We bought a new 2009 Toyota Sienna back in late April. It's a really cool vehicle (if you're into minivans, that is). I like it a lot.
I'm starting to wonder, however, if it was assembled on a sacred Native American burial ground or by an angry voodoo priestess in Louisiana. I'm pretty sure it is cursed.
It started on Father's Day weekend, when I was taking my dad to dinner and showing off our new van to him for the first time. I wrote about it in much more detail here, but in a nutshell, our brand new van--with all of 2200 miles on it--broke down on our way to the restaurant, and I had to have it towed to the dealership. Apparently at some point, we had run over something that crushed a coolant line, draining all of the antifreeze and overheating the engine. About $720 later (including the tow), we had the van back.
Two months later, in late August, I was driving down the road, minding my own business, when out of nowhere, a rock flew into the windshield. A $45 attempt to repair the windshield failed in less than two hours. The new windshield cost an additional $330.
The Mrs. took Olivia and June to her parents' house about a week ago, and while she was there, her dad noticed that we have damage to our rear bumper. It's puzzling damage, as neither the Mrs. or I have backed into anything, but the damage is rather low on the bumper. My best guess is that someone clipped it in a parking lot, but we have no idea when or where it happened, and whatever hit it had to have had a really low bumper. We still haven't quite figured out what could have done that sort of damage. The damage appeared to only be cosmetic, though, so with the holidays looming, I wasn't in any hurry to get it fixed. Besides, I figured, with the luck we've been having with this van, someone is bound to rear-end me during the first snowfall. Then someone else's insurance can pay for a new bumper.
But yesterday morning, the Mrs. reported that something was leaking from the back of the van, right by the rear tire on the side where the bumper was damaged. It was a reddish-brown liquid, and there was a considerable puddle of it. Why it took a week from the time that my father-in-law spotted the damage and who-knows-how-long from the time the van was hit to start leaking is another mystery. Chuck speculated that it was either brake fluid or transmission fluid. Having either of those leaking is not good, especially when the Sienna is the primary vehicle that we use to transport Olivia and June.
So rather than relying on someone to tag me on a slippery road this winter, I took it in to the dealership today. The fluid was from the heating system, and the total repairs for the line and the bumper repair will be $440.
For those of you scoring at home, that's a total of $1535 that we have put into this van in just over six months. I'm quite confident that we put nowhere NEAR that kind of money into our Dodge Grand Caravan that we had for seven years before buying the Sienna, and that includes the new set of tires we put on the Caravan.
The really, really frustrating part of all of this is that it's not Toyota's craftsmanship that is failing us. The wheels aren't falling off. The electronics aren't failing. There isn't a draft because the doors don't hang right. The stereo works.
We just can't seem to avoid road debris, flying rocks, and whatever the hell hit the back of our van.
It also seems to come in every-two-month spurts. We bought the van in April, had the first incident in June, had the broken windshield in August, and discovered the most current damage in early November.
If some SOB plows into the back of me in January and wipes out my $440 bumper, I'm going to be sooooooo pissed.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
United Breaks Guitars
Having had a negative experience of my own with an airline (nowhere near as bad as this guy's, nor with United Airlines), I thought these two videos were absolutely hysterical. And I enjoyed the music, too! For the history of it, I'll quote directly off of the Sons of Maxwell's YouTube page:
Thanks to my cousin in Arizona for bringing this to my attention! Enjoy the music.
Oh, and think twice before checking luggage on United Airlines. Especially if it's a guitar.
United Breaks Guitars
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YGc4zOqozo
United Breaks Guitars Song 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-UoERHaSQg
Dave Carroll Music
http://www.davecarrollmusic.com/
In the spring of 2008, Sons of Maxwell were traveling to Nebraska for a one-week tour and my Taylor guitar was witnessed being thrown by United Airlines baggage handlers in Chicago. I discovered later that the $3500 guitar was severely damaged. They didnt deny the experience occurred but for nine months the various people I communicated with put the responsibility for dealing with the damage on everyone other than themselves and finally said they would do nothing to compensate me for my loss. So I promised the last person to finally say no to compensation (Ms. Irlweg) that I would write and produce three songs about my experience with United Airlines and make videos for each to be viewed online by anyone in the world. United: Song 1 is the first of those songs. United: Song 2 has been written and video production is underway. United: Song 3 is coming. I promise.
Thanks to my cousin in Arizona for bringing this to my attention! Enjoy the music.
Oh, and think twice before checking luggage on United Airlines. Especially if it's a guitar.
United Breaks Guitars
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YGc4zOqozo
United Breaks Guitars Song 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-UoERHaSQg
Dave Carroll Music
http://www.davecarrollmusic.com/
Thursday, November 5, 2009
,,Wut evar hapenned too speling and grammer,,
I am the son of a speech communication professor and an elementary school teacher, so I was well-versed in spelling, grammar, and punctuation growing up. I'm also something of a perfectionist. I tend to notice a lot of typos and misspellings that go unnoticed by many, although I'm not immune to making those kinds of mistakes myself. I can proofread a blog entry five or six times before I post it, and the tenth time I read it, I find a typo or a missing word or something. (Of course, this post will lead to open season being declared on every typo in here, I'm sure.) So while I often notice the little mistakes that are made in writing, they don't bother me all that much (except for my own typos, which drive me insane).
What bothers me--a lot--is the unbelievable inability by many people to even come close to grasping the written English language.
I am Facebook friends with a few local kids, most of them around middle school age. (No need to call the police. I know them and their parents through the neighborhood and local youth athletics, and the Mrs. is Facebook friends with them, too.) They're great kids, but most of them wouldn't know a punctuation mark if it slapped them in the face. It drives me absolutely NUTS to read some of their Facebook statuses. They string together three or four independent thoughts with absolutely no use of periods, commas, exclamation points, or question marks. Most of the time, I know what they're saying, but there are times I have to read a post out loud, slowly, and repeatedly, trying to figure out where one thought ends and another begins.
Then their friends get on there and respond to a status update, usually using equally horrible spelling and grammar with absolutely no use--or improper use--of punctuation. It's especially comical when one of them starts complaining about how school "suck's" and that they never learn anything there, and then several schoolmates add their own comments, all of them demonstrating how paying a bit more attention during Language Arts might be beneficial to them.
One Facebook status that had me in stitches was (and I'm not joking):
But they're just kids. Complaining about school is what you do when you're a kid, and Facebook is just informal communication (jeez, I HOPE these kids write better for school assignments!).
The failure to grasp the written language, however, extends well beyond kids. I was reading an article the other day about Syracuse wide receiver Mike Williams leaving the team--and possibly college--unexpectedly. Williams apparently initially posted this on his Facebook page:
Okay, he missed the period after "college" and didn't use an apostrophe in "cant," but overall, it's not bad.
Then he followed it up with:
I'm starting to think that maybe I don't want my kids going to Syracuse.
It's better than what UCLA "student-athletes" can cobble together, though. Here's the handiwork of a freshman wide receiver there named Randall Carroll, who posted this on his Twitter account:
Everything's going fine until the double commas. In between the double commas, however, is a bowl of alphabet soup that someone dropped on the floor. Maybe double commas are like those flashing orange lights you see in construction zones, warning that everything in between those lights is a disaster area. Same goes for everything in between double commas.
