The Bird

Not really.

Actually, it was a beautifully clear Saturday morning, but the other intro sounds scarier.  We were at the park and there were birds, ducks, and swans all around us.

One of the swans came up to us so Mama fed it the only thing she had handy - a peanut butter cracker sandwich thing.

It enjoyed the treat, and wanted more.

It came closer.  Brynne reached out her hand to pet it and it snapped at her.  It snapped a second time, coming within inches of her cute little nose - apparently confusing her button nose for a button shaped treat.  Brynne didn't so much as flinch.

You are about to get a whooping Mr. (or Mrs.) Swan

Papa intervened at this point.  I put myself between the swan and Brynne, holding out one arm to ward it off and the other to hold Brynne back.  The swan, still delirious from the wonderful peanut butter cracker thing, tried to take a bite out of my arm.  Obviously, it thought I was either afraid of it or it didn't realize I was much bigger than the child it just tried to attack. 

I didn't move my arm and so it's beak grabbed on, ever so briefly.  They have tiny little teeth, and they are mildly sharp, but they didn't break the skin or even leave a red mark. 

The swan pulled back, trying to judge the situation.  When it came in for the second attempt to bite my arm it met my closed fist instead.

Dear PETA members - I did not punch the swan.  I merely held my fist out and the swan initiated all contact with my stationary hand. No animal abuse here. 

The swan then realized the gravity of it's mistake and went off in search of other snacks.  Unfortunately, the first thing it saw was Mama and Hadley.  It took a few steps toward them, realizing this was the actual source of the food. 

Hadley was holding a cracker, waiting to throw it.  The swan moved in and took a shot at the cracker.  It missed, but managed to hit Hadley in the pig tail.  Hadley looked stunned, and nothing more, but was quickly moved to tears when Mama screamed.

The swan, perhaps a mother itself, recognized the scream and decided it was better off searching elsewhere for food.  It scampered off with Brynne and I serving as escorts.  Brynne got a big kick when it flapped it's wings and waddled away.

Everyone was fine.  Mama apologized for her scream to the first person she saw.  Unfortunately, that person happened to be someone jogging by who had not heard the incident due to his headphones.  He gave a confused look as she spoke at him, nodded, and picked up his pace - putting distance between himself and the crazy woman.

Professor Papa - Part 8

I am seriously failing in my efforts to teach my girls bad things.  Today, again, there is only a good item.  As a special treat, I thought I'd limit my words and show you what we've been working on.

Both girls do this, but I only have video of Brynne.

I'll admit, the boots are a little large, but they love them, so who can argue with letting them run around the house breaking them in. 

In addition, we've tried taking our flashlight to the basement, which is pitch black at any given point in the day when the lights are off, to learn how to use them in case of a natural disaster.  Since it's tough to get video in the dark, you'll just have to take my word for it - unless any of you have a night vision camera you'd like to lend me for a few days.

Snowmageddon

I'm going to be neither the first nor the last to post about meteorologists, but this was just too bad to pass up.

Lat year, we were expecting a HUGE snowfall.  The weather people all called it Snowmageddon, and we were expecting to get somewhere around a foot of snow.  I'm always leery of their predictions to start, but we took the necessary precautions just in case.  They all combined to do a great job of scaring the crap out of the general public.  Schools were cancelled days in advance.  No food or gas was to be found within a forty mile radius.  Everyone was prepared for the worst - and then it hit.

Not so much.

Snowmageddon produced a grand total of two inches of snow.

Flash forward to this weekend.

As of Friday we were told to expect between two and four inches of snow on Monday.

Saturday's forecast changed that slightly.  We were only going to get less than an inch of accumulation.

Sunday brought yet another change.  The local weather seer actually said we would get three and a half inches, but then quickly changed her tune and gave an estimate of one to four inches of the white stuff.

What kind of a range is one to four inches?  If you're going to predict precisely three and a half inches, why would you then give an estimate of one to four? 

That's right!  I nearly forgot.  Meteorologists have the only job in the world where you don't have to be close to accurate.  Actually, it seems like they are expected to be incredibly vague. 

The end of the world is here!  More details at 10.

I realize the weather can change very quickly, but how difficult is it to see what happened in the towns to your west, where the storm that is going to hit you just left, and make a prediction based on that?

If your mechanic tells you your brakes should last between three weeks and four years, you'd probably get a second opinion.  The same goes for a doctor telling you to take between one and four pills a day to cure whatever ails you. 

