Sunday, April 30, 2006

I Know Where to Find the Banana

Thud. Thud. Thud.

I heard this sound, looked over and saw Julia bouncing her head off the wall. She had the good sense to hold a towel up to protect her forehead from the rough surface of the wall. That's about as far as her good sense led her.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I banging my head," she answered.

I can't say that I blame her. It's been a rainy weekend and we haven't left the house much. Deb and Allie lectured me for spending too much time on the computer. I'm not sure what I should have been doing instead. It's not as if I didn't get anything at all accomplished this weekend. But I was experimenting with the old G3 again (it's now back in Allie's room waiting to be networked with a very old Quadra 660 AV). And as far as not venturing past our property line goes I'll blame it not only on the weather but the price of gas.

I realize that doesn't hold water but massive rationalization is one of my favorite pastimes.

Now I'm wrestling with my Sunday evening blues. We've all experienced it to one extent or another.

Tomorrow morning will be here soon. In a flash I'll find myself sitting in front of yet another computer wondering why I took those photos of myself in my underwear. It was, more or less, my equivalent to Julia banging her head. I've read articles that say photos like these are inspirational and help people get back into shape. Instead they looked like materials for a fetishist's portfolio. A little liquid latex and a strategically placed banana and I'd be one post away from permanently detaching myself from polite society.

Actually they just look like me standing in line at the water park. This is the case even if I had donned the latex and banana.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Three Things I Like. . .

that no one else seems to:

This stuff is great on cheese sandwiches and it works well with bologna. Whenever I crack open the jar both of my daughters make gagging noises and ask, "What's that smell?" I've never really asked Deb what she thinks. I can guess.

A guy I used to work with gave this to me. This pooping cow always disappears and then suddenly I find it again. Each rediscovery brings me joy. I give this thing a squeeze in front of others and nobody seems to share my joy.

Actually it's too soon to tell if other people aren't going to like these shoes. However, Deb already said they look like bowling shoes and Allie asked if they were for mowing. They were a surprise gift from my mom and I love them. Not only are they very comfortable but they have this Dryz technology to prevent them from getting smelly. Plus they have partially green soles. It's as if they were built just for me.

What do you like that everyone else seems to hate? Let me know.

And you can't use me as an example, Debbie.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

For the Love of God, Stay Away From the Windows

A robin insisted on dive bombing one of the windows in my parent's sun porch. Not only was the poor bird constantly fighting with its own reflection, but it was shitting all over the window.

After a few days of this Mom decided to kill the bird.

That may be an overstatement. It's not exactly clear what motives Mom had. But she did put a glue trap on this robin's favorite perch.

Sure enough, a few days later, Mom saw the bird flopping around her backyard with a glue trap stuck to its legs.

Mom called Dave at work. She related the situation but made it clear he didn't need to leave work to take care of the bird (the bird she was obviously trying to murder). Dave understood the subtext of wife's message: Hurry home. I don't want to witness the nasty details of what I have wrought.

Dave came home and removed the glue trap from the robin's legs and set the bird free in the field across the street.

When Dave told us the story this weekend, it wasn't clear if the bird died. But from his tone we could tell he had his doubts about the robin's chances for survival.

Later this year the girls will be spending a week with their grandparents. We've already cautioned them not to fight with one another and made it very clear they should not shit on the windows.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Bedroom Noises

Click here for more from the girls.

Geely. . . for a happy life.

Check out this Web site:

It’s for a Chinese car manufacturer that plans to launch its brand in the U.S. in 2008.

Here’s some copy describing their hatchback (it’s better if you read it out loud):
Its old name is "HS" It is belong to HQ family.Some body want lager space to put package when they go to travel.HQ(S-RV) will be your best choose,because it has a large space that ni can put more baggage.
I’m not making fun of the fractured English. After all, the person who wrote about this car has at least one language up on me. But I’m fascinated by the translations. They’re like little puzzles. For example: who the hell is ni and why does ni have enough luggage to necessitate an entire redesign?

The press releases are also pretty good:
Geely managed to sustain and project its glory and fame despite being in Detriot. . .
The same can be said for Kid Rock.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

The Entire Lee Family Dyed Today

Egg coloring here was late by most peoples' standards. We do know that you're supposed to color them the night before Easter and then the bunny comes and hides them. However Saturday was beautiful and sunny and we spent a lot of it outside. Today was gray and rainy and we spent most of it inside decorating the eggs we should have done yesterday.

The morning got off to a bad start. After another 45 minute begging session Deb and I got Allie to relinquish another tooth yesterday. Unfortunately the coin the Tooth Fairy left fell off Allie's bed. She didn't find it when she woke this morning. Allie came downstairs and asked, "What are the rules about where the Tooth Fairy puts your money?" I told her the fairy puts the money where ever you left your tooth. It was obvious the fairy wasn't following the rules because Allie started to cry a little.

We found Allie's coin (a nice Susan B. Anthony dollar) and all was right in the world once again. Particularly when Allie realized it was Easter and there was a basket with her name on it in the house.

