Happy New Year

The end of the year is here and I'm finishing it the same way that it started: On midnights. Tonight is my last night of this week and then, on Monday night, I'll be back for more. I guess next year is beginning the same way this one did. The house is quiet now as wife took daughter (and dog) to PIT for the overnight festivities. And also to avoid the Pb rain that seems to fall on New Year's and July fourth in predominately black neighborhoods. Oddly enough, no one shoots off for Juneteenth. Sad what people don't know. But enough of the negativism (for now, anyway). Here's hoping that you and yours remain safe throughout 2010 and that everything you could hope for comes to fruition. And now, enough talk of fruit, I'm going to go make some cookies!

She Was Putting Her Foot In It

Daughter got too much stuff for Christmas this year. She, in effect, had two Christmases. One at home with my wife and me and one in PIT, at my parents house. Technically, since my parents pretty much bought everything, I guess you could just say it was one huge-mongous Christmas. So big that it could not be contained by just one state. Yeah. Christmas morning was in Collinwood and my daughter spent the whole time, about four hours or so, playing in her new kitchen. This was fine by me as it kept her busy. Unbeknownest to me though, my daughter was also learning. I was washing dishes while my daughter was in the living room "cooking." All of a sudden I hear the pitter-patter of little feet. And it wasn't a gnome. Even though, from what I understand, this has been a particularly bad year for them. No, it was my daughter and she had something for me:

Cheese on a plate. Eventually the cheese on a plate grew into something more. A full-blown sampler of deliciousness:

Hell, even the dog got into the action (even though it was a salt shaker):
That was when I realized that something truly remarkable had happened. Even though she is only two and will hopefully have this Christmas eclipsed by many more, my daughter was having the time of her life. Kids mostly just get frustrated and tantrum up when they can't express to you how they feel. But when they can express it, expect to get a glimpse of Heaven. I'm sure it's needless to say it but I got everything I could ever want for Christmas.

Merry Christmas

Think about it. I dare you not to cry.
om mani padme hum, indeed.

Thanks for Thinking Mine is a Clean and Well Lighted Place

If you read this blog regularly, and who doesn't, you may have noticed the little box in the lower left that had been labeled "Technorati Authority." If you didn't notice that box don't bother looking for it now, it's gone. I'm no expert on anything but the authority box was a way to show the world how many people thought I was good at blogging about barely being able to raise a kid. For most of my blog career that little number was firmly stuck on "0." That was cool, in a Cobain sort of way. Then a few days ago I noticed the box link was broken. I went to Technorati.com and apparently they had made something better. In other words they fixed their site. I then checked out my Techno profile and lo and behold, I had authority. That's right, somebody in this world of 6,692,030,277 thinks that I am good at raising a kid. And writing about said kid-related adventures. And other stuff, like my barely updated memento mori project. I realize now that I want more. More authority. More people thinking that I do a good job. While "0" authority is Cobain cool, "1" and (hopefully) rising is Ratatouille awesome! So, in order to express my sincere gratitude here are a couple of free tips for whoever decided to trust me: 1) When preparing a spaghetti sauce that needs a little thickness, toss in about 1/3 cup of finely shredded carrrots. The carrot has a mystical power (just ask the were-rabbit) and will make your sauce thicker than Mrs Woods' bank account. And 2) If said spaghetti sauce turns out to be as salty as Hemingway's drawers, peel and quarter a white potato or two and drop them in the sauce. The potatoes will transmorgify and activate the "Power of Idaho" aka Denise Austin and will soak up most of the sodium. Then take the potatoes out and eat them. They'rrre Grrreat! Again, to whomever (probably my sister) Thanks! and remember "Raise 'em High!"

Loo, Loo, Loo. Loo, Loo, Loo, Loo, Loo.... C'mon, You Know the Words

Oh, Joy! Today was the latest in a series of "Breakfasts with..." at Lake Farmpark. There's been Breakfast with Ol' MacDonald (twice), The Easter Bunny and The Great Pumpkin. And today was Breakfast with Santa! There was a buffet (avoid), coffee (avoid), juice (if you value your guts, I suggest 'avoid') and some coloring pages. I would recommend the coloring except that you only get two crayons. My daughter's were orange and blue. Amidst all of the holiday cheer a curious thing did occur though: My wife let me use the camera to take the "official pictures to remember this auspicious day by." So without any furthur ado, may I present to you Breakfast with Santa. First, observe Santa's lair:

Next, wife and daughter, surrounded.
Then, there is the reason (that's a hammer and they also had drills),For this sign: And then there's our good friend Hermey: Who looks as if he took the first flight from the North Pole in order to....Wait. Wait just one minute. Umm.....Hermey? What the hell are you doing standing next to that bench. Take another look folks. I'll wait here....Yeah, did you notice Hermey's hand? Looks as if he's about to get his Michael Jackson on with the kids. And if we zoom out a bit... We see our other "friend" has already got his Little Michael out and primed. Jeez, Yukon Cornelius, put that thing away!!!!! Happy Christmas, everyone, indeed!

