Overheard on the Toilet

The scene: Steve and Dan at the urinals in the second floor bathroom.
Steve: So, Bill says I ought to come up and check out your instrument.
Dan (with the Australian twang): You're checkin' it out now, aren't ya?

My two year old turned 16 yesterday

The other day when I was putting him to bed, Noah told me 'I went down the slide with my backpack on and that was pretty awesome'. And the last several days, Noah has slept in late despite my efforts to gently wake him by opening up his door. In fact, the other day, I went in to his room and he looked up at me, then pointedly pulled the covers over his head and went back to sleep. When I left to tell Sasha about this, I heard the door slam. The little punk had gotten up, closed the door and then jumped back in bed; what's up with that?!

Kangaroos and Mice

I had to stay home from work today and watch Noah. As he normally does, he napped for about two hours. When he awoke, I was working in our room (just next door to his). I heard him open and close his door (I don't know why he does this, but he always does), and then he opened my door and walked in. He was a sweaty mess and looked anxious. He proceeded to burst into tears and cry, "There's a kangaboo in my room!" Now this is a complaint that I hear fairly often, but normally it's at night and the kangaroo is accompanied by mice. This means that we usually have to do a check to make sure that the room is clear of said animals before he can go to bed in emotional comfort. But today, when he woke up, he seemed more convinced than he ever has about the kangaroo. It's odd. There was no kangaroo. And if there was one, I'm not sure what I would do. I actually think it might be kind of cool (I like them at the zoo), so I am having trouble connecting with this anxiety.

Potty Time

So, Noah is essentially daytime potty trained now - that is, he wears his "big boy pants" all the time except when he is sleeping. We started shortly before he was 2; we had been thinking about it (even had the little toilet), but decided to go for it after going camping with another couple whose daughter (she was a little over two) was in the midst of training. It's been a while now since he has worn diapers during the day and he rarely has accidents. Now, it seems odd when I see a kid approaching 3 wearing diapers. Even though I know it's normal these days, my mind can't help but thinking "What's wrong with that kid? Doesn't he/she know that most kids usually show interest in potty training around 2? Does he/she like sitting in his/her own feces?" And I know this is not fair as Noah was especially easy about wanting to use the potty (our next kid probably will shun the potty until they are 4). Anyway, here's a little clip that might encourage those reluctant children to show some interest in the toilet. Warning: if you are a rational adult, the content of the following video may shock and offend you. But, for those irrational parents who have experience handling poo, nothing will probably seem more normal. Cheers.

books books books

A while back, I received a message that someone had commented on one of my posts. Being mildly narcissistic, I thought, Hooray! Someone has finally recognized my brilliance and has obviously stopped by to congratulate me. Stupid me. Turned out, it was just Amy requesting that I pass on what is the blog world equivalent of a chain letter without the "If you do not do this, someone close to you will develop stomach cramps" or whatever.

I haven't gotten around to responding to this due to the ol' dissertation getting in the way thing. But, now that the defense is near and I feel like killing a little time, I thought I might finally get around to responding to it. And, I thought this might be entertaining for me. It's about books. I like books. It's gotta be fun, right? Sadly, it's not as entertaining as it should be (as you will see); and, I refuse to cheat as Amy and her previous buddy did. So here's the "assignment":

Go to your nearest bookshelf. On the top shelf (or highest shelf with books) what book is fifth from the right and why did you love it? Now go to the bottom shelf (or lowest shelf with books). Tell us about the fifth book from the left. Then tag five of your blog buddies - link please! - to do the same. Be sure to link to the person who tagged you too.

The nearest book shelf for me resides immediately behind me, next to our bed. To a certain extent, the shelves are all organized: the bottom-most shelf contains the low brow content - the funnies, dive logs, never used guitar tablature, etc.; the next shelf is pretty low brow also if you are over the age of 3 as it contains mostly Noah's books; above that is the odd combination of young adult-appropriate literature (Harry Potter, A. A. Milne, etc) and religious non-fiction; above that are the photo albums, at just the right height to keep a toddlers ever-greasy fingers off of them; and finally above that, two shelves of fiction to be read and guide books.

So, on the top-most shelf, fifth from right lies Plato's The Republic. Unlike Amy, I do like philosophy. However, I have yet to be able to make it through this one; thus far, I think that I have penetrated a meager 80 pages at the most. These extended Socratic dialogues are tough to get through. With out the bigger picture, this book has been tough for me to get through, reading much like James Frazer's The Golden Bough - a seemingly disjointed series of anecdotes that you gain appreciation for only after making it all the way through. But, I want to get through this one. And hence the reason it has lain on my book shelf for the past 15 years.

