old crazy

I have a few thoughts on sport. Not sport on TV or in person, but life sport.

I remember very little about my days playing little league baseball. Then again, I stopped playing at a young age and stuck more to basketball. I remember my basketball playing days (they don’t call it little league; it was the South Southwest Omaha YMCA grouping). Our team won the ‘state championship’ for fifth- and sixth-graders at the big tournament in Lincoln. That was memorable more for the weekend trip, playing on the road, and being in the Final Four. The games themselves don’t stand out. Practice at myriad Omaha area elementary schools on cold and damp weeknights (usually something like Tuesday and Thursday) don’t stand out. If pressed, I can probably bring forth a half-dozen real memories from those years of youth organized basketball. What I do remember of my youth and sport is the hours upon hours I spent playing pick-up basketball at YMCAs, churches, my drive way, and my friends’ houses. I remember me and the neighbors playing hours of a made-up baseball in the front yard: pitcher, hitter, one fielder. A whiffle bat, a yellow Trac-ball, and a fence. Once you fielded the ball you had to hit one of the first three fence planks (1st base/only base) to get the runner out before he tagged it. Repeat. This was far more exciting than any organized stuff I ever played. I remember my greatest pick-up games like they were yesterday. I remember playing Pepper in the front yard for hours.

Here’s the deal, and my crazy talking: get rid of organized sports for kids. Keep the fields, keep them nice, and let them play – just without our getting the way. If they want to play, they will. The practice and sorting of rules amongst themselves is far more of a life lesson than schedules on Excel spreadsheets, bad umpiring/referees, and overbearing parents. Open spaces and open minds. The thought of little league stuff these days just turns my stomach. Why can’t it be like this?



And why can’t we let kids make the teams – or sort the hopefuls and others. It works.



I think I might give you some time to digest this craziness before I continue on with my “let all track-and-field athletes dope all they want” position. That may be too much for one day.

pulling us along

We had what can only be dubbed a clan over for pizza night. With H. back home for the week there were 10 in all and the oven racks were on task for maximum production. Everyone seemed happy enough by the time the food disappeared – or, at least reduced in size so that leftovers were available for the WonderTwins’ lunches.

After the N. Park Dr. folks headed home we played about an hour of Charades (how Americana, are we?) with the highlight being my giving H. the test of “Grandpa”. He began some crazy dance that was apparently intended to sync us all together via Pitch Penny but was wholly unable to herd the cats in any direction. After a few more minutes of gesticulating, his mother finally piped-up loud-and-proud with “someone who’s sort of in charge of something?” Truer words….

I only have one night in class this week so preparations can continue apace for hosting Thanksgiving at the house this week. X found four more high-quality chairs (see my previous) so we should be able to just about get everyone around the table for festivities. Of course, why the kids aren’t being sent to a card table masquerading as an eating table is beyond me.

In case you’re wondering, H. is about two inches taller and now sounds like Leon Redbone.

lost treasure

I was flipping through my cellphone photos - about 98 of 122 picture are of my cat, am I an old, crazy woman? - and stumbled upon this classic. This the the parking garage near both the DCJCC and the Keegan Theatre in NW DC. You will, of course, stop because you figure it's some sort of parking area in which you aren't welcome.

Feel free to tell me who doesn't qualify to park here.

redux and then off you go

I've been waiting for Cloud Cult to return to Minneapolis and a review of the homecoming.

Here it is from the City Pages; written far better than I could.

And, a new in-studio performance at The Current with Mark Wheat intro-ing them. All my favorite stuff in one place.

small bear near river

with hat and sweater stolen from bigger bear.

just duckie

In preparation for Duckgatta 2011, "The Maine Campaign", we present the newly acquired entry from Nut Enterprises: Nut II.

Nut II is a model 2029 duck produced in Taiwan and purchased from his previous owner on November 14th, 2010 in Washington D.C.

Nut II will spend this winter and spring in training in both open and closed water environments under the technical guidance of retired champion, Nut I. Training will be accomplished at Nut Enterprise's Northern Virginia headquarters.

