Visons at the Zoo

So, I was at the zoo with my daughter yesterday.

Brookfield Zoo’s pretty great, as far as zoos go. We’re members, and big fans.

My daughter’s two, and her zoo needs are pretty simple. A couple of animals she MUST see, picked out of the air at random as far as we can tell.
Then a carousel ride, and on to the Family zoo building, to see the kitty cats and the lemurs...


Anyhow, yesterday it was kangaroos (We've been reading Winnie the Pooh...), so we watched kangaroos lay around in the grass for awhile, where they stubbornly refused to get up and hop over to us even though my daughter was imploring them to do so.

Then we headed to the large carousel in the middle of the zoo.

As we awaited our turn, she informed me that she wanted to ride on the zebra, the penguin, not the penguin, and the peacock.
We got to the peacock, she found out it was a bench and she couldn’t stand up and hold onto the peacock’s head, and we were off again…

Once firmly ensconced on the lady bug, we began to move.

This is the lengthy description part of the entry, so pay attention.

We’re on the inside of the carousel, closest to the center.
There are mirrors placed close together, all around the center of the carousel.

So, as we begin to move, you see yourself in the mirrors.

BUT: they’re angled a little goofy, so you actually only see yourself in every OTHER mirror.
You also end up seeing the person in front of you in every other mirror.
You, them, you, them, you….

You still with me?

Ok.

So, there I am, standing behind my two year old daughter, making sure she doesn’t fall off. She’s got hair in her face and a slightly nervous grin, but she’s enjoying herself.

The person in front of us is a girl, maybe…11-12 years old. Same color hair as Fiona, tied back in a pony tail.
She’s sportin’ blue plaid Bermuda shorts, and black Chuck Taylors.
I’m impressed with her fashion choices.

As we continue to go around, and I watch the mirrors, it hits me.

There’s my daughter, holding on tight with daddy standing behind her, there’s a cool lookin’ girl about 10 years older, all by herself , not quite old enough to be bored with the carousel yet….
Two year old with daddy
12 year old
Two year old…

Anyhow, unless you’re completely unsalvageable, you get the picture.

And I found myself getting caught up in the moment a little bit, getting the tiniest bit choked up, checking to make sure that there really was a girl on the animal in front of us, and not just a mirage in the mirror, a vision of things to come.

So the ride ends, and the mirage looked and sounded solid enough, as she got off her mount and tromped off. And I gave my daughter a little extra hug as I carried her off the carousel.

“I’m hungry, daddy.”
“Crackers, or cranberries?”
“Crackers!”
Crackers it is, darlin’. Whatever you want.

Maureen Storey - thanks for helping me give up soda.

One of my favorite novels is Thank You for Smoking, written by Christopher Buckley.

(It apparently became one of my old buddy Nate’s favorites as well, because he never returned my copy...)

Anyhow, it’s a story about a PR hack for the tobacco industry, his trials and tribulations, etc etc.
It’s funny, smart, and timely.

One of the subtexts of the novel is that the main character meets regularly for dinner and drinks with two friends, also PR hacks. One works for the liquor industry, the other for the gun industry. They jokingly refer to themselves, if I recall it correctly, as the merchants of death.

I had occasion to think about this book on my drive home from work the other day, along with old Saturday Night Live skits where Dan Ackroyd defends unsafe toys, like “bag of broken glass” to Jane Curtin.

I was listening to All Things Considered, on NPR. They were discussing soda consumption, how it’s changed over the decades, studies linking it to various health problems, etc.
Pretty straight forward stuff.


http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=126511372

Then they brought on Maureen Storey, senior vice president for science policy at the American Beverage Association for the rebuttal.

And I almost wrecked the car.



Maureen explained that soda in and of itself was not bad for you, and actually provides you with healthy and necessary nutrients.

Like… water.
See, cuz kids run the risk of not being sufficiently hydrated, so a nice big soda after exercising can help with that.

What else?
Sugar and High Fructose Corn Syrup.
See, cuz they’re full of calories, and calories give you energy….