L4D, FTW

In between trying to figure out why my daughter hates me (what follows is based on true events:

ME: Ruby?

RLJ: No!
ME: "No!", what?

RLJ: No, Daddy!
ME: You don't want me to talk to you?
RLJ: No...Want mommy!
ME: (sigh) Mommy's at work.
RLJ: (crying) Want mommmmyyyy....!
etc., etc., etc.,....)
and wondering why Euclid won't lay on her new dog bed (with cedar shavings!), I've taken some time off from the 'sphere to invest some much needed time in myself (and be haunted by Tommy). Staying up late, hanging with friends, drinking copious amounts of adult beverages, killing zombies, etc. Hmmm? Yes, that's right, killing zombies. You know, it was only a matter of time. I'm not too far gone though, so don't worry. This is still stupid to me. And I still miserably fail the geek quiz. But I am trying to decide whether to run podzilla or rockbox on my ipod mini. And my quest for more power has nothing to do with adding an aftermarket exhaust and intake. I've recently become a more than willing member of the online gaming community. For a self-described misanthrope (funny story: I once told my therapist I was a misogynist. good times, good times) this world fits me perfectly: A) I don't have to worry about meeting at a place that I don't really care for, C) I can leave and not have to worry about hurt feelings (although L4D does tell you that you'll be letting your friends down when you choose to exit a game), D) I'm pretty much guaranteed to get some common courtesy while playing a co-op fps and C) Everybody, mostly, likes me; although I still don't know why somebody wanted to kick me out of that one game. So, after 16 years of being stuck in "Ohio's armpit," I finally have found a place for myself. In the middle of a zombie 'pocalypse fighting for survival. And now, back to buying my daughter stuff so she'll like me again.

Satan's Cadillac

You've all seen it. In someone's front yard, in a park, in a store. Hell, you've probably even got one yourself. That's right. The Cozy Coupe. "But why, why," you ask? Because my daughter turned two on Sunday and sometimes we have to do stuff. So I unpacked and I proceeded. And then I had trouble:

But then I read the instructions. And I saw something that looked familiar (at least it would to non-virgins). I saw this:

Yup. In the middle of the instructions on how to assemble a kid's toy, I found out how to put one on. Or get one off. So, following the logic train straight into the station I thought to myself, 'Self, what I need is lubrication.' And the funny thing is, it worked! You think that's gross? No, it's natural. You think it's a waste? Guess what? I'm married and I have a two year-old. Nobody living in my house is gonna come to me and say, "Hey, have you seen the expired KY that was in the nightstand?" Unfortunately, nothing else called for lubrication which, oddly enough, made things harder. There was some screwing involved but it just gave me a sore hand. I guess I'm out of practice.

Can't Think of a Good "Loaner" or "CD" Title

Just recently I had to take my car in for service. My new car, not the old lemon "rump-shaker," and as I drove around in the dealer loaner-you know the one, with the "Courtesy of..." and the window stickers-I came to a realization that surprised me, considering I drive for a living now: I would totally drive a loaner for a living. Yeah, let me show up at a dealership around eleven thirty in the morning, jump in a loaner with all the stickers and I'll cruise. Like a rolling billboard. Head to a Phoenix for a cup-a-joe, catch a matinee, hit up Tommy's. Just basically drive around and let the dealer's car be seen. 'Course I'll need fifty grand a year and full benefits, but the advertising for the dealer is probably worth way more than that. They're getting a great deal, IMHO. And while I'm on the subject of loaners. I'm obsessed with checking the CD player in a loaner as soon as I get in it, even before I adjust my mirrors. No "safety first" for me. Funny thing is, I've only found a CD once. In just about 16 years of driving. And the music was cRap. That doesn't stop me from getting my hopes up, and getting my dreams crushed. I guess I'm just romantic like that.

