Hey! When's your birthday?

Mine's today!

Birthdays aren't what they used to be. They were things filled with anticipation and excitement. Gifts were to be bestowed, honor given, attention paid to me. Now, however, I meet each annual celebration of the day of my birth with a mix of defeatist antagonism (if there is such a thing).

The gifts are still nice and I like the excuse to see friends and family, but on the inside I no longer find my self saying. 'Alright I am getting older!' what I hear myself saying now is, 'Oh no, I am getting older!"

To properly sum up the awfulness of this feeling I must find a musical quote worthy of the suckiness of the getting older prospect

• "Time keeps on slipping into the future" (Steve Miller Band), sucky enough but not quite right.
• "Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana." (Groucho Marx)... certainly funny but doesn't capture the point.
• "Half our life is spent trying to find something to do with the time we have rushed through life trying to save." (Will Rogers) This last one will do nicely.

As kids we are in such a rush to get older that somewhere along the way we pass that impossible to reach age of perfect happiness. Running towards a finish-line so intent on getting there quickly that the joy of crossing the line is lost in the race and we are left standing among the crowd looking backwards at the race we've run.

Okay, ish... is getting older make me dour? Really it's not that bad. I think the writing process tends to flush out the ills of my mind, leaving me happy and carefree, but leaving my readers downtrodden and depressed... for this I apologize (to all 3 of my readers).

Peace Out

So far I have tried to remain reasonably apolitical in this blog, primarily because I feel that political blogs are overrated. But today I just can't help myself. It is related to the NSA and the federal government eavesdropping on its own citizens without a warrant. The whole thing leaves a very bitter taste in my mouth. For those who don't know, I lean left. I like to think of myself as economically moderate and socially liberal, but labels do little to explain a person and the complexity of views available on all issues, so I prefer to avoid them. Anyways, why does the NSA thing bother me so? I am not paranoid, but the fact that our own government is monitoring its citizens' activities doesn't surprise me... it doesn't make me proud or happy, but it doesn't surprise me. What really gets my goat is the brazen disregard by this administration that they may have gone too far. The administration reacts by turning the tables, shaking the sabre and reminding us that we all have something to fear...jingoism isn't sound foreign policy. I don't want anyone infringing on my civil liberties, and if someone admits to doing it I expect an apology, not an admision accompanied by a statement indicating that no change in the policy is forthcoming. Big Brother politics work because a real big brother is a friend and protector from things evil, a shield, a filter and a bowbreak against the trials of life. There is a dangerous allure to believing this false promise, to believing that this offer of Big Brother's protection is in any way meaningful, or is in any way intended to protect us.

Finally, what ticks me off the most is that the President thinks that what he's done is okay, because the spying is supposedly only done on those who are known to associate with terrorists. Can we be sure that's the case? Based on what standards and processes have these Americans been determined to support or be terrorists? The whole thing smacks of judging someone guilty by association with no apparent accountability for the accusers. If the President claims that a group of Americans are terrorists, shouldn't someone ask for proof? Yes, there are terrorists in the world who have caused us terrible harm at home and abroad, and who wish to cause us more harm. And, yes, in light of such a reality we must be constantly vigilant and nimble to hopefully prevent further terrorist attacks. The thing is, these are tricky and weighty judgment calls, and the Administration has shown itself to regularly screw them up at great cost in the past. I agree that the President certainly is in a better position than I to determine who is a terroist and who is not, but Congress needs to be in the loop. A major role of the Congress is as a check on executive authority. The President may think that advising selected members regarding an un-warranted spying operation is sufficient, but it isn't. The President may think that when Congress voted to give him the authority to go after terrorists it was a free ticket to wield unchecked power, but it wasn't.

The path of deception is a dark one, and those that travel it often can see only light because they are blinded by the false glare of their own righteousness. Good leaders, however, are guided by the light of truth.

Baby Names

Here is the current list of names for the baby. Looks like we are a little shy on boys names, but it's still early. There is a tradition in my family that the oldest boy in the family is named John. My name is John. My dad is John. My grandfather is John. My great-grandfather was John and so on... Reportedly this goes back for many generations. Some day I hope to trace this lineage to see just how far back it goes. Anywho... this is why all the first names on the boy's list are John, the middle name can and always has been different than the generation before. Let me know what your favorite is!

Boys

John Benjamin
John Bennett
John Colin
John Douglas
John Norman
John Simon
John Atticus
John Andrew
John Noel
John Quinn
John Theodore

Girls

______ Derry
Dora/Dori
Frieda
_________ Grace
Harper
Irene
Kathryn (Kate or Katie) Ruth
Lillian
Lily Ruth
Lily Grace
Lucy
Paige
Magdalyn
Maureen
Mina or Minna
Miriam
Nina
Nora
Rosalind/Rose/Rosie
________ Ruth
Sonja Kathryn
Sonja _______
Sophie
Veronica
Zoe

Broomball

Of the four broomball games we've played so far this year we lost our first (I was goalie), the second was cancelled due to warm weather (I consider this a draw) I was out of town for the third (we won this one) and we lost our fourth game last night (again I was in goal for the first half but pulled myself out because of my suckage). I am a relatively competitive person. I don't like to lose. I know that about myself. What I know even better is that I don't like team sports because when you lose you lose for more than just yourself. I prefer bowling and golf to broomball or softball.