Then, in this article about Oklahoma State wide receiver Dez Bryant losing his last appeal to be reinstated after lying to the NCAA, there was this hilarious exchange of comments between readers "Mr Common Sense" and "Johnny":
Yes, I know that "Oklahomo" is spelled that way on purpose. I didn't realize that chickens had a Pope, though. A few more posts go by, and then Johnny comes up with this little slice of heaven:
As a graduate of Texas A&M University, I found extra humor in supporters of rival Big 12 schools being incapable of forming coherent thoughts. I found the last two sentences of Johnny's post, in particular, to be especially side-splitting.
Okay, okay. Enough of picking on athletes and the people who comment on them. Surely members of Congress are better, right? Especially five-term senators, like Iowa Senator Chuck Grassley?
Maybe not.
Here's a beauty from his Twitter page back in June:
Huh?
When did this happen? When did we, as a society, stop caring? When did sounding like a complete moron become acceptable?
More importantly, how do we fix this?
What bothers me--a lot--is the unbelievable inability by many people to even come close to grasping the written English language.
I am Facebook friends with a few local kids, most of them around middle school age. (No need to call the police. I know them and their parents through the neighborhood and local youth athletics, and the Mrs. is Facebook friends with them, too.) They're great kids, but most of them wouldn't know a punctuation mark if it slapped them in the face. It drives me absolutely NUTS to read some of their Facebook statuses. They string together three or four independent thoughts with absolutely no use of periods, commas, exclamation points, or question marks. Most of the time, I know what they're saying, but there are times I have to read a post out loud, slowly, and repeatedly, trying to figure out where one thought ends and another begins.
Then their friends get on there and respond to a status update, usually using equally horrible spelling and grammar with absolutely no use--or improper use--of punctuation. It's especially comical when one of them starts complaining about how school "suck's" and that they never learn anything there, and then several schoolmates add their own comments, all of them demonstrating how paying a bit more attention during Language Arts might be beneficial to them.
One Facebook status that had me in stitches was (and I'm not joking):
I just now finished my finall copy for language.
But they're just kids. Complaining about school is what you do when you're a kid, and Facebook is just informal communication (jeez, I HOPE these kids write better for school assignments!).
The failure to grasp the written language, however, extends well beyond kids. I was reading an article the other day about Syracuse wide receiver Mike Williams leaving the team--and possibly college--unexpectedly. Williams apparently initially posted this on his Facebook page:
I HATE COLLEGE I CANT SEE ME DOING THIS FOR LONG……..HINT HINT.-0 LMAO
Okay, he missed the period after "college" and didn't use an apostrophe in "cant," but overall, it's not bad.
Then he followed it up with:
Everyone Im staying in school to get my degree sorry for the faulse information every one getting.
I'm starting to think that maybe I don't want my kids going to Syracuse.
It's better than what UCLA "student-athletes" can cobble together, though. Here's the handiwork of a freshman wide receiver there named Randall Carroll, who posted this on his Twitter account:
oregon, stanford, and cal should have been easy wins ,, but shyt thys nigga norm chow dnt be trustin us ,, so it is what it is
Everything's going fine until the double commas. In between the double commas, however, is a bowl of alphabet soup that someone dropped on the floor. Maybe double commas are like those flashing orange lights you see in construction zones, warning that everything in between those lights is a disaster area. Same goes for everything in between double commas.
Then, in this article about Oklahoma State wide receiver Dez Bryant losing his last appeal to be reinstated after lying to the NCAA, there was this hilarious exchange of comments between readers "Mr Common Sense" and "Johnny":
89. Posted by Mr Common Sense Thu Oct 29 9:41am EDT
Now listen, you Oklahomo morons. Get off the NCAA and the BCS. The only real Big 12 team is Texas and Texas is also the only quality university in the BIg 12. While University Of Texas researchers work real science breakthroughs...etc, you morons from Oklohomo Universities can figure how to run your tractors on chicken pope.
Yes, I know that "Oklahomo" is spelled that way on purpose. I didn't realize that chickens had a Pope, though. A few more posts go by, and then Johnny comes up with this little slice of heaven:
93. Posted by Johnny Thu Oct 29 10:20am EDT
Mr como sense is really full of chicken s.hit "We will get University of Texas to..." Since when did you respresent UT to buy penny, again thinking small. And who is we.. You have no business brain, and don't know how business venture is setup, only people like you using brains between butt would think that. I'm glad that your comments show how stupid you are. Wow luckly in Oklahoma we don't have such a stupid people saying stupid things on behalf of their universities.
As a graduate of Texas A&M University, I found extra humor in supporters of rival Big 12 schools being incapable of forming coherent thoughts. I found the last two sentences of Johnny's post, in particular, to be especially side-splitting.
Okay, okay. Enough of picking on athletes and the people who comment on them. Surely members of Congress are better, right? Especially five-term senators, like Iowa Senator Chuck Grassley?
Maybe not.
Here's a beauty from his Twitter page back in June:
Pres Obama you got nerve while u sightseeing in Paris to tell us"time to deliver" on health care. We still on skedul/even workinWKEND.
Huh?
When did this happen? When did we, as a society, stop caring? When did sounding like a complete moron become acceptable?
More importantly, how do we fix this?
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Halloween and Sex Offenders
For the past few years, the Marion County Probation Department in Indianapolis and the Indiana Department of Correction have been requiring all registered sex offenders who are on probation or parole in that county to attend a mandatory meeting during the evening hours of Halloween. The object is to contain these offenders while kids trick-or-treat, thus minimizing kids' exposure to sex offenders.
You can read a little about the program here.
I understand the reasoning behind this practice, but I offer a different point of view to ponder.
I don't know how much manpower is involved in orchestrating this event, but Halloween is on a Saturday this year, so I can only assume that many of the probation officers and parole officers will be earning overtime to work. And we're not cheap to begin with. At time-and-a-half, that's a lot of money just in salaries. Offenders are going to have to be notified in writing, likely with some sort of proof of receipt, of the requirement to attend this program, so there's additional cost in office supplies and postage. Plus there's the cost associated with using a building that is likely not normally used on weekends.
Keep in mind, too, that this program is only mandatory for those on probation or parole. Those who have already completed terms of probation, parole, and/or incarceration cannot be forced to attend. The article says that nearly 300 people attended last year, with only four people not attending. According to the Indiana Sex Offender Registry, there are close to 2000 registered sex offenders in Indianapolis. For those who don't have a calculator handy, this program is only containing 15% of the registered sex offenders in the city.
But these are sex offenders we're talking about, right? So it's worth the cost to taxpayers to corral 15% of the registered sex offender population on Halloween, right? After all, these monsters will be lurking in the bushes, ready to dine at-will from the smorgasbord of kids out that night, right?
Read this recent study and decide for yourself. Unless you're a mathematician, the statistical analysis part of the article is likely to be a little dry for you, so let me hit the high points. According to this study, there is no increase in sex offenses on or around Halloween. (However, our children are four times more likely to get hit and killed by a car on Halloween than they are on any other day of the year.) And the belief that sex offenders lurk in the bushes, ready to pounce on unsuspecting kids? This study shows that only 2 out of every 1000 sex offenses against kids are committed by non-family members. The study simply confirms what I have come to believe after being a probation officer--and working with sex offenders--for 13 years.
