Retro Photo Blogging - Ming's House

I was just noticing that it's been like 3+ years since we actually hung out at Ming's house. I've been there since, but just on a stop over while we prepared to go biking on the Gateway. Here's his house in mid 2003. The part with the rocks - not the part behind the tape. That's his neighbor. The damage is from Ming beating on the edge of the house after they painted the Malaysian death number on the corner closest to him just to spite him.

Here's Logan and Eryn. Both of them very little compared to now.


Ming and Eryn. She'd obscure him if he were holding her now.


Logan riding a zebra. Based on Julie's love of animals, maybe he'll get to own a real one some day. And it will call into bed with Ming and sleep with it's butt on his face. "Litterbox" won't seem like such a silly nickname then, will it?

Random Photo Post - Castratro

Little dude guarding a grave marker in Cannon Falls. It pisses me off that he's wearing overalls. If Pooteewheet wants to be haunted, she'll bury me with an overall-wearing guardian. That s*it would bring me back from the dead - and Eryn would be all like, "ahhhhh....Daddy's a zombie, and he's not pretending this time!" And I'd be, "Grr...overalls...brains...hurt..."

If she really wants to piss me off, she'll figure out how to get a custom Winnie the Pooh Overalls wearing figurine. I rolled over in my grave just thinking about it.

Pager Turner

Eryn is downstairs literally turning the pages on "101 Dalmatians" in her sleep. That's weird.

Bowling

On day two of single parenthood I felt it was time to teach Eryn how to be a man - I took her bowling. Yeah, yeah...lots of women bowl, I know. But they only do it to meet men in sleeveless, stained t-shirts with pitchers of Bud, a beer belly, and one oversized arm. It's the sex appeal and the sixteen-pound balls.

Eryn and I were just there to have fun, although I explained to her how I used to bowl league in my high school and college days and was overly competitive in my time. I didn't tell her about the lucky crystal doorknob I hauled to all my bowling matches that I got from backstage in the props department while working one and three act plays. No sense in burdening her with my early superstitious nature. She's a better trooper than I am. Two games of bowling and she wasn't complaining or slowing down. Me, on the other arm... Exactly. My arm hurt. Figures. Did you know that in a little more than a year I won't be able to donate sperm any more because of my age? It's all downhill from here on out.

Here's Eryn wondering why there are so many pins left up. And what's with the red pin...that's distracting, even if you can win a case of Mountain Dew for knocking down a set with the red pin in the front. I think that's a bit of a con. If you can get a strike, and then drink a case of Mountain Dew, you're going to be riding the high into another five or six games of bowling. That's going to cost you, even on $1 lane nights.


6 pounds? No problem. Sometimes she threw the 9 pound ball. Sometimes the 6 pound ball got stuck part way down the lane and she wanted to throw the 9 pound ball at it. I drew the line at ball knocking. People get hurt that way. Eryn was impressed when the teenager next to us threw his ball, hit the sweeper, and bounced it back halfway down the aisle. She wondered if that was part of the game.


Eryn's first bowling score. She figured out splits while we were there and how they were marked and that you couldn't really get all the pins if there was a split unless you knew some trick. I explained that with the bumpers up, there were additional tricks you could employ if you were willing to risk the ire of the bowling lane owner.


If pictures aren't enough, there's video, with some kickin' 80's background music, just like there should be while bowling. None of that lameoid techno, glow-in-the-dark crap for us - old school all the way. But that's because I didn't tell her the techno, glow-in-the-dark thing existed on Sundays, or I'm sure I'd be back immediately. I think this gave us a chance to focus on her basic skills - spin, loft, whether the bowling ball with the skull in it really improves your game. Speaking of which, Eryn noticed the silhouette of the lady bowling that showed her doing the classic bowling pose, one leg slicing out behind the other for balance. So she tried to mimic it, which involved putting one leg in front of the other in much the same way, but backwards, and then lobbing the ball about three feet straight up and out. It didn't go very far after that, but it was funny as hell when it was obvious she wasn't going to end up with a concussion.