On the Daddy Tip #11

So, it's flu season. Everybody's running around, scared of a sneeze, washing their hands and covering their mouths. Basically, being the polite, responsible people that they should be year-round. If you're a good Dad, and what Dad isn't (maybe this one), you're getting geared up for flu shots for your family and you. You are getting flu shots, right? Yeah, me neither. Irregardless of a flu shot or not your kid will probably get the snots. That means sickness and maybe vomit. Probably diarrhea. That's why I'm here. No, not to clean up your kid's puke and crap; you wanted that particular problem so go deal with it. No, I'm here with a tip. Finally, after teasing you for a year, I present to you: The Doo-Juice Tip. Ready? Give your kid pretzels!!! "Wait, what? I thought you said juice," you say. Yeah. Stay tuned for brilliance. When your kid gets sick with the sickness and poops with the diarrhea, you will get worried and go to the hospital. The hospital people, aka doctors and nurses, will do something you will probably not be able to do: They will get your kid to take liquids. Yes, they cheat with IV's but they will expect you to be awesome and also get your kid to take liquids and will offer suggestions like: popsicles, Gatorade, Pedialyte, beer, etc... But here is something you may not know, but hospital people probably do: Your kid, as soon as He/she does not have a needle in their arm, will stop taking liquids. That is when you, Dad, say to the wife "Let's stop and get some pretzels, honey." Your wife will curse you but you will emerge from the Piggly Wiggly with low sodium (NOT no sodium) pretzels. And Pedialyte, Gatorade, beer, etc... And here's something you may not know, but your kid does: Pedialyte tastes like crap. Therefore, your kid will not drink it. So you, honorable, brave Dad, you will bust out the pretzels, open a beer, open the Pedialyte and show your kid what you do when you "run to the store" but come back smelling like, well like beer. Your bartender knows this trick. Why do you think He/she gives you pretzels for free? Your kid will be all like, "Want doo-juice, want doo-juice" (or at least mine was). And Bam!, rehydrated child! Don't thank me now. Just mention my name when your kid survives the flu, becomes President and feels the need to pardon some people.

She's a Cunning Linguist Already

I remember the first time I cussed out loud. It was me, William and Mark and we were at the end of Kesteven Rd. Down by the big dirt pile and the deadfall with the bee's nests and the lizards. The drainage for the street came out down there and there was a pipe about three feet in diameter that, if you yelled into it, would echo. I knew for sure that my parents, all the way at the top of the street, could hear me but I gathered my nerve and meekly croaked out "shit." After, I was scared to go home. When nothing happened and I realized the world wouldn't end I would go down there and yell my fool head off. That first tentative expletive blossomed into a full blown love affair with "dirty words." And my favorite, my absolute hands-down favorite curse word is the "F-word." I love how it can be humorous, violent, sexy or scared. In my humble opinion there is no finer curse word. Now that I have a daughter I have to watch my language but I find myself finding joy in her growing love of the English language. Her new favorite word is "fork." She doesn't know why but mommy and Daddy find it hilarious and that means she will repeat it at the top of her lungs for as long as we laugh. I just hope to God she doesn't ask for a fork the next time we go out to eat.

I'd Like You to Meet Someone

THOMAS JOSEPH KOCSIS

THOMAS JOSEPH KOCSIS, age 3; dearly beloved son of Joseph Kocsis and Amy Richmond (nee Whittaker); adored brother of Michael and Kate Richmond, twins Elizabeth and Nicholas Kocsis, and Nathan Klaus; loving grandson of Cynthia (nee Ebersole) and Thomas Whittaker, JoAnn (nee DiFiori) Fischer (husband, Fred) and Donald Kocsis (deceased); cherished great-grandson of June and Horace (deceased) Ebersole, Joseph and Frances DiFiori, and Frank and Nora Kocsis; dearest nephew of Matthew (wife, June) Whittaker, Erin (husband, Brian) Phillips, Jacob Bialosky, Roise Lomax(Lionell), of WA, Kendall Fischer, and great-nephew and cousin of many. Relatives and friends are invited to meet for the Funeral Service Thursday, September 17, 2009, at 10:30 a.m., at New Promise Church, 8671 Chardon Rd. (Rt. 6 just east of Rt. 306), Kirtland 44094. Burial following in Whitehaven Memorial Park. Family will receive friends to pay tribute to and celebrate the life of Tommy at THE DeJOHN-FLYNN-MYLOTT FUNERAL HOME OF WILLOUGHBY HILLS, 28890 CHARDON RD. (between Bishop Rd. and Rt. 91) WEDNESDAY 2 - 4 AND 6 - 9 P.M. Please leave any online condolences at: www.DeJohnFuneral.com (440) 516-5555

No Dad Should Have to go Through This

I was the first officer on scene for this accident, less than a minute after it happened. I never want to see anything like that again but I can't stop seeing it. I doubt that Tommy's Dad or the two year-old twins who were in the backseat can stop seeing it either. Fortunately, for me anyway, these folks are great at what they do, which is just listen. I told you it was going to be a long summer.

Why You Wanna be Like That?

My wife finally, after about two years, got a job. A real, honest-to-goodness, 40 hours per week, health benefits included, job. Great, congratulations. So, while she's been off playing Crazy Joe at Eastside High, I've been playing Mr Mom. Waking with the Amish, making breakfast, lunch and dinner (and actually cooking all three), making trips to WalPurgis-Mart and Th' Eagle, getting smiled at by ladies who look at me like I'm going to steal their purses and drown their kids at the same time regardless of the fact that I'm 'with child' myself, and learning that the best time for a nap is right after lunch and for as long as possible. Which is why it's all the more disheartening for me to slowly come to the realization that my wife has a nickname. All day long as I cook, clean, shop and entertain I get to hear, "Where's Mo-ma?" That's right, "Where's Mo-ma?" Not "Thanks, Dad" or "I love you, Dad" or "Dad you rock and I don't know what me and mom would have done for the last two years if you hadn't kept slogging away at your job while at the same time giving up your guitar and your mountain biking and your dreams of traveling while still in your thirties." Nope. None of that. Just over and over, "Where's Mo-ma?" I think I may have to re-evaluate my relationship with daughter.