I don't mean to poo-poo what Marion County officials are doing. I truly believe that they are genuinely trying to do everything they can to protect the public. I also don't question that a threat exists that kids can be molested during Halloween. Nor do I mean to minimize the lasting psychological and physical damage that offenders inflict upon their victims, or in any way, shape, or form justify sex offenders' behavior when they offend.
What I question, as does the study, is the cost-benefit equation of programs like Operation Halloween, especially when there is such a cheap and easy alternative: active parenting. I also worry that programs like this lull the public into a false sense of security, thinking that all the sex offenders in the city are rounded up and contained on Halloween night when, in fact, 85% of registered sex offenders (not to mention all the offenders who haven't registered, who aren't required to register, or who haven't been caught yet) are still out there on Halloween. "The bad guys are all rounded up, Ma! Cut the kids loose for a few hours!"
As a parent, and reinforced by my experience as a probation officer, I don't believe that kids should just be let loose to roam neighborhoods unattended while trick-or-treating. Bad things can happen--in addition to sex offenses--when kids are left unattended. Several years ago on Halloween, in one of our affluent neighborhoods where kids from all over the county are dumped by their parents in order to get candy from the "rich people," a young man was severely beaten by a handful of other kids and nearly died. What was the attack over? Halloween candy. The attackers demanded it, the victim didn't fork it over, and the victim wound up in the hospital with significant head trauma.
My kids are very young, but still, they only trick-or-treat at the homes of people we know. And, of course, we walk with them. The chances of a sex offender jumping out the bushes and snatching my kids, a pack of teenagers putting my kid into a coma over Halloween candy, my kids getting hit by a car, or anything else bad happening to them are reduced exponentially by me and the Mrs. being there to watch and protect. As my girls get older and want more independence while they trick-or-treat, that's fine. But they can't stop me from trailing a half-block behind them in my car.
By simply spending some time with our kids on Halloween, we're going to have a much higher success rate--and at a much lower cost--of protecting our kids than government officials are going to have with programs such as Operation Halloween. And as a taxpayer, I'd like to see the resources that were set aside for Operation Halloween spent instead during the period between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day. That period of time is the most dangerous time of year in terms of drunk drivers and the death and destruction they cause, and that money could be used to beef up funding for law enforcement, public information, alternate transportation, and other ways of keeping us safe on the roadways during the holiday season.
Or should we just round up all the convicted drunk drivers who are on probation and parole and keep them contained during the entire month of December?
You can read a little about the program here.
I understand the reasoning behind this practice, but I offer a different point of view to ponder.
I don't know how much manpower is involved in orchestrating this event, but Halloween is on a Saturday this year, so I can only assume that many of the probation officers and parole officers will be earning overtime to work. And we're not cheap to begin with. At time-and-a-half, that's a lot of money just in salaries. Offenders are going to have to be notified in writing, likely with some sort of proof of receipt, of the requirement to attend this program, so there's additional cost in office supplies and postage. Plus there's the cost associated with using a building that is likely not normally used on weekends.
Keep in mind, too, that this program is only mandatory for those on probation or parole. Those who have already completed terms of probation, parole, and/or incarceration cannot be forced to attend. The article says that nearly 300 people attended last year, with only four people not attending. According to the Indiana Sex Offender Registry, there are close to 2000 registered sex offenders in Indianapolis. For those who don't have a calculator handy, this program is only containing 15% of the registered sex offenders in the city.
But these are sex offenders we're talking about, right? So it's worth the cost to taxpayers to corral 15% of the registered sex offender population on Halloween, right? After all, these monsters will be lurking in the bushes, ready to dine at-will from the smorgasbord of kids out that night, right?
Read this recent study and decide for yourself. Unless you're a mathematician, the statistical analysis part of the article is likely to be a little dry for you, so let me hit the high points. According to this study, there is no increase in sex offenses on or around Halloween. (However, our children are four times more likely to get hit and killed by a car on Halloween than they are on any other day of the year.) And the belief that sex offenders lurk in the bushes, ready to pounce on unsuspecting kids? This study shows that only 2 out of every 1000 sex offenses against kids are committed by non-family members. The study simply confirms what I have come to believe after being a probation officer--and working with sex offenders--for 13 years.
I don't mean to poo-poo what Marion County officials are doing. I truly believe that they are genuinely trying to do everything they can to protect the public. I also don't question that a threat exists that kids can be molested during Halloween. Nor do I mean to minimize the lasting psychological and physical damage that offenders inflict upon their victims, or in any way, shape, or form justify sex offenders' behavior when they offend.
What I question, as does the study, is the cost-benefit equation of programs like Operation Halloween, especially when there is such a cheap and easy alternative: active parenting. I also worry that programs like this lull the public into a false sense of security, thinking that all the sex offenders in the city are rounded up and contained on Halloween night when, in fact, 85% of registered sex offenders (not to mention all the offenders who haven't registered, who aren't required to register, or who haven't been caught yet) are still out there on Halloween. "The bad guys are all rounded up, Ma! Cut the kids loose for a few hours!"
As a parent, and reinforced by my experience as a probation officer, I don't believe that kids should just be let loose to roam neighborhoods unattended while trick-or-treating. Bad things can happen--in addition to sex offenses--when kids are left unattended. Several years ago on Halloween, in one of our affluent neighborhoods where kids from all over the county are dumped by their parents in order to get candy from the "rich people," a young man was severely beaten by a handful of other kids and nearly died. What was the attack over? Halloween candy. The attackers demanded it, the victim didn't fork it over, and the victim wound up in the hospital with significant head trauma.
My kids are very young, but still, they only trick-or-treat at the homes of people we know. And, of course, we walk with them. The chances of a sex offender jumping out the bushes and snatching my kids, a pack of teenagers putting my kid into a coma over Halloween candy, my kids getting hit by a car, or anything else bad happening to them are reduced exponentially by me and the Mrs. being there to watch and protect. As my girls get older and want more independence while they trick-or-treat, that's fine. But they can't stop me from trailing a half-block behind them in my car.
By simply spending some time with our kids on Halloween, we're going to have a much higher success rate--and at a much lower cost--of protecting our kids than government officials are going to have with programs such as Operation Halloween. And as a taxpayer, I'd like to see the resources that were set aside for Operation Halloween spent instead during the period between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day. That period of time is the most dangerous time of year in terms of drunk drivers and the death and destruction they cause, and that money could be used to beef up funding for law enforcement, public information, alternate transportation, and other ways of keeping us safe on the roadways during the holiday season.
Or should we just round up all the convicted drunk drivers who are on probation and parole and keep them contained during the entire month of December?
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Dinner with June
My dad tells a story about how, when he was growing up, he was slurping his soup loudly at the dinner table, much to his dad's disgust, and my grandfather smacked my dad hard enough in the back of his head to put his face into the soup.
Tonight, I TOTALLY understand where my grandfather was coming from.
We had soup for dinner. The Mrs. correctly predicted that Olivia and June would not be big fans of minestrone soup, so in addition to the little bowls of soup she provided them, she also warmed them up some chicken nuggets and cut up some fresh strawberries.
The girls immediately turned their noses up at the soup, but they enjoyed their nuggets and strawberries. June, watching her older sister drink from a "big girl" cup with no lid, wanted to try her own drink without a lid.
