Hiccups

Tonight, my little girl had a hard time getting to sleep. She had the hiccups and was worried she'd die in her sleep from them.

She's always had questions about death, but she's been more preoccupied than ever since the beginning of the school year. You see, at the top of the stairwell in her school there is a photograph of a bright-eyed little boy and a plaque commemorating his life (and death). she is in class with his sister and like I said, she's had death on her mind.

Tonight I was irritated with it. How am I supposed to know what to say to her questions? How do I know what will happen? I kept telling her to be quiet; that she was fine and that it was time for her to sleep, but she only got more worked up, and after a bit I went into her room and laid down next to her.

"I can't get these hiccups out of me", she said as she cried and then asked me again if she would die. I kissed her on the forehead and stroked her hair. I pulled the covers up around her and whispered,

"You're fine little one... everyone gets the hiccups... even mommy and daddy get them... No one's ever died from the hiccups." She calmed down immediately and was almost instantly asleep. I looked at her little body... her tiny shoulders rising up and down to the rhythm of her even breath. I looked at her sweet little arm and at her hand clutching two of my fingers. I tried to picture a world without her. I wondered how I'd ever...

... get through 3 endless days of mind-fucking corporate training. It's the kind of thing where you sit there and listen to a guy who get's paid 100k a year to basically read from a book of powerpoint slides.

Today we actually lucked out. This guy doesn't seem all that bad and may have actually had some experience in the area we are there to learn about.

I ended up going to lunch with the people sitting at the same table as me in class. This included a colleague (we'll call her "J" for now) and 2 other folks I don't know at all. I won't give them initials because I don't remember their names. One was a man and one was a woman.

While we were at lunch, we were talking about this and that. Finally, the discussion rolled around to our kids. I was talking about how my little girl is learning to tie her shoes and how mad she got when I finally tied one of them for her.

The man from our table laughed and said, "It doesn't get different for a long long time! I raised up two girls myself and I can tell you it doesn't get different for a long time." Then "J" asked him how old his daughters were now and about what they did for a living.

Right at that moment, I KNEW one of them had died. I knew it. I knew it without hearing anything. I don't know if it was in a look that he gave... or in the way he paused for just that brief moment... but I knew.

He went on to tell us how his oldest daughter was finishing up school and had recently gotten married. Then he told us about her husband, who is a Marine, and was recently shot in Iraq and who will be returning home soon.

"J" said, "Wow.. .that's alot for a new wife to have to deal with" and he replied,

"Yeah... well actually she's had it really tough the last couple of years as it is. We lost our youngest two years ago and she hasn't done well with that at all."

I knew it. I fucking knew it. How the fuck I knew it, I don't fucking know... but I fucking knew it.

And of couse, everyone was like, "Oh I'm so sorry..." and "Wow... that's so terrible..." I said, "That must have been earth-shattering." Luckily, I was able to apply what little filter I have and not say anything more.

Then I sat there for a moment and wondered if, under similar circumstances, I'd ...

... be able to keep on living.

Little one, the best I can do is tell you everything is fine; that you are healthy and that everyone gets the hiccups. I can kiss you on the forehead and stroke your hair. I can pull the covers up around you to make sure you stay warm. I can wait here with you, until your eyes close, your breath becomes even and you fall asleep,

and hope I'll never know.

Canada Should Shit or Get Off the Pot

Seriously now... Please figure out if you are French, British or American. And for God's sake don't pick French. We'll have to invade on principal alone if you hook up with France.

Control Bloggers

I'm fairly new to blogging but I can't help but offer up my thoughts about something I'm seeing as I peruse other blogs.