Unfortunately, in the weather predicting field, you can't get a second opinion.  Nobody wants to be the one that got it wrong, so they all say the same thing. 

Based on their latest predictions, I'm going to make my own estimate.  Either we get less than an inch or more than six. 

Even though I've had no training, I feel pretty good about my prediction. 

RESULTS:

In the end, we got less than one inch of snow at my house.  Ridiculous.

Valentine's Day, according to Papapedia

There are many stories about the life of Valentinus, better known now as Saint Valentine.  They mostly center around his being martyred for his religious beliefs.  The most common story goes a little something like this (Papaphrased):

Valentinus was a Roman priest during the reign of Claudius II.  He was arrested and imprisoned after being caught marrying Christian couples and aiding Christians in general, both of which were crimes then.  He was then beaten with clubs and stones.  When he survived that, he was beheaded. 

Miraculously he survived that too, as his head was not entirely severed from his body.  He then changed his name to Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington and, after being rejected by the organization known as the "Headless Hunt", went to live in Hogwart's castle, where he remains today.  He is affectionately referred to by students and faculty there as Nearly Headless Nick.

And a good day to you, sir!

Today, people celebrate Valentine's Day with cards, gifts, chocolate, candy, and jewelry.  Hallmark has done a wonderful job in taking a misunderstood event in history and turning a profit on it.

The true story, as I have uncovered recently in an effort to set the record straight, is this:

Valentinus was on his way to the home of a woman he loved.  It was a long journey.  Along the way, he purchased several items for her in an attempt to gain her favor.  Those items included:  a small, heart-shaped box of various chocolates; a bouquet of flowers; an open heart necklace from the Jane Seymour collection; and tiny pieces of unleavened bread with cute sayings (such as "Martyr Me",  "Luv Ya Lots", and "Pls Cnvrt") etched into them.

As I said, it was a long trip.  The flowers wilted.  Some of the chocolates melted.  He dropped the stone insert from the box of chocolates which identified what each chocolate piece consisted of.  As an aside, the diagram did a shoddy job of identifying which chocolate held caramel and which held that nasty red stuff, so even if it hadn't shattered, he still would've had much difficulty distinguishing among the chocolates.  

He finally arrived at the home of her father and sought her out.  She was disappointed with the flowers, but she saw past that.  She looked at the chocolates, only to realize something was not right.  He had forgotten to take the little palm frond wrappers out of the box and, therefore, she could see he had eaten some.  She saw past that.

She took a bite of chocolate.  The center was filled with olives.  She spat it out.  She saw past it and tried another.  This one was filled with figs.  She hated figs.  She called her father, claimed Valentinus had made improper advances upon her, and had him beheaded.

I'm not sure which is worse, giving this to someone or killing them for giving it to you.

Later, when she found the open heart necklace, she was overwhelmed with grief.  She created a story about him being beheaded due to his religious beliefs, and claimed they had been secretly wed.  She then collected the proceeds of his estate and life insurance plans and went on to live a life of luxury.

Now, I must ask.  Is this really a "holiday" you want to celebrate?

I think not.  Please join Derek, the inspiration for this post, and I in boycotting Valentine's Day.

Walking is like driving

This is a pretty simple concept.  Once I explain it a bit you should get the title, and why some people frustrate me.

When you drive, assuming you're in the US, you're supposed to stay on the right side of the road.  I think this principle should be upheld whenever possible - on the sidewalk, in an office, or anywhere a clear traffic flow can be observed.

It's not that hard!

I don't know Dave, but I know he can appreciate what I'm saying here.

How many times have you walked around a corner, usually holding a beverage or some sort of food, and been nearly run over by someone taking the corner a bit tighter than they need to?  Seriously, buddy!  Would that extra millisecond you saved by cutting the corner really benefit you?

Unless you are on your way to the bathroom with explosive diarrhea, the answer is a resounding "NO". 

It takes you, according to my math, 9,456,593 tight turns to make up for every instance you nearly run into me.  The reason is simple.  Once you have an impromptu introduction like this you have to stop, sometimes pick yourself up off the floor (because let's face it, not too many people - at least in my office - can come around the corner and collide with my 6'5", 240 pound frame and not suffer some sort of redirection), apologize for being an idiot, probably make some stupid comment about how we need mirrors at each of these dangerous corners, then continue on your way.

Save yourself the humiliation, and probably some precious time, and stay in your own lane.

Do I really need to bring in a roll of duct tape to put down lane lines?

