One More Reason My Wife Hates Me

Here's the first post from the couch in the living room.

I got the old G3 out of the basement and started tinkering around with it this morning. After about seven hours I finally got the old beige box to digest OS 10.2.6 (I'm being specific because I relied on a number of posts from people trying to accomplish the same thing I was -- maybe I can help someone with an old mac). That's when I got the idea to throw a wireless card into it. After two more hours, I also got that to work.

So now I have a very slow machine that's not really good for anything but surfing the Web or posting to the blog.

LET'S HOOK IT UP TO THE TV DOWNSTAIRS!

I tried to think of a way that I could do it without spending any money. My original idea was to convert the G3 into a DVR. People have done it, it's just a little more involved than I thought. So I compromised by settling for just getting the thing to work on the TV.

$200 later, I'm sitting on the couch with a wireless keyboard and mouse listening to Deb gripe about the money I spent.

I don't care. This shit is cool.

Pie

Get that shark out of your sister's butt.

I say things like this all the time now. These bizarre word combinations spill out of my mouth and sound remarkably similar to the tone I'd use to make a dentist's appointment. It's not that I'm blasé about Julia trying to assault her sister during bath time; I'm just used to it.

This isn't what I had planned to type about this evening. Truth is, I've forgotten what it was I thought I wanted to tell you about. That's probably a good thing because I'd just wind up describing something that smells, looks or tastes bad on my body.

Tonight I'll give that note a rest and try to find a different tune.

People I'd Like to Box:

My mother. There are a lot of things about my childhood I'm really pissed about so I know going a few rounds with ma would be very therapeutic. Nothing to the face, just a few body blows to knock the wind out of her.

Mike Tyson. Iron Mike would beat me so hard that I would become the guy who wears a floral print muumuu and stands outside of Miller Park yelling "EAT ME" at everyone who passes by. That aside, years ago my friend Ray and I split the cost of one of Mike's pay-per-view bouts and it lasted 54 seconds. I think we both deserve a few rounds for that.

Mrs. Grady. Because I'm convinced that if Allie's Kindergarten teacher and I were dangling from a cliff Allie would throw a rope to Mrs. Grady. I think once Allie saw me easily duck Mrs. Grady's left hook a few times she might love me more.

My mother. Did I already mention her? Sorry.

A guy in a big yellow chicken suit. I don't really have an explanation but I bet the video would be awesome!

Myself at 19. I really deserved a punch to the gut back then (or at least a kick in the ass). These days I just deserve the beating I'd get from all the people I'm listing here.

Frank Lloyd Wright. Of course I appreciate his genius but if you read anything about him the guy was a real dick much of the time. Plus I really hate the carpeting in the Monona Terrace. I know it was only "inspired" by Wright's designs but it's enough to make me want to take a few swings at the guy.

Julia. I know she only weighs 28 pounds and has the motor skills of a poodle in the throes of a seizure but she's wiry and sneak fart fast. I don't think I'd mind losing to her but I think the threat of getting back into the ring with me might make getting her to eat her vegetables a little easier.

I think you all realize I'm truly a lover, not a fighter.

No. That's not true. I'm not a lover either.

I just want some pie.

Battle Royale

Mom suggested Old Spice and Eric thought Axe might be best for my pits.

I tried them both.

Monday I slathered on the Old Spice. It was too strong smelling and that's a bad thing because I thought the scent is a little on the feminine side.

I wore the Axe today. I like the way it smells and I'm surprised that it's a little more subtle than the Old Spice. Plus, if the commercials are right, the smell of this stuff drives women wild. Unfortunately, if I want to turn on the ladies I have to bury their heads in my armpits.

I'm surprised that I like the Axe. It seems too young for me. A little like me trading in my khakis for a pair of Von Dutch jeans. I also heard they're planning to ban the use of Axe products in a Cape Cod high school. People claim that perfumes, after shave, scented shampoos and what not are causing severe asthma attacks among the students and teachers. Chief among the products they're targeting are Axe deodorants and sprays.