A two-year-old with a lid-less cup of juice is a disaster waiting to happen.
To her credit, it only took one spill of about eight ounces of juice down the front of her shirt to try a different approach to the cup. After refilling her cup, we figured we'd give her another shot at it. Heck, it's bath night tonight, and she's already soaked, anyway.
So June's next strategy was to keep the cup on the table and lean over until she could put her lips on the rim of the cup. Then, ever so carefully, she tipped the cup verrrrry slowly until she could sip some juice. No spills. Much rejoicing from me and the Mrs.
Having been positively reinforced for sipping, her next drink involved even louder sipping. Followed by even louder sipping. Followed by even LOUDER sipping. Until "sipping" was no longer the correct term for the noises coming from that cup. "Slurping" was more accurate. I'm not even sure "slurping" is the right word. What's louder than slurping? Anyway, the Mrs. and I couldn't even hold a conversation over the slurping.
Then June thought it would be funny to blow bubbles in her juice. She sounded like a mini-outboard motor, and juice was flying everywhere, as if said motor was going to town in the cup. So the lid went back on. Enough mess and disgusting noises at the dinner table.
A few seconds later, June set off the alarm. Oh no!! One of her chicken nuggets was gone!! Where might her nugget have gone? Why, in her cup, of course! The Mrs. removed the lid, and sure enough, there was a chicken nugget in the middle of a cup of apple juice. At some point while we weren't looking, June had apparently decided to see if nuggets float. (They do, sort of.)
No problem for June! She was more than happy to shove her hand into her cup, apple juice going halfway up to her elbow (and slopping all over the table), to retrieve the nugget. As she pulled it out, it was, naturally, dripping. And what do you do with a dripping chicken nugget soaked in apple juice?
Well, you wring it out, of course!
Into your soup.
And then you throw your nugget in your soup.
And then take a drink of juice with nugget parts floating in it.
And then eat the nugget.
As I put my head in my hands, trying to suppress my gag reflex, I thought of my grandfather planting my dad's head into a bowl of soup all those years ago. And I understood.
Tonight, I TOTALLY understand where my grandfather was coming from.
We had soup for dinner. The Mrs. correctly predicted that Olivia and June would not be big fans of minestrone soup, so in addition to the little bowls of soup she provided them, she also warmed them up some chicken nuggets and cut up some fresh strawberries.
The girls immediately turned their noses up at the soup, but they enjoyed their nuggets and strawberries. June, watching her older sister drink from a "big girl" cup with no lid, wanted to try her own drink without a lid.
A two-year-old with a lid-less cup of juice is a disaster waiting to happen.
To her credit, it only took one spill of about eight ounces of juice down the front of her shirt to try a different approach to the cup. After refilling her cup, we figured we'd give her another shot at it. Heck, it's bath night tonight, and she's already soaked, anyway.
So June's next strategy was to keep the cup on the table and lean over until she could put her lips on the rim of the cup. Then, ever so carefully, she tipped the cup verrrrry slowly until she could sip some juice. No spills. Much rejoicing from me and the Mrs.
Having been positively reinforced for sipping, her next drink involved even louder sipping. Followed by even louder sipping. Followed by even LOUDER sipping. Until "sipping" was no longer the correct term for the noises coming from that cup. "Slurping" was more accurate. I'm not even sure "slurping" is the right word. What's louder than slurping? Anyway, the Mrs. and I couldn't even hold a conversation over the slurping.
Then June thought it would be funny to blow bubbles in her juice. She sounded like a mini-outboard motor, and juice was flying everywhere, as if said motor was going to town in the cup. So the lid went back on. Enough mess and disgusting noises at the dinner table.
A few seconds later, June set off the alarm. Oh no!! One of her chicken nuggets was gone!! Where might her nugget have gone? Why, in her cup, of course! The Mrs. removed the lid, and sure enough, there was a chicken nugget in the middle of a cup of apple juice. At some point while we weren't looking, June had apparently decided to see if nuggets float. (They do, sort of.)
No problem for June! She was more than happy to shove her hand into her cup, apple juice going halfway up to her elbow (and slopping all over the table), to retrieve the nugget. As she pulled it out, it was, naturally, dripping. And what do you do with a dripping chicken nugget soaked in apple juice?
Well, you wring it out, of course!
Into your soup.
And then you throw your nugget in your soup.
And then take a drink of juice with nugget parts floating in it.
And then eat the nugget.
As I put my head in my hands, trying to suppress my gag reflex, I thought of my grandfather planting my dad's head into a bowl of soup all those years ago. And I understood.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Indiana is a Racist State. A Lawyer Told Me That.
A man killed his wife in front of their children in late June in the county in which I work. It was a really awful crime, for a number of reasons beyond the fact that a woman lost her life. He was sentenced to 55 years in prison yesterday, as was reported in the news in, among others, this article:
http://www.theindychannel.com/news/21250084/detail.html
As I read the article, a few things bothered me. They are things that bother me in just about every article I read involving the judicial system.
First, the article reports that the man received a 55-year sentence in prison. That leads a normal person to believe that he won't be eligible to walk out of prison until October 9, 2064, right? And since the man is currently 41 years old, that's almost assuredly a "life-in-prison" sentence, right? He'll be in his late 90's before he gets out. Right?
Wrong.
What the article fails to mention is that in Indiana, for every day a person serves in jail, that person gets an additional day of credit time, commonly referred to as "good time credit." You can read about it in Indiana Code 35-50-6-3. So this man will actually only serve half of his time. That's 27.5 years, not 55 years. So now we're talking a release date of somewhere in April of 2037, right? He'll still be in his late 60's when he gets out of prison, right?
Wrong.
Read the next section in that chapter of the Indiana Code (35-50-6-3.3) and learn about all the ways he can reduce his sentence. He has the potential to knock another 4 years off his sentence while he's in prison through a variety of programs designed to better a person while they are incarcerated. I'm not commenting on these programs and their associated time cuts. I'm simply pointing out another way that the man can cut time off his sentence. Something that was not reported in the article.
Then, at the very beginning of that chapter of the Indiana Code (35-50-6-1), you can read about parole. Whether this man has the possibility of parole or not isn't mentioned in this article, but it's another way that he might be released from prison earlier than many people expect.
Finally, the article makes no mention that the man receives credit for all the time he has been in jail while his case has been pending. He was caught by the police several hours after the murder occurred, so he's been in jail since late June. He has a little over 3 months of credit time already, plus 3 months of good time credit.
Again, I'm not commenting on the way Indiana state law reads. My irritation is a result of the media reporting that the man got 55 years in prison, leaving the public to believe that he will exit the prison doors 55 years from yesterday, assuming he's still alive, when that isn't even close to the truth.
Another big gripe I have with this article and with most other on-line media is the ability given to the public to add its comments, usually in complete anonymity. I understand the First Amendment and the right to free speech and all of that, but what constructive purpose does comments from the public serve? Many of these comments are posted by people who lack any knowledge of the situation, who are hiding under the cloak of anonymity, and who are simply trying to post the most inflammatory comment that they can come up with for reasons known only to them.
Let's look at some of the comments on this article together, shall we?
