Pump Up the Jams (election style)!

Yesterday I took Ariel to a Pump It Up! birthday party.

The party took place in a large warehouse-type building in one of the industrial outskirts of our "Irish" suburb. Driving up to it, you wouldn't expect that anything fun could take place in a place like this--unless you enjoy running inventory or maybe operating a forklift.

But, no! Ariel and I entered the nondescript building and were assaulted by bright primary colors on every wall. After presenting the waiver (can't play without a waiver that assures no one will sue anyone about anything) and verifying that Ariel had socks, we awaited the rest of our party goers. Because I had to drive across the top of the city to get there, we were early.

Eventually several of Ariel's old daycare friends started arriving. These are the kids that Ariel grew up with from when she was six weeks old. She remembered their names and I had a good few minutes saying hello to parents I haven't seen in about a year or so.

When all the kids had arrived, we watched the five minute video about the rules. (Imagine a corporately-produced sexual harassment but replace the sexual harassment with about ten rules that five-year-olds are supposed to remember. You can judge the lameness of the video: Rule #1--Only one person at a time going down the big slide; Rule #2--Only three people at a time going up the slide steps; Rule #3--Only two people going through the obstacle course at a time; Rule #4--You may only go in one direction on the obstacle course . . . Rule #15--If the Staff person blows the whistle, give up any hope of every having fun that isn't structured to death.)

Finally the indoctrination is over; let the fun begin! We enter our reserved Party Room and are confronted with large inflatable "fun structures." If you have ever been to my company's Summer Picnic you can imagine these structures. They are virtually identical to those inflatable things.

There was the aforementioned 20-ft. tall slide (with about a 50 degree decline), the obstacle course that also ended in a steep slide, a standard-issue bouncy cage, and a place to throw balls into three holes in the wall. Mix with twenty-five 4- to 5-year-olds, set to bouncy generic 80s sports pop, and have fun!

After the running, sliding, and bouncing were over, we adjourned to secondary Party Room for the eating of cake and the opening of presents.

All in all, a fun two hours spent.

On the way home, however, tragedy struck.

As she was leaving the party, Ariel received a treat bag with candy, small toys, etc. She also got a helium balloon. She tied the very long balloon string to the treat bag. As we drove home across the cities northern face she had fun with the balloon, making it dance to the evening jazz program on the public radio station. We we exited the Interstate and hit our city's surface streets, she opened her passenger window a bit (it's an old-style crank--no electrics) and had more fun watching the wind's slip stream push the balloon around a bit more vigorously.

But then she took it a step further.

She decided to dangle the treat bag out the window, trolling it in the wind. Being the permissive father that I am, I let it happen. What I didn't consider was the long balloon string. Ariel was clearly enjoying her window fun, but when we pulled into the garage and I stepped out of the car to open her door, I saw the folly of our choices.

The long balloon string had allowed the treat bag to drag along the road behind the car rather than in the air beside the car. As a result, the cheap cellophane bag had burst open, scattering the candy and cheap toys all along the darkness of State Street.

Truly Ariel was sad when she discovered this.

I felt bad and somewhat responsible for letting it happen, but the overall idea of the event was also kind of funny.

*****

Some info had appeared regarding Spiderman 3. I have been vocal in the past about my concerns over the villains/actors for this sequel. This news still doesn't placate me entirely, but it at least looks competent. I withhold any further criticism as a sign of good faith.

*****

Finally, don't you Georgians out there wish you lived in Ohio with me? Only here can you get pre-recorded election messages from Archie Griffin and John Glenn, both within five minutes of each other! That's right, college football's only two-time Heisman Trophy winner and the first American to orbit the Earth are trying their mechanically-enhanced darndest to talk me into voting their way!

But no matter what famous celebrity tries to sway you, get out and VOTE!

The Spice of Life

Do you like variety?

Do you go out of your way to achieve variety?

Does it extend to all areas of your life or just to some things?

In some things I like to achieve variety. In other ways, not so much. This notion struck me Friday as I was shuffling out the side door of the office in the evening. And as I start to describe the idea striking me, I see that my choices are varied and yet rigid at the same time.

Let me explain.

I always leave the office building out of the side door (the north end of the building). But in the mornings, Tegan and I typically enter through the main doors on the building's east side. So, there is definite repetition there but there is also variety. And I consciously choose to enter and exit through different doors. I also admit that the morning's choice is somewhat influenced by the desire to use the elevator in the morning, but then why not use that same logic in the afternoon?

More examples: I often try to think of different ways to drive places, actively avoiding taking the same route to the same place again and again and again. I find it exciting to try and find different roads and want to see new things, new streets, whatever. Now, I am not one of those people (think Perk here) who tries to catalog the mileage of each route and to cut the gas mileage or something. I just want something different, that's all.

So, I try to get into differences to make the day less repetitive. But of course, I am a constant set of repetitions as well. My morning routine is very similar day after day. I usually get into the office at the same time (plus or minus 10) every day of the week.