In an effort to make a statement in support of the oppressed armpits of all those Cape Cod high school students I'll be wearing Axe deodorant from this point forward.

The battle has ended.

La mort à l'odeur de corps! Libérez les aisselles du monde!

Anyone want to buy a stick of Old Spice deodorant? Only used once.

Blurry Breakfast with Whispering Scouts

CAPTAIN'S LOG: SUPPLEMENTAL

Busy day.

While Deb spent her day helping the school district choose a new school district Superintendent (the woman does it all, I tell you) the girls and I hit the town.

We started off at the Kiwanis Pancake Breakfast. It's sort of a tradition for us. However it certainly wasn't the same without Debbie. But we did have fun.


Here's a picture of The Blarney Boys. Allie later described this duo to Deb by saying, "They hated each other." They did seem to verbally poke and jab and one another on stage, but I just thought that was their schtick. Oh well, their hatred didn't stop them from running through every Irish standard known to man. These guys looked old. Very old. At one point I thought someone should be up there with a crash cart and a bottle of oxygen. But they completed their set and even loaded up their own equipment. They loaded it slowly; very slowly.


Allie had her face painted.

After that we took Allie for a piano lesson. She doesn't normally have a lesson this time of week. It was a make-up appointment. Julia and I went to the Buy and Sell shop in the same mini-mall and looked at crap. I did find an old Barney Miller board game that I almost bought. Maybe next time.

After the lesson we went to lunch and then made it to the movie just in time. We saw Curious George. Both girls were very well behaved (unlike the little bastard who kept kicking the back of my chair throughout the film). The girls loved the movie and I have to admit I enjoyed it, too. That's one cute monkey, after all.

Julia, despite being crabby, emotional and extremely droopy eyed insisted that we go shopping after the movie. We got to the mall and they played on all the giant electrical equipment. After that we had Ice Cream of the Future. I'd never had Dippin' Dots before. It's hyper chilled pellets of ice cream that melt in your mouth. They're so cold that they are actually a little painful to eat at first. The extreme temperature didn't stop me a bit, although Julia decided to pace herself after her first bite numbed most of her face.

We went to a jewelry store so I could look at watches. At one point, Allie walked over to the sales person I was talking with and said, "You know; you really should have more than three cameras. There's a lot of stuff around here that people would want to steal." The salesperson looked at me and started laughing. I told her that Allie did security consulting on the side. The salesperson just kind of tilted her head at me and went back to laughing at Allie.

Suddenly I'm tired and need to stop typing.

I was going to go to sleep, but Allie started puking just a few moments ago.

I'm guessing it was the Kiwanis sausage. It just didn't seem right.

Festering Pits

My armpits stink. Actually it's just my right armpit that's giving me problems.

This never used to be a problem. Lately, toward the end of the day, I'll turn my head sharply to the right and catch a subtle whiff of old corn chips combined with fetid socks.

I hesitate to admit this, but quite some time ago I switched from anti-perspirant to deodorant after the whole aluminum chloride equals Alzheimer's scare. After that, I stopped using the deodorant (I didn't like the way it conflicted with the small amount of cologne I wear to smell nice for Deb and the girls). I truly maintained a good scent. Until now. . .

So this is the week, when I'm meeting hundreds of strangers, my pit decides to become an incubator for smelly bacteria.

I'll be home tomorrow. That's when I'll head to the store and get a brand new stick of deodorant.

I've been out of the game for a while so I'm soliciting you for brand suggestions. Please let me know your favorite brand and I'll give it a try. You should know I won't try anything strong enough for a man, but made for a woman. But if you suggest it, I'll give it a whirl. Hopefully I'll find something nice immediately.

