Decent little story on my favorite player, save maybe Zach Thomas.
I was at Jones Stadium when Wes Welker set the NCAA record for punt returns for a touchdown.
Now with the Patriots, Welker's success has given a lot of hope to short stumpy white boys everywhere. Still, reading the story, you see how the family's devotion to the game borders on fanaticism. I imagine it'd take that kind of faith and determination for a guy like Welker to make it, but you worry about everyone else with the same faith that just isn't going to have that kind of success.
With the Super Bowl coming up, it's kind of hard to root for a team that is so obviously not the underdog and takes itself too seriously at the same time. But I'm rooting for them because of Welker, and he makes it a lot easier to do so.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Frozen chicken fire in Irving
Star-Telegram:
"Engine 13 reporting at scene ... And this disaster smells Deelicious."
IRVING — A fire Thursday night destroyed dozens of packages of frozen chicken at Trinity Valley food. The fire started in a neighboring building and spread to the refrigerated building.
"Engine 13 reporting at scene ... And this disaster smells Deelicious."
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Find your candidate
My wife sent me this:
The VaJoe.com Presidential Campaign calculator.
I went through it, the questions mostly seeming somewhat relevant. And my candidate is:
"Tom Tancredo"
WTF. Tancredo? I’m not voting for some fringe dude whose primary goal is to talk about illegal aliens, an issue I have mixed feelings about.
The quiz is useless without this question:
Would you vote for:
The VaJoe.com Presidential Campaign calculator.
I went through it, the questions mostly seeming somewhat relevant. And my candidate is:
"Tom Tancredo"
WTF. Tancredo? I’m not voting for some fringe dude whose primary goal is to talk about illegal aliens, an issue I have mixed feelings about.
The quiz is useless without this question:
Would you vote for:
- Someone who saw a UFO on an acid trip with Shirley MacLaine?
- Someone who speaks incessantly of the gold standard and transmitters in our money?
- Someone on the fringety fringe of fringeness, who would not get elected even if a disaster of historic proportions managed to take out everyone else running for president?
- Someone within the ballpark of "normal," at least as far as politicians go?
Dropping in on Abilene
With addendum.
I don’t make it a habit to drop in on the Abilene Reporter-News web site, but sometimes I just get a feeling that I need to visit my old stomping grounds, and I’m usually not disappointed.
Today was no exception.
‘Girls Gone Wild’ event canceled after outcry
I wonder why the nightclub caved? Did the police threaten to arrest everyone within a city block? Was Joe Allen’s withholding barbecue privileges?
And they wonder why no one under 40 wants to live there. When GGW came to Denton and UNT, the Chamber of Commerce gave 'em the key to the city.*
*Kidding.
Addendum:
Me: So, you know I think Girls Gone Wild is a slimy organization that takes of advantage of women with esteem issues?
Wife: Yes.
Me: And they’re also a shoddy company. One of those places, that according to friends, you’d never want to have your credit card number.
Wife: Yes.
Me: And any dude who’s married and into that deserves to be skewered.
Wife: Uh-huh.
Me: I’m just sayin’, of all the places to turn it away, it’s Abilene. It’s like living up to your own cliche isn’t accidental so much as the purpose of your existence.
Wife: Yeah.
Me: That’s all.
I don’t make it a habit to drop in on the Abilene Reporter-News web site, but sometimes I just get a feeling that I need to visit my old stomping grounds, and I’m usually not disappointed.
Today was no exception.
‘Girls Gone Wild’ event canceled after outcry
I wonder why the nightclub caved? Did the police threaten to arrest everyone within a city block? Was Joe Allen’s withholding barbecue privileges?
And they wonder why no one under 40 wants to live there. When GGW came to Denton and UNT, the Chamber of Commerce gave 'em the key to the city.*
*Kidding.
Addendum:
Me: So, you know I think Girls Gone Wild is a slimy organization that takes of advantage of women with esteem issues?
Wife: Yes.
Me: And they’re also a shoddy company. One of those places, that according to friends, you’d never want to have your credit card number.
Wife: Yes.
Me: And any dude who’s married and into that deserves to be skewered.
Wife: Uh-huh.