Training will be closed to the public and Enterprise affairs will be updated aperiodically.

take it, leave it, maybe take it

I have a love/hate relationship with Arcade Fire. I bought Funeral back in 2004 and enjoyed it for a number of months before growing away from them. Zip for me and the band over the last five years even as they exploded in 2007 with their second album. The music was good and I'm not sure what to pick at if asked to explain my distance. But it's there: no desire to see them live and no concerns about whether or not they put out another album. The funny part is that often they'll be compared to Cloud Cult in the bombastic and orchestral areas but it goes wanting when I try to see the similarities. Regardless, I bought the new album a few months ago when they were again sprung upon us as the saviors of indie music. I still don't know. I like the energy but they seem like such hipsters to me and that somehow pushes me away. I know, it's unfair. The only people who don't want to be hipsters, in whatever mold, are nobody. Here they are doing my favorite song from the newest CD.

sebastian, what is it? i'm counting matches

Updates from the weekend; not necessarily timely.

It was absolutely perfect weather for a few outings. I stocked Galactica with well-fed minions (homemade biscuits and gravy) on Saturday morning for a swing by Litteri in D.C. for Italian stock – olive oil, tomatoes, espresso, pepperoni – and subs from the deli for the kids’ picnic. After that is was to the National Arboretum for a stroll around the Asian Collection set in a valley that runs down to the Anacostia River. The kids devoured lunch while we walked (somehow G. ate an entire 12” sandwich on his own) and The Eleven has brie and cranberry baguettes at the river to finish the walk. It was our first visit to that portion of the Arboretum and it certainly fulfilled the 'day out' plan that’d been rattling around in my head. We also swung back through downtown for frozen yogurt on the way home…a bit of overkill, don’t you think? By the time we got home it was simply of matter of getting the fire going and doing nothing for the rest of the evening.

Three of us headed to Eastern Market on Sunday morning to kick-off Holiday shopping, or at least the browsing preamble. We were early enough for crepes before the line got too long and managed to haul home what appears to be a 10-lb cabbage. I can see the question rolling around in your head, “Who needs a 10-lb cabbage?” That’s exactly the response I was looking for; it’s living on the front porch with the rest of the squash.

Consider yourselves summarized.

We did Quiz Night last night and it was pure horror. Easily the worst performance of all time. Ghastly. And other adjectives and adverbs.

The weather had turned to rain. I have school for three days. It’s not quite as nice.

I want to pass along a photo from the summer’s wedding in England that the WonderTwins attended. One of their dear friends got married in what appears to be a ceremony stripped from a period-piece English drama. I’m not sure I’ve seen a more storybook wedding, even as I giggle while trying to sport Helena Bonham Carter or Daniel Day-Lewis. Anyway, if you wonder how they look when cleaned up and as attendants, now you know.

Lovely.

(professional wedding photos: here)

progressive

True colors show when I consider museums and admission prices, particularly in a nation’s capital. There was quite a bit of debate in England during Blair’s run but I think he actually managed to get admission to most of the country’s museums eliminated. They are already talking about reinstating charges in this economic abyss and it’s also raising its head here in D.C. The Smithsonian’s budget number for 2011 is about $800m. None of the Institute’s venues charge admission – even if the Udvar-Hazy does charge for parking – and it should be as close to sacrosanct as anything in budgets. In the grand scheme of things it’s not a lot of cost, budget-wise, to keep the Smithsonian free; and, in the end, that was the point of the gift in the first place.

Here’s a down-and-dirty on management for those that feel like management classes and other such junk is valuable. I’m dispensing it down from repetitive lists, bullets, charts, books, and thousands of dollars in tuition:

See what’s wrong
Figure out how to fix it
Fix it
See that it stays fixed

You can thank me later for four lines that essentially give you an MBA in management. Oh, and don’t punch anyone in the face.