Now, as I said before, the bottom shelf contains the intellectual dregs of our book collection - the funnies. But, ever since buying Garfield Eats His Heart Out by Jim Davis at the St. Mark's book fair, I have been in love with them. And my appreciation has grown while reading the ruminations of Bill Waterson on the art of the funnies. And one of my favorites is Fox Trot by Bill Amend. I am quite certain that my love started off with the first collection of his comics, a book that I accidentally stole from a close friend (sorry Jeremy), a book that after almost 20 years still sits on my shelf with the cover falling off. And, so, the book that sits in the revered fifth position is Wildly Fox Trot. I know this is not high brow literature, but it is a book that I always return to. The characters in these stories seem real in way that not many artists are able to nail. They make me laugh and think, and they always lift my spirits when I am not feeling well, emotionally or physically. And I know I am not the only one - even though Sasha harps at me to unload these books when she is going through her ritualistic purging of the house goods, I know that she pages through and enjoys these books when she sees them laying out.

Ok, as usual, there was a whole lot about nothing. Now it's time to pass this ridiculousness back on - Jeremy (obviously), Eddy, Kate, Colin K (it's not below you), and Gavin (time to update, my friend) - so, cheers, all. And remember, if you do not make an attempt to do this, your liver will fall out.

Bill Maher...

has always seemed like an arrogant ass that puts too much faith in his intellectual ability. I recently heard him on Fresh Air and it just seemed to confirm my mild distaste for the man. He was promoting his new movie, Religulous; a movie that, "According to Maher, the title of the film is a portmanteau derived from the words 'religion' and 'ridiculous', implying the satirical nature of the documentary that is meant to mock the concept of religion and the problems it brings about." I haven't seen it nor do I have a strong inclination to. And it's not that I am worried that I will be offended. Or that I might question my own faith. Rather, my time is valuable and there are plenty of other ways for me to waste my precious time (like blog). And so, I just stopped thinking about it because I thought plenty of other people who had strong opinions were at present clogging up precious band width with these ridiculously unresolvable conversations

But, then, I saw a post by an old acquaintance that struck me as odd. What she said in the post was not odd, but in the comments. In response to a query as to whether she had see it, she said "Yes...and I'm glad someone made that movie." And then her friend agrees. But, it wasn't clear to me what they thought was necessary about the movie. And being the coward that I am, I didn't respond, but...

My general feeling is that Bill Maher, for his own reasons, is one of the most antagonistic agnostics that I have ever heard, a circle usually populated by atheists. Attacking religion from the agnostic standpoint seems almost absurd - I don't know, but I choose not to think about it and by the way, your conception of spirituality is not only childish, but dangerous. It is a completely unassailable position.

The clips in the previews of his discussions with the "common folk" make me squeamish (and this is one of the reasons I don't have a strong desire to watch it - I love The Office, but I am constantly cringing, hiding my head as Michael makes an ass of himself). Of course you can go onto the street and find plenty of people who are totally unaware of the precepts of their own religion. Who are unfamiliar with the dogma. Don't we all find it hilarious when Leno goes Jay Walking and finds a perfectly otherwise functional person who doesn't know basic history. But, is the past no longer because that one person has no grasp of it, no understanding of events that might have had a profound effect on their life. Is it possible not to know the physics of light and yet the sun still shines on you?

There are many mysteries in this life to puzzle over and there are many answers to many questions. Why don't we ask - to what purpose is Mr. Maher attempting to dissuade people from believing in God? What underlying fault does he hope to expose? That a person can have faith in a mystery? That they have faith in something that they are too small to understand? In Fear and Trembling, Kierkegard wrote something that is wholly appropriate in this context:

"Does this age really need a ridiculous show of an enthusiast to have something to laugh at? Or does it not rather need such an enthusiastic figure in reality to remind it of what it has forgotten?"

Martin Luther King, Jr. "believed on the strength of the absurd", and no one could say he did not accomplish great deeds despite his own weaknesses. To only highlight the travesties in history that have been committed in the name of religion discounts the great things that those inspired by religious thought have performed.

Things you shouldn't do with peas

I used to think my kid was pretty advanced, but today I removed three peas from his nose. With tweezers. It's hard to tell what he was thinking and the only way I actually noticed was when he pointed to his nose and said "Owwie". The boy just doesn't seem right...