I'm not just looking for hygiene suggestions. I'm sitting here trying to kill time while I charge up my iPod for tomorrow's flight. I can't wait to get home. I miss my wife. I miss my daughters. I've warned Deb that she should prepare herself for lots of sex. Another good reason to keep my armpit from smelling. Although I understand there are lots of people into that sort of thing. I'm pretty sure Deb isn't one of them.

Tomorrow brings fresh smelling armpits, hugs from my little ones and sweet, sweet lovin' from my woman. I'm a happy guy.

Who Decided Mint Jelly Should Go With Lamb?

In the past calling home from on the road meant listening to one of the girls make various acks, ooohs, bahs and tee-tees. While they grunted and cooed I would try to ask questions, "Are you being a good girl? What was for lunch? Has mommy been drinking? Do you smell smoke? Cat still alive?"

These days I have actual conversations with the girls. Last night's with Allie revolved around her upcoming visit to the doctor on Tuesday. I told her that she was going to get ten shots. . . in the eye. She didn't really buy it but it did seem to creep her out a little. Glad to know I can manage that from more than a thousand miles away.

Julia and I discussed her potty training and Deb had to listen to me complain about my feet. I was up at 3:00 a.m. and worked until 6:00 p.m. I did a lot more walking than I anticipated. Worked up a couple of potential blisters. I didn't eat all day so I ordered meat from room service. Lots of meat. My intestines were (are) packed with lamb, cow and pig. I slept like a man with his intestines packed with lamb, cow and pig.

Today it's back to work. I plan to take a cab rather than walk. But first I'm going to hang around my hotel room a little in the hopes I can get rid of some of this barnyard inside of me.

Call Me Lilly

I spent the entire day today at the University for training. So far I'm enjoying the program and I'm looking forward to applying what I've learned.

I also discovered that I'm a wuss.

This evening as I walked back to my car I saw several students riding their scooters. It was just barely 30 degrees outside with a chilling wind. I saw a woman with a stocking cap, fleece pullover and sweat pants zip by me on her Vespa at light speed. The windchill had to be murder.

So here I sit, still convinced that if I take my motorcycle out when it dips below 40 degrees parts of me will fall off. Compared to all the students on scooters I saw today, I'm simply a delicate little flower.

As far as training goes they provided Koosh Balls for us to play with. It's a device to provide our brains a small amount of stimulus that will actually (supposedly) help us focus on what's happening during the lectures. I played with my ball constantly. Then, at the end of the day, I realized that my ball had probably been handled by everyone who ever participated in the same seminar I was in.

Ick.

I know that I now am incubating at least a cold; perhaps chronic wasting disease and maybe even the bird flu.

I am a delicate flower. I should know better than to play with other peoples' balls.

How About a Rootbeer?

My eyes are still burning from all the chlorine; but we had fun at the water park yesterday and today. The photo is Julia with Elvis hair. We'll get back to her in a moment.

Logistically this trip was kind of complicated. At one point I found myself walking through a parking lot in 28 degree weather wearing a coat, swimming trunks and sandals. My nut sack made its way into my chest for a while but it decided to come back down once I got back inside.

The girls had a ball. Allie gets braver and bolder each time we go to one of these places. Now it's Julia's turn to be timid. She's not too keen on doing much more than splashing around and going up and down stairs. I can't tell you how much fun that is for the person keeping an eye on her at the park. You go up the stairs. Then you go down the stairs. It's a rush.

Truly.

Julia did get brave a couple of times and went on some of the more advanced attractions. However most of the time someone had her in his or her arms. She peed on Debbie once. She got me twice. I realize some people pay big money to experience this sort of thing. Maybe we should cut Julia a check (I wonder what we'd write on the memo line)?

This trip was part of a Family Weekend tradition that seemed to peter out a little since Deb and I began to breed. I'm glad it has been resurrected. Although I didn't have much to do with it. Deb got us completely organized, booked the rooms, got us packed, loaded and generally pointed me in the right direction. It was a thankless job. In fact, all she really got for it were a few dips, a couple of fast rides, then peed on.