On the Daddy Tip #10

This is what the Feast of Father Sorin is all about:

The football, not the cars (It's close to primary day and the people running for ward representative have been driving around with those old school loud speaker cars. Very O Brother Where Art Thou, to say the least.). It is also the only time I can start drinking at 3:30 pm and have my wife not care. Much. If you only imbibe approximately 12 or 13 (depending on if it's a bowl year) times a year like I do, I assume you want everything as perfect as possible. If that's the case and you must get your Irish on please, respect the cascade:

Take the can of Guinness out of the fridge and let it sit for at least the time it takes to drink two martini's. Take my word for it, almost room temp Guinness is better tasting than you think. Also, don't touch the glass for another ten minutes after the cascade has stopped. Give your Guinness some personal space and once it trusts you it will fulfill your desires. I'd like to thank my wife for making this post possible. When I reminded her that it was Feast day she only rolled her eyes a little. And she even took our daughter out for a while, so Daddy could get drunk in peace. Although I do feel the need to blame her for leaving me alone with Cuisinart blades:

I'll leave it to you to make the leap from Notre Dame Football to Guinness to Cuisinart. Bon chance.

Praise the Lord....

....Saturday is the Feast of Father Sorin!

Reading is Fundamental

True Story
BR: "Black Powder War?"
ME: "Mmm, Hmm."
BR: "Is that a dragon on the front?"
ME: "Yeah."
BR: "What's that book about...vampires?"

WOW!

My therapist has been telling me to stop thinking Cleveland sucks and start thinking Cleveland plus! No. No, she hasn't. I just made that up to help get me through. You know, "One Day at a Time" and all that. But I have been trying to see the city in a different light. I've realized that it's still a nasty, stinking hole but I have noticed things that are going on. My newest "discovery" has been Wade Oval Wednesdays. Nothing super fancy involved, just some good local music in a mini Blossom atmosphere. It's relatively dog friendly and definitely kid friendly (just watch where you step, on both counts). Plus, with the recent notoriety University Circle has gotten, the police have stepped up their game. So, you're probably safer here than anywhere in Cleveland, on a wednesday, between six and nine pm. I've got to work this wednesday so I'll miss out on the Latin jazz but make no mistake, I'm all about the Yiddishe klezmer so I'll see you August 5th!

Exultate Justi

This past weekend there was one of those rare occurrences where the heavens open, rays of sunshine beam down and a multitude of angels raise their voices in exultation: My mother volunteered to watch my daughter for the whole weekend! This good-hearted gesture necessitated a drive to PIT on friday night but at least afforded an opportunity to be out past ten p.m. Because this was the second of my two three-day weekends, the timing of this marathon babysitting event was impeccable. There was eating out at normal eating out hours; There was staying up late to watch age inappropriate movies; There was getting downtown to watch the Indians lose to the Mariners and there was se...ahem...lovema...um...lots of free time! And then the wife had a plan. And I had to work a little bit at peeling tile off of the bathroom walls. But she made up for it by buying me a shirt and some pants. So now I have two of each! After spending all of friday and most of saturday miserable, the wife shook off the doldrums and decided to enjoy herself, and that was really nice to see (even though she did make me go walking with her). And my daughter came through with showing that she could hold a conversation with a real person on the telephone (even though she wouldn't talk to me) so that helped, too. I would have made this a Daddy Tip but knowing my luck I'll never have a free weekend ever again so I don't want to jinx myself. But, if you have the opportunity, I would strongly suggest getting rid of your kid. For the weekend, at least.

I (heart) Nachos!

For those of you that know me well, you know that I exist on a "man-llowance"; After taxes (local, state, federal, wife and daughter), I bring home seventy dollars every two weeks that I can use to buy myself something pretty, delicious or literary. That being said, I'm in danger of starving to death. Granted, I have a case of Cafe du Monde coffee and chicory but I can't really eat that. Well, I could, but, like the last time I did, it won't be pretty. My real issue comes from my wife thinking I'm an adult. And leaving me home alone. With nacho money. So, in the house right now is a lot of nacho beef, a bag of ruffles, a bag of tortilla chips, a container of Pierre's Moose Track's and a six pack of Sam Adams Blackberry Witbier. It's saturday and my wife won't get back until tuesday. I'm doomed. My nachos cost me fifty bucks and my Jeep needs gas. I may be either walking or showing up on your doorstep, so be prepared. Coincidentally, my wife went to PIT to visit my 'rents. She's going to go see Les Miserables while she's there. Little does she know the misery in store for her when she returns.