She found her Mom's basket first. Then she found Julia's. Fortunately, Allie's basket was hidden a little better than the first two. Allie's Mom and Julia came downstairs not a moment too soon. They all got a look at their goodies and the holiday was pretty much over. We watched a DVD Allie got in her basket (Chicken Little) and let our rainy, Easter day slip by.

My underwear is trying to kill me.

I thought the Hanes indicia on the waist band indicated the front of my boxer briefs. It does not. Turns out it is on the side. This would have been a good thing to know when I put one semi-wet leg into my underwear. It got caught on my damp foot. I hopped around enough to force the foot through the leg hole and tried to follow-up with the other leg. Because I was mistaken when I thought the Hanes logo revealed the proper orientation of my underwear the other foot got caught.

I started to topple over but thankfully the vanity caught my ass.

I had to take the underwear off and start over.

This time I took a long, hard look at the boxer briefs and tried again. This isn't the first time this sort of thing has happened. But this time I think I have a legitimate beef with Hanes for misplacing their logo.

Just because I'm wearing them as I type this doesn't mean getting dressed was a success. It just means I'm not in need of a group home environment right now.

That comes when I perforate my sinus cavity with nose hair clippers.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Four Times Better Than a Flowbee

Okay, Marcia. I trimmed the girls' hair.

I only came close to poking their eyes out twice! Clearly I have a gift with the shears.

In other news we tried the bicycle thing again this evening. Sarah suggested training wheels for the larger bike so that Allie could become accustomed to it. This made a lot of sense. Allie wasn't just learning to ride without trainers; she was trying to learn to adjust to an entirely different bike.

Greg not smart. Greg hate Sarah.

Allie tried the bike after I altered it. There was no moaning and screaming as she traveled down the sidewalk on her own. In fact, she seemed to be having a pretty good time. Until one of the new training wheels came off, that is.

That startled her a little.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

No One Uses Training Wheels in the Tour de France

Last night and for a little while this evening I tried to teach Allie how to ride her bike.

I’m not sure this is something I want to be involved with.

Allie is afraid of her bicycle. Compared to her little toddler model this new bike is bigger, there are no training wheels and (due to a fear taming experiment her father attempted) she has fallen off of it. The moment she mounts the thing she begins to behave as if she’s being electrocuted. “Ow, ow. Oh! Ow. Daaadeee. Oh! Ow, wow, ow. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. Oh! Owwowow. You’re letting go! Why are you letting go?!”

At one point I stopped and looked her in the eyes and told her that learning to ride a bike was hard at first but that it’s not impossible. Then I reminded her that she was Alexandra Lee and Alexandra Lee can do anything when she puts her mind to it. It was a very inspirational, “After School Special” type moment for us both. Too bad I didn’t save this for something really important; like say, digging deep for Olympic gold or a piano audition for Julliard. However I was tired and getting desperate.

We started down the sidewalk again. Only this time there was a new phrase among all the whining, “Ohh! Ow. Daaadee. Don’t let go! I can do this! I can do this! Ow wowow! I can do this!”

So far she hasn’t done it.


I’m not sure I can take the plaintive wailing that is the product of this training. I find myself stifling the urge to drop the encouragement crap and revert to my more natural state telling the poor girl she’s a spaz who will never realize the joys two wheeled freedom brings. I will admit I did say some things that probably wouldn’t wind up in a textbook entitled, How to Teach Your Child to Ride a Bike without Using Intimidation and Humiliation. At one point I turned to Allie’s two year-old sister and said, “Would you like to give this a try? I bet you could do it.” Instead of being hurt Allie turned and glared at me. I threw both hands up and said, “I’m kidding. I’m kidding.” I was glad to see the flash of anger. It wasn’t enough to get her to stop sounding as if I was torturing her, though.

I’ve surfed a little on the topic of teaching kids to ride a bike and I now have some tips that seem useful. But I have a feeling this is going to be a very long process that could possibly kill me before my daughter is able to ride.

Riding a bike isn’t everything. Maybe she’ll just learn to run really fast. Fast enough to keep up with her friends on bicycles.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Everybody Likes Movies!

This year's Easter movie is done. You can click here if you want to see it or use the Multimedia link on the left.

There are some new photos in the Flickr photostream on the right.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Poor Tom

Tom Cruise says his dad was a bully and a coward.

I don’t know the details about the events that led Tom to this conclusion. However it makes me wonder what Allie thinks.

After all, I’m much bigger, very loud and often times belligerent. I certainly do push her around on a regular basis for what must seem like no good reason. I’ve made her cry. I’ve kept her apart from things she wants. I’ve been hypocritical more than a few times. I’ve been capricious with discipline. My patience with her and her sister is a very scarce commodity and they both know it. On occasion I’ve been cruel to her just for my own amusement. Hell, I’ve even denied her food.

All of these things are true.

In the not too distant future, Allie will be speaking to the press. Could be from a podium, might be from a prison cell; regardless I’m confident she’ll have contact with the media. She will tell people I was a bully.

I hope I’m still alive when she does it.

So I can kick her square in the ass.