Me: I’m just sayin’, of all the places to turn it away, it’s Abilene. It’s like living up to your own cliche isn’t accidental so much as the purpose of your existence.
Wife: Yeah.
Me: That’s all.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Hard shot
Before Christmas, we ran this adorable photo of Sam for a greeting.
My wife said it took a lot of work. I was messing around, going through the shots on the camera today and saw just how much work.
Take this as a cautionary study into the photography of 3-month-olds.
My pizza hut of love
For my combined Christmas-birthday present this year, my wife gave me a pizza stone.
Ever since I quit working at Central Market, I've wanted to re-create the pizzas I made there. So far, I haven't come close. My crust is too chewy and the sauce is missing something key. Still, you can do pretty good things with stuff at home.
The stone's purpose is to absorb moisture and heat the crust evenly. Kind of like a brick oven panel for the typical oven.
This is the best one I've done so far.
No, pizza does not fit into the diet plan. Thanks for pointing that out.
Ever since I quit working at Central Market, I've wanted to re-create the pizzas I made there. So far, I haven't come close. My crust is too chewy and the sauce is missing something key. Still, you can do pretty good things with stuff at home.
The stone's purpose is to absorb moisture and heat the crust evenly. Kind of like a brick oven panel for the typical oven.
This is the best one I've done so far.
No, pizza does not fit into the diet plan. Thanks for pointing that out.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Stephenville UFOs and other sightings
Brought to my attention by Alicia.
Actually, I wanted to write a little more on the Flippin deal and respond to Dave, but here's some junk that's been stuck in my mind recently.
"UFOs" "sighted" in Stephenville
Chamber of commerce shot.
Story here
For a tad of background, Stephenville is 20 miles north of Hico. I worked there while I was living in Hico. And I can say:
- No, I never saw one.
- Yes, the place has a drug problem like any small town.
- No, this isn't because of the drugs.
- And not because of any other small-town stereotypes you want to throw out there like a cow chip.
I think that rural areas have more UFO sightings because the sky is clearer at night, you can see more stars, and therefore you see more planes and whatnot to report as UFOs. The weird part of the story (the original, the S-T has run this baby two days in a row) is the way everyone gives out estimated measurements of what they saw that just fly in the face of credibility.
One dude said that he saw the craft hovering "about 300 feet off the ground." Another dude said he saw a craft that was "about half a mile long."
Uh-huh. What made you think half-a-mile was the correct measurement there, Sparky? It looked bigger than Tarleton Memorial Stadium? You got some kind of aeronautical ruler that pops out of your thumb?
Anyway, no offense to the people who saw whatever the saw. I imagine they're telling the truth, but I can just think of about 10 other things off the top of my head that it might have been other than L. Ron Hubbard coming back.
Dog translator!
Dog translator! Awesome.
Though, I already know my dogs would say:
"Dude. You promised a real backyard and that we could kill the Evil Cat. Well? Well!? And thanks for the food. I love my ball."
Dumb advice
The MSN Hotmail login page always includes various feature stories on dating and work and fashion and dating. Generally the stories are lame, but I read one the other day that reached a new level of complete waste of space: 13 things not to share at work.
I read this because I thought they might have some juicy examples, and who knows, I might learn something. But, no examples. And here's some of the things that are off-limits:
- What people make
- What's going on with you health-wise
- Gossip
- Complaints about work
- How much you spent on that doo-dad or suit
- Your sex life
- Politics or religion
- Criticism of other people
- Your hangover
- Your personal life
- Your racist opinions
And for the other stuff: Apparently, you should avoid talking to everyone at work as much as possible.
And once again, I'm well ahead of the curve.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Diet
Last week began the self-immolation of my own body fat, and it was a miserable three days. Right now I'm on break.
The perfect time to diet is when you’re unemployed. You set your schedule (around the boy’s naps) and it’s a lot easier to come up with distractions for the hunger when you’re not forced to sit at a desk for eight hours and think. And I can take naps more often.
I’ve started a fairly extreme regimen, one meal – breakfast – followed only by fruit snacks or maybe a salad for the rest of the day.
This all goes to pot when I have to work my two work shifts per week, but that won’t last long as they’ve hired my replacement.