A Post for Posting's Sake

I've noticed a curious thing(possibly) about this blog: Almost like a reverse serial killer I have increasing intervals between posts. That's okay though, 'cause this is my blog; my record of my daily or not so daily life. I can write about nothing if I want or I can tell about a great anecdote in my life. Like the one that happened to me the other day....

On the Daddy Tip #9

Remember Mr Bubble? Every kid wanted some, including me, but my mom made me use dish soap. Yes, ma, I still remember. Thanks. Now that I'm older and have a kid, I understand where she was coming from. Yesterday, I tried to impress my daughter with some snazzy bubble making. It was a success, until the bath was over. I went to pick up my kid and bam!, she slipped out of my arms, hit her head and knocked herself out, stone cold! No, I'm kidding, that didn't happen, yet. What did happen was that it was a pain in the arse to rinse her off. Too much bubbles and they wouldn't go down the drain. Imagine trying to keep a twenty month-old from eating a bathtub full of bubbles with one hand, as you work the faucet with another, rinse with yet another and make sure there are no slips with your last. It's tough. Just ask Qymaen jai Sheelal. So, in order to avoid visits from child services and pesky rebels, read my blog, pay heed to my tips and don't give bubble baths to anyone.

Hell, Who Wouldn't Give a Little Person a Hug?

While perusing some back-posts at Seattle daily photo I came across this pic. Just thought it was a neat photo and clicked on the link about the free hug campaign and thought it was a neat idea. Not that I'd want to hug anybody lurking about in downtown Cleveland.

Good thing I have an HDTV

I have different priorities in my life right now, like trying to move out of Collinwood and saving up for a Gilmour Academy education for my daughter, so cable TV is not too high up on my list of "needs." At least that's what my wife says. Although I do enjoy the occasional TV show, I can live without TV if I need to. Or so I thought. I'm in law enforcement, so anything that can improve the way I communicate with a dispatcher is awesome. Until this morning and the official first day of DTV. Yeah, I just finished doing a channel scan and I'm kinda not impressed with the results. Three digital channels(four if you count Univision) and more useless analog channels than I would like to know exist in the world. I just did a quick flip-through but I swear one of the analog channels was running an info-mercial for the Wunder-Boner. Maybe when my wife sees there will be no TV in our immediate future she'll let me get a PS3. Here's hoping.

"Dragging Ritual"

As an example of how my mind/fingers/interests wander as I'm surfing the netz. I offer this short guest post. I was originally looking at home listings; Then I went to a local radio station's site(Go Cavs!); Then back to home listings and then to NYC. Strange how things work out.

Happy mother's Day

My wife is a substitute teacher right now, so I wish she was bringing in 86K a year. Also, on Father's Day I will be hitting up salary.com to see what I should be making.

Little Red Slambo

Turns out, if people have nostalgia for a thing, it's delicious and you spell it wrong, it can't be racist. I'm going to start writing letters to people right now to let them know how I really feel about them. Check out the "official" history of the midwest's favorite cherry soda here.

First Time for Everything

I've been putting off writing about this for a few days so I could get my head around it: There was a plane crash on 04-28 that I had to respond to. My department got a call regarding a small ground fire behind a church and had a few people, including myself, respond. When I got on scene, I was told that it was a confirmed single engine plane crash with at least one victim. Later on, the second victim was found, under the first. I've seen dead folk before, it's part of the job. Heart attacks, GSW's to the head, hanging's, pill overdoses. One Guy tried to cut out stomach cancer with a steak knife. So, two more dead Guys isn't really an issue. What gets to me is the last few seconds of a person's life. There was a witness who said the plane flew low over His car, gained altitude, then rolled onto its side and slammed into the ground. He said He could see the pilot wrestling with the controls. Imagine His nightmares. A few people that live nearby went to the scene to try to help and said they couldn't even distinguish bodies in the wreckage. Me either. I thought the one Guy was a seat. Turns out He had no arms or legs. All I keep wondering about is whether or not the Guys who died believed that their lives had been fruitful. As it all flashed in front of them, did they think "Well, I can't do anything else?" I wonder what the family of these Men were doing as the plane went down. Did they have a sense of doom? Did the sky go dark? Was a peal of thunder heard? I have a huge coffee table book titled Nam: A Photographic History. Inside is a picture of an Army(?) squad leader who has been shot and is being worked on. He's laying on the ground in the middle of bamboo and the war is still going on around Him. When I look at the picture all I can do is stare at His wedding ring and wonder what His wife was doing at that exact moment.

Late Night Should be in Bed Post

Not a ballon in site, no suckage in Ohio! Although, just like last year, I will be going to the Ravenna Ballon-a-Fair.