Haircut

I got a haircut today. Same haircut I have gotten for years - No. 2 trimmer size on the back and sides, half an inch off the top and blended in, sideburns taken up, mutant neck hair removed, no gel, no hairspray. It's all there, right in the computer. I walk in to the Great Clips and give the lady my phone number and she knows what to do. I go to Great Clips because it fits my style. Cheap, fast, no fuss, no muss, plus they have a cool little punch card so after 9 haircuts my tenth one is free! I have a friend who loves to get his hair cut. He loves to have someone running their fingers through his hair, the snip snip snip of the scissors. He tends to go to the expensive salon style places where the stylists are aspiring or recently rejected models. My stylists tend to be the older, divorced, slightly frumpy, but thoroughly likeable salt of the earth types. They talk to me earnestly about where I work, where I live, what the weather's like. They tell me about their kids and relatives or sometimes they just cut my hair. Unlike my friend, I don't really find anything about a haircut relaxing; it's more of a utilitarian function of life.

There is, however, something about sitting in that chair with a total stranger rapidly moving a sharp, pointy, metallic object very near my head that reminds me of my humanity. In that chair I (or, more specifically, my hair) is at the mercy of this person. I have little choice but to make my style request and hope that my sylist follows through in a way that I won't find comical. What's wonderful about this is that it is a shared experience among many of us. We sit in that chair and put our heads' fates into another's hands. Prince, pauper, king, business executive, intern, waiter, patron, etc... we all sit there, just for a brief moment, and hope.

Baby Heartbeat

We heard the baby's heartbeat yesterday! It is really remarkable. 150 beats per minute - right in the range where the doctors want it to be. It's fun to hear the heartbeat; it sounds like a fast moving broom swooshing over a rough concrete surface. Not much else to report from the appointment so we are happy and plan on getting the house ready for little baby's arrival.

Other events... Getting ready to head out to Utah to visit Jenn's cousins. I am really looking forward to it. I plan to get in some skiing as well as some much needed R&R. Jenn will not be hitting the slopes with me, but instead will be catching up with her cousin in town. Looking forward to some lime green Jell-O, genealogy, proselytizing.

At a loss

The sun came out this weekend. Okay, it was just for one day but it was a good day.

Sadly, the sun was soon followed by grey overcast clouds, not just in the sky, but in my life as well. My wife and I experienced a death in the family this weekend. A much loved grandmother passed away. Just two months ago my grandfather passed away.

No one said life was going to be easy, and it has proven to be difficult in the past few months. We have, however, had joyous news as well. The happiness I felt upon the news that my wife and I are expecting a child is hard to put into words. The holidays with friends and loved ones, our health and good welfare are always things that I am thankful for.

I consider myself lucky. I am almost 34 and have had to attend only a handful of funerals. My life's been generally free from great hardship, yet the death of a family member always manages to knock me back.

I am fascinated with how varied reactions are to death. Some cry immediately, others not at all. Some find it necessary to become busy doing what they can to help. Others reminesce. All of these reactions are very normal, or so they say, but none of them ever feels right for me. I tend to feel awkward. Perhaps it lies in the fact that my usual reaction to stress is to smile, joke or to try to find the humor in hard times, but death offers little opportunity for this outlet. Death steals from us not just a loved one, but our senses. Numbing us ever so briefly as a faint homage to the one who has just passed.

When I was a teenager, I had a cavalier attitude towards death. I logically concluded that it was the one certainty for all living things and therefore should not be feared. But as I've grown older and slowly closer to the day when my own end will come, the passing of others is a painful reminder of our mortality, of the brevity of this world. Truly it is overused and often misused but carpe diem is what comes to my mind upon death. But it is not the shouted, full-mouthed belting, "Seize the day!" - rather, it is a faint and constant whisper of wind gently blowing through the leaves, easily not heard, easily ignored, too easy to set aside, but always there... "seize the day."

I miss my grandpa, my grandma, my aunt and cousin. They will forever be missed.

In memory of all those who have left this world.

Haven't seen the sun in two weeks

The sun hasn't been seen in Minneapolis for two weeks. I don't mind the cold, I don't mind the snow, I don't mind ice storms, but I have a hard time dealing with the grey. I look out the window and the horizon is poorly defined, the clouds mix with the fog and the fog with the melting snow and the snow dirty with road ick mixes with the earth... it's really quite depressing. So like a good Minnesnowtian, I hunker down. I play my video games, exercise, watch TV, get together with friends. All of these things help but all it takes is one look out the window to remind me that I live in the middle of a grey crayon. It's what I imagine limbo would be like... a lack of definition a seeping of the will a obfuscation of clarity.