Mainly what I’ve noticed about hunger is that it has a focusing effect. I wanted to work on the blog, but all I could think about was food. I thought about what I was having for breakfast the next day, and what kind of waffles I could come up with.
I thought about road trips and the possible eating stops.
I don’t know what day I’m going to the Fort Worth Stock Show, but I do know that it’s going to be splurge day and I’m going to have the Frito pie, a Stockyard cinnamon roll (described by the Star-Telegram as unadulterated sin) and perhaps a cowboy burrito.
Afterwards, I’ll die, with my heart going "pop" loud enough to cause a ruckus in the Goat Barn.
Wish me luck.
The perfect time to diet is when you’re unemployed. You set your schedule (around the boy’s naps) and it’s a lot easier to come up with distractions for the hunger when you’re not forced to sit at a desk for eight hours and think. And I can take naps more often.
I’ve started a fairly extreme regimen, one meal – breakfast – followed only by fruit snacks or maybe a salad for the rest of the day.
This all goes to pot when I have to work my two work shifts per week, but that won’t last long as they’ve hired my replacement.
Mainly what I’ve noticed about hunger is that it has a focusing effect. I wanted to work on the blog, but all I could think about was food. I thought about what I was having for breakfast the next day, and what kind of waffles I could come up with.
I thought about road trips and the possible eating stops.
I don’t know what day I’m going to the Fort Worth Stock Show, but I do know that it’s going to be splurge day and I’m going to have the Frito pie, a Stockyard cinnamon roll (described by the Star-Telegram as unadulterated sin) and perhaps a cowboy burrito.
Afterwards, I’ll die, with my heart going "pop" loud enough to cause a ruckus in the Goat Barn.
Wish me luck.
Flippin mad
Perry Flippin was a longtime columnist for the San Angelo Standard-Times. I read the first three paragraphs of many of his articles. (Sorry, I like San Angelo, but the guy was locally focused and I could never get into what he was talking about.)
I said "was" because he was recently fired for budgetary reasons, and in his final column, he chose to go out guns blazing. My wife brought this to my attention last week, but I forgot to get around to it. Then, when I got to work Sunday, I noticed it had made the rounds on the office e-mail.
He’s gotten a lot of "preach on, brother," praise from a lot of sources. My basic reaction: I respect anyone who goes out calling things like he sees him, but I don’t see anything as new information, and like most speaking-truth-to-power rants, it tends to leave a lot out.
So, as I drank way too much coffee today and need to burn off some energy, here are some excerpts from the column with my reactions. I’ve also been hearing people complain about this for a long time, so I’m letting some steam off myself.
Here’s a link to the whole column.
Excerpts in italics.
"Today, instead of serving primarily as watchdogs, we deliver entertainment fodder interspersed with glitzy ads for consumers. The newspaper's value is measured not by how well it reflects and elevates its community, but by how much money it makes.
I have always respected newspapers as truth-tellers, but we have studiously avoided disclosing just how profitable newspaper publishing is. For a clue, stroll through William Randolph Hearst's magnificent California castle, San Simeon."
Yes, the castle was built from the 1920s –’40s by a family who took truth-telling so seriously they bragged about starting the Spanish-American war on over-hyped and probably incorrect information. Anybody building a castle lately?
I’m doubtful of anyone who tells me that a newspaper was once judged by "how well it reflects and elevates its community," especially after bringing up the Hearst papers as a model.
Kind of like your Mom and Dad telling you about how sex never happened outside of marriage back in the day. Everyone just got married by 21 and babies tended to arrive about six months later.
Rule of life, No. 47: Someday, when you are older, you will probably want to project your loss of innocence onto society as a whole. Don’t do that.
"Publishers sold their souls on the notion that only the immediate bottom line matters. I believe newspapers are slowly committing suicide to satisfy corporate moguls and grasping stockholders.
How do CEOs earn fat bonuses? In part, by putting loyal and talented employees such as me on the street.
...
Yet the salvation of newspapers may come only when Wall Street gets out of the news biz and puts presses back in the hands of private owners - as it was before this roller coaster ride began."
He’s dead-on about corporations bleeding newspapers dry, cutting their best people and refusing to hire and train the next generation.
