One Way Ticket To A Painful Root Canal
I’ve got this tooth, I think it’s on the lower left side, in the back (a molar, I guess) that hurts when I use it to chew. Lauran thinks I should go to the dentist. I disagree. And then there’s that phlegm factory known as my sinuses. Will it ever go out of business?

When I Was A Baby I Looked Like A Pig, My Nose Was A Snout And My Ears Were Too Big
Babies are cute and all, but I don’t want to do that scene anymore. Nobody gets any sleep and you have to haul half the house around with you all the time. I remember when Gabe was an infant I was so mad that no one ever told us that we would be exhausted all the time. Of course, his apnea alarm would go off every time he rolled the chest belt loose. The first few times I sat bolt upright in bed. After while, though, I just sort of rolled over and muttered, “Would you check and see if he’s breathing?”
Someone asked me how long we’d been married. Once I did the math I said, “Eleven and a half years.” Then I felt really old. I mean, I wouldn’t if we’d gotten hitched real young, but we didn’t. Everything seems to happen so fast. That nocturnal baby of ours is 8 and having piano come way too easily for him. He’s decided he doesn’t really like basketball, baseball or football, so he’s definitely intelligent. He’s never gotten less than an A on his report cards and he is Mr Social. Then, of course, there’s Sam. He’s all done with his baby stuff, too, and next year he’ll be in kindergarten. That is, if he’ll talk to anybody but us and the 5 other people in the world he likes.

From Fort Frederica, GA, last month. [Three weeks ago!, ed.] Good thing Tom Danielson wasn’t around. Would he be allowed to ride?


Also,
Go ahead, you know you can’t play it just once!

A------2--1h2r1--------2/5-6-7--
E--0-3----------3-0--3---------- (x2, then with lyrics)

Here upon this pillow / made of reed and willow

Nothin's Gonna Change My World
Yesterday it did snow.
Today it was sunny, in the 60s, so I suited up for a nice road ride.
It would have been nice, if it wasn't for the 20mph crosswind. It may not sound like much, but you try it.


I did stay in and paint the other day. I started a new biggish one. It won't look anything like this when it's done. Don't worry!

Is It Wrong Not To Always Be Sad?
In an ideal world I could eat pizza all day, every day.
I could do a lot of things that would ordinarily be bad for me, but then, would it still be an ideal world? I don't know. But I do think about stuff like that from time to time.
The rest of the time I'm like a dog with a 5 minute memory.

My Weekend's At An All-Time Low
We're supposed to get a whole bunch of snow here. No kidding.
It hasn't happened yet, so we'll see.
I'll just have to stay in and do inside things. Paint. Guitar. Spin. Drink tea and slosh it on the floor as I wander around the house. Listen to the twisted cabaret music of The Dresden Dolls. If Ute Lemper ever rocked with the ghost of Kurt Weill, and got really creepy, Peter Murphy style, it might approach the dark beauty of The Dresden Dolls. Maybe I'm just in a mood.

Queen Bitch
Hey!
Has this happened to any other males?
I go to the store to pick up milk, cereal, and dishwasher detergent (those squishy gel thingies). The automatic coupon generator next to the register prints out one for Always Maxi Pads.
Urgh!

In other gender-bending news today, I show up at a big event for work wearing my new lightweight 100% cotton casual shirt, lime green. I really like it. (Lauran calls it "disgusting.") She ends up snorting Sierra Mist out her nose when I tell her that 3 other people had the same color shirts today--all women!
*sigh* C'est la vie.

Try Living In The Real World
So much to catch up on.

Tyler Hamilton is GUILTY, according to whatever doping agency said so. His defense? A hitherto unknown dead-in-the-womb twin? It was someone else’s blood in your system, Tyler. You got caught. Bow out gracefully, dude. Don’t invoke nonexistent dead baby brothers.

Lance is retiring after he wins his 7th Tour de France this summer. Then the veil of secrecy will be lifted and we’ll get to know what he’s been on. (Hint: he’s not high on life.)

I know, pro cycling scandals aren’t everyone’s cuppa tea, but I follow these things pretty closely, so I feel like passing it on here.

Um…I had some other stuff I wanted to post, but I can’t remember it at the moment.