It's times like these that I strain to remember why I live where I do. Eventually, the clouds will break, the sun will shine and then I will remember. Remember the brightness, the vision, the heady radiant light. In it's absence an appreciation grows for what was previously taken for granted. Light, warmth, vitamin D, ultraviolet radiation. Perhaps tomorrow.

Innie or an Outie

I am an innie guy when it comes to belly buttons. In fact, I find outies just plain mystifying. Everyone I know is an innie...at least I like to think they are. My wife, Jenn, she's an innie. My folks, they are innies. My sister, cousins, friends who I've swam with (swum with?) they are all innies. I am sure that I know some outies; my old friend from Colorado, I think he was an outie, he certainly behaved like an outie. A handful of second cousins, outies, but most of them are serving time. Yep, innie is where it's at.

Now that I think a little longer on this however, maybe outies are okay people. I guess they didn't really have a choice; you're either in our your out. They didn't choose to be outies; I didn't choose to be in. It's an inherited trait in a way. I wonder if there are innie moms that have outie babies? A recessive trait no doubt.

Blogs are like belly buttons. Some bloggers look out on the world and write it down; others hang their proverbial heads and stare at the lint that has gathered at the center of their tummies, ponder it and then scribble something down. (I know that lint gathers in innie belly buttons, not sure if it collects in outies?). I am hoping to strike a balance with this blog, a sort of belly with no button. A gut with no beginning. Strange to even imagine such a thing. Sure 'nough, this is the flat bellied blog, the potholeless potbelly ponderer, the smooth stomached statesmen, the... well enough of that.

Pirate Humor

What isn't funny about pirates?
Here are several really bad pirate jokes for your amusement.

What is a pirate's favorite letter?
aaaR

What is a pirate's second favorite letter?
aye

What are a pirates three favorite animals?
aardvark
aaarmadillo
ayetalian greayhound

What kind of socks do pirates wear?
aargyle

What was the Pirate movie rated?
Arrrrrrr

What does a pirate pay to have his ears pierced?
a buck an ear

For an actually funny list click here

The Games I play

I am an avid game player and enjoy a variety of challenges. I thought I would put together a list of a few of the games and some fun online sites I enjoy.

Cribbage
Chess
Pente
Risk
Monopoly
A cornucopia of video games (Playstation 2 as well as Xbox)
www.itsyourturn.com
www.shockwave.com
www.xbox.com
www.ps2.com

Okay, so now you know something that you either already knew or really didn't care about, but there it is... behold the power of the blog!

Shag on, brother herpe man.

There are a number of comments on various websites regarding the Valtrex commercials and I just wanted to make sure that I added my two cents. These commercials feature either an attractive young male or female doing various activities. Soft music plays in the background as the voiceover croons, "Living with genital herpes can be a hassle - but only if you let it." I looked over to my wife at this point and jokingly said , "Shag on, brother herpe man."

I, for one, am tired of being inundated by direct to consumer advertising for prescriptionn medications. I feel like I am in bizzarro world. If you have genital herpes or erectile dysfunction or arthritis or spotted tongue disease or bladder problems or bowel problems, I hope to high heaven that you are getting advice from your doctor regarding the medications you should be taking vs. going to your doctor and saying, "Hey, I saw this ad on the TV the other day and everybody was skipping through a field and looked so happy and they have genital herpes too! Please sign me up for what they are taking..." Don't misunderstand me - I think that information is power and that an informed consumer is a powerful consumer, but I also think that prescription medications are something that only a professionally-trained doctor should push. I don't want my health decisions influenced by glitzy advertising and sly marketing propaganda. Shag on, brother herpe man.

"Crack"

The perfection pictured in the past
Was a hallucination that had to pass.
Freedom fenced in by hopes and desires.

We are glass blowers
Creating crystalline concepts of beauty.
Straining so hard, blowing so gently,
So deathly afraid of creating a crack.
Not seeing all along, that the crack was
What our beauty lacked.

A fissure frozen, floating fantastic
In this glassen creation's dull gray dawn.
A mistake to add meaning to our mockery
Of a mirage.

The Vacuum I Leave Behind

I lived in Minnesota once.
Owned one of those vacuums
That stand on four wheels.
Short, squat, it looked like
A tiny little dog with the
Nose of an elephant, and
Man, Could that thing suck!

Suck clean the luxurious
Brick-red carpet in the living room.
Suck clean the stairs,
Lugging along a deformed puppy dog
Climbing the stairs with my ball and chain.

Left that vacuum there.

I lived in Colorado once.
Owned a hoakie.
One of those powerless push/pull vacuums.
It looked like a backgammon case
With a broomstick attached.

The carpet began a wintry white
Ended up looking like rain clouds at night.
That cheap imitation of a vacuum cleaner
Really did suck!

Left that vacuum there.

I lived in Montana once.
Owned one of those ancient
1950's lime-green uprights.
The belt always broke.

The carpet was a shitty
Long, mustard, yellow, shag.
That vacuum cleaner was a great sucker,
Unfortunately nothing could clean
That house of the slime that
Permeated from all around.

Left that vacuum there.