I figured at any moment, she’d just bust out laughing, and say “Ah, I’m just *bleeping* with you guys. C'mon, it’s soda for godssakes! You might as well look for nutritional value in a bottle of Mrs. Buttersworth…”

But she didn’t. Turns out, she was really serious about the health benefits of water and sweetner.
And in being so, also appears to be really serious about the idea that we’re ignorant.

I’ve been trying to give up drinking Coke for awhile now, anyhow. Thing is – I love the stuff.
L-U-V love it.

Yesterday I heard the Coke machine calling my name from a couple rooms away, like the song of a Siren, trying to lure me onto the rocks….

But she actually pissed me off so bad, that I’ve decided to redouble my efforts to give it up.

That’ll teach ‘em.

work day fun...

My loud,self-important coworker walked into the office this morning at the usual time of 8:03, looked at a pile of invoices he checked yesterday, that hasn't been picked up yet, and.... exploded in anger.

"Somebody has been going through my things!!!!!"

huh?

"Somebody is going behind me, checking my work! See?" and points at the pile of papers.

Uh... no, I don't see.

"I leave them perfectly stacked, I come in and look!" He points again.

So I look again.

The top sheet is slightly off center.
a couple of degrees off plumb, if you will.

I kid you not, this is what set him off.

And....the stack's right on the edge of his desk, I could have bumped it with my bag this morning, and not even known it. For that matter, the breeze created by someone walking by might have moved it the whole....half an inch that it might have been moved.

nope....

"I can tell, you know! I do things certain ways, so that I'll always know if somebody touches anything on my desk when I'm not here!!!"

I'm trying to decide whether I should hide under my desk or jump out the window at this point. Thankfully I'm only on the 2nd floor...

another coworker is sitting at her desk, smiling at him, with increasing unease.

I can't keep my mouth shut, of course.

"Did you know that you can buy De-caffeinated coffee now, that tastes just as good as regular coffee?"

nah, I didn't say that.

Didn't quote from the movie Buffy The Vampire Slayer, either.
("It's way past medication time for you, buddy.")

Instead, I went with:

"You have procedures in place to check to see if anyone's gone through your paperwork, your drawers?"

"Yes,of course! I do this at all my jobs!" he says proudly.

Yep, he's saying he places "tells" around his work area, like James Bond stringing a hair across his hotel room door to make sure noone's snuck in and is waiting for him, gun drawn, while he was downstairs picking up duplicitous women at the casino.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, of course!"

Wow.

"Uh... it never crossed my mind to bother doing that..."

Funny, AND creepy-scary.

Can't go wrong with that....

How My Life's evolved. or....Finding Mr. Noodle.

How far my life's evolved in a short time" or.... "Finding Mr. Noodle."

Was watching Elmo's world last night. annoying little muppet, but Fiona's a big fan.

(How BIG a fan?
She has a Elmo chair that she refuses to sit on, and refuses to put any other toys on, jammed into the corner of her ladybug tent at the moment. It takes up like, half the freakin' tent. But you do NOT mess with the Elmo chair, thanks much.)

Anyhow, during each segment, he opens a door and they ask Mr. Noodle, or "Mr Noodle's brother, Mr. Noodle" how to do something.
Mr. Noodle's a sad looking guy in a bushy wig and bushy fake 'stashe, who isn't very bright but does physical comedy very well.
How does Mr. Noodle catch a ball, play an instrument, dance, etc etc etc.

Anyhow, watching Mr. Noodle, and what little of his face that you could see, he looks vaguely familiar. But they don't do a ton of closeups, and he's heavily made up...

"Think that's the guy from Northern Exposure, the circus guy that wouldn't talk because Words were like rock's, and weighed him down so he couldn't fly?"
I love my wife, she immediately understands the reference.
(it WAS a pretty great couple of episodes)

"He kind of looks like Rick Moranis' partner in My Blue Heaven, certainly dances in the loose-limbed manner that the guy in the movie danced..."

More kudos to Wendy for getting THAT reference.

So I spend valuable internet time, doing a WIKI on Mr. Noodle. That’s what my life has come to, apparently.
And I found Mr. Noodle, and more importantly, I was right on with my guesses. I paraphrase, of course:

Bill Irwin, born 1950, famous actor and clown.