On at least two different sites I've seen something along the lines of this:

"blah blah blah blah blah blah blah... ... and if you know me please be sure to let me know that you have read my blog. After all, this is my diary and it is only fair for you to let someone know when you've been reading their journal... ... blah blah blah blah blah..."

or,

"...blah blah blah blah... ... Please do not link to this blog. This is my personal diary and I consider it to be every bit as private and personal as I would a journal written on paper that I keep under my pillow... blah blah blah blah blah"

Ummm... hello? What kind of crack are you dumbasses smoking? OF COURSE IT ISN'T ANYTHING LIKE A PERSONAL JOURNAL WRITTEN ON PAPER THAT YOU KEEP UNDER YOUR PILLOW! It's a webpage that automagically gets linked to by blogger.com (assuming you do your thing here) and even if it isn't linked to automagically, the fact that it's on the web and is not password protected means that it's there for others to read.

Get a fucking life. I imagine you're very similar to those people who play Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Games or who run around inside virtual universes like Active Worlds making a big point out of asking people not to enter your "private" homes because "after all, you wouldn't want someone coming into YOUR REAL HOUSE NOW WOULD YOU?"

Of course you want people to read your private thoughts and ideas. You wouldn't be blogging in the first place if you didn't.

I'm going to put a special links section in my sidebar just for you.

My first entry is a link over to [cynically] smiling. Kendall seems like an intelligent girl, and is obviously pretty, but is also very obviously a complete control freak - based on the disclaimers she's posted as an annotation to her blog.

Way to go, Kendall! You're the first one to make the list of "Control Bloggers" here on Somewhere Near Westlake!

First Ticket on the Bike!!!

I was right! If only I had re-read yesterday's entry before venturing forth today...

But even though I didn't read yesterday's entry, I should have known it was gonna happen when I opened the day's mail and found an offer from "Municipal Services Bureau" imploring me to take care of that "FT USE SB" and "EXP LIC PLATES" ticket from back in May of '04.

That's the way my life works. I get a letter telling me I need to pay my fines. For most people, this would probably mean they just need to pay the fines. For me it means not only do I gotta pay the fine, but I'd better be on the lookout for the next one because Johnny Law is almost certainly sitting there waiting for me, right around the corner from 80 mph.

Sure, it's true... I'd been nursing a fantasy that I'd never get a ticket on the bike. This, despite the fact that I've probably aquired somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 or 30 tickets in the short 21 years that I've been driving on Texas highways. My stellar record notwithstanding, I basically had it in my head that I had developed enough self-control to keep the speed under wraps when on the bike.

To his credit, the officer was very polite and addressed me with only the utmost respect as he enquired as to my expeditious velocity. He seemed very much relieved as I assured, and then re-assured him that, "No, no officer, there is no emergency... I'm merely a victim of this recent colusion of dry pavement, 800cc's and new tires and but forgot myself, if only for a moment!"

Unfortunately, his peace-of-mind did not translate into goodwill and I was soon to find that my lack of restraint on F.M. 2244 was to be matched - nay surpassed by his own exuberance with pen and paper!

So much for self-control! Now I'm looking at an "81 in a 45" (303 dollars) and "No MoCyl Endors" which I believe equates to driving w/o a valid drivers license (125 dollars). If we add these numbers together, we come up with 428 dollars, and this does not include the cost of a driver safety course or deferred ajudication.

I figured I'd put it here rather than tell Tina about it. I've been giving her a lot of shit about money lately and somehow I don't think this is gonna lend any credibility to my cause.

The Future's So Bright...

One of the cool things about living somewhere near Westlake is the ability it gives me to predict the future.

Here's a prediction:

I predict that in about one day's time hence, I will find a letter in my mail box asking me to pay the fines from some previous traffic violations. I predict I will ignore the letter for the obvious omen that it is and shortly upon having read it, go zooming down the road on my motorcycle only to be stopped by Officer DoGood in his quest to rid the Greater Austin Area of speeding fiends on two wheels. I further predict that I will fail to read this post tomorrow before leaving on my errands, thus ensuring everything I've predicted up to this point will happen as predicted.

I finally predict I will subsequently write up a blog entry on the matter.

Happy Freaking Thanksgiving!!!