Making It Right

This came in the mail today:

On the Daddy Tip #7

I went back into the blogspot dashboard to just check out some old posts that I had and had not posted and I realized that I was cheating all of my faithful readers out there. If you've been paying attention, you may have noticed that I have trouble counting to eight. So, here's number seven: Don't put a bottle in your kid's crib at bedtime and (do) brush your kid's teeth! I don't want to hear about how your three year old needs oral surgery because you think it's easier to just leave the bottle of purple kool-aid in the crib so you don't have to get up every two hours. No, wait. That's not really the tip. There's just this Guy I work with...don't even get me started! The real tip is this: Crest Spin Brush. "Research shows that kids brush 38% longer with Spin Brush..." Well, folks, Research is right. There is no more squirming, no more fighting, no more kicking and no more "I'll hold her arms." I've told my dentist, I've told the pediatrician and now I'm telling you. You lucky bastards.

There's a Storm a Brewin'

I hate to brag but I will; I'm popular. My mom is always calling me and stuff and asking how my daughter is so I know I'm an essential part of the planet. Also, I'm married, and I'm pretty sure that counts for something. Since I was in want of a new phone and Verizon rocks with the "New Every Two", I decided to do like Beyonce and upgrade. Since I can't afford an iPhone and Verizon doesn't offer it I picked up a new Blackberry Storm. Now I can delete all of my spam penis-enhancing email anywhere I can get a signal. And I can text people(my sister) and tell them how I'm having so much cool times. Or getting ready for bed at seven thirty. Or working. And with a new Twitter account, which I won't even bother to provide a link to, I can keep up with the rest of the world and they can keep up with me. Wanna hear a sad story? No? Too bad. I signed up for Twitter and within a day had two followers. Cool, huh? Then I found out that I do have a girl name and one of my followers was actually thinking I was someone else. Yeah, that's how pitiful I am. On a happier note, Buddy Guy will be rocking(bluesing?) the Tri-C Jazz Fest this year so I'm kinda excited. And in honor of my Storm and my new found coolness:

And don't knock JM. If a 34 year old black Dude can rock to Heavier Things, you can too.

On the Daddy Tip #8

Today's Daddy Tip is actually just for Dads. Not for you to pass along to a wife or to use to save your kid from a shark attack; No, this one is just for you. If you ever decide to do a favor for your mother and build a little patio for her Char-Broil and dig up and deal with holly bushes, don't ever, and I mean never ever, use a sea salt and safflower oil exfoliating body scrub to get the stench of the PA hills off of your body. Because it will hurt. Believe you me, it hurts way more than being caught with your pants down by your wife, who apparently has nothing better to do. Thanks, Siobhan.

NOLA State of Mind

I'm long overdue for a Daddy Tip; I even had one prepped that contained mentions of doo-juice and pretzels. But then I got nostalgic and ended up with a better idea. Every year for the past five I'd go to New Orleans for Easter. Cafe au lait and beignets at Cafe du Monde. Ceviche fish tacos and a Purple Haze at Lucy's. The Algier's ferry. Random sightings of Jesus in the French Quarter. Then my parents moved to Pittsburgh. But I have a love jones for the Crescent City so I search for anything related on the webs. Earlier this week I found Make It Right NOLA and decided to make a pitch. I know I'm not the most popular blogger out there but if you are reading this please, pass along Make it Right. Brad Pitt has donated five million dollars and started this organization in order to rebuild the Lower 9th Ward with sustainable low-cost housing. Even if you don't like his acting, you can't fault him for doing something. You can give as little as five dollars or as much as you want; Join a team or start your own. If you need to get more than just a fuzzy feeling for doing the right thing, buy a t-shirt or two. If you don't like the Make It Right shirts or Brad Pitt, Save Nola Now. All proceeds go to the organizations and are tax deductible. Four years later, New Orleans still looks like Katrina hit last week. Regardless of who you want to blame please, don't forget.

The Devil was Beating His Wife Today

Consider the rainbow:

And while you're doing that, this turkey vulture will be over here, eating lunch:

Thanks, Jack.

I'm Lovin' It

Everyday my daughter grows a little more. And everyday she finds a new way to put her mark on the world(yesterday it was by pooping on her ride-a-long and the carpet). I've found for the most part these are enjoyable excursions into the Land of Dad because some of the most mundane and banal of my daughter's activities are almost bringing tears to my eyes everyday. Because she gets dropped off at day care at the butt-crack of dawn and she'll get breakfast there, my wife and I have taken to giving our daughter a snack for the drive. So, everyday, I get to do something that up until now I've only heard people talk about: I get to pick up stray snacks from the car. It's weird that you think you know everything about your kid...and then you open the door and there's a cracker in the armrest. This has truly become my favorite part of the day.

You Gotta Love Change!

I read a lot and don't usually care for audio books but after hearing these quotes, I might have to renew my Audible subscription.