Most notably a stage actor (he’s won two Tony’s) he's also had roles over 20 movies, including Eight Men Out and My Blue Heaven, and was best known on television for his role as Enrico Ballati, "The Flying Man", on Northern Exposure, as well as Mr. Noodle, on Sesame Street.


So props to my ability to remember faces, and to Mr. Irwin, for being a great actor, dancer, and clown.



But I still dislike the little orange muppet.



As an aside, Grover, my favorite Sesame Street character, is probably pumping gas somewhere now.
I think they down-sized him when Elmo caught on.

He was the MAN, before Elmo debuted.
A lot of the old sesame street books, for example, starred Grover.
Monster at the End of the Book? Grover.
Just read one about him wanting to be a firefighter when he grows up, too.

He's not even hanging on The Street anymore.
Man, that had to be hard for him, when they brought in the new stud, and he saw his own stock drop, the new guy getting some of his plum roles, and then getting their own segment.
Maybe plastic surgery?
Try to reinvent yourself as a character actor?

What do you do when “I’m just a monster, doing my best” isn’t enough anymore?

Oh the heartache of a fickle three year old's viewing habits…

The Yin and the Yang, The good/bad balancing act.

Ah, life.

Should be congratulating myself right about now, because the sign on the interstate said it would take me 20 minutes to get to my exit, and I did it in 18.

That's what I SHOULD be doing.

Instead I'm sitting in my basement, gas fireplace on full power, sipping quickly cooling coffee and typing this.


The idea that life's about balance and timing, has been illustrated clearly this morning, and at great length.

read on...

Fiona slept through the night, which is awesome, and doesn't happen very often of late. Whoo hoo!

She started calling to us at 5am, which is fine. Wendy gets up, I stick my hand out from under the covers, and joke "whew, sure feels cold out there."

30 seconds later, from Wendy...
"It really DOES feel cold. the floors are freezing..."

She heads to the back of the house, I get out of bed, put on my glasses, check the thermostat, and... it's 56 degrees in my house.

No "Whoo hoo!!!"

"Oh, Man!" from the back of the house.
"What's up?"

"Your daughter's soaking wet, so are her sheets."

No "Whoo hoo!"

I stumble around the house, check to make sure it's a furnace problem, and not a gas problem, crank up the fireplace in the basement, and start riffling through our records, to find the name of the repair guy that came out last time. (almost three years ago, as it turns out."

Left a message for him with his service, and then called in to work.

Got to spend a little more time, and spend it leisurely, with my family this morning, before Wendy took Fiona to her well heated day care.

that's a "Whoo hoo!"

And We've an old house full of old appliances, so we understand that this shit's gonna happen.

Fiona wet the bed, and the furnace stopped working. On the same night where I didn't have to get out bed, and climb into her (probably wet) bed to get her to go back to sleep.

Not a "Whoo hoo" per se, but good timing, if you wish to look at the bright side, which I DO.

And the furnace repair bill that's bound to happen today???
I got my annual bonus check from work, and deposited it yesterday.

And Wendy's first decent check from her new job?
Today.

Again, darn nice of the old furnace to keep us warm all winter when it was 5 degrees out and we had far less discretionary income.

So I was forced to use a vacation day.
I've got quite a few.

And now I've got the house, cold though it may be, to myself. For the first time in... I can't remember how long.

I'll get some work done, lots of work probably, screw around a bit, maybe shut my eyes for an hour, run some errands...
It's gonna be a good day. Even though my coffee IS ice cold now.

And I'll be able to start it, once I hear back from the furnace guy, and know when to expect him.....

included with the rent....

On another site, I participated in a discussion about quirky neighbors, odd living situations, etc.
Since I wrote it out, felt it was a shame to waste it, and decided to post it here as well.


I’ve moved around quite a bit, so much so that I still am surprised to find myself in the same house now for over 10 years.
We still get the itch, but have learned to stop scratching at it.

Anyhow:

Almost any college living situation has its’ share of bad stories, so I’ll skip through those, and begin after “real life” started.