We’re off to the National Arboretum for a walk and picnic tomorrow. Meet us there.

rearranging deck chairs

X pointed out this morning that we need more chairs for both Thanksgiving and general-use dining functions around the Hilltop’s massive table. Her exact words, while sipping coffee at the bar, were something like “finding solid, quality-made chairs for a reasonable price ain’t easy.” I decided then and there that I could include that tidbit within the grumpy fatherly advice given to children as they depart the nest (X added the last two):

1. Don’t get involved with crazy women.
2. Good quality dining table chairs are hard to find.
3. Don’t ever buy a piano.
4. Don’t ever buy a boat.

Of course, this led to me falling into my grumpy old father imitation (?):

“I don’t give a crap about your wife; I don’t have to talk to her. I don’t have to get in your damn boat or move your stupid piano. But, I do have to come over to your house for holidays because your mother will make me. I won’t sit in crappy chairs while eating overcooked turkey so get some goddamned good chairs. And, don’t ask me for any more money.”

On to other stuff.

Joel Klein is following Michelle Rhee as “school chancellors out the door” in urban east coast cities (but for different reasons). I’m bothered by Rhee leaving even if I’m not a DC resident because I think letting her finish the job (five years) would have been the better option but politics intervened. Klein has been in NYC for eight years which is a pretty amazing run. I don’t have fully formed opinions and evidence for charter schools, something Klein fully supported and Rhee seemed to sort of support, but it seems as if both of them were quite willing to take on the unions and bust some heads – nice turn of “union and head-busting” phraseology, isn’t it. I’ve lost count of the number of philippics turned while talking about education out loud and in my crazy head. It’s easy to look at Fairfax county or the district of my youth and make assumptions about the quality of education. I think we’re usually wrong to even consider either of those as the underpinning of the system as a whole. Shouldn’t we always consider the weakest link as the issue at hand? Even if you take that weakest link’s issues and apply them to the stronger links you’ll still see the same problems. Those problems? Mediocre actual skills and results, middling test scores, and grading that is focused on pushing kids to the next level, not learning them to the next level. I’ll let it go for now…I’m pretty pessimistic. I have an analogy to make between education and offshore drilling, if you can believe that, but I’ll hold it for another day.

(Here’s a harsh review of Rhee’s tenure in D.C. Read at will. Here’s a look at Klein’s in NYC.)

I’ve started about book, The Tiger, that has me massively enthralled. I’m taking it bit-by-bit because I’m quite keen on the writing and the story. Here’s a review from the Seattle Times and here’s the piece from NPR that got me interested (you can listen to the audio portion). I’m looking at Lemon in a new light…

Finally, one last yarn. X was given control of taking any important calls at work for a colleague at work who’ll be out of the office for a few days. The real request is for her to simply ‘handle’ the calls and ease the minds of callers – don’t actually try to solve any issues; issues to be solved will be handled by the master upon his return. She’s to just be nice and make them feel as if their concerns and feelings are being stoked. I passed along to her that you can really learn a lot from Roadhouse. In fact, just about every life lesson might be encapsulated in this fine film.

Be nice. You don’t decide to do anything…I’ll let you know.

what doing?

X left a box of spider plants near the curb over the weekend with “free” written neatly on the box. Someone finally took them yesterday but not before removing one plant / pot and leaving it behind as if some type of runt. Needless to say, she found the desertion of a single plant to be heresy. I simply pointed out that maybe her product labeling and directions needed to be more specific.

The weird news over the weekend was that a home that had been under construction down on the corner of the main streets near our house burned down early Sunday morning. I was actually headed out to pick up L. from her slumber party at 1:30am when I came upon it and called 911. By the time we got back it was gone; the firefighters finally wrapped up the fire part about 6 hours later and the investigation seemed to finish up yesterday.

I’ll try to dig up some Halloween photos…I know I’m delinquent.

t

explosion

Cloud Cult at the Black Cat in D.C. last night.