With a job, a baby, a wife and a shrinking tolerance for alcohol(not to mention a newly instituted random drug screening program at work), I don't get out too much anymore. Because of this, I tend to look forward to the little things. For example, the highlight of last weekend was driving to Wexford, PA with a 16 month old. Here's a tidbit: Did you know the word "wexford" means "mudflat" or "stagnant pool"? Yeah. Anywho, I've been geocaching for almost a year now and I'm finding that it's starting to replace a lot of the joy that I used to have and some joys that I've always wanted to experience. For those that don't know, geocaching is the practice of using multi-billion dollar military satellites to look for tupperware in the woods. It's great fun, really, and here's why:It allows me to travel! Well, not really, but things I own are travelling and that's pretty cool. I own a couple travel bugs, which are trackable dog tags that are attached to tchotchskys and sent out into the world. One of them is still somewhere in PA but the other is off seeing the world. It's this Scooby-Doo antenna thingy and some guy picked it up in PA and dropped it off in Alaska. When I first started caching I didn't think I'd care about an inanimate object out in the wild. But as I think about it, it seems pretty neat to me that something I've held in my hand is out there experiencing things. And I don't even have to worry about if it'll be home in time for it's curfew. Or if I'll have to be "cleaning my gun" when I meet its date for the first time.

Free at last...!!!

Finally, after being on midnights for five of the last seven weeks(basically all damn year), I'm finished playing vampire until July. The world is different for some reason and...Oh my God!! What the hell is that bright yellow thing hanging in the sky?!?!?!? The sun!?!?! What the hell is the sun?!?!?!

Life has been canceling itself out like it so often does. On the one hand, the two trips to the emergency room two weeks ago for my daughter had no lasting ill effect(so far). On the other, I've been sick for two weeks and now I'm back on midnights. Likewise, here's something relatively nice in the middle of a town that smells like crap. Because there's a sewage treatment plant nearby.

Based on a true story...

I'm enjoying a brief reprieve from midnights, at least for this week. And apparently while I've been sleeping I've been missing out on all the baby-raising fun. My first midnight week wasn't too bad. Just working and sleeping. Then the second week hit. My daughter decided to get the party started right by spending most of Monday afternoon puking. If you've never experienced my daughters puke, go rent The Exorcist. The vomiting prompted a trip to the ER at four in the morning for my wife and daughter while I was at work. This ER visit involved the equation: 500ml IV drip/60ml per hour = a long-ass ER visit. The ER visit was then followed by an event that shall hereafter be referred to as Armageddon. If you've never experienced Armageddon here's what you do: Get yourself a LARGE banana milkshake and a banana-nut muffin. Crumble the muffin into small pieces and mix it thoroughly into the milkshake. Take this mixture, heat it to 102.6 degrees and pour it into your pants. Repeat ad infinitum. People keep asking my wife and I when are we going to have another kid. Come closer so I can kick you in your face.

GO IRISH!!!

Land of the Midnights Suck

I'm smack dab in the middle of a two week stretch(13 days) of midnights now so, as is my wont, I am shut down. I sleep from 9 am until about 4 pm, wake up and shower, give bubble bath time fun, eat, space out and then go to work. I would be sleeping now but the call of Assassin's Creed(for PC) was just too strong. All road personnel, including sergeants, must do eight weeks of midnights per year. With more seniority comes the ability to pick the exact weeks you want. I've got nine years in and for the last week have been the senior Dude on the road, excluding the sergeant. This means that for this period of time I should be starting close to home, right? No. My commute to work went from nine minutes to forty. My commute home went from nine minutes to an hour. To top it all off mother-frackin' NE Ohio has decided to snow during the morning rush hour. Super fun times, number one! Funny story; the on-duty sergeant does the midnight scheduling and at three this morning asked me, "What are you doing working out of your region?" About to strangle you, that's what.

I am N.D.

Go Irish!! And any team(including USC) that beats OSU!!

Blah, Blah, Blah

As a rule, I hate SuperMan. I mean, seriously, how can the strongest Man in the universe be challenged by anybody? Also, I'm not a fan of vampires. I don't know why, because Count Blah was hilarious. Maybe it's the whole, "I can live forever by just sucking some blood and having some lady write a book about me" thing but I don't find vampires interesting. But that may change if more foreign vampire flicks pop up. I just watched Lat den ratte komma in and let me just say, this movie kicks ass. I think that if Van Helsing had been foreign, and by foreign I mean in a language I don't understand, I probably would be a bigger fan of Dracula. There is just something about a foreign movie. Yes, I admit I did just want to see Amelie because Audrey Tautou is cute, and on a date it impressed my wife that I would "read" a movie, but on a larger scale, foreign movies rock. They make you feel small in a way that nothing else does. How often do you think about a foreign country? If you read Jason's blog it doesn't count. I mean how often do you think of a country in which you know no one? Most people don't realize it, unless they've been to that place and love it, but the sun rises and sets everyday on places where people don't know your name and don't care if you live or die. Maybe that's why I can groove to a foreign flick like Lat den ratte komma in. Not so much because of a vampire but because aren't those people cold? Watch the film and figure it out but Jesus, there's a whole bunch of people out there who aren't put off by the Storm of the Century hype that grips every American news channel every winter. Their cars are different, their neighborhoods are different, their food is different and their beer is better. For a guy that's only been out of the country once in his life and believes that nothing beats Nirvana, a foreign film is like a vacation where I can go native and not feel self-conscious about it. So I say 'Bring on the vampires!' As long as I can get a vacation out of it and not have to worry about finding a babysitter, it's all good.