Another instance: in high school my friends and I often ate desserts and coffee in a local Cracker Barrel. (It was a small town and there weren't many restaurants.) Anyway, because we went there frequently, I decided that I would make it my mission to eat everything on the menu. It was another attempt at achieving variety.

So, what about you? Do you want variety or do you prefer routine?

*****

In other news, I saw that the High Museum in Atlanta has recently had a major architectural upgrade. The museum complex includes the museum, the theatre for the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, and some other stuff as well. You can see more about the museum from its official website and more about the architectural changes here.

The High was my first major museum experience back when I was probably twelve or thirteen. I remember enjoying their exhibit on the five senses, featuring computer graphics to excite your sight and learn more about hearing with a greatly enlarged ear canal. Since then I have gone back a few times, especially for the Henri Matisse exhibit while I was in college.

*****

Finally, I watched the director's version of Donnie Darko over the weekend. This is the second time that I have watched this movie and I enjoyed it again the second time. I can't say I truly understand it more completely now than I did the first time, but I really appreciate the originality of the story.

It's not every movie--in fact, it's only one other movie--that features a six-foot-tall rabbit as a major character. But the rabbit in Donnie Darko is also demonic, see, so that makes it different.

I've also got to give credit to the Gyllenhaal, here. It must not have been easy to play a teenager that is experiencing schitzophrenic-based hallucinations that might also be time-travel, but he did a very admirable job. He is especially creepy when he is in the midst of his communes with "Frank" the demonic bunny and hid eyes are half-lidded and his shoulders are all hunched over. It's very effective and very menacing--even though the net result of everything isn't itself menacing.

I don't want to get further into the plot, just in case some of you haven't seen the movie. But I highly recommend it. It is visually engaging, well-written, well acted. Just worth your time.

Happy Birthday Merch

Memories of my sister, on the occasion of her birthday:

• one situation (as opposed to a specific, remembered event) that quickly comes to mind is when she drove me to high school. I was a sophomore, she a senior. We shared the red car . . . what brand of car was that again? I can't recall all of a sudden. I know that both MSquared and Muleskinner had it prior to you . . . but what brand was it? And why do I recall a painting of a bronco-busting cowboy? Anyway--it was a small, faded red car with a hatchback and a cramped backseat.
• The time we both went to see Dune. I had already finished the book and was familiar with the story. You were not even a big science fiction fan (Why did you go? Was it to see Sting?). I almost laughed out loud when the usher at the theatre door handed out the vocabulary sheet that the studio had printed. With such words as melange (spice from Arrakis), Kwisatz Haderach (messiah of the Bene Gesserit), gom jabbar (needle-like finger device used during a testing ritual), and Bene Gesserit (space nuns, of a sort), I thought you might just turn on your heels and leave. But you stuck it out. I hope the images of Sting in a skimpy outfit made it worthwhile.

(Don't hate me for the photo! It was the '80s after all. Besides, I don't think I have the iconic photo of you in the tree when you were five. I'll talk to dad about getting it and maybe I'll edit this later.)

• Another time in the mystery red car. The horn on the car had been malfunctioning--going of at random times when you turned the steering wheel to the right. The only way to make it stop, as far as we knew at the time, was to pound on the wheel. (It must have been a faulty wire and pounding make it shake loose again.) Anyway, you were driving and I was in the passenger's seat. We were swinging around a curvy road near the high school and you turned the wheel, making the horn go off. So, you were pounding on the wheel, going around the turn, passing a car in the other lane. I was laughing so hard at the sight of it all. What must that other car's driver been thinking?
  

Of course, we didn't always get along. We were brother and sister, after all, and the closest in age. She was born 2 years and a month before me. During much of our childhood we played together with one of our neighbors two doors down. As we got older, our interests naturally diverged. But, as we have both gotten older, in college, I thought (and hoped) that we sort of came back together with similar experiences and goals.

You always made fun of my nerdy friends, but they were pretty nerdy. Heck, so was I, and you never abused me too badly about it all. I am glad to say that we are friends as well as siblings, and even though I don't get to see you nearly as much as I would like, I think about you often and hope that you are doing well.

Happy Birthday MA! I hope it is a good one for you. I'll see you as soon as I can.

Why do I do it?

It's a valid question . . . do I seriously think, even in my most deepest, most private desires, that this blogging thing will EVER be more than just something I do.

Do I think, even one small iota, that it will suddenly get discovered by someone and become a highly-read site? What constitutes that anyway . . . 100 readers per day, 1,000 per day, 10, 000 hits a month? What is a undeniable quantity for "blogging success?"

Do I ever dream that this will become more than just a hobby. Certainly, it can't be a job in and of itself. Who would pay me to do this (or something like it) and for how long, really? You can't make a living at it.

So . . . why?