A paid off vehicle always seems to bring me misfortune

There is not a much better feeling, for me, than paying off a debt. 

There is not a much worse feeling, than paying off a car and having something go wrong with it very soon thereafter. 

Of the last three vehicles I have managed to own free and clear, none of them have gone more than a year without having some major issue.

Case 1 - The Oldsmobile Bravada

Less than three weeks after paying it off I had to have the transmission rebuilt.  At the time I figured the cost of it roughly equaled the car payment I would have made over the next two months, so instead of trading it in I had it repaired and moved on.


This isn't the actual car, I walked away unharmed.

 As I was moving on through an intersection a month or so later, I was T-boned by a guy running a red light.  He lied and said I was the one running the light, but fortunately there was a witness who called 911 and reported what they'd seen. 

His insurance company bought me out, but I still had to spend some money for a new car since the value of the Bravada was not enough to buy a new car outright.

Case 2 - The Nissan Pathfinder

Less than nine months after paying it off the brakes went out as I was driving home on the interstate from work one day.  I took it to my mechanic (very carefully) and was informed that the strut tower housing had rusted through.  When it did that it collapsed and crushed the brake line.  He told me to scrap it and wouldn't let me drive it. 



Tats for Papa?  Nope.



Thankfully, Nissan was aware of the potential issues, and is working to repair the car, though they had never seen it crush the brake line.  Yay me for breaking the mold!  It's been two months and still no word from them, so I'm guessing they'll be buying me out and I'll have to get a new car - and a new car payment. 

Case 3 - The Chevy Trailblazer

Less than seven months after paying it off, and only two months removed from the Pathfinder incident, we discovered a repair that needed to be done on the Trailblazer.  It's fine to drive for now, but soon the axle will fall apart if we don't fix it.  I don't think that's a safe vehicle for Mama to be toting the girls around in, so we have to get it fixed.


We all know this Axl is broken.



Future issue?

Trying to stay positive about the whole thing, I'm computing the cost in terms of car payments that I have not made.  Thankfully this repair will only cost two car payments, so we are ahead by five.  Guess we'll hang onto it until the next big ticket item comes along - or until we stumble into some cash to buy a new one.
Is this just a phenomenon that happens to me, or is it true across the board?

It could have been worse...

...it could have been Friday the 13th instead of the 12th. 

They (whoever they are) say that bad things come in threes.  After today, I fully believe it. 

Bad thing #1 - Morning came too early.

photo credit here

Hadley is cutting all four incisors at the same time.  They woke her up at 5:30 AM, and she did not go back to sleep.  At 5:45 I went and got her.  At 5:47 she fell asleep on Mama. 

It wouldn't last.

I looked over five minutes later, and she was staring right back at me.  She gave me a little smile.  I tried to pick her up and move her back to her bed, but she was not having it.  She wailed until she got back on Mama, but she never fell back asleep. 

I had been looking forward to sleeping in after a long week - and by sleeping in I mean 7 AM.  It was only slightly more than an hour, but I sure would have loved it.

Bad thing #2 - Brynne got in a fight.  She lost. 

We were at the doctor's office for their 18 month check-up. While waiting for the doctor to come in the girls were playing.  Brynne came running back across the room. 

She tripped. 

She slammed, face-first into a chair that was butted up against the wall. 

The corner of the square metal chair leg she slammed her head into only had a small dent in it, but her face is broken.

To add insult to injury - she still got a shot.

Bad thing #3 - A visit from the local fire department. 

The girls had just gone to sleep when our smoke detector went off.  It's right outside the girls' room, so I scrambled to shut it down before it woke them up.  I reached up for it, and was preparing to dismantle it, when I heard the alarm from another room. 

I left this detector and went to our room, where the carbon monoxide detector resides. 

Sure enough, it was screaming.  I took it down and popped the batteries.  The alarm was not the one chirp/beep every 30 seconds that tells you the batteries are dying.  

It was the actual alarm sound.

I still changed the batteries, just to be sure.  The alarm stopped, but we decided to call the fire department just to be safe.

They came out and checked our house.  Everything was fine, and they found no trace of carbon monoxide.

Fireman number one had some helpful advice. He told us to have one detector on each level of the house, and to put them as close to the floor as possible. 

Fireman number two went through the checklist of everything they searched and we signed off saying nothing was found. 

Fireman number three just had this to say: How long have your girls been asleep? 
Me: About an hour. 
Fireman number three: Maybe you should go in and check on them just to be sure they're only sleeping.

What a pleasant thing to hear near the end of my day.