I’ve been waiting a very, very long time to see this band live – I think I may know just about every song they’ve ever done. I’ve seen some live video, particularly from their documentary No One Said It Would Be Easy, and the in-studio work at The Current a few years back and this more current offering from the new CD and their visit to KEXP in Seattle. It wasn’t long into my Cloud Cult time to see it grow to infatuation and the realization that I was on to something I’d enjoy for the rest of my life. The music is ethereal, bombastic at times, operatic often, and probably the most exciting and vibrant stuff I’ve even owned. I’ve missed them on at least two occasions here in D.C. – other agenda items – and wondered when my luck would change…I almost didn’t go last night: Monday and all, I had class from 6 to about 7:30, and I was tired. It would have been the biggest mistake to stay home.

The Black Cat is a venue that might hold 300-350 when sold out but was comfortably only loaded with about 150 for last night’s show. A perfect-sized crowd in a club that’s just about the limit of what I enjoy these days. As the band was getting everything in order just prior to kicking off, I wandered to my chosen standing square right in the middle of the floor and about 15 feet from the stage. The lights dropped and they opened with the last song, Unexplainable Stories, from their new CD Unexplainable Stories, which is a reprise (pre-prise?) of the last track on the same CD – it’s a slow, quiet-ish song that builds to an almost indistinguishable peak before fading to nothing. After that quick taste it was merely a few switches on the computer for Craig and off we went into fucking orbit. ORBIT. Nearly 80 minutes of floating amidst the sound, light, and (actual) painting that was on offer right before my eyes and ears. Standing mid-floor with the sound centered all around was simply perfection for me and for the first time in a long, long while I didn’t mind standing at a show. Any idea of being further away or standing under some peripheral lighting near the bar wouldn’t have crossed one’s mind; you were held right in place but every piece of the performance – empty glass in my hand be damned. It’s impossible to truly get the idea of what a live Cloud Cult show is all about. Even the documentary and live studio versions only give you about 10% of what’s going on with this band when they are in full flight on a dark night. Having five players all singing together, and often adding in the voices of the two painters, the trombone, the strings, the French horn, the xylophone, the effects, lights, fog, dreamy lyrics, the crazy drummer…it’s overwhelming while all the while giving you peace and comfort. You dance, you smile, you wonder. It was truly, truly amazing. I honestly feel like I’m done seeing shows now…

lordy, lordy, and lordy

Apparently, unbeknownest to me, there is a violent battle pitching apace concerning the serial comman in this country. I, for one, and for no real reason, am a serial comma guy. I'm real America. Let's just turn this debate over to Vampire Weekend - per Andrew Sullivan (you can follow a good bit of the debate at his site).

gpa

A discussion at work today devolved into whether or not Patrick Swayze was an A-list star. First all, and before we get too far down the hole, an important disclosure: I’m a big Swayze fan. My position on the A-list nomenclature is that someone would have to be on the shortlist of about 15 actors or actresses who are constantly banking big-time money for big-time movies over at least a five- or ten-year period. Swayze is a difficult bill of goods because just about everyone will bring up Ghost and Dirty Dancing, huge hits but both really surprises in the money department. By being successful in both movies I always felt that Swayze punched well above his class. I consider him the very peak of the B-list movie celebrity who endeared a lot of movie goers with those two rolls and for just a moment stood at the door of the A-list room He might even be considered the B-list king. Then again, at the very end of the discussion we suddenly remembered Point Break and for at least a moment reconsidered his place in the pecking order: alas, it didn’t change. Along with his successes you have to really consider what comes to mind when you really dig deep and think of Swayze’s career: Roadhouse, Outsiders, Red Dawn. And with those great movies, the case is closed.

I was going to serenade you with the events surrounding what is now know as the “Landlord & Dishwasher Service Call” episode but I don’t have the heart. I think you can probably figure out whether or not it was a result in the end.