Our first (anonymous, of course) commenter laments about "killings in indy getting such light punishments." Aside from the fact that the killing did not take place in Indianapolis, but in one of its suburbs instead, Indiana Code 35-50-2-3 outlines the possible punishment for Murder. Murderers can get 45-65 years in prison, with the advisory sentence being 55 years. Murderers can also get life in prison without parole or the death penalty if certain circumstances are in place in that particular case. Once again, I'm not commenting on the Hendricks County Prosecutor's choice to offer this particular man the advisory sentence in exchange for not requiring the time, anguish, and money of a trial, and for wrapping up a murder case in under four months. I'm simply saying "such light punishments" are right down the middle of the plate, as far as what Indiana law allows a Court to sentence someone to for Murder.
The very next comment comes from a person (anonymous, of course) who blames the "light punishments" on "old brizzie", referring to Marion County Prosecutor Carl Brizzi. This person, in addition to misspelling Brizzi's name, failed to notice that the crime occurred and was prosecuted in Hendricks County, not Marion County. Mr. Brizzi had no jurisdiction or involvement in this case. Thank you for that educated, well thought-out comment.
Fortunately, the next commenter (once again, anonymous) pointed that out, throwing in an inflammatory "idiot" reference. That's constructive.
Then we get to the next (anonymous, naturally) commenter who somehow feels the need to tie a local domestic violence-related murder to President Obama being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize earlier in the day. Huh?
Then we have a few more people (all anonymous) calling each other dumb, followed by later comments further down the page predictably throwing out the racial argument. * Yawn. *
Moving to page 2, we have some anonymous person spouting off that sentences are too short because prosecutors are overcoming budget constraints. (Once again, this man got the advisory sentence for Murder, according to Indiana law.) This person also suggests raising taxes in Marion County to help better fund the Prosecutor's Office. (The Marion County Prosecutor's Office was not involved in this case at all. It was a Hendricks County case.) Perhaps this is the same person who incorrectly blames "light punishments" on "old brizzie."
From there, it just degenerates into page after page after page of absolute hogwash, comprised of racism (one of the funniest comments: "Indiana is a racist state. A lawyer told me that." Not funny at all: "It is a noted fact that most murders are committed by blacks."), incorrect information about Indiana law ("in Indiana they use the 3 strikes law"), calls for public hangings and this man's murder in prison by other inmates and/or his suicide and/or the removal of his penis, and a return to Hammurabi's Code.
What is the point of this? Why does nearly every on-line news service allow uncensored, anonymous comments by the public? I cannot come up with a single constructive reason for allowing people to post such inflammatory things on the news service's website for everyone--regardless of age--to read, without any repercussions whatsoever. Pre-Internet, opinion letters could be sent to the editor of a newspaper, but the newspaper weeded out the letters from morons that contained racist comments, incorrect information, and other absurdity. And each letter contained the writer's name and town in which the writer lives. If someone wrote something asinine or inflammatory, everyone knew who wrote it.
Sure, sure. There's the option to not read said comments. But explain that to a child who is reading the news for a school project or for their own education. As my girls get older, I want them to be informed of current events. What I don't want them exposed to is page after page of the ramblings of the underbelly of society.
Do you want your kids perpetually exposed to that?
So my first suggestion to Internet news services, such as Channel 6's website, is to accurately report a person's sentence. Don't leave the public thinking a man is going to do 55 actual years in prison for killing his wife in front of his kids, when that's not even close to what he's going to serve. It's not hard to mention good time credit, educational credits, and parole.
Second, just eliminate the ability of the public to comment on stories.
The world will be a better place for it.
http://www.theindychannel.com/news/21250084/detail.html
As I read the article, a few things bothered me. They are things that bother me in just about every article I read involving the judicial system.
First, the article reports that the man received a 55-year sentence in prison. That leads a normal person to believe that he won't be eligible to walk out of prison until October 9, 2064, right? And since the man is currently 41 years old, that's almost assuredly a "life-in-prison" sentence, right? He'll be in his late 90's before he gets out. Right?
Wrong.
What the article fails to mention is that in Indiana, for every day a person serves in jail, that person gets an additional day of credit time, commonly referred to as "good time credit." You can read about it in Indiana Code 35-50-6-3. So this man will actually only serve half of his time. That's 27.5 years, not 55 years. So now we're talking a release date of somewhere in April of 2037, right? He'll still be in his late 60's when he gets out of prison, right?
Wrong.
Read the next section in that chapter of the Indiana Code (35-50-6-3.3) and learn about all the ways he can reduce his sentence. He has the potential to knock another 4 years off his sentence while he's in prison through a variety of programs designed to better a person while they are incarcerated. I'm not commenting on these programs and their associated time cuts. I'm simply pointing out another way that the man can cut time off his sentence. Something that was not reported in the article.
Then, at the very beginning of that chapter of the Indiana Code (35-50-6-1), you can read about parole. Whether this man has the possibility of parole or not isn't mentioned in this article, but it's another way that he might be released from prison earlier than many people expect.
Finally, the article makes no mention that the man receives credit for all the time he has been in jail while his case has been pending. He was caught by the police several hours after the murder occurred, so he's been in jail since late June. He has a little over 3 months of credit time already, plus 3 months of good time credit.
Again, I'm not commenting on the way Indiana state law reads. My irritation is a result of the media reporting that the man got 55 years in prison, leaving the public to believe that he will exit the prison doors 55 years from yesterday, assuming he's still alive, when that isn't even close to the truth.
Another big gripe I have with this article and with most other on-line media is the ability given to the public to add its comments, usually in complete anonymity. I understand the First Amendment and the right to free speech and all of that, but what constructive purpose does comments from the public serve? Many of these comments are posted by people who lack any knowledge of the situation, who are hiding under the cloak of anonymity, and who are simply trying to post the most inflammatory comment that they can come up with for reasons known only to them.
Let's look at some of the comments on this article together, shall we?
Our first (anonymous, of course) commenter laments about "killings in indy getting such light punishments." Aside from the fact that the killing did not take place in Indianapolis, but in one of its suburbs instead, Indiana Code 35-50-2-3 outlines the possible punishment for Murder. Murderers can get 45-65 years in prison, with the advisory sentence being 55 years. Murderers can also get life in prison without parole or the death penalty if certain circumstances are in place in that particular case. Once again, I'm not commenting on the Hendricks County Prosecutor's choice to offer this particular man the advisory sentence in exchange for not requiring the time, anguish, and money of a trial, and for wrapping up a murder case in under four months. I'm simply saying "such light punishments" are right down the middle of the plate, as far as what Indiana law allows a Court to sentence someone to for Murder.
The very next comment comes from a person (anonymous, of course) who blames the "light punishments" on "old brizzie", referring to Marion County Prosecutor Carl Brizzi. This person, in addition to misspelling Brizzi's name, failed to notice that the crime occurred and was prosecuted in Hendricks County, not Marion County. Mr. Brizzi had no jurisdiction or involvement in this case. Thank you for that educated, well thought-out comment.
Fortunately, the next commenter (once again, anonymous) pointed that out, throwing in an inflammatory "idiot" reference. That's constructive.
Then we get to the next (anonymous, naturally) commenter who somehow feels the need to tie a local domestic violence-related murder to President Obama being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize earlier in the day. Huh?