My New Children

I have now seen statements by two singers stating that their first CD is their first "child". From now on, I regret to inform everyone - and I truly regret it - that I will be using this same phrase in all possible situations. And it doesn't matter that I may have had a first child in one arena, it won't carry over to any other. For example, my first database collection at work - my first child. My first data wheel on a collection will also be my first child. My first phone call from BJ TallBrad...my first child. In that case it might seem like I didn't create anything and the birthing process as a metaphor isn't appropriate. But Brad as BJ was introduced into my life and I feel that's enough. Just because you didn't create the children yourself doesn't mean you don't love them just as much. This blog - my first child, even though I already had a web site. I'm not sure which reader is my first child, but I encourage scouring the weblogs as a sort of paternity test.

Klund may be pleased to see that I used quotes when referring to how others refer to their children, because they do, but that my own children will have no quotes. I feel that hints just a little too strongly that they might not be legitimate children, and I'm not about to start birthing bastards at almost 40. This baby daddy is in control of his Scooter juices. The creative ones.

Books

I'm doing the single daddy thing tonight. I'm pretty sure it's not my thing. The single part, not the daddy part. If I had to be a single daddy, I'd move to Switzerland, England or Italy and find a hot nanny. I'm not sure if my company would foot the bill for a hot nanny, but they have plenty of jobs overseas.

We went to gymnastics, hit Chipotle for dinner, and then went to Half-Price books where they had a whole set of those monthly hardcovers from Disney (Little Mermaid, a few with Mickey, Aladdin, Lilo and Stitch, et al) for 50 cents each. So I bought $15.00 worth. Eryn seems ecstatic - I made her take a limited number of them to bed so she wouldn't be up all night. Tomorrow evening we're hoping to go bowling if the lanes are open. No bumpers - we're going to try to achieve a perfect 300 the hard way.

Here's a picture from just before gymnastics. I was only around for the tail end of swimming, but Eryn and her cousin seem to be having a great time.

Zap!

An interesting discovery. If my Blackberry is within a foot of the dog's shock collar (humane sort, the kind that gives a warning beep, and then goes off if she doesn't quit barking) it goes off. Doesn't even have to vibrate. That's got to irritate the hell out of Sandy. Good thing she's not on call.

41 Miles in a Burley

I felt not so good starting Friday afternoon. By Saturday, even though I went to gaming day and Steve's 40th birthday party, I felt worse. Which is too bad, because I was having a great time learning new Magic the Gathering styles and playing Rails Across Europe twice at gaming, and listening to the teenage coverband with the two female lead vocalists, doing covers of Metallica and Pink Floyd at Steve's party. I think it might have been allergies - it's hard to say - but I took an hour nap in Sarah's backyard, and when I got home from Steve's with my family, promptly went to sleep for about 12 hours.

So I didn't feel good on Sunday morning, which was disappointing, because I wanted to take Eryn riding at Cannon Falls. But by Sunday afternoon I felt better. So rather than breakfast and biking, we had a picnic lunch and biking. Almost as good.

Here's the pictorial. All clickable to Flickr for much nicer pictures. Here we are getting ready to go. Eryn is in charge of holding the wheels while I fill them up.


Here she is a short while later after I pinched her neck with her Dora helmet and gave her a faux hickey. That's her copy of Highlights she's reading. After we got started on the trail she forgave me and read me The Timbertoes and all the jokes. She was impressed that I knew the answer to why no one drinks Pancake Soda. Because it's always flat.


The trip was great, although 41 miles pulling a Burley is a bit much, even if it is a fairly level trail. The ride back was much more difficult as there was a 100' of river valley to climb out of. I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to manage 3000'+ of climb on the last day of RAGBRAI. Here we have the strange sight of an aquatic picnic table. I'm not sure if the inner tube riders were trying to ride it down the river and it got stuck, or if they would stop there to have lunch and a beer.


Here's a picture of a daddy-daughter moment near the Bald Eagle nest. Eryn was more interested in the big pile of dirt and the butterflys than the eagles. But we did meet a nice lady who told us where to find a turn off so Eryn could experience a wilderness first, peeing in the bushes. I quote, "That was not fun." She did manage to miss her shoes and my shoes, however, so it was a success.


Here are the eagles in question. I believe there were three of them lounging up there, although we only saw two on the way back. I think one flew off to bring back a Burley kid as lunch.


I really liked this rest spot. It's courtesy of the local gun club. Looks all nice and cozy...


Wait...it's right next to the gun range? Which way are they shooting?


This is Eryn and Pooteewheet hanging out near the pottery area in Red Wing, at the end of the trail, right before turning around. Pooteewheet spent the day shopping for trinkets for the yard, tasting wine and reading a book, she wanted nothing to do with our 41 mile adventure.