Ahhh... another Happy Thanksgiving! come and gone...

The Fence

Like said, I wasn't really worried about the whole Property Schmroperty thing. So we had to adjust our view of what we own... Big deal! I mean... Life is about change, right?

Then I found out about the fence.

Apparently she wasn't just laying out the rope to help me understand the lay of the land. According to Tina, [Name of One-Hit-Wonder-Creating-Neighbor Here] didn't like looking at our trash can and so had decided to build a fence out of cedar poles.

Normally, this would be fine. But I didn't like the idea because our house is set right up against the property line. Before "The Great Purge" there had been plenty of tree-cover between our houses. And, even though our house was very close to the property line, there was an illusion of space. Now that she had cut all the cedar off of her land, the privacy was gone and she felt like she needed a fence!

Personally, I don't think it has jack-shit to do with our trash-can. The previous owners left their trash can in the same place and it didn't seem to bother her. No, I'm thinking it might have more to do with the original comments regarding the cutting of wood on our property.

Oh and let's talk about cutting wood for a minute. At one point, when we first moved in, our would-be "nature lover" asked us if we might ask our children to play quieter in the back-yard because she was worried the noise would bother the foxes who lived back there. She made a specific reference to the wonderful environment the foxes had back there.

Fast-forward to last month and she's got some very happy illegal immigrants clear-cutting everything that isn't an oak. Suddenly the little fox-sanctuary has turned into savannah. Oh.. and I didn't once hear her ask the workers if they might turn the volume down on their chain-saws.

So now fast-forward another month. Suddenly we have THE FENCE. Good God, I can't wait to get a digital camera. I'm gonna have to post some pics of this freaking monstrosity. At first she volunteered to put the uglier side of the fence facing her property. I imagine that the guy who was coordinating the build talked her out of it. Now we've got this 60 foot section of fence between our two houses. It doesn't attach to anything. It's just this partition so that she supposedly doesn't have to look at our trash cans.

The very trash cans that Tina now wants to keep out in the middle of the yard on the other side of the house!

Oh and the foxes? Apparently they've moved on to some other sanctuary. You gotta love it.

THE BIGGEST DICKHEAD ON THE PLANET!

Right now...

At this very moment...

I'm sitting next to the BIGGEST DICKHEAD ON THE PLANET!

Perhaps I'd better explain. I frequent a little cafe positioned just outside "Somwhere Near Westlake" I tend to sit at the bar (It's a food bar) because you can almost always get quick seating that way. I've been coming here for years.

Generally speaking, I find that people who sit at the bar are more apt to be friendly than are people who sit at a booth, or at a table. The atmosphere of the bar fairly well cries out, "Hi there Friend!"

Many times, one person sitting at the bar will notice another person sitting at the bar and strike up a conversation. Other times, one might notice another's recently consumed newspaper sitting on the stool beside them.

In such a case, one might casually ask that person, "Excuse me sir, but have you completed your perusal of that dishevled stack of newspaper there on the stool next you?" Almost invariably, the person who "owns" the newspaper will enthusiastically motion to the guy next to him and say something like, "Oh go ahead! I've read it already.... Crappy Austin Paper!"

You can imagine the surprise I felt this morning when I went through this very routine only to find myself rudely rebuffed by the BIGGEST DICKHEAD ON THE PLANET!

"Excuse me sir... but are you finished reading these sections?", I asked good-naturedly.

He replied tersely, "Yes. I am finished reading them." Naturally, I started to reach for the paper when he added, "And I'm going to keep on reading them."

I was like, "Well by all means sir, you do just that!"

I then got change for a buck, and went out and bought 2 papers. I came back in, dropped one of them on the stool on top of his paper and said, "There you go... an extra one... just in case..."

flowers.com Sucks!

That's right... I said it... So basically it's my seventh anniversary. And yeah, I remembered it and EVERYTHING! So anyway, the flowers.com policy clearly states that same day delivery is possible as long as your order by 2:00 pm in the time zone of the person who you are delivering to.