Still, the real question is why. If the primary motivation is greed, and you have smart business-type people running these corporations, why run these businesses into the ground? Why not take a short-term profit-cut to keep your industry at a healthy level and bringing in the cash for decades to come? That makes no sense ...
"Complicating the outlook is the ever-evolving technology that brings vast information reserves to tiny instruments, such as the iPhone. Hundreds of video channels come streaming off satellites.
None of those sources, however, will cover a local City Council meeting, or check the local police blotter or staff the local football game."
A gizmo can’t cover a council meeting, but someone with an iPhone can cover a city council meeting and not have to pay for paper and buy gas for trucks to take it to your house.
As a complete non-expert, I’m giving it about 20 years until the idea of a paper newspaper will be quaint. I grew up hearing that newspapers will survive until everyone starts taking their computer with them to their bathroom.
Now you can take it with you to the bathroom, the elevator and your wife’s hospital room after the baby’s delivered.
Part of me groans at the idea: The newsroom of frantic typing, cursing, smoking, drinking is dead. The paper bought in tons and the ink by the barrel, the final product pored over by customers hungry for information. Of course, it was dead even before I got into the business.
By high school, the number of people who read the paper consisted of me and my fellow journalism students. It’s done nothing but go down.
Besides, if we’re supposed to be so environmentally concerned, where do we get off blowing through as much paper as we do and then using a gas-heavy distribution system?
"Storytelling can't be automated."
Actually, it can be.
"When employees are regarded merely as interchangeable parts, casualties such as me become collateral damage in the never-ending drive to maintain unrealistic profit margins.
I believe the lives and health of Americans are being sacrificed in the interest of corporate greed.
The problem is much broader than the newspaper industry. Similar conditions prevail in retailing, medicine, education, transportation, manufacturing - practically any endeavor that preaches the heresy of "do more with less."
Let's be truthful: We're doing less with less."
People love to go all teeth-gnashy about corporations, and it’s often well-deserved. But most people who have spent some time in the business know the only thing worse than working for corporate-owned newspaper is working for a non-corporate-owned newspaper.
There have always been some exceptions, but most family-owned papers were (are) hit-and-miss operations. And usually they’d miss.
You’d end up working as the publisher’s publicity hit man, attacking people he wanted attacked, ignoring the things he wanted ignored. I recall people talking about having to write positive "news" stories on a new real-estate development that just happened to be owned by the publisher’s son.
And the policy decisions could verge on the insane. Once a journalism prof told me about a publisher at a paper roughly the size of the one in Denton, around 20,000 circulation.
The owner’s wife decided that the paper needed a fashion reporter. So they hired one, and sent her to a fashion show in PORTUGAL.
And don't even bother trying to hold them to some reasonable approximation of labor laws.
It’s easy to forget that a lot papers became a lot more professional over time as corporations took over and the boss became accountable to someone else.
"I remember the good ol' days, before everyone was obsessed with 40 percent "retention" and a thousand points of marketing bullwhiz."
I wish my Grandpa were still around to tell me what "bullwhiz" means.
"It's hard to remember when people loved newspapers more than they loved money."
I’ll bet it is, because it never happened.
Here’s what I think the deal is. Newspapers are dying, but it's a natural death. The idea of waiting for news doesn't make a lot of sense when you can get it instantaneously from as many sources as you want.
Papers are no longer a growth industry in the U.S. Corporate-types know this, so the plan is bleed papers dry and earn as much money as possible. Everyone is moaning that the family-owned operations wouldn’t have done this, but the families were the ones who decided to sell as soon as the price was right and the going got tough.
The worry – the web sites that crop up in the newspapers' place are going to have a scrunching effect on the industry. The press room disappears. The circulation department goes away.
I imagine they’ll hardly bother with photographers anymore, and just give most reporters cameras.
And I worry about the people who’ve given their lives to the job, and whether they’ll be able to find a decent place to go and have the opportunity to tell good stories.
But newspapers? Be prepared to move on.
I said "was" because he was recently fired for budgetary reasons, and in his final column, he chose to go out guns blazing. My wife brought this to my attention last week, but I forgot to get around to it. Then, when I got to work Sunday, I noticed it had made the rounds on the office e-mail.