It's all good

So, people have been asking me how my knee is, so I guess I better fess up. Disregard this if you have already heard and have had enough.

About 2 and a half weeks ago, I headed into the Orthopaedic Center of the Rockies here in Fort Collins. Now, I had never had surgery before and wasn't exactly sure what to expect. I was a little nervous about the anesthesia as the last time I had been gassed was when I had my wisdom teeth out (probably about 17 years ago) and I didn't like it because, being a teenage male with a strong libido, and being attracted to the dental assistant, I started to feel far away as they passed the gas, like I was observing a conversation between far away me and the young, attractive dental assistant. And I was not happy with where I the conversation seemed to be going. So, in the end I had them take me off the gas and I went with the local anesthetic only. I guess I have control issues (ironic, as I was known to ooooccasionally imbibe mind altering substances in college...aaaand high school; but not junior high).

However, a local anesthetic was not in the cards this time. But, making eyes with the attractive nurse was not really what I was worried about this time. What I was worried about was making an ass of myself by being one of the few lucky patients to piss themselves on the table. Now, you are not supposed to eat or drink after midnight the night before. But, this is not so you will be all emptied out. You probably already knew this. But I didn't. Which Sasha thought was all to hilarious. You probably already knew that it is simply to empty your stomach to make sure that you don't vomit and inhale it leading to inhalation pneumonia and death and finally a lawsuit by your young widow trying to support your little boy all by herself. And the doctors, being concerned for you, wouldn't want that.

Anyway, by the time we got there, it didn't seem like such a big concern (you know, the whole pissing thing). Sasha and Noah came with me, because, you know, they won't let you drive home after you've been gassed (your considered a danger to yourself and others or something). And they called me in and I left Noah playing with the toys out in the waiting room (he thought the hospital was an incredible wonderland of new toys, the soul reason we came).

So they brought me back, stripped me, slapped a gown on me, pinned me down to emasculate me by shaving my leg and then slapped betadine all over it (ok - they weren't that aggressive, but they could have been) and then rolled me over to the on-deck circle.

And then the saddest moment of that day occurred - the nurse went and got Sasha and Noah, prying him away from all the fun toys, and brought him to see his daddy who was now dressed in a gown with a funny hat on and some no-slip socks. The boy immediately guessed something was wrong and wanted nothing to do with me. He buried his face in his mom's bosom (it's not 1956, but I can't think of anyway else to put that) and would have nothing to do with me. At this point, realizing his distress, she asked if he wanted to go to the grocery store to which he puffed his bottom lip out and, with big, watery eyes, slowly nodded yes. I should add here that I don't think that Sasha's reaction was much different then his which some might consider reasonable given that she had never seen me this way before. So, they took their leave.

They left and I started to read my book. As with my initial visit to the orthopedic surgeon, the wait was on. And, as time passed, I started to develop an unholy urge to pee, building and building. Thinking that, with my leg all lathered up, I had missed my window, I bit my lip and tried to suck it up. To tell myself that I was only nervous. And then, the nurse came in, took my glasses and my book and informed me that my number was up. They rolled me into the operating room where it was ass cold. Everyone was sitting around talking with their little masks on. Talking to me. Talking to each other. Then, I proceeded to make an ass of myself by first informing the anesthesiologist that I had an urge to take a piss and then by actually asking, in the OR, if I could use the potty. To which he replied (literally) 'You are SOL'.

But, I attribute this idiocy to the drugs. Because the last thing I remember was asking if there was something in my IV and then I floated away and don't remember anything until I cracked my eyes with much difficulty and stared blankly at the clock, trying to focus. And from there on, everything went pretty smooth. Sasha and Noah were back and he was no longer freaked. I was actually able to make it to the bathroom, burping up the shitty taste of anesthetic gas, without the use of a crutch so that I could change and get the hell out. At no point that day do I actually recall seeing my doctor. It was very efficient. Assembly line like.
The first day was good. Not much pain. By the second day my knee was starting to feel pretty painful. I probably reached my peak in pain sometime that following night. And by Thursday, I was back up at school in the afternoon. All day on Friday. At no point were crutches required. Nor were they needed.

And now I have most of the flexibility back in my knee and there is little swelling. I have been biking to school again and I would be more than willing to climb if it was for the nagging tendinitis in my arm and the crushing weight of the dissertation that I have to finish. So it's all good now. I feel good and Noah no longer says 'Daddy owie. Daddy hospital.' whenever he sees me. But please, please don't try to tempt me outside. I do need to stay homebound for a bit or Sasha will break me when I do not graduate. Cheers