Well, I wanted to make a comment about this. Surely he’ll be the last ex-Nazi Pope? There can’t be too many ex-Nazi cardinals waiting in the wings still.

Oh, and this is just silly: if any Decemberists fans have casually wandered their way to this humble and charming blog, I want to let you know that it is officially endorsed by Chris Funk. Well, maybe that’s too strong a statement. He has been here. And perhaps others in the circle of that great band. Well, I know they have. Which is cool. I am honored by their mouse clicks.

Who Needs The Truth?
I found this a while ago and I snagged it. Cuz it's funny. I personally would never even know what to think without O'Reilly and all them Nazis.

The Lucky Winner
Is me. Going on two weeks now. I hope to lose very soon.

Some Hesher's Joyride

High 70s. Clear skies. A Sunday afternoon.
Recipe for a great ride? You betcha!
Until you take into account the sneaky swift wind out in the country.
I looked at flags on the way out...seemed pretty still.
Kept thinking, "Wow, this weather is perfect and, for once, no wind!"
I was deluded, dear friends. That was the tailwind.
I turned about after the first hour and discovered the source of my prior perfection when I met it going the other way. (I'm still talking about the wind.) Man! The next hour was a pain-fest of the next-to-highest order! I had hoped to do more, but 33 miles was all I could manage at this early season, not-quite-in-shape-yet stage.
Then, to make matters worse, I coughed for a solid half hour when I got home as I have a cold or allergies or something filling my upper regions with phlegmy yuckiness. I got no sympathy for all my suffering, and was instead told, "It's self-inflicted. Don't do it again then."
That's like telling the alcoholic factory worker not to stop at the drive thru to get a 12 pack to drink on the way home. It's gonna happen almost every day.

And On The Eighth Day...
New shirts!
I'm considering selling these, as in you PayPal me $, I send you a shirt. All 30 of you, if you want.
This is a sample.
Thanks, Jamie!

They Say It's Your Birthday
Sticking with the Beatles, it was Gabe's birthday today.
That little guy is 8!
[insert obligatory "I can't believe how fast he's growing up" content here]
We decorated the house. We invited friends over. We had food, cake, ice cream, video games, etc.
Last night we took Gabe and some friends to a movie. We had to see The Pacifier.
What unmitigated crapulence! I swear to God it was so poorly done all around it looked like it was made with a bunch of camcorders and iMovie (OK, maybe Final Cut Pro). I can't believe Disney money was behind it. It makes Spy Kids 3D look like a freakin' masterpiece.

All Atop The Parapets Blow A Multitude Of Coronets
I'm trying to set a record.
How many days in a row I can feel like crap.

I Was Bored Before I Even Began
NO ONE comes here to get news or even editorial opinions, so there will be no Pope or Terri Shiavo or Wolfowitz content here. Besides, for that last one, I'd still rather see Bono as head of the World Bank. Then he might stop fronting that U2 tribute band he's been running around with lately.

I've finally gotten a handle on Piazza, New York Catcher after hearing a few live versions. But that's not saying much in my case. Like, you can get a handle on taking out the trash, but it's still a smelly job.

Now that doesn't quite make sense. What I mean with that analogy is that I still pretty much stink.

Yesterday Sam and Gabe pushed Sam's booster seat into the back of the van, saying, "Crump, crump, crump." I asked what they were doing and they replied that they were crumping it out of their way. New slang?

When I was walking out the door this morning Sam called to me, "Seeya later, Bucky," which is what Lauran sometimes says to Gabe. At the time Sam was making his 18th peanut butter sandwich for the day. Perhaps he's growing.

Sick At Noon For The Last Time
The trip was horribly eventful--in a "beginning of kidney stones" sort of way. Oh, cursed genetics!
I will, by shear force of will, prevent any future problems with those pesky mineral deposits and crystals.

Good luck to me.

Old Robyn had it right in the song 1974:

You have two coffees, one of them is one coffee too many for you
on a health kick, yeah! trying to lead a middle-aged life
well it's either that or drop dead
wait till you get older than this and then
turn around and tell me I was young for my age

Coffee is a leading cause of kidney stone formation, I read today. Damn!