Then we have a few more people (all anonymous) calling each other dumb, followed by later comments further down the page predictably throwing out the racial argument. * Yawn. *
Moving to page 2, we have some anonymous person spouting off that sentences are too short because prosecutors are overcoming budget constraints. (Once again, this man got the advisory sentence for Murder, according to Indiana law.) This person also suggests raising taxes in Marion County to help better fund the Prosecutor's Office. (The Marion County Prosecutor's Office was not involved in this case at all. It was a Hendricks County case.) Perhaps this is the same person who incorrectly blames "light punishments" on "old brizzie."
From there, it just degenerates into page after page after page of absolute hogwash, comprised of racism (one of the funniest comments: "Indiana is a racist state. A lawyer told me that." Not funny at all: "It is a noted fact that most murders are committed by blacks."), incorrect information about Indiana law ("in Indiana they use the 3 strikes law"), calls for public hangings and this man's murder in prison by other inmates and/or his suicide and/or the removal of his penis, and a return to Hammurabi's Code.
What is the point of this? Why does nearly every on-line news service allow uncensored, anonymous comments by the public? I cannot come up with a single constructive reason for allowing people to post such inflammatory things on the news service's website for everyone--regardless of age--to read, without any repercussions whatsoever. Pre-Internet, opinion letters could be sent to the editor of a newspaper, but the newspaper weeded out the letters from morons that contained racist comments, incorrect information, and other absurdity. And each letter contained the writer's name and town in which the writer lives. If someone wrote something asinine or inflammatory, everyone knew who wrote it.
Sure, sure. There's the option to not read said comments. But explain that to a child who is reading the news for a school project or for their own education. As my girls get older, I want them to be informed of current events. What I don't want them exposed to is page after page of the ramblings of the underbelly of society.
Do you want your kids perpetually exposed to that?
So my first suggestion to Internet news services, such as Channel 6's website, is to accurately report a person's sentence. Don't leave the public thinking a man is going to do 55 actual years in prison for killing his wife in front of his kids, when that's not even close to what he's going to serve. It's not hard to mention good time credit, educational credits, and parole.
Second, just eliminate the ability of the public to comment on stories.
The world will be a better place for it.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Those Are the Breaks
After a few weeks of being on the receiving end of world class ass-kickings and having several players on our softball team give up during games, our team entered the single-elimination playoffs last night as the #7 seed (out of 7 teams). As a result, we had to play the #2 seed (only because the #1 seed got a bye in the first round). The #2 seed beat us 18-3 in four innings earlier in the season. And that's when everyone was still trying.
So I spent most of the week trying to get the team fired up for what was most likely our last hurrah for the season. The message was simple: we play hard from start to finish, we make them TAKE the win from us instead of just giving it to them, and if we go down, we go down swinging. We leave everything on the field.
I did everything I could all week long to get everyone's hearts into the game. I sent e-mails, I sent inspirational speeches that I found on YouTube, I called people, I wrote our battle cry on the lineup, I talked to everyone before the game, I told Chuck's wife (who keeps book for us) not to reveal the score at any point during the game, and I kept my big mouth running the whole game through, getting fired up on good plays and keeping everyone focused on our goal: to try our best the whole way through.
And wouldn't you know it, it worked.
We were outscored 16-14, but it wasn't 18-3 this time, and we didn't have any quitters. Everyone gave it their all, and I couldn't have been more proud. We had people sliding into bases, beating out throws to first base, running full speed after fly balls, making outstanding catches in the outfield, making outstanding plays in the infield, and doing just what I asked of everyone: leaving it all out on the field. We even had one of our guys hit an out-of-the-park grand slam home run!! We did our absolute best, and we came darn close to pulling off a miracle.
Of course, since Chuck's wife followed my instructions to a T, I had no idea just HOW close we came until it was all over. In fact, we were the visiting team, and after we batted late in the game, I went back out on the field to play defense because I had no idea what the score was, or what inning we were in. Only after I got in position did I notice everyone else doing the line of congratulatory handshakes over by home plate, which meant the game was over.
I played second base and had a relatively quiet night there. They hit one grounder right to me, which I fielded easily and threw the runner out at first. Another grounder late in the game had some zip on it, but I still should have gotten it. Instead of stopping it with my glove, though, I stopped it with my throwing hand. That stung a little. The runner was safe, but he never came around to score, so no harm, no foul.
I had my best batting night of the season, going 3-for-4 with two doubles and two runs scored. I would have gone 4-for-4, but I couldn't run out my last hit.
Why?
Because on my second hit, which was my second double, I broke my ankle sliding into second base in the third inning.
I knew as soon as I hit the bag and felt and heard a pop that I had done something serious to my ankle. I have never broken a bone in my life before last night, so I had no point of reference, but I figured a broken bone would sound and feel like my ankle did.
Nevertheless, we didn't have an extra guy last night, and I wasn't about to come out of the game. What kind of sissified blowhard would I have looked like if I got my team believing in fighting to the bitter end, and then I quit halfway through the game? Nope. Wasn't going to happen. We were leaving it all out on the field, dammit, and that included me.
I actually came around from second base to score later in the inning. And I batted again later in the game and got a single. (I admit, though, that I asked to be replaced with a pinch runner after reaching first base. I know. I'm a wuss.) In my last at-bat, I'd have had another single if I had had two good wheels, but my body was starting to tell me that playing 3+ innings on a broken ankle was just about enough. Plus, I had fouled off a pitch earlier in the at-bat, and when my ankle rotated with my normal batting motion on that swing...well...let's just say that the sensation was unpleasant. Very unpleasant. Damn near drop-me-to-my-knees-and-cry-like-a-baby unpleasant. So when I hit it fair, it was all upper body, with my right foot off the ground. That I even got the ball past the pitcher with that ridiculous batting form is amazing.
So anyway, we all played our hearts out all the way through the game, and I'm damn proud to have played with that group of people last night. The loss is inconsequential. The other team is better than we are, and that's okay. Congratulations to them, and good luck the rest of the way. But we showed that if we try our best for all seven innings, we can hang in there with the best of 'em.
We didn't just give them a win. They had to take it. And that made last night--broken ankle and all--worth it.
So I spent most of the week trying to get the team fired up for what was most likely our last hurrah for the season. The message was simple: we play hard from start to finish, we make them TAKE the win from us instead of just giving it to them, and if we go down, we go down swinging. We leave everything on the field.
I did everything I could all week long to get everyone's hearts into the game. I sent e-mails, I sent inspirational speeches that I found on YouTube, I called people, I wrote our battle cry on the lineup, I talked to everyone before the game, I told Chuck's wife (who keeps book for us) not to reveal the score at any point during the game, and I kept my big mouth running the whole game through, getting fired up on good plays and keeping everyone focused on our goal: to try our best the whole way through.
And wouldn't you know it, it worked.
We were outscored 16-14, but it wasn't 18-3 this time, and we didn't have any quitters. Everyone gave it their all, and I couldn't have been more proud. We had people sliding into bases, beating out throws to first base, running full speed after fly balls, making outstanding catches in the outfield, making outstanding plays in the infield, and doing just what I asked of everyone: leaving it all out on the field. We even had one of our guys hit an out-of-the-park grand slam home run!! We did our absolute best, and we came darn close to pulling off a miracle.