My former F/A-18 pilot and co-worker was just stumped by the plane-on-a-conveyor belt-taking-off puzzle.

t

shooting j's

Over the last few months I’ve been trying to chase down some logic books – logician books, the science, not logic puzzles. Of course, I don’t mind a good logic puzzle. My luck had been middling with a few smaller paperbacks that I enjoyed but the mother lode escaped me; my Moby Dick, if you will. The problem is that I believe the world to be littered with vast textbooks on the subject that are undoubtedly dry and miserable (don’t even start on your thought that all logic is already dry and miserable). What I wanted was a guide to walk me through the process all the while being exciting and readable. This logic problem folds in nicely with my previous post on history in that we aren’t actually taught these things in school…either back in the 70s and 80s, or now. I went to some high quality public schools and aside from about two weeks of proofs and theorems in Geometry – and I hated that block of instruction – none of the real theory is offered through primary or secondary school. They also never really explain that “begs the question” is a logical fallacy and not something spouted by talking heads to mean a completely different idea. Well, I’ve found my white whale and it’s a two volume primer written by Paul Teller. Teller, who I believe teaches (or taught) at UC-Davis, has converted his course material to books that were originally published by Pearson Education. At some point they ceased printing and returned all rights to Mr. Teller and he’s been awesome enough to allow us to access it for free. I’ve already printed the first volume and am slowly working my way, two steps forward-one step back, through the meat of it all. I’m sure L. can’t wait until a few years hence when I gracefully bequest hot her a copy of A Modern Logic Primer. If you’d like to add it to your wish list then you might just find a copy under the tree at Christmas; I can already see that smile on your face.

I’ve drafted up a short Omaha primer for WonderTwin 2’s impending jaunt to my homeland. Bearing in mind that the city has ‘changed’ and grown since my youth – and my three-year tour in the early, mid -90s, the fact of the matter is the Omaha never really changes. There will still be drivers heading east on I-80 who can’t figure out which lane will take them downtown and which will shoot them off to Council Bluffs (they only changed the layout about 20 years ago). You’ll still be able to find a steakhouse that’ll serve you a hunk of meat with a side of manicotti. And the basketball hoop in my old driveway is still there – it may survive any disaster ever laid upon the world. If you look real close, and squint just so, you can see the ghost of my youth working on my turnaround jump shots and free throws on a cool summer’s eve in 1978.

I’ll let you go.

be forward, think backward

A bit more on the graphing calculator before I go.

I suddenly drew upon a revelatory process. Stick with me.

Bassinet >>>> Baby >>>> Garage sale / eBay / Craigslist

TI-83 >>>> ___________ >>>> ___________

See if you can fill in the blanks.

The more I thought about it the more I realized that a poor college graduate with a TI-83 in the boxes he's moving from his frat house might just want to get some cash. How would they do that? What could they sell?

Trust me when I say that you can type TI-83 into Craiglist anywhere in America and not be disappointed. I'm pretty sure that nothing has changed in the graphing world in the last ten years.

varying angles

The Eleven took yesterday off (and today…this didn’t work out) so that her can’s position could go through a pocket revision. I’ll put that into better terms: They were going to open up her shoulder area yesterday morning and reposition the ICD. This merry journey began on Tuesday at her first follow-up when she told them that it felt like that it might be slipping position a bit. She wanted to know if it might keep moving and cause troubles for both her and the device. This discussion got translated, a bit erroneously into “let’s pop you open on Thursday morning and fix that thing.” No one was looking forward to another trip into the twilight, re-positioning of the device, and a fresh start on her physical recovery. This may be the only time where ‘fresh start’ doesn’t indicate a good thing.