*****

Hey guess what? I ate a black-and-white cookie today! You know, the one in the Seinfeld episode where they are waiting for a chocolate Bobka to take to a party and Jerry is boasting that he has a nonvomit streak going since 1980? But he decides to eat the Black-and-White cookie ("Two races of flavor living together" . . . "Look to the cookie!") and he throws up? Well, a New York vendor came to give a presentation to our managers at work today and they brought some of the cookies with them. If you have never had one, it looks like a good sized pancake with the two types of icing on top, divided clearly down the middle. The icing has a very strong, pleasing cocoa taste.

I recommend them.

*****

Hey Maureen Dowd, I think you got it wrong. Men prefer women who are their equal, but aren't afraid to put on a maid's uniform if the mood is right.

Maybe I'm wrong--and I'm certainly no expert on the thinking and writings of Dowd.

*****

Do I watch Alton Brown's Good Eats because I admire the simplicity of his recipes? (Yes.)
Do I harbor illusions that I'll get off my lazy, predictable butt and actually try his recipes? (Every once in a blue moon, but not frequently enough.)
Do I really do it to revel in the ultra coolness of his kitchen that I want desperately? (Oh yes! From the cabinets to the cookware to the fancy schmancy measuring cups. Does this REALLY and TRULY mean I'm gay? No; I've just got good taste and an appreciation for design.)
Does this mean I'm gonna go to my Polaris-area Kitchens and Things to get all of Alton's gear? (Sadly . . . no.)

*****

Just got the kids to bed. It is amazing how accommodating Ruth is when Tegan isn't here. There literally is a night and day type difference. She doesn't fuss, she wants me to read her books, she has no problem letting me rock her and saying prayers. It is a wonderful feeling to feel needed by her. And she actually enjoyed it, which was part of the fun. But we sang songs ("Wheels on the Bus," "Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed," and a couple of verses of "Old MacDonald"). My kids sure love the classics, don't they?

Then Ariel told me a story, showing me the pictures that she had drawn. And then she was down to bed.

They were very good all night really. The pancakes that I made for dinner weren't the best that I have ever made--far from it actually. I decided to try and make Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes, but I don't have a form or anything, I just tried to free form them. Well, it didn't exactly come out in any recognizable shape. But it still cooked properly and tasted good.

*****

So, I don't know why I do it. Obviously I find it fun. It gives me a bit of a creative outlet. It gives me a chance to connect with my family. But, mostly, I guess I do it because I can. It is simple and it is free. I must think that what I have to say is important, whether it is or not. And I guess I think I have a unique perspective on things that no one else can have. So, there is a bit of arrogance in there as well.

Okay, no more introspection. More random stuff to come.

Wednesday

I don't really have anything profound to report so far this evening . . . but the night is young, right? Does hope spring eternal these days? Is my life that exciting and fraught with possibilities? Maybe?

What am I doing . . . trying to stall and find a reason to blog tonight I guess. Call it Blogger's Expectation or maybe Blogger's Obligation. I feel that I should have something to say even when I really don't.

Well, have I sold you on continuing to read? With this level of writer's commitment, why wouldn't you want to keep going?

I'm watching Speed, maybe Keanu's third best movie, behind the original Matrix and the transcendant Point Break. Seriously, are there other Keanu options? You could put Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure in the conversation, but that was before he was "Keanu," so I think that diminishes the value. Of course, maybe that was The Keanu Movie that started it all, right?

Um, what else can I say . . . oh! Tegan is leaving early Thursday morning for a one-and-a-half day business trip to Buffalo. She'll be back on Friday afternoon. Tegan's parents who have been here since last Saturday will also be leaving tomorrow, after I get the kids off to daycare. As usual, they have been a big help, doing some much needed cleaning and straightening, cooking dinner, etc. I tell you, it is a wonderful thing for the two of us to come home after work and not have to worry about cooking.

If none of that is of interest to you, then maybe you can consider this--

You might know of my interest in the Segway--that stand-up, two-wheeled transportation vehicle that seems like a good idea for people that simply have too much money to spend. I don't have one, obviously, but I think they would be fun to attempt to steer/ride/whatever you do. I am sad that while in San Francisco, we couldn't/didn't find Segway tours. But, anyway, there you have it . . . my interest in Segways.

But that's not the interesting part. The interesting part is this:

This is Toyota's answer to the Segway, the i-Swing. It seems kind of clunky, but maybe it'll be fashionable for the money-flush jet set.

If that bit of information isn't interesting enough for you, then how about this one? Have you thought about elvish sex? Maybe only the most hardcore of Tolkien fans (and the insane writers of fan fiction) have REALLY though about it . . . but now you don't have to think about it any more. This helpful website lays a lot of it out for you. And don't worry . . . it's not graphic or disturbing, simply informative.

Lest you think this is how I spend my evenings--feverishly searching for kinky Tolkien links--I can only promise that I found this through memepool.com, a website dedicated to finding anything and everything on the internet that you would never think to look for. Besides, I already told you that I am watching Speed, okay?

Well, I don't know. This post wasn't extremely satisfying for me, but it's something. Maybe you found something interesting in it?

I'll try harder next time. I promise.