Of course, since Chuck's wife followed my instructions to a T, I had no idea just HOW close we came until it was all over. In fact, we were the visiting team, and after we batted late in the game, I went back out on the field to play defense because I had no idea what the score was, or what inning we were in. Only after I got in position did I notice everyone else doing the line of congratulatory handshakes over by home plate, which meant the game was over.
I played second base and had a relatively quiet night there. They hit one grounder right to me, which I fielded easily and threw the runner out at first. Another grounder late in the game had some zip on it, but I still should have gotten it. Instead of stopping it with my glove, though, I stopped it with my throwing hand. That stung a little. The runner was safe, but he never came around to score, so no harm, no foul.
I had my best batting night of the season, going 3-for-4 with two doubles and two runs scored. I would have gone 4-for-4, but I couldn't run out my last hit.
Why?
Because on my second hit, which was my second double, I broke my ankle sliding into second base in the third inning.
I knew as soon as I hit the bag and felt and heard a pop that I had done something serious to my ankle. I have never broken a bone in my life before last night, so I had no point of reference, but I figured a broken bone would sound and feel like my ankle did.
Nevertheless, we didn't have an extra guy last night, and I wasn't about to come out of the game. What kind of sissified blowhard would I have looked like if I got my team believing in fighting to the bitter end, and then I quit halfway through the game? Nope. Wasn't going to happen. We were leaving it all out on the field, dammit, and that included me.
I actually came around from second base to score later in the inning. And I batted again later in the game and got a single. (I admit, though, that I asked to be replaced with a pinch runner after reaching first base. I know. I'm a wuss.) In my last at-bat, I'd have had another single if I had had two good wheels, but my body was starting to tell me that playing 3+ innings on a broken ankle was just about enough. Plus, I had fouled off a pitch earlier in the at-bat, and when my ankle rotated with my normal batting motion on that swing...well...let's just say that the sensation was unpleasant. Very unpleasant. Damn near drop-me-to-my-knees-and-cry-like-a-baby unpleasant. So when I hit it fair, it was all upper body, with my right foot off the ground. That I even got the ball past the pitcher with that ridiculous batting form is amazing.
So anyway, we all played our hearts out all the way through the game, and I'm damn proud to have played with that group of people last night. The loss is inconsequential. The other team is better than we are, and that's okay. Congratulations to them, and good luck the rest of the way. But we showed that if we try our best for all seven innings, we can hang in there with the best of 'em.
We didn't just give them a win. They had to take it. And that made last night--broken ankle and all--worth it.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Massacre #547
Another disaster on the softball diamond tonight. We lost, 21-1.
There is nothing good to report about tonight's game.
There is nothing good to report about tonight's game.
Monday, September 21, 2009
From the Mouths of Babes
The Mrs. and I are currently enduring the Terrible Twos and the Terrible Threes simultaneously, courtesy of June and Olivia, respectively. Between the girls' age-related behavior, the fatigue associated with both parents working full-time in somewhat stressful occupations, and typical life stressors in general, things can occasionally be on the tense side in our house. And the girls commonly do and say things that send one of us straight over the edge.
But occasionally, they do provide some comic relief, even if it is unintentional.
We'll start with June. June has a bit of a temper. I blame that on the Mrs., since I am just about the most even-keeled, level-headed person you'd ever meet. And since this is my blog, I can blame anything I want on the Mrs. If she punches me tonight when I get home, it just further proves my point.
So, being the calm, collected person that I am, I was serenely cleaning up the kitchen--in between meditations, of course--while the Mrs. was giving the girls their baths. June, in typical fashion, was making the Mrs.'s life a complete hell in the bathroom, pouring cups of water out of the tub and onto the floor, fighting with Olivia over bath toys, splashing the Mrs., and shrieking her favorite phrase while getting her hair washed: "I DON'T WANT!!!" The Mrs. hung in there much longer than I would have been able to--um, I mean, were I not the even-keeled, level-headed person that I am, of course--but she eventually reached her limit of June's bad behavior and pulled her out of the bathtub. World War III ensued, with June bawling and flailing and screaming "I DON'T WANT!!!" as the Mrs. toweled her off. Finally, June belted out her second-favorite phrase: "I'M MAD!!"
The Mrs. responded in kind, "Well, I'm mad, too!"
June (suddenly in her normal voice after 20 minutes of screaming, as if someone flipped a toggle switch): "Why are you mad, Mommy? Are you mad at Olivia?"
The Mrs.: "No, June, I'm mad at you!"
June: "Why are you crying, Mommy?"
The Mrs.: "I'm not crying! I'm YELLING!!"
I had to cover my mouth with the dish towel to avoid laughing out loud and, you know, setting off the Mrs., who has the aforementioned temper issues that she passed along to June.
(That's my story, anyway, and I'm sticking to it.)
Fast forward to yesterday. My sister had a twin-sized bed that she no longer needed, and the Mrs. and I had been discussing moving Olivia up to a twin-sized bed for awhile, so my sister graciously gave us her extra bed for Olivia to use. Transporting the bed from my sister's house to ours, though, required me taking out one of the bucket seats in our minivan, which I had never done before.
Toyota has a really nifty system for folding down the back bench in the Sienna, as well as removing the bucket seats from the second row. However, since I had never had to remove a seat before, I couldn't immediately get the anchor system to release to get the seat out. To make a long story short, Chuck and I spent thirty minutes trying to figure it out, complete with multiple failed attempts, plentiful cursing, profuse sweating, breaks to reassess strategy, busting of knuckles, and Chuck's wife laughing at us. Eventually, we were reduced to the ultimate humiliation of getting out the owner's manual and reading the directions.
About fifteen seconds later, we had the seat out.
Once I got the bed home and into Olivia's room, it was time to put the seat back in the van. I wasn't about to risk the remainder of my manhood by looking at the owner's manual AGAIN, so I was wrestling with the seat, without much success, when Olivia climbed into the van and squatted down next to me, closely examining the situation. After some pondering, and in a very soothing voice, she offered up this little gem.
Olivia: "Daddy? What's wrong with the f*&%ing seat? Is it a piece of s*%t?"
Me (barely able to keep a straight face): "Honey, don't use those words. They're not nice words."
Olivia: "Why?"
Me: "I know Daddy uses those words a lot, but they're not for little girls to use. Okay?"
Olivia: "Okay, Daddy." After a few seconds of pondering, she gave me a pat on the shoulder and, looking at the seat, said, "It'll be alright, Daddy. You'll get it."
Me: "Thanks, Olivia. Oh, and sweetie?"
Olivia: "Yes?"
Me: "Let's not tell Mommy about this."
But occasionally, they do provide some comic relief, even if it is unintentional.
We'll start with June. June has a bit of a temper. I blame that on the Mrs., since I am just about the most even-keeled, level-headed person you'd ever meet. And since this is my blog, I can blame anything I want on the Mrs. If she punches me tonight when I get home, it just further proves my point.