He’s gotten a lot of "preach on, brother," praise from a lot of sources. My basic reaction: I respect anyone who goes out calling things like he sees him, but I don’t see anything as new information, and like most speaking-truth-to-power rants, it tends to leave a lot out.
So, as I drank way too much coffee today and need to burn off some energy, here are some excerpts from the column with my reactions. I’ve also been hearing people complain about this for a long time, so I’m letting some steam off myself.
Here’s a link to the whole column.
Excerpts in italics.
"Today, instead of serving primarily as watchdogs, we deliver entertainment fodder interspersed with glitzy ads for consumers. The newspaper's value is measured not by how well it reflects and elevates its community, but by how much money it makes.
I have always respected newspapers as truth-tellers, but we have studiously avoided disclosing just how profitable newspaper publishing is. For a clue, stroll through William Randolph Hearst's magnificent California castle, San Simeon."
Yes, the castle was built from the 1920s –’40s by a family who took truth-telling so seriously they bragged about starting the Spanish-American war on over-hyped and probably incorrect information. Anybody building a castle lately?
I’m doubtful of anyone who tells me that a newspaper was once judged by "how well it reflects and elevates its community," especially after bringing up the Hearst papers as a model.
Kind of like your Mom and Dad telling you about how sex never happened outside of marriage back in the day. Everyone just got married by 21 and babies tended to arrive about six months later.
Rule of life, No. 47: Someday, when you are older, you will probably want to project your loss of innocence onto society as a whole. Don’t do that.
"Publishers sold their souls on the notion that only the immediate bottom line matters. I believe newspapers are slowly committing suicide to satisfy corporate moguls and grasping stockholders.
How do CEOs earn fat bonuses? In part, by putting loyal and talented employees such as me on the street.
...
Yet the salvation of newspapers may come only when Wall Street gets out of the news biz and puts presses back in the hands of private owners - as it was before this roller coaster ride began."
He’s dead-on about corporations bleeding newspapers dry, cutting their best people and refusing to hire and train the next generation.
Still, the real question is why. If the primary motivation is greed, and you have smart business-type people running these corporations, why run these businesses into the ground? Why not take a short-term profit-cut to keep your industry at a healthy level and bringing in the cash for decades to come? That makes no sense ...
"Complicating the outlook is the ever-evolving technology that brings vast information reserves to tiny instruments, such as the iPhone. Hundreds of video channels come streaming off satellites.
None of those sources, however, will cover a local City Council meeting, or check the local police blotter or staff the local football game."
A gizmo can’t cover a council meeting, but someone with an iPhone can cover a city council meeting and not have to pay for paper and buy gas for trucks to take it to your house.
As a complete non-expert, I’m giving it about 20 years until the idea of a paper newspaper will be quaint. I grew up hearing that newspapers will survive until everyone starts taking their computer with them to their bathroom.
Now you can take it with you to the bathroom, the elevator and your wife’s hospital room after the baby’s delivered.
Part of me groans at the idea: The newsroom of frantic typing, cursing, smoking, drinking is dead. The paper bought in tons and the ink by the barrel, the final product pored over by customers hungry for information. Of course, it was dead even before I got into the business.
By high school, the number of people who read the paper consisted of me and my fellow journalism students. It’s done nothing but go down.
Besides, if we’re supposed to be so environmentally concerned, where do we get off blowing through as much paper as we do and then using a gas-heavy distribution system?
"Storytelling can't be automated."
Actually, it can be.
"When employees are regarded merely as interchangeable parts, casualties such as me become collateral damage in the never-ending drive to maintain unrealistic profit margins.
I believe the lives and health of Americans are being sacrificed in the interest of corporate greed.
The problem is much broader than the newspaper industry. Similar conditions prevail in retailing, medicine, education, transportation, manufacturing - practically any endeavor that preaches the heresy of "do more with less."
Let's be truthful: We're doing less with less."
People love to go all teeth-gnashy about corporations, and it’s often well-deserved. But most people who have spent some time in the business know the only thing worse than working for corporate-owned newspaper is working for a non-corporate-owned newspaper.