Okay, that's not a fair characterization of her trip. No matter how you slice it, it really is nice to get together with her sisters, their men and her parents. I am disappointed that, despite the amount of booze they carted up to our room, I didn't have cocktail hour with Pam, Cat, Mike & Jeff. Later, they called to let me know they were having a few drinks. I'll catch them next time.

I'm kind of glad I didn't get drunk. A water park seems like the wrong place to shed one's inhibitions. Not that it would have mattered. We were surround by half-naked bodies to the point where it became this huge melange of flesh. All shapes. All sizes. Deb and I had our own take-aways from looking at hundreds of bodies in their swimwear. Deb thinks teenage girls should be prohibited from buying thongs. I think people ought to trim their damn toenails. We both agree almost all body art is silly. At some point you will regret the huge Kanji characters for Year of the Ram you had etched on your left boob.

Now we're home. The girls are exhausted and everyone is crabby. It may have something to do with the fact that Deb and I are beaten and bruised. I mean it. Those slides knock the hell out of a person. Not to mention the fact that both of our sinuses have been repeatedly flushed with water that contains enough cryptosporidium to wipe out several third world villages.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining. I'm not complaining. We had a blast and I do know we're lucky we're able to enjoy a trip like this. However, the moment my body converts itself into a bathroom rootbeer dispenser is the moment I stop feeling so fortunate.

Off The Air?

We're experiencing technical difficulties. I'll spare you the mundane explanation. I just wanted to let you know we might not be able to post until Tuesday (2/21/06).

Of course, because I'm not able to post means I now have an overwhelming need to post. Maybe I'll run to the library or something.

We also have weather problems.

More later?

Judy is Watching

Saturday morning and the girls have invaded our bedroom. They're sitting on the bed experimenting with minor irritations to provoke reactions from one another. They are bored. They will ease their boredom by screaming at each other.

Deb is on the phone with her mom, Judy. Judy says our blog is tiresome. She's sick of looking at Allie's green mouth. "It only takes a few minutes a day," she claims. When we told her to write her own blog she said her life is too boring.

Soon I will post Judy's phone number and home address. This way you can, if you'd like, contact Judy and let her know if you agree with her. I realize if you're visiting here from another country that it will be a toll call. Simply reverse the charges; Judy won't mind a bit.

We have heard a rumor that Grandma Ellen just got a new Mac. We're thrilled. We have waited a long time for her to get a computer.

Debbie just said to her mom that I'm typing nasty things about her. Allie asked, "Why are you typing nasty things about Grandma?" Deb said, "Because grandma complained that we never blog."

I just turned to them both and said, "I'm not typing nasty things about Grandma. That's for my next post."

Stay tuned. Soon I'll write about the time Judy was busted for dealing drugs outside a school yard when she was actually just trying to steal a puppy she could use to pack her heroin in for safe transport.

Less Words! More Pictures!

You'll find new photos (like this one of Allie at the dentist) in the Flickr! photostream. I've also created a page full of shots from our visit to Allie's Kindergarten class. There are pictures of her classmates on this new page so you'll need click on "Password Please"

Remember your password? I didn't think so. Send me an email and I'll remind you. There's also a short video there. You can access it at the very top of the pink page.

Too Cool for Love

Remember that scene at the end of Close Encounters. . . when Richard Dreyfus walks into the space ship and is surrounded by all the little aliens? That’s kind of what it felt like when I went to visit Allie’s Kindergarten Class yesterday.

Okay, it wasn’t exactly like that, but that’s kind of the vibe I was getting. This vibe was particularly strong after Allie and I handed her classmates compass/thermometers.

Swag engenders love at any age.

We had a mini-clinic on how to use a compass to find your way out of the wilderness (or at least the north side of the classroom). Then Allie’s teacher talked about money. After that we all walked down the hall to watch a video. The episode of The Magic School Bus we watched had kids flying out of volcanoes in their “Magma Suits”. A little too trippy for my tastes, but everyone seemed interested. Allie didn’t want to sit next to me. “I had a good spot where I could see everything,” she explained.