I Want to Believe...

On the midnight shift in NE Ohio law enforcement there are two constants: 1) A rookie from another municipality will find something in your jurisdiction at 3:30 am and 2) No matter if you roll up on a cop from a major city or a small village you will hear Coast 2 Coast AM. Just like a donut shop, C2C is usually the only thing happening late night so most guys and gals listen to it(except for the guy on our department who suffers from migraines, he rocks to classical music). If you're familiar with C2C, good on ya. If not, let me enlighten you: Conspiracy theory, ghosts, psychics, sasquatch, and ufo's. Most cops understand the meaning of "for entertainment purposes only" but not me. I'm a skeptical believer in everything but most recently in ufo's. Up until a few months ago I couldn't understand how I had never seen a ufo, seeing as how I'm usually up and out late. Then I saw something strange. Driving down the road one night I saw a bright light in the sky that proceeded to fade away into nothing. It wasn't a plane or a helicopter or anything, it was just unidentified. I did my duty and told people, including MUFON. Unfortunately, I didn't have a camera so my personal experience was just that, personal. But now I have video. That's right, I am officially applying for my Crackpot Card here on this blog. Please ignore my voice; I was talking to my wife briefly in the first video and then trying to call my sister who wouldn't answer her phone. Also, I sound really eager considering I carry a gun for a living and am 34. Creepily eager, in fact. Lastly, if you're a parent or an adult who is related to me, please excuse my language and just reassure yourself in the fact that I would NEVER speak like this in your presence. In the videos I took tonight the object is in the middle of the screens, pretty obviously the focus of my attention. It wasn't a star although it appears to flicker.

I watched this light for ten minutes and during that time it stayed in the same position in the sky. Also, it faded completely in and out several times as I watched but I didn't catch that on film; Though it does start to fade toward the end of both videos. These videos don't even begin to capture the brightness of this thing. At its most intense it lit up the surrounding clouds like the moon does on a cloudy night.

After the second vid I drove to a local golf course to try to get a better view of what this was but by the time I got there the light had disappeared and I didn't see it anymore tonight. Make of this what you will, I know what I saw and as you can hear me whining in the audio, I wish someone else had seen it, too.

I Got Giraffes, Take That Africa!

Working at the zoo in the winter is no fun. There are no people with lost kids, no stolen cars and no major injuries. The only thing to look forward to is spending time with the animal keepers. It's probably some breach of American zoo protocol but the keepers are pretty cool about letting you see the animals close up, as in not across twenty foot moats. It may not seem like much but believe me, when a tiger stares at you and starts growling because it can tell you're afraid, two inch solid steel bars are not enough to keep you from feeling like you just wet yourself. So, it was with great anticipation that I went to work at the zoo tonight. Armed with a brand new video camera, I had dreams of making Man vs Wild look like a trip to the grocery store. Then I got to the zoo. And remembered that it's a holiday. So there were no keepers. Still gayly optimistic, I started to check every single building within the zoo. With over a dozen the chance that one would be unlocked was pretty good. Well, after all was said and done, I only got into the rainforest. This isn't as cool as it sounds because the rainforest is basically a prison. If you don't actually work inside the building, you can only travel about ten feet in any direction if you are in an employee only area before you meet a locked door. These doors usually have signs posted, like: "Animal Containment Door, Keep Locked" or "Venemous Room, Keep Locked" or "If Orangutan Escapes, Lock Door".

I did find one door with a sign that should need no explanation:

Oddly enough, you wouldn't think a zoo employee would need to be reminded to wear eye protection around monkeys. Anyway, disgruntled because I only got into one building, I went to check up on the creatures who were out and or awake. Again, slim pickings. Five nosy harbor seals, one sea lion(that looked suspiciously high) and the giraffes. I don't know why but the giraffes are always awake. So I went visiting. And almost crapped my pants because there was one coked up giraffe that wouldn't stop running after it saw me. That wouldn't have been a big deal except for that the giraffes were inside. To be more specific, they were in two adjoining rooms that were only about 30' x 30' each and there was one giraffe that was lying on the floor directly in the path of the running giraffe. Yeah, it was a bad situation all around so I just took a video of a giraffe eating some dirt and left quickly.

All in all, a frustrating night but at least I got some excercise from checking all those buildings and I did see a high sea lion.