We checked into the hospital in the morning, got the paperwork in order, and were called back to the surgery prep area. The multiple questions, from multiple questioners, were answered. We spoke with the pre-op nurse, another nurse (the op nurse?), the Anesthesiologist, and had the IV started. Ready to go. Then the doctor comes in and the discussion starts to ramble through confusion: Is the move aesthetic? Is the device okay where it is? Is it bothering her? Marker is put on both her shoulders (one saying “no” on the good shoulder) to indicate where to move the thing. A bit more of a discussion and then the doctor leaves. (Pause.) New doctor enters. Come to find out he’s a more senior member of the practice and the head of cardiology at the hospital. He’s clearly been called over because there’s confusion on whether or not to proceed. He’s quite good; comforting and focused. He pretty quickly sorts out the concerns and isn’t much interested in proceeding. I think the term was, exactly, “I see no medical reason to do this.” Right. He heads out to gather up one more opinion. (At this break in the action, the OR nurse comes by and says, “Okay, are we ready to go?” To which we both sort of reply, “I think we’re holding off for a second.”) CardioHeadMan returns with practice founder who jiggles can (ICD, not his) and declares tomfoolery. Nurse comes back, removes IV, and we exit stage right. (Curtain.)

No new recovery period needed, no reentry required, recovery time will be a few months for the original, and no worries about infection nor whatnot. Happiness all around.

L. has taken to asking X. for temporary authority to direct G. in various ‘activities’. Authority has been denied.

L. told me last night that she needs a graphing calculator for Algebra. “Sure,” I say, “they probably run $30 or $40 so we’ll just grab one at the store.” Funny that. Apparently most types of calculators have come down to a cost of about nothing; not graphers. $130. Yikes. I think I’ll use it when she’s done so I at least get my money’s worth. I don’t think Euclid had a graphing calculator. I think he did his work in stone.

Am I confusing historical epochs?

t

100% manmade

If you’ve been around me on long drives or at holiday gatherings then you’ve heard at least part of this theory. It comes out when I have people trapped and they can’t comfortably escape from either a moving car or a room full of others, just as crazy, folks. For some reason it came up today while L. and I were driving to the Metro and may have followed on from some talk of Euclid and geometry and doing proofs in stone. What? They had paper in the days of Euclid? That will be much funnier in a bit.

I have this crazy position that American History, as taught in both our high schools and colleges (remember the classes American History to 1865 and American History after 1865 as core courses?), essentially goes like this:

Columbus
Pilgrams
Eli Whitney
The Civil War
Watergate

That’s it. Nothing more. If you try to draw a rudimentary timeline of what happened and how things tie together, based on what we actually teach, you’d find that a lot of Americans would nearly conflate Columbus as tour guide for the Mayflower. Seriously. If he wasn’t Julie the Cruise Director on the same voyage as the Pilgrims than it all happened within a few years of each other. How about if we look at it this way: Columbus = 1492, the Mayflower = 1620. Alright, students, give me a quick run down of what happened, here or worldwide, in that 128-year gapping hole of American learning. I’ll wait.

1513 – Ponce de Leon lands on the coast of Florida
1565 – St. Augustine Florida becomes the first European colony in North America
1607 – Jamestown, first English settlement in America, is established
(Whoa! Where are the Pilgrams?)
1619 – First representative assembly meets in Jamestown. First African slaves arrive.
1620 – Mayflower arrives

Worldwide?

1492 – The Moors conquered in Spain by Ferdinand’s troops
1497 – Vasco da Gama sails around Africa
1503 – Da Vinci paints the Mona Lisa
1509 – Michelangelo paints Sistine Chapel. Henry VIII ascends to English throne
1513 – Balboa sails the Pacific. Machiavelli writes The Prince
1519 – The Reformation starts in Switzerland. Mexico is conquered by Spain. Magellan sets out
1520 – Luther excommunicated
1527 – Rome attacked by troops of the Holy Roman Empire. End of the Italian Renaiassance
1535 – Reformation begins in England. Henry VIII makes himself head of Church of England after being excommunicated by the Pope

…and on and on.

Context.

The problem we have in history is too many dates and mindless trivia. I don’t care if you can give me the year the Mona Lisa was painted but you should have a ballpark figure based on other events. I don’t care if you know the exact dates of the American Civil War but you should say something like the mid-19th century. What we should also be able to do is recognize what’s happening around the world that affects, or affected, what happened here. I think that Henry VIII thing might be important.