Here's the blue ice cream Eryn was eating in Red Wing. Pooteewheet asked if I wanted a cone, but I was pretty sure a big cone of blue-ish, Fruit Loop-flavored, ice cream would make me hurl on the way back. I guess I could have had something else. The couple who ran the ice cream shop near the trail end were really nice - they offered water without me asking and even offered ice.


Eryn at Mile Marker 93 near Red Wing. I have many shots of her in this pose, because after I was done taking a few, she made me take many more while she posed with My Little Pony. Who was just a slacker, because even though she has four legs, she didn't take a single turn pedaling.


And this is just a bonus from the Cannon Falls memorial to Civil War vets (there's a nice plaque explaining how they needed to hold a ridge for 5 minutes and it cost them 82% of their soldiers). I include it because if you're looking at it, it should disturb you that it's just so damn...phallic. Scooter, is that a real Civil War-era field piece with a replica carriage sticking out of your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? Oh...you know I'm happy to see you.

Work Stories

Two male coworkers I used to work with at a conference. The second one reaches up and plucks at the first one's collar. "You've got a hair." The first one flinches. The second one, "....it's....attached..."

Overheard by me in the skyway at work:
Coworker #1: "What's that Chinese proverb. The one about things being out of whack, or all messed up?"
Coworker #2: "A rose, by any other name..."

Not from my work, from J-Money's work, and so absolutely funny.

Foxy Lady

Eryn and I were picking up steaks after going to Surf's Up, and as I got out of the car, I noticed that the beat up junker next to us had a bright seat cover, so I read it, and applied the appropriate voice..."Fox-y!"

Of course I hadn't taken the time to look around before I said it, so I didn't notice the soccer mom getting into the car not so far away. She looked at herself, then looked at me quizzically, and I put the car between me and her so I didn't have to make eye contact. Here's hoping she was flattered and not offended by the cat-calling, middle-aged man with the four year old.

Beer Spill

I said I wanted a beer, and I was disappointed there wasn't one in the house. Pooteewheet said, "What are you talking about, you have all that homebrew." I hemmed. I hawed. I noted that it was under the stairs and hard to get to. But eventually I gave in. That's what happens when there's no Summit in the house.

But then tragedy struck. Horrible, disfiguring tragedy. See my pants? It's like blood...but beer. Wasted beer. And now the cat is drunk because it spilled all over her gymnasium. And she's a mean drunk. All "Meow? Meow meow meow meow meow." And she's wielding a busted homebrew bottle and threatening to take me down and hide my body in the litterbox. And the dog? Man's best friend? No way...she's cowering in her kennel hoping the cat doesn't notice her.

Hippopotamus

I leave notes and pictures taped up for Eryn each weekday morning. Generally something educational, like math quizzes, new words, and geography information. This morning I left her a picture of her game Hungry, Hungry Hippos with the information that the plural for hippopotamus was hippopotami.

When I got home, I asked her what you call a bunch of hippos. Eryn said, "Several."

I Lost My Virginity

My 90 degree virginity for this year, that is. I spent all day biking and working at the duplex in the nasty 90-degree heat. So far this year, when it's gotten that hot, I've stayed inside where there's air conditioning, but this time I ventured out to work and play. There's some question as to whether the maximum temperature was 89 degrees or 90 degrees, so depending on the actual value, the weather may have only made it to third base with me, but regardless, I'm flushed.

Just for the sake of nothing, I'm going to detail the weekend vaguely backwards. The second half of Father's Day, I went on a 35.5 mile bike ride. Snelling > Nokomis (around) > Harriet (around 1.5 times) > Calhoun (around 2.5 times) > Lake of the Isles (once). I went around a few times to burn off time, because I was supposed to meet Pooteewheet and Eryn for dinner at the Calhoun Chipotle, and to get some wind practice, because it was crazy windy as you headed south by 5:00.

Things I saw that were of interest:

• Lots of 4-wheel bikes with six people on them at both Minnehaha Park and Nokomis. They were out in force today.
• Old guy sitting on the shore of Minnehaha Creek talking to no one. Then you realize he's talking to his old buddy who's half naked and sitting in the creek.
• Lots of kids and canoers in the creek, lots of squealing. Some time to enjoy the happiness while I chatted with a kid whose Dad was dropping him. I told him to make sure he checked his tire pressure before he rode next time as he was spending a lot of time in the pedals, and his Dad wasn't going as fast as he thought he was.
  