It just so happens that the "Somewhere Near Westlake" timezone is in the same time zone as "Somewhere a Little Further Away From Westlake" (which is where I ordered from). I looked at my watch right when I hit the order button and it was 1:30 pm.

A little bit later, I got my confirmation notice from flowers.com... no problems... no worries... no mention of any issues or problems... nothing like:

Dear Paying Customer,

We have successfully received your order and have processed your payment. Your money is safely in our coffers and is earning us interest. Your wife, on the otherhand, will not be receiving your flowers on time, as was suggested by our website when you ordered the product and paid for it.

We apologize in advance for any inconvenience this may cause you tonight when you are attempting to get some hot monkey-lovin' from your wife of seven years. We know you've put up with alot, and we'd assume she has as well. We want you both to know we are sincerely apologetic that the flower shop in your vicinity will not be filling your order today because:

a) They won't get your order in time
b) They won't have the product you ordered
c) They won't get your order in time AND won't have the product you ordered
d) Shut up. We don't know why you didn't get the fucking flowers.

Thanks for Shopping with Flowers.com! We hope you'll return
soon!

Nope... nothing like that... all I got was a polished confirmation notice making me think the whole thing was on track for a successful same-day delivery.

So then I get home and what do I find? How about I tell you what I don't find. I don't find any fucking anniversary flowers! That's what I don't find! We're on our last thread here and I don't find any fucking anniversary flowers!

Assholes.

Women are Nuts...

Women go insane when the become mothers. I don’t know why this happens, but I have my suspicions. If nature didn’t provide for a sort of forced insanity, they’d almost certainly go crazy anyway and their behavior would potentially be less predictable or even violent! At best, they would become more difficult to be around. At worst they might actually kill.

Stay-at-home moms (“Homemakers”) have it the worst. They straddle a precarious line between the natural insanity of motherhood and the ever-present possibility of the more dangerous form.

Tina is a “Homemaker” and I think she may be losing the battle. Here are some examples:

Natural Insanity of Motherhood (NIoM)	More Dangerous Form of Insanity (MDFoI)
“Schnookums isn’t wistening very well… Does Wookywookums need a time out?”	“Schnookums better hope Daddy gets home in time to discipwine you cuz wookywookums don’t want any of what Mommy is about to dish out!”
Mommy will help woo in a minute”	“Mommy can’t help woo right now… Mommy is cweaning her weapons.”
“Okay wittle bunkywunkums… Time to cwean up the wivingwoom…”	“Time? There is no more time… It is time… It’s all over… GOD HELP US ALL IT’S ALL OVER!”

As you can see, there is a subtle but distinguishable difference. Over the years, I’ve developed a keen sense and am able to tell them apart almost automatically. I’m sure most men who make it this far have this ability. Those who don’t aren’t around very long.

This isn’t to say I’ve perfected my responses to those situations in which the natural insanity has given way to the homicidal mania. Here are some examples:

Homicidal Mania (HM)	The Correct Response (TCR)	My Response (MR)
“I’ve got an idea… Why don’t you do the fucking dishes and sweep the floor and lick the chimenea clean?”	“Okay honey sure!!!”	“Okay no problem… I’ll get right on it… And while I’m at it, can I get you to setup this project schedule for me? Also, I’m gonna need you to get on this 10:00pm phone call to Penang.. No? Didn’t think so…”
"Baby, even though I cut down this tree, could I get you to finish the job?"	“Okay honey sure!!!”	"No. I don't want to finish the job. I rarely finish my own jobs. You finish the job."
"Do I look fat in this moo-moo?"	“No baby, you look like the slender picture of your youth in that moo-moo!”	"Yes. You do look fat in the moo-moo. You look fat out of the moo-moo too!

Okay, I gotta play fair here... Tina doesn't have a moo-moo and she isn't overweight. On the otherhand, if she were to ask me a question like that I'd probably answer that way just because it's such a wrong thing to ask. It's morally wrong. It's just so wrong!