There have always been some exceptions, but most family-owned papers were (are) hit-and-miss operations. And usually they’d miss.
You’d end up working as the publisher’s publicity hit man, attacking people he wanted attacked, ignoring the things he wanted ignored. I recall people talking about having to write positive "news" stories on a new real-estate development that just happened to be owned by the publisher’s son.
And the policy decisions could verge on the insane. Once a journalism prof told me about a publisher at a paper roughly the size of the one in Denton, around 20,000 circulation.
The owner’s wife decided that the paper needed a fashion reporter. So they hired one, and sent her to a fashion show in PORTUGAL.
And don't even bother trying to hold them to some reasonable approximation of labor laws.
It’s easy to forget that a lot papers became a lot more professional over time as corporations took over and the boss became accountable to someone else.
"I remember the good ol' days, before everyone was obsessed with 40 percent "retention" and a thousand points of marketing bullwhiz."
I wish my Grandpa were still around to tell me what "bullwhiz" means.
"It's hard to remember when people loved newspapers more than they loved money."
I’ll bet it is, because it never happened.
Here’s what I think the deal is. Newspapers are dying, but it's a natural death. The idea of waiting for news doesn't make a lot of sense when you can get it instantaneously from as many sources as you want.
Papers are no longer a growth industry in the U.S. Corporate-types know this, so the plan is bleed papers dry and earn as much money as possible. Everyone is moaning that the family-owned operations wouldn’t have done this, but the families were the ones who decided to sell as soon as the price was right and the going got tough.
The worry – the web sites that crop up in the newspapers' place are going to have a scrunching effect on the industry. The press room disappears. The circulation department goes away.
I imagine they’ll hardly bother with photographers anymore, and just give most reporters cameras.
And I worry about the people who’ve given their lives to the job, and whether they’ll be able to find a decent place to go and have the opportunity to tell good stories.
But newspapers? Be prepared to move on.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Parenting differences
My wife is sitting on the floor with Sam, during "tummy time", a kind of learning activity thing that the books say we should be doing.
Meredith: Are we going to roll now? Yes! That’s a good job, such a good job! There you go Sam. Sam, do you know you’re name? It’s 'Sam' ...
Sam lies on his back, looks up at Mom and says "goo."
Meredith: OK. Now lie on your stomach. Work your legs. That’s a good Sam. You’re doing such a good job. You’re getting so big! Way to go Sam!
Sam, lying on his stomach, frantically, moves his arms and legs, but can’t go far as his belly keeps him firmly attached to earth. Sam looks at the padded play mirror and smiles.
Meredith: Good job Sam! That's you! Let’s sing a song ...
Later ...
I’m sitting on the floor with Sam during tummy time.
Me: Good boy.
Sam lies on his back and stares at my forehead. "Goo."
Me: Good job.
Sam arches his back, which I take as a cue to turn him over.
Me: Attaboy.
Sam lays his head down on the floor, looks into the padded play mirror and smiles.
Me: (Pause)
Sam looks at the padded play mirror.
Me: Well, c’mon boy. Mush!
Meredith: Are we going to roll now? Yes! That’s a good job, such a good job! There you go Sam. Sam, do you know you’re name? It’s 'Sam' ...
Sam lies on his back, looks up at Mom and says "goo."
Meredith: OK. Now lie on your stomach. Work your legs. That’s a good Sam. You’re doing such a good job. You’re getting so big! Way to go Sam!
Sam, lying on his stomach, frantically, moves his arms and legs, but can’t go far as his belly keeps him firmly attached to earth. Sam looks at the padded play mirror and smiles.
Meredith: Good job Sam! That's you! Let’s sing a song ...
Later ...
I’m sitting on the floor with Sam during tummy time.
Me: Good boy.
Sam lies on his back and stares at my forehead. "Goo."
Me: Good job.
Sam arches his back, which I take as a cue to turn him over.
Me: Attaboy.
Sam lays his head down on the floor, looks into the padded play mirror and smiles.
Me: (Pause)
Sam looks at the padded play mirror.
Me: Well, c’mon boy. Mush!