Three boys came up to me at different times during my hour-long visit and whispered, “Mr. Lee, I like you.” Why it had to be a secret I’m not sure. Perhaps they were after the extra super deluxe compass complete with Spider-Man indicia that I only gave to kids who ingratiate themselves to me. I can’t be certain. However at their age I’m fairly sure their sentiments were genuine.

One kid wanted to sit in my lap. I told him he could sit next to me. He had a loose tooth. He showed it to me several times.

Deb had gone to see Allie earlier in the day. The same kid also wanted to sit in her lap. The news made me feel less special. Of course Deb brought cupcakes. I’m thinking a cupcake trumps a compass/thermometer in any Kindergartener’s hierarchy of cool. Deb got to read Mrs. Toggle’s Zipper to the class. No wonder they loved her. But I’m pretty sure if the kids went feral and in a Lord of the Flies type scenario decided to waste one of us they’d kill Debbie first. I don’t have an explanation; I just feel that I’d be kept around a little longer for their amusement.

Allie and I left school early to head to the dentist. As we walked out she looked up at me and said, “I’m glad you came to school today. I love you, Daddy.”

That’s when I shoved her to the floor and laughed at her as she tripped over her backpack trying to get up. She cried, but later I explained there was a fourth grader standing nearby. I had to shove her in case he had heard Allie’s sappy declaration. I didn’t want to him to think I wasn’t cool.

Allie understood.

I have underwear older than her. . .

Allie's birthday party was a lot of fun. It will probably be her last family-only affair. I'm guessing that next year there will be lots of screaming children running around screaming while they smear cake icing all over our furniture as they scream. This year was a much quieter; more sedate gathering of Aunties and Grandparents. Until we started to play dice, that is. Then things became very loud. However writing about the gambling that occurred during our child's birthday party seems imprudent.

The impact of Allie turning six didn't fully hit me until this morning (her actual birthday). I came downstairs and snatched Allie off the couch. I repeatedly threw her up in the air while shouting, "She's six! She's Six!"

Now, here comes the part where you're thinking I'm going to start writing about how I won't be able to toss her in the air much longer. You're expecting me to tell you how sad I am at the realization that my little girl is growing up. Well, you're wrong.

I'm thrilled.

Deb and I have kept Allie alive for six years. Considering all the forces that conspire against parents today, not the least of which is our own stupidity, we have accomplished something grand. Allie is smart; healthy; ostensibly happy; semi-well adjusted and up to this point we haven't noticed her being unnecessarily cruel to any creature other than her sister.

I realize I'm tempting fate. I'm just tired of hearing myself whine about how quickly Allie will be leaving her mother and I to go grow pot in her closet at the ramshackle apartment she shares with her boyfriend, the heavily pierced tattoo artist who convinced her that grad school is merely a training camp for the bourgeoisie to learn to subjugate the proletariat.

That said; you know I can't stop myself from sampling the bittersweet. I'm feeling it and maybe Allie is too. There was no way she didn't notice that after throwing her in the air this morning I held on to her just a little longer than usual. Rather than squirm, Allie let me have a few extra seconds to create an adequate impression of what it feels like to have my six year-old girl in my arms. I didn't squeeze too hard -- just enough to make it clear to both of us that it was going to be difficult to let go.

Left Eye Blind

Pig, our cat has acne all over her chin. Yesterday, as I was petting the cat I felt an unusually large bump. As Pig sat on my lap I tilted her head up and used both thumbs to squeeze the bump.

A stream of blood and pus squirted out of the bump directly into my left eye.

I wiped it away and looked around the room to see if anyone noticed. Fortunately everyone was occupied with Allie's birthday party.

This morning my eye feels funny. I know something awful is going to happen and I'm going to wind up wearing an eye patch.