• Two lines of people flanking the bike path at Lake Nokomis chanting "biker, biker, biker", apparently for no reason whatsoever. It caused the old woman I was riding next to to veer off onto the grass, at which point she lost the old man riding next to me, who was swallowed by the crowd. I'm pretty sure they ate him - there was a lot of barbecuing going on, and I could smell teriyaki.
• A walker going the wrong way on the bike path on Lake Calhoun. I don't care if you can't speak English, your first clue should be the big arrow pointing the other direction, the second clue should be all the bikers going the other direction, the third clue should be all the walkers going your direction on a different path. Someone DIED on one of the lakes after a bike-pedestrian crash in 1972 - it's why they have separate trails.
• A house on Lake of the Isles that must be worth more than a million...easy. It was beautiful - all sorts of Japanese landscaping, any bush of which probably cost more than the garage door I'm so proud of. In front of it, the world's biggest RV. You own that house, and you're going somewhere in an RV? And you're inflicting the RV on your neighbors? I hope it was there because you were getting home and were going to take it to the offsite storage. I worry you park it in front of the house of some off-lake neighbor.
• Two girls with tiny swimsuits walking on the pedestrian path on Calhoun, their swimsuits wedging. Is that a term already? Or can I copyright it? Actually, I don't know if they were wedging from the back, I was going the wrong way. But based on the three old guys following them and drooling, I suspect they were.
• Nokomis - sort of immigranty and white-trashy (I'm not equating or drawing any parallels whatsoever, it's just a fact...immigrants and white trash, it was who was at the lake) - but a very nice Lamborghini driving the circle and scoping the betties (begs for another word given the audience at Nokomis, but I'm sure someone else can think of something). Harriet - middle aged women and people with dogs. Convertible Lamborghini, driving the circle and scoping the Lenas. I expected to see a gold-plated Lamborghini by the time I reached Lake of the Isles.
• Russian teenager at the water pump, checked out my package. Bike shorts make it unavoidable? or actually checking out of my junk? Really disturbing either way.
• A bike that looked strangely familiar on the north end of Calhoun. Then a black-haired woman lounging against a tree, on her back, with her feet against the tree. Didn't get a good look though, because I was worried I'd be late for dinner. Could have been Hedy, I think she frequents the area.
• And some other blogger, although I can't find it at home, it must be on my work aggregator, noted how nice it was to be able to just stop by the Harriet Bandshell. You can stop by the Harriet Bandshell if you're from Dakota County, you just have to bike the 16 miles to get there - it's a bonus. See - Lake Harriet Bandshell, skeletal dinosaur.

I've got a good video of the wind. You can hear the wind, and all the tack from the boots jangling, and see some of the waves, although there were whitecaps on the north end of Calhoun.


So...back in time. This morning, for six hours, my brother and I fixed all the Section 8 issues with the duplex. Some creative brickwork to solve a concreting problem, lots of lights, next wood framing on a kitchen window, looking at the several month-old stove that's already gunking up and not running because of the amount of frybread consumed (every time I'm there - the light fixtures in the kitchen are beginning to feel like they have a protective alien coating), and cutting branches, which Pooteewheet was kind enough to manage, including snipping them all up and spreading round up in the appropriate places. She also mowed today while I biked. Excellent Father's Day presents, although I'm also very happy with the Marvin the Martian teapot she and Eryn bought me.

Yesterday evening, Stone Arch Art Festival to meet my inlaws at Pracna on Main so we could drop off the truck they loaned us while both cars were in the shop (ugh). They were there to show off my father in law's car at the car show. At one point, Pooteewheet said, "Hey, isn't that xxxxxx, the realtor who found us our house, and the teacher who was my student-teacher mentor, and my teacher from high school, and his wife?" I yelled, "HEY, XXXXXX." And it was. Lot of cool bicycle art at the festival. I wish I had some disposable income to buy some wall decorations, but I was there because I'd had two cars in the shop, so you might well suspect where the money went.

Yesterday morning/afternoon - the company picnic at Como Park. Very hot. Saw a few coworkers. Some of them saw me. Here's me and Eryn taking a turn on the horses.