So, being the calm, collected person that I am, I was serenely cleaning up the kitchen--in between meditations, of course--while the Mrs. was giving the girls their baths. June, in typical fashion, was making the Mrs.'s life a complete hell in the bathroom, pouring cups of water out of the tub and onto the floor, fighting with Olivia over bath toys, splashing the Mrs., and shrieking her favorite phrase while getting her hair washed: "I DON'T WANT!!!" The Mrs. hung in there much longer than I would have been able to--um, I mean, were I not the even-keeled, level-headed person that I am, of course--but she eventually reached her limit of June's bad behavior and pulled her out of the bathtub. World War III ensued, with June bawling and flailing and screaming "I DON'T WANT!!!" as the Mrs. toweled her off. Finally, June belted out her second-favorite phrase: "I'M MAD!!"
The Mrs. responded in kind, "Well, I'm mad, too!"
June (suddenly in her normal voice after 20 minutes of screaming, as if someone flipped a toggle switch): "Why are you mad, Mommy? Are you mad at Olivia?"
The Mrs.: "No, June, I'm mad at you!"
June: "Why are you crying, Mommy?"
The Mrs.: "I'm not crying! I'm YELLING!!"
I had to cover my mouth with the dish towel to avoid laughing out loud and, you know, setting off the Mrs., who has the aforementioned temper issues that she passed along to June.
(That's my story, anyway, and I'm sticking to it.)
Fast forward to yesterday. My sister had a twin-sized bed that she no longer needed, and the Mrs. and I had been discussing moving Olivia up to a twin-sized bed for awhile, so my sister graciously gave us her extra bed for Olivia to use. Transporting the bed from my sister's house to ours, though, required me taking out one of the bucket seats in our minivan, which I had never done before.
Toyota has a really nifty system for folding down the back bench in the Sienna, as well as removing the bucket seats from the second row. However, since I had never had to remove a seat before, I couldn't immediately get the anchor system to release to get the seat out. To make a long story short, Chuck and I spent thirty minutes trying to figure it out, complete with multiple failed attempts, plentiful cursing, profuse sweating, breaks to reassess strategy, busting of knuckles, and Chuck's wife laughing at us. Eventually, we were reduced to the ultimate humiliation of getting out the owner's manual and reading the directions.
About fifteen seconds later, we had the seat out.
Once I got the bed home and into Olivia's room, it was time to put the seat back in the van. I wasn't about to risk the remainder of my manhood by looking at the owner's manual AGAIN, so I was wrestling with the seat, without much success, when Olivia climbed into the van and squatted down next to me, closely examining the situation. After some pondering, and in a very soothing voice, she offered up this little gem.
Olivia: "Daddy? What's wrong with the f*&%ing seat? Is it a piece of s*%t?"
Me (barely able to keep a straight face): "Honey, don't use those words. They're not nice words."
Olivia: "Why?"
Me: "I know Daddy uses those words a lot, but they're not for little girls to use. Okay?"
Olivia: "Okay, Daddy." After a few seconds of pondering, she gave me a pat on the shoulder and, looking at the seat, said, "It'll be alright, Daddy. You'll get it."
Me: "Thanks, Olivia. Oh, and sweetie?"
Olivia: "Yes?"
Me: "Let's not tell Mommy about this."
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Another Softball Beatdown
Another night on the softball diamond last night, and another brutal beatdown. This time, it was against the only team we've beaten this season, so we expected to play this team close, and possibly even notch our second win of the year. Oh, how we were mistaken.
We were the home team, so we took the field first, and we had a rough first inning. You'd have thought our entire team had just finished oiling up a team of body builders just before the game, given our ability to field, handle, and throw the ball. I was no exception. I played second base (finally!), and with a runner on first base, the batter grounded right back to Chuck at the pitcher's mound. Chuck turned around and fired a perfect strike to me at second. One out. I had plenty of time to throw out the batter at first for a double play, but someone apparently sewed some velcro onto the ball and into my glove and then lathered up my throwing hand with Vaseline because I could NOT get that thing out of the webbing. So no double play for us.
We ended up coughing up three or four runs in the top of the first inning, but that's not a disaster in softball.
In fact, our very first batter in the bottom of the first inning launched one over the fence for a home run. Woo hoo! It was a beautiful, towering shot that easily cleared the wall. Just like that, we were on the scoreboard and all fired up again!
And that would be the last run we scored until the bottom of the seventh (last) inning. In the meantime, we gave up 14 more runs.
It was not pretty.
As the game progressed, our players gradually showed less and less interest in being on the field. That, of course, just made things worse. As the pounding worsened, many of our players ceased most or all effort, until most of the game just became a blur of the other team circling the bases while our players jogged or walked to retrieve the ball. It nearly sent me and Chuck over the edge.
In the bottom of the seventh inning, though, our bats came alive. Our shortstop complemented his first-inning home run with an inside-the-park home run to start the seventh. Then our next batter got on base. Then our next one. And then another. And before we knew it, we had 4 or 5 runs on the board. What a great inning!
Except that it was six innings too late and ten runs too few.
My night at second base was pretty uneventful. Aside from the botched double play (and we still got one out on the play, so it wasn't a disaster), I fielded everything cleanly, and my throws went where they were supposed to. My elbow held up just fine, but I only had to gas a throw once, cutting off a throw from right field and firing it to Chuck at home plate. Still, no pain in the elbow before the game, after the game, or today, so I think I'm past my elbow issues for now.
I had a subpar 1-for-3 night at the plate, though. In my first at-bat, I nearly drilled a hole in the pitcher's chest. I absolutely HATE it when I accidentally send a line drive screaming right back at the pitcher, and this one was in a hurry. Fortunately, he had time to take about a half-step to his right and avoid broken ribs or a punctured lung or something. I apologized profusely all the way to first base. He was very good-natured about it (whew!), and it even became a running joke for the rest of the game.
In my second at-bat, trying to launch one OVER the pitcher this time, I popped out. It was a weak hit, and I knew it the instant I made contact. Blech.
In my third at-bat, I didn't get all of the ball, but I got most of it. However, it wound up being a pop-out to the shortstop, which puzzled me. Despite hitting it pretty hard, it didn't feel or sound normal coming off my bat. Recall that I put a dent in my bat a couple weeks ago. When I was musing to Chuck that I felt like the ball should have traveled a lot farther than it did, he mentioned that when he used my bat last week when I was out of town, it felt "off" to him, too. With much sadness, we have concluded that the bat is dead. I really loved that bat. Rest in peace, buddy.
As Chuck pointed out, though, it went down swinging.
He's a comedian, folks.
I'll try it one more time next week to make sure I'm not just imagining things, but it looks like I'll be saving my pennies over the winter to get a new bat for next year.
After the game, as the other team (tastefully) celebrated their victory, one of their players exclaimed, "We're not in last place anymore!" It wasn't directed at us, but it was still a punch in the gut. We just got our asses handed to us by the last place team. And now WE are the last place team. Real nice.
Our last regular season game is next week against the team we lost to by one run about a month ago in the bottom of the last inning when I made a bone-headed (and errant) throw to first base, blowing out my elbow in the process, and allowing a runner on third base to score the winning run uncontested. Normally, I'd say that we should play them tough, but the last two times I've said that, we've gotten destroyed. So I'm pretty resigned to the fact that we'll enter the playoffs in two weeks as the lowest seed, likely getting the "pleasure" of being thoroughly dismantled by the highest seeded team. Good times ahead!
Even with all the frustration surrounding this season, though, I sure love being back out there on the softball field. I'm thrilled to be playing again, and I'll be back for more next season!
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