each. Two problems solved! We can carry four adults and two children in car seats. Plus, the ever-present support pole in the center of our garage is no longer an obstacle with the sliders. The thing is a mini rocket, too.

Even better, it has a power moonroof, six-disc in-dash CD changer, audio controls on the steering wheel and fog lights (but where's the fog?).

Also test-drove a CX-7, but it has less practical space, felt oodles more cramped and ... for a real deal-breaker ... requires premium juice for its turbo-charged engine. Sexy as it may be, it also can seat only up to five people. With two kid seats in the back, the number drops to four people total.

So there's a Mazda 5 in the garage. Is it a minivan? We don't really think so, although calling it a "small minivan" gets the point across the best. Maybe it's a MUV (Mazda Utility Vehicle) or FFM (Family Fun Machine) or a PFCNCTNRAM (Petite Filet's New Car That's Not Really a Minivan). Most important, we got a "Zoom Zoom" sticker for the back window.

Oh, and an even funnier thing happened earlier Friday. Checking my cell messages, a woman had called and was also interested in the truck. But when she left her phone number (which I had in my phone), she couldn't remember it. She went on and on for about three minutes giving me alternate numbers that may or may not have been hers. Before she hung up, frustrated, she said, "Never mind." So I didn't call her because I figured it would be embarrassing for her. Might have had the other guys not bought it.

for me to tell you what I really think about the direction my company is taking; hope that doesn't get me into trouble. Although before I get into trouble I bet I'll have to find another job anyway

It's finally cold here. Yeah, yeah, some of you have endured some pretty ridiculous weather (blizzards already!). But for the mercury to dance with the freezing mark here, especially the first week of November, it's big news. People are shopping for winter coats, buying up gallons of water and rationing hot chocolate to brace for the dip. But then we'll all be wearing shorts next week and wondering where we put the sunscreen.

Here are a few reasons why cold weather is good:

� Pulling out the "winter" clothes means it's like getting a whole new wardrobe that you forgot about but already own.

� Everything is crisp and bright.

� With Daylight Savings Time over, it's daylight when I wake up and the cold air is a secondary motivator to face the day with vigor!

� Gives another reason to snuggle up with one's sweetie, although too much closeness has conseqences I'm living now ... a preggo wife who can't get comfortable in the bed prefers the couch. Although if she was next to me you can pretty much guarantee that at this stage the lovin' is on hold.

� Leather gloves can make anyone seem more debonair. Add a scarf and it's the highlight of cool.

� It is finally impossible to accidentally fry an egg on one's forehead. For at least a couple of months.

� It's possible to forget deodorant for a day and not be a total social outcast.

� Hot cider!

� Buying a new coat!

� Heated car seats! I don't feel so dumb about having them this time of year.

� Texans can temporarily forget that we don't really have seasons, despite the fact that when our leaves turn colors it's from green to brown.

Or would you buy my wife a new car? Puh-lease? Or maybe you can buy our old truck from us! Or maybe just foot the bill for some new running shoes for me. Then I can run to work ... yeah! An

Coming up with titles this week sure takes a lot out of me. But so does work. I smell a big wheelbarrow full of fresh crap just around the corner. Yay!

We're about six weeks away from the arrival of our second child. Crazy! Making matters crazier is that the Petite Filet has bronchitis. She's also apparently pulled a muscle, so every time she coughs it's like a pitchfork in the gut. Thankfully, our wee one, according to the doc, is still doing great in there. He might either be born wrapped in cough-drop wrappers or he'll be the color of Robitussin.

The Cutlet is mostly a sweet little kid. He's of course extremely smart and impeccably handsome (no bias there). However, while we were lucky to breeze through age 2 without much terrible-ness, we're finding the end of Year 3 to be a little less fun at times. Call it the Tantrum Three's. With him turning 4 near the end of the year � knowing full well behavior is only loosely connected to a numeric age � we're hoping he'll be a Fabulous 4. Yay!

All this talk of babies and kids reminds me that my sister is pregnant, due sometime next spring. She and my brother-in-law are acting all coy about whether it's a boy or a girl (my mom is awful at hiding the fact she was disappointed that our second is a boy; she really really wants a granddaughter). But she passed on a bunch of stuff her middle kid (almost 2) doesn't need anymore, and that includes a lot of blue blankets and little-boy stuff she could easily reuse. So I'm going to say on the Internet that it's probably a girl. Meeeeeeeeoooooooooooow!!! It's outta the bag now! And guess what? I'm telling Mom!