Here's Pooteewheet and Eryn behind Ming and Logan. A moment later, Pooteewheet and Eryn vacated. I suspect Ming farted.
And here's the sibling of that dinosaur from Calhoun. I had company, so I could appropriately touch him in an inappropriate place. Note how I'm very considerate and don't do it until Eryn is pointed the other way. I'm not considerate of Eryn. I'm considerate of me. If she caught me, she'd ask a lot of questions and I'd have to answer them.

Headphones

It's sort of nice having Mean Mr. Mustard on vacation. It was my week to bring coffee, and I found myself in a situation where I was sort of "off" by 12 hours, so he was getting a preview of my blog approximately one day early. That's got to be annoying. But the fact that I can't be bothered to tell him things that aren't going on my blog, that I can't be original enough to find a few things to talk about that I don't blog about, may rid him of his recent suspicion that I spend all day putting crap in his cube. Confused the crap out of me when he started talking about apple sh*t the other day.

I didn't blog about the one thing I told him about. Our renters down south (are they the rental house next to you, Steve?) are having problems keeping up their payments. So when I was down there on Saturday, working on the outside of the house, they shut the door so they didn't have to see, hear or talk to me, as it might have led to discussions about, "Where's my money?" Three days later, my brother calls...their toilet is backed up.

"Which one," I ask.

"All of them," he says.

"Not possible," I reply. "It's a 2800 square foot house with three bathrooms."

"Yeah, about that," he says. "They didn't tell us when the first one was leaking, they just quit using it. Same with the second one. Now the third one is plugged up and they don't have a toilet to use."

"They didn't want to talk to us because they were late on their rent, so they let all three toilets back up and leak?"

"Pretty much," said my brother.

"And now it's after hours on a weeknight, and I have to bring in a 24 hour plumber on after hours rates?"

"Pretty much," said my brother.

I would like to reiterate...if you're a good tenant, then good for you. But renting to people has severely impacted my faith in humanity. I am actually a bit surprised they weren't using the backyard as a toilet (like anyone would know - because they don't seem to be mowing, even though it's in their lease).

So on to the actual title of the post. My headphones. My wireless headphones at home have the volume control on a dial on the left ear. I adjust it all the time because even iTunes, as sophisticated as it is, can't seem to get any sort of volume balancing to work appropriately. Yes...I know metal should be louder than Lorena McKennitt (screw you, The Highwayman is an excellent song...if you don't agree I despair of your background in English literature) but often I'd prefer the volume to stay at a nice quiet, level, level so that I can work while I'm doing something else, like biking on the windtrainer, which really messes up your ability to hear some sounds. However, I've found that whenever the music is too loud on my wired headphones at work, as soon as it kicks up I find reach up to my left ear and roll the dial that doesn't exist. At least I don't start salivating if I miss my standard 11:00 lunch.

Tats

I wanted to commemorate my years as a tech lead with something that would be a real reminder. Something that would stand out and tell everyone, this is what I worked on, I'm representing. But I didn't want it to clash with my tribal tat. Fortunately, there was a middle ground.
Yah, it looks painful. But it really wasn't that bad. At least not until I had it lasered off so I could pimp a friend's blog... And just ask me where I had my experience with "Firm 360" imprinted.


ImageChef (courtesy of The Blotter).

The Sheep Look Up

I've been reading John Brunner's The Sheep Look Up. I can summarize the book by stating that if we continue to create filth, we're going to have to wallow in it...and it's going to suck. Diarrhea. Pestilence. Mutation.

It's impressive it was written in 1972, because it sounds so current - it's as if Brunner expected the world to fall apart in about '82, and we've just been holding on because technology is keeping us afloat. His president, Prexy, even spews GWB aphorisms every few chapters, particularly concerning American incursions into various smaller states.

How resonating is it? Brunner has some parts detailing munitions dumping by the U.S. government off the coasts. Well, that was covered today...

“The Army now admits that it secretly dumped 64 million pounds of nerve and mustard agents into the sea, along with 400,000 chemical-filled bombs, land mines and rockets and more than 500 tons of radioactive waste - either tossed overboard or packed into the holds of scuttled vessels.” (via Crooks and Liars).

Wait...looks like munitions in the oceans was covered twice today. Because there are so many of them, they're actually swimming around in 115 year old whales...twice! Poor thing lived for 115 year with an explosive harpoon lodged in it, only to be taken out by another one. I think this goes against everything I ever learned from crappy Star Trek movies based on the original series. I'm pretty sure plugging centenarians with pointy explosives would seriously upset the miles-long whale cylinder.