Part-time fun
After two weeks, finally got back to the Denton Record-Chronicle to work a couple of shifts. I agreed to fill in part-time after I left. Finding a sports copy editor isn’t easy, and I needed the money.
I realized quickly what I didn’t miss: the rush at deadline and the lingering fear that hits you driving home that maybe you misspelled "Ohio" in a 70-point bold sans serif head on the front page.
But I have missed some things. Getting out of the house by myself. Coffee binging. Adult conversation (And by adult conversation, I mean a discussion over whether a blog post about Tony Romo’s face melting off pushed the envelope a wee bit much).
It was a little weird to be back. When I came in on Sunday, there was only one guy in the sports department, and all that he could manage after two weeks was an almost silent "eh" when I sat down. Yep, back in sports. Everyone treats everyone like a complete bastard.
I realized quickly what I didn’t miss: the rush at deadline and the lingering fear that hits you driving home that maybe you misspelled "Ohio" in a 70-point bold sans serif head on the front page.
But I have missed some things. Getting out of the house by myself. Coffee binging. Adult conversation (And by adult conversation, I mean a discussion over whether a blog post about Tony Romo’s face melting off pushed the envelope a wee bit much).
It was a little weird to be back. When I came in on Sunday, there was only one guy in the sports department, and all that he could manage after two weeks was an almost silent "eh" when I sat down. Yep, back in sports. Everyone treats everyone like a complete bastard.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
A Chuck Norris fact I haven't seen before
Chuck Norris understands the ending to 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Heh. I read the book and still can't be sure.
Heh. I read the book and still can't be sure.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Back, with notes
Hello. It’s been something like 87 days since I last posted. Didn’t mean to take this long of a break, but I’ve kinda just spent the last three weeks rebooting after THE CHANGE.
This post is long and scattered.
Home life
Sam is napping right now. Actually, it’s this half-whining/half-napping thing he does when he’s too tired to do anything, but doesn’t like being tired. He’s really good at starting this thing at 5:30 in the morning.
I don’t really feel like I’ve stopped working and become the master of my domestic domain. It’s more like I’m just on extended leave and will return to work soon. It’s better to look at it that way than to start fretting over the job search and get all panicky.
My days more or less follow a routine:
6:30 a.m.: Wake up, eat breakfast or, if Sam is awake, feed him, then feed self.
7:30 a.m.: Entertain Sam by laying him on his stomach and then asking him to do things in a childish voice.
Why is the childish voice necessary? He has two syllables so far – "Ah" and "Goo." Does it matter to him if I add silly wittle soundsy at the ends of my wordsy?
9 a.m.: Hand Sam off to Mom, take nap.
1 p.m. – 3 p.m.: Take Sam back from Mom, repeat entertaining and feeding schedule interspersed with naps, which allow me to get ahead of the chores or goof off. Mainly goof off.
9 p.m.: Bed time.
The wardrobe of the stay-at-home dad.
Monday: Sweat pants, T-shirt.
Tuesday: Sweat pants, T-shirt.
Wednesday: Fleece pants, T-shirt.
Thursday: Shorts, T-shirt, flannel shirt.
Friday: Sweat pants, T-shirt.
Sometimes I go nuts and bother putting on tennis shoes.
Christmastime, was here, time to spread some cheer
This year I made my first egg nog.
As the recipe seemed a little large for me and a couple of friends. I halved it. There were some problems: I didn’t have any nutmeg, and I beat the mixture a little too long and made it too fluffy.
Also, I forgot to halve the amount of liquor in the drink, and I also put in the amount the recipe required to make it "strongly spirited."
Hence, I had an egg nog that would’ve fueled Santa’s sleigh -- if Santa’s sleigh had flames on the side and the deer wore black studded leather.
Christmas take
I didn’t get any earth-shattering presents this year, but I got some nice stuff.
Thanks to some amazon gift certificates, I have a new sleeping bag for some trips I hope to be taking soon. My wife gave me a pizza stone (Yes, it’s what I asked for.) I’ll have some pictures of that. It allows me to attempt to produce what I was making when I was working for the Central Market café. I’ll just say that I’m not close. I gave my wife the thick, pink flannel pajamas that she asked for.
My family draws names for gift giving, and we set a $20 limit, which all of us break, on presents.