And yes, I used Wikipedia.com….sue me. But, I’m a product of the system, I love history, I’ve read quite a bit (not so much American), and it’s all quite shallow even to me. When you don’t have any stuffing to prop open a space it simply collapses upon itself.

In the end, you wonder why Eli Whitney didn’t just bring a cotton gin over on the Mayflower with Columbus.

Dismissed.

swept back in

Okay, back in the saddle.

The house has settled down and we’re simply back with the ‘normal’ load: the Eleven, one boy and one girl. And two cats. X is back to near normal aside from the slower recovery required for her left shoulder. That’ll probably be another couple of weeks before she can lift, rotate, and carry on as normal. I’m very pleased to have my normal chick back. Thanks to everyone out there for driving around, helping out, and sending wishes and cards. We’re lucky the knucklehead is still with us after two years of that dodgy ticker.

The four adults headed into D.C. on Friday night to see a live performance of Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K for the hepcats) though they work under the title of Cinematic Titanic these days – copyright issues, I guess. The seats at Lisner aren’t the best for long sitting (a little over two hours) but the show was quite good; almost like sitting on a big couch back in 1994. I sort of considered us dorks for being so excited to see the crew live…I was wrong. I think we’re normal. Any MST3K get together is going to have a large pods ‘Trekkie’-like idolatry about the wandering about the place. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

For those who’ve been to the Hilltop you already have a visual for the next bit, for those that haven’t, here’s some background. The ‘Top is a fully wood-floored, single-level home. There’s a rug in our room, one rug in G’s, and one in the den (or “library” as east coast elitists might call it.) Other than those, the place is free-and-clear of material matter on the floors. We’ve had two vacuums (one tank that died and now an upright that does floors) since moving here about 2 ½ years ago but neither has tripped my trigger. How to most efficiently clean wood floors? I know that the fans are screaming ‘Swiffer’ at their monitors and I’d nearly give credit for that idea; but, I need you to think bigger, think better. Think one of those industrial janitorial shaggy brooms that the crazy janitor used to clean your high school classrooms and hallways. That’s right, I’m fully loaded now and the total coat was $23 at a commercial cleaning place (Daycon) right next to G.’s gong fu hut. I was waiting to pick him up a few Saturday’s ago and was eyeing the Daycon shop, as usual, wanting to head in for some commercial products; I love that sort of stuff. As I was envying (?) the place and the men that use it, I thoughtof my house, I thought of my cleaning, I thought of my sweeping. It hit me like a…well, like a sweeping thing. I wandered in and started a chat with the manager – you know, explaining my needs in the most manly way possible – and walked out with the long-handled pusher, the rack, and a blue-sky colored (washable) cover. Sweet. After a few weeks of simply sliding most things in the house to one side of the room, sweeping, sliding, and sweeping, I can report that this is the best device, ever. Don’t tell me you don’t remember trying out Janitor Watson’s shaggy push moppy/broomy thing back when you were in school. And, just as you remember it, that thing is just as maneuverable, gets all the edges, and doesn’t leave anything behind. I can’t decide if the inventor is my hero or if I’m my hero. It’s a fine line.

If you have a retractable cable keychain with about 100 keys on it that you can send me I promise I’ll wear it while working the sweeper.

sunrise

Well, well. All the girls have been re-herded to the house. L. arrived on Tuesday evening and is safely ensconced back in her room and at the New School.

X. also came home from the hospital on Tuesday afternoon – about 24 hours after her surgery. Truckloads of stuff rolled through my head while she was in the hospital: love, fear, anger. When they called me into the recovery area, after they were done cutting and tugging at her, I cried to finally see her again. She was frail, groggy, and googly-eyed as she came out of her twilight. She recognized me right away and asked me if they were done. Had it happened? I told her it was over and she was safe once again. She closed her eyes and slept for ten more minutes. Too many things to process when thinking about it all. For that, it’s said much better by her sister here and here.

She’s home. She’s still very sore but she’s recovering. Another few weeks and she’ll be (bionically) as good as new.

Days are back.