And Brunner spends a lot of time talking about problems with the Med and Baltic. He talks about how they've become stagnant cesspools. That was in a story I was reading today as well (New Scientist).

Don't worry. It's fiction. It's fiction. Nothing to see. Just keep littering.

Irony

1.) Notice that a particular report is very difficult to reach in a web application and requires many clicks and some typing.

2.) Draft up CMMI-compatible change request to include a link from the place where you would normally want to hop to the report. Provide justification. Screen shots. Potential location. Even the .do command and parameter necessary to make it work within the app.

3.) Be asked for stats regarding how often the page is accessed and the web trail people follow to get there.

4.) Reply that you're not a developer on that web application project, or a business unit person, or anyone with access to those statistics. The application, and the person asking own the web logs. But you're a user, and it's difficult for you. So anecdotally, you think you have a valid request.

5.) Be told that the request is denied because there's not enough traffic to the report to support the change.

6.) Be a very good boy and don't point out that perhaps there's no traffic to the report because it takes too many clicks to get to the report.

Library Card

Eryn got her first library card yesterday. Sweet. Now I can pay late fees on her card instead of mine.

Toenails

Grandma Ellen will be happy to know that Eryn will now allow people to paint her toenails. I imagine this picture makes her feet look big. They don't just look big, they are big. Huge. The girl has clompers.

Weekend Fun

We had my niece over for a big chunk of the weekend. So there was swimming. And the park. And more swimming. She and Eryn got up at 6:00 a.m. on Sunday morning and announced it was time to swim. They didn't get to go out that early. But when my niece noticed I was getting her swim diaper ready, she squealed, screamed, "I'm going swimming! I'm going swimming!" and rushed over and hugged my leg. When they finally did get out, it was for over three hours in the pool. Later I pulled over the red slide, and that was even better. Lots of yelling and giggling, and it kept them out of Claire's for the day.


Here's the two of them hamming it up.


And here's a video of them swimming in the "disgusting little pool", which doesn't have any water. Pooteewheet bought them a new $15 pool for the weekend so they weren't sitting in this equivalent of a large bucket. I should have had the forethought to fill it full of grapes.


Dinner was a nice selection of meats, breads, and other things to dip in a big pot of melted cheese. Mostly the adults ate the melted cheese - the kids didn't seem to like the wine.


And before bed we spent some time reading. Eryn declared herself a doctor and made sure no one was crampy after swimming and eating.

Niece Guns

Get it? You can see her arm muscles...and she's my niece. Niece guns...nice guns...ahahahaha...I crack me up. That's Eryn way in the background. Every few minutes she'd take off and run to the far end of the yard and back to "dry off". It looked sort of like the hot and humid equivalent of the Finnish sauna roll in the snow.

Swag

I recently sent my primary professor from my time as a Master's student four of five large boxes of pens. They were all drug pens. Pens with little blue pills floating in them. Pens that looked like bottles of medicine but weren't. Pens with brand name after brand name after brand name. Cheap plastic pens. Expensive metal pens you'd be jealous to own. Approximately $30 in shipping of drug pens - there were probably more than 1000 of the things. This is what happens when you let some aspect of your collecting habits slip in front of me, and I can fulfill some of the holes without too much personal effort. She Says can attest to the lawyer junk I used to send her - it's how I originally found her on the web.

Wired has an article up about the swag you can collect at the APA (images). Very similar, although a picture of a thousand pens would be cooler. I'm now sorry I forgot to take one. Maybe next time.

7 Things

Sahm says if I read her post about 7 things, I have to post 7 things of my own. So here are seven random facts about me...

The rules: Each person tagged gives 7 random facts about themselves. Those who are tagged need to write on their own blog those 7 facts as well as the rules of the game. You need to tag 7 other people and list their names on your blog. Then you leave those you plan on tagging a note in their comments so they know that they have been tagged and to read your blog.