Thing is, we used to buy each other actual presents. Now, the entire routine has boiled down into asking where they like to shop, and then getting a gift certificate to that place.
Not wanting to do this, I gave my brother a hydration pack from Cabela’s. He said "Thanks," but I could tell he would’ve preferred the gift certificate.
I dunno. Gift certificates don’t show much effort. But since everyone has price limits, exactly what are you going buy that’s worth a damn?
Picture
At the family shindig in Hico, I was really happy to get this picture.
This post is long and scattered.
Home life
Sam is napping right now. Actually, it’s this half-whining/half-napping thing he does when he’s too tired to do anything, but doesn’t like being tired. He’s really good at starting this thing at 5:30 in the morning.
I don’t really feel like I’ve stopped working and become the master of my domestic domain. It’s more like I’m just on extended leave and will return to work soon. It’s better to look at it that way than to start fretting over the job search and get all panicky.
My days more or less follow a routine:
6:30 a.m.: Wake up, eat breakfast or, if Sam is awake, feed him, then feed self.
7:30 a.m.: Entertain Sam by laying him on his stomach and then asking him to do things in a childish voice.
Why is the childish voice necessary? He has two syllables so far – "Ah" and "Goo." Does it matter to him if I add silly wittle soundsy at the ends of my wordsy?
9 a.m.: Hand Sam off to Mom, take nap.
1 p.m. – 3 p.m.: Take Sam back from Mom, repeat entertaining and feeding schedule interspersed with naps, which allow me to get ahead of the chores or goof off. Mainly goof off.
9 p.m.: Bed time.
The wardrobe of the stay-at-home dad.
Monday: Sweat pants, T-shirt.
Tuesday: Sweat pants, T-shirt.
Wednesday: Fleece pants, T-shirt.
Thursday: Shorts, T-shirt, flannel shirt.
Friday: Sweat pants, T-shirt.
Sometimes I go nuts and bother putting on tennis shoes.
Christmastime, was here, time to spread some cheer
This year I made my first egg nog.
As the recipe seemed a little large for me and a couple of friends. I halved it. There were some problems: I didn’t have any nutmeg, and I beat the mixture a little too long and made it too fluffy.
Also, I forgot to halve the amount of liquor in the drink, and I also put in the amount the recipe required to make it "strongly spirited."
Hence, I had an egg nog that would’ve fueled Santa’s sleigh -- if Santa’s sleigh had flames on the side and the deer wore black studded leather.
Christmas take
I didn’t get any earth-shattering presents this year, but I got some nice stuff.
Thanks to some amazon gift certificates, I have a new sleeping bag for some trips I hope to be taking soon. My wife gave me a pizza stone (Yes, it’s what I asked for.) I’ll have some pictures of that. It allows me to attempt to produce what I was making when I was working for the Central Market café. I’ll just say that I’m not close. I gave my wife the thick, pink flannel pajamas that she asked for.
My family draws names for gift giving, and we set a $20 limit, which all of us break, on presents.
Thing is, we used to buy each other actual presents. Now, the entire routine has boiled down into asking where they like to shop, and then getting a gift certificate to that place.
Not wanting to do this, I gave my brother a hydration pack from Cabela’s. He said "Thanks," but I could tell he would’ve preferred the gift certificate.
I dunno. Gift certificates don’t show much effort. But since everyone has price limits, exactly what are you going buy that’s worth a damn?
Picture
At the family shindig in Hico, I was really happy to get this picture.
That’s Sam with his great grandparents, father’s mother’s side. Harold and Theda V are doing good, but it’s hard to get to see them as often as I’d like. Grandma played with Sam for quite some time before he got impatient. Don’t worry about my Grand dad. Tell him that you like the Dallas Cowboys, and remember that he served in World War II and doesn’t talk about it.
Some thoughts after the Gator Bowl
- Yahoo!
- God loves Mike Leach.
- The TV color guy got excited and said "The Raiders are set to run the table next year!" I’m sure every Tech fan across the country immediately thought we’d been jinxed.
- Next season, Texas Football will pick Tech to finish behind Oklahoma, Texas, Oklahoma State, Texas A&M and TCU for good measure.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