My first apartment post-college, was in the ghetto/student ghetto of Kalamazoo, MI. A cool/ not too safe neighborhood, full of old homes that had been turned into multi-units.
The guy who lived downstairs with his wife and kid (in a one bedroom apt.) had a drinking problem, and I had to knock on his door a couple of times when he’d be listening to his trance music (Dead Can Dance, as example) at ridiculous levels.
I always knew his wife and kid were gone, when the music would start up.
His apartment smelled of sweat and garbage.

I had to call the cops once because of the noise.
The odd part of this situation – he was the owner and my landlord.

His wife fed the neighborhood strays, and there was more than one occasion when one pushed in my screen window, and started prowling around my house.
At night.
When I was asleep…

When he didn’t bother to pay the electric bill, and the electricity got turned off, I ratted him out to the housing authority, and packed up my sh*t.

The first apartment I lived in after I got married – there was a truly screwed up woman living upstairs. She would do things like drive her car off the retaining wall on the edge of the property, and it would be nose down in the church parking lot next door, while the back end was blocking our driveway.
One morning, she heard my puppy crying, and discovered we had forgotten to lock our door, so thought nothing of coming into our place, and taking our puppy upstairs with her for the day.
She forgot to leave a note. We came home to a shut door, and an empty dog crate.
We found out that she would sit outside of our place, on the fire escape, and talk to our dog through the window almost every day, because he sounded sad…
We’ve friends who told us that every time they heard Crazy Mary by Pearl Jam, they thought of her.

Our very favorite rental experience by far, still was not without its’own idiosyncrasies.
Our house: converted utility building, possibly a chicken coop, on a farm in the middle of nowhere.
Our neighbors: Cows, and Jehovah Witnesses.

It was actually awesome…

Then there was the young, wholesome looking, smooth talking drug addict that lived next to us in our apartment near the beach in Gulfport, MS. We first met him when he knocked on our door and gave my wife a huge story about needing cash (and only cash will do) to pay a garage to get his car back before he had to be at work.
My wife’s gullible, but not THAT gullible, so we didn’t give him money.

(Sidebar: Is there a reference manual for drug addicts? We’ve heard the “Need cash and cash only to get my car back from garage story” either directly or indirectly several times over the years, by people that live 1000 miles apart…)

Anyhow: 2 days later, the 80+ year old woman who lived next door with her husband knocked on our door. She said she had been waiting for someone to pay her back the money our apartment mate (!!) had borrowed two days earlier, and since they were on fixed income, she was getting desperate.

I fully planned to beat this guy bloody, when I saw him next. A week later there he was, and I stormed out to confront him, only to meet his parents, who were very upset, and I noticed he looked like crap, dirty, disheveled, maybe a bit bruised. His parents were carrying his suitcases. Never saw him again.

Every time I have to shovel my own snow, mow my own yard, pay a plumber, or a roofer, I briefly think about how nice it would be to NOT own my own home. And then I remember…

Because it was there – story#2: Party in the Park

Why NOT trespass in a city park, after hours, for purpose of underage drinking and other questionable-at-best behavior?

I mean, what could be a more safe and sensible plan than THAT?

And, I’m kind of ashamed to admit, the Captain Sensible for this particular plan – me.
I was the person who first said “let’s go to the park!” when a group of us were puzzling over just where we might go to enjoy our ill-gotten bounty.

Fairly easy to be spotted from the road??
Check.
Frequented, as it turns out, by less pleasant individuals than ourselves, IE: violent public school kids?
Check
Had a similar reputation to rest areas, and Cook County Forest Preserve parking lots?
Check.

We
Were
Really
Bored.

But it was a big, beautiful park, with lots of trees and benches and a nice stream that curved it’s way through.
We ended up finding a particular spot, a spot with a huge flat stone used as a bench, along a shaded walkway, partially obscured by a rock wall, that sat on a hill overlooking the stream.
It became “ours.”
If memory serves, we even named it, “The Rock” I think.

It was a brief favorite destination, introduced to many friends and friends of friends, over the course of many “nothing better to do” evenings.

These places had limited shelf lives for us.

Perhaps we all suffered from short attention spans, or some of the girls decided they didn’t feel comfortable there. Maybe it was just a change of the seasons, resulting in colder nights and snow, but it was not long before we’d moved on.