1.) I have a high school letter in girls' tennis.
2.) I once gave a girl a Valentine's Day card eight feet wide by eight feet tall made out of plywood. It lit up. Kyle helped me build it. I'll post pictures if Pooteewheet gets them scanned.
3.) I majored in British history and English as an undergraduate, with a focus on Tudor and Stuart politics. My thesis was on Riot and Rebellion under Edward VI. I was seriously considering school in Wales before I met my wife. Instead, I have a Masters in writing from Hamline and did my thesis on dystopias. Ming was the only friend who went to my reading/thesis defense.
4.) Scooter is a name my grandparents' used to call me. I hated it. But when I joined a (work) group with 3+ people with the same first name, I adopted Scooter so people would know it was me without just calling me by my last name. The nickname refers to a specific, manually-powered red scooter I used to ride around the farm in Montana.
5.) I played clarinet in high school and some of college. I was playing in the pep band of the opposing team (RPI) when Harvard got shut out in hockey on their home turf for the first time in something like three years.
6.) I know some - as in a very little, almost no - Finnish. It was my language to get out of the University of Minnesota. They taught us to speak almost as well as a two year old. I can count, order you to dance and read, and change endings so you know which books are mine.
7.) I played Admiral von Schreiber in The Sound of Music, partially because I was the only person who could grow facial hair.

If you read my blog regularly and have a blog of your own you're tagged - because I think my stats say I have 7-10 consistent readers.

Tug My Hose and Raise My Ladder

I think firefighters must label things this way just to be pervs.

My Little Alien

Eryn loves the My Little Pony she bought with her own money. Unfortunately, this is what happens when you love your My Little Pony too much. Or maybe it's what happens when you don't get a My Little Pony as a child, in which case we're safe. But note, it is only one of many.

This, on the other hand, is what happens when an Alien lays a chest-bursting critter inside your My Little Pony (via StumbleUpon) which, as far as I'm concerned, is much cooler.

A Few Things It's Good To Know

Item 1: Scavenger hunts with your daughter at 5:00 a.m. are not cool, particularly after going to bed late and having to get up twice at night to check on both the dog, who's barking at the rain, and the klaxons, that are going off because of the storm. But you have to do it, because you left her the scavenger hunt list after she went to bed.

Item 2: when the nurse at apheresis says, "My, you have a lot of red blood cells," you know it's some sort of double entendre. She's not just admiring your veins. She's admiring your arteries. And Mean Mr. Mustard is correct - you cannot watch a movie during apheresis or you won't finish it. You should watch an episode of something.

Item 3: If someone has a cat (cough...Ming) and the cat sleeps on his face all the time (cough...Ming), then the appropriate nickname for that person is not Cheesesteak, but rather Litterbox.

Item 4: I was familiar with the concept of muffintopping. But the other day, Pooteewheet and I saw a woman with a skirt that barely covered her a.) butt and b.) underwear [I really hope she was wearing underwear, and by underwear, I sort of mean, crotch, because usually your underwear is over your butt, although not always now that thongs are so popular you can see them in Google Streetview, and I guess it's appropriate it barely covers both, because it seems as though you might be sort of malproportioned if one hangs considerably lower than the other, although now I find myself trying to mentally estimate the distance-to-ground differential, and that's sort of weird, so I think I'm going to quit, although it'll probably haunt me for another 2 or 3 hours]. My brother informed us that this particular phenomena is called Greyhounding. Think about it...think...because it's just short of the hair.

Bible Trivia

Eryn and I were behind a car today whose license plate was ACTS319. It really confused me, because I was pretty sure--and I looked it up just to be certain--that there was no 31st book in Acts. Freakin' poser.

A Daily Show Quote for Klund

I thought Klund might enjoy this, as he's from St. Peter. It's a quote from The Daily Show...


The Daily Show stated that God is clearly on the side of Tancredo and the hardliners when it comes to immigration because, "if you're accepting all comers, you don't put up a pearly gate."

Merry-Go-Round...or Carousel?

Ming and I did a 39 mile bike ride after work. I'm actually a little sore, although most of it is upper body, not legs, because I did some barbell and stomach work yesterday for the first time in about six months.

During the ride, Ming posed a question. "Scooter," said Ming. "Scooter...what is the difference between a merry-go-round and a carousel?" I took my best stab and said, "animals versus no animals?" Nope. "Motor powered versus manually powered?" Nope.

Ming said, "Carousels go counter-clockwise. Merry-go-rounds go clockwise." Or maybe he said the opposite. It doesn't matter. Because I said, "You made that up."

Ming assured me it was trivia he had on good faith, from like a barista or some other wise woman knowledgeable of fair-lore and carnies. I told him I still didn't believe him and said if he hadn't looked it up and had only accepted it on good faith, he could be sure I was going to look it up and blog about it because, while coffee-babes may seem wise with their chalkboard trivia, it does not translate into wicked-trivia abilities beyond the chalkboard.