I guess what I'm trying to say is, regardless of her insanity (whichever form it happens to be taking at the time) it's fairly apparent that I'm somewhat unhinged, myself.

Now look at me. I've gone and emasculated myself. I had a perfectly good post going and had to go and fuck it all up with a blatant cop-out.

Property Schmroperty

One of the reasons Tina and I picked this house was because we loved the view from the deck. Basically, the back of the house is just at the edge of a gradually sloping cliff which forms one wall of a small canyon. The creek at the bottom runs down to the lake, which is about a quarter mile from our house

Our land extends down to the center of that creek. I was under the impression I understood exactly how our land was laid out in relation to our house until a couple months ago, when I noticed our neighbor (on the right side as you face the street... she's a former member of a band that put out a one hit wonder back in the 80's...) laying out a nylon rope along the property line between our 2 houses.

"Whacha doin [Name of One-Hit-Wonder-Creating-Neighbor Here] ?", I asked.

"Well, I was talking to your kids the other day and they said that you and Tina were concerned that someone was cutting wood on your property. I've been cutting wood, but I can assure you, it's not on YOUR property..."

"Hmmm... Yeah... well I don't know if it was you or not. We've been finding these piles of cut cedar down there by the creek. We assumed it was you, since you've been cutting your own property..."

"Yeah but see, that's just it. I am cutting my property! That's why I'm laying out this rope. I want you to see how the property line goes all the way from the street, down to the creek. Do you want to see it?" At this point, I was getting slightly irritated. I had been washing my motorcycle when I first noticed her, and while I was interested in what she was doing, I didn't really want to break out the survey gear and walk the line with her.

Nevertheless, I was wondering where her head was at and so I agreed to lay the rope out with her. As we were making our way down the cliff, she kept wanting to bring the rope over to the right. I could see that each of the little piles of cut wood were falling on "her side" of the line as we cut diagonally across what I had been thinking of as my property. Once we got down to the creek, I finally said something.

"[Name of One-Hit-Wonder-Creating-Neighbor Here] This doesn't make any sense. You've cut this line right across our back yard. It seems like you've got it ending up at the other side of our property. "

She replied "No no... you see... the property line cuts straight back from the street, and your house is set at an angle to the lines of the rectangle. I thought the same thing when I first moved in and only later learned how it all lays out." At this point, I was getting the nagging feeling that she was right, but I was having a hard time believing it. So I went inside and broke out the survey. After I lined things up, it definitely appeared that she was correct. Tina and I were going to have to adjust our thoughts about what was ours and what was not.

I was fine w/that until I learned about the fence...

Women's Meeting

Tonight Tina asked me to take the kids for awhile so she could have her women's meeting here at the house. Once a month she and her friends get together in a formal setting to talk about their lives in a formal (no cross-talk please) setting. From what I can tell, they talk about the same things in this meeting that they talk about everywhere else.

I agreed to get the kids out of the house, and devised a plan to take them to see the new movie "The Incredibles" and then to bring them back home and put them to bed. Unfortunately we got to the theatre too late and the movie was sold out. I was not to be deterred, however, and so I made the executive decision to keep them out past their normal bed time and to see a later showing. That ended up being fine. We went and saw the movie and then headed back to the house.

When we came into the house, the women were all sitting there in the living room. The lights were down low, and there were candles burning. One of them was saying something about something until I came in. At that point, it got silent and I had the uneasy feeling they were all looking at me as I walked Hannah into the bedroom while holding Ben in my arms.

Once I had them in bed, I came back out into the living room with the intention of getting a Sprite from the kitchen. Again someone was saying something about something and as I entered the room, it became deathly silent. This time I looked, and sure enough, they were all looking at me. It was not a good look. It was a scary look. It scared me. As I walked upstairs I could almost swear I heard a sigh and then something like "Okay... he's gone..."