So what is the difference? There is none. They're synonyms, despite the wisdom of baristas and the writers of Charmed (alternate source, directly from the site for Casfejian's Carousel at the Como Zoo in Minnesota). However, it is possible that she was mistaken in her focus on nomenclature and meant to imply there was a geographical difference, as "In the United States, a carousel goes counter-clockwise. In many EU-states (the UK, the Netherlands, etc.), the carousel goes the other way around; clockwise. The reason for this is subject of much speculation." But it's still just a carousel, or merry-go-round, in both places even though rotating in different directions.

Also: Galloper, Roundabout, and Flying Horses are appropriate, though I imagine most people who heard you talking about your ride on the galloper would assume you were an intimate, appropriately-aged, friend of G. Montgomery Burns.

Rollercoaster

Eryn wanted to try the big rollercoaster at the Mall of America as she's been taller than 42" for a while now. I was a little worried she'd be frightened, but she kept repeating over and over again the mantra taught to her by that wise sage of pre-K, Little Katie..."I'm braver than a pickle". Because, as it was so obviously explained to me, if a pickle can be brave with no arms, then the least you can do is be brave if you have arms because, unlike the pickle, you can hang on. Apparently this applies equally well to rollercoasters and tire swings. I think maybe Little Katie's dad watches too much Kung Fu.

Although it's a bit fuzzy - here's the Scooter clan on the rollercoaster. Subsequent rides followed with Pooteewheet and Grandma Scooter. Eryn picked the lead car. After three rides, she was certain sitting in the front was best.

ROAR!

The 5th Guy

Mean Mr. Mustard found this and didn't want to blog it based solely on a co-worker we have who fits the profile to a tee. But when I was at the beach yesterday, there were half a dozen teenagers there playing frisbee and throwing wet nerf balls at each other. During the frisbee tossing, one of the guys reached into his trunks, adjusted, then caught the frisbee with the adjusting hand, and rethrew. There's no way I'd be catching that frisbee, even though there was lots of passive hand-washing going on in the lake. There could be some speculation, based on his girlfriend arriving later in a white bikini, as to where his hands had been in addition to down his trunks...but I was too busy worrying about the mentally handicapped woman repeating "hubba hubba" to me several times and referring to me as "hey big guy". There's no good way to deal with that other than to let her sister tell her to knock it off.

So enjoy The Fifth Guy, courtesy of the Florida Department of Health. You might not know him...buy you've met him.

Google Street View

I was supposed to go on a 70 mile bike ride yesterday. Instead, I biked to the beach and back with the Burley. Why, you might ask? Because we took Pooteewheet's car in to have the clutch fixed after I drove it to guitar lessons on Thursday night and came home to ask, "How long has it been acting like that?" Then, on Friday, we made arrangements to hit her parents' house on the way north to my nephew's birthday, so we could pick up a car, and I could drive my car north from my brother's house, and she'd have a car to drive home. On the way there, my car almost redlined. The fan is gone. It has to go in. We're merely waiting on the shop to say they're done with her car so we don't have both of them in the shop (as I can drive it to work without burning up the engine). But I wasn't willing to drive it all the way to Garrison, Minnesota. In the past, I've been stopped from going on the ride in Garrison by faulty pipes at my parents' cabin, and almost taco-ing my tire (although that only stopped me from doing the 70 and rerouting me onto the 30 instead). Seriously...I was happy with the taco-ed tire - it's about $2000 cheaper than both cars going into the shop. If fate has it out for me, I'd be willing to take the hint from more inexpensive portents.

So...has anyone else checked out the Google Street View that's getting so much buzz because it's showing license plate numbers and kitties who haven't signed consent forms? Here's a big list of what people think is amusing from Street View. Personally, I can't imagine we won't get 1000's of pictures of the Google Street View cars veering off to check out beaches and sororities. But maybe that's because that's what I'd be up to. Can you score with Google Street View groupies by getting them screen time? Probably...but then your wife would probably catch you getting it on on 928 Smith Street on your own cameras.

I'm primarily interested in how they got this picture of Ming defying his wife. Yep...she won't let him bike in the street and yet, here he is, openly defying her on Google Street View. It's like he's been outed. Maybe Mean Mr. Mustard will agree to be his lawyer in the divorce case.