Just had my first case of comment spam

so I implemented some a couple of things so ensure that never happens again. If you care to leave a comment, you now have to enter a word verification before it will be published (something a spam-bot can't do) plus I'll have to approve them all on a comment by comment basis. It's not like I have a deluge of comments on this narcissistic little webpage, so it won't be any trouble.

Merry Christmas vs Happy Holidays . . . Who gives a rats ass?

The above debate has occurred, with precision, this time every year, but this time around people on both sides of the fence seem especially boisterous, if not exceptionally intelligent.

My two cents follow:

1. The Tree. I find it fascinating that self-described Christians are fighting so hard to keep the ancient Greek work for 'mesiah' attached to a pre-Christian Druidic symbol for spring and the sun. News flash: Christmas trees are not part of any Catholic/Protestant/Christian/etc. dogma that I am aware of. I'm not completely up to date on my bible, but I missed the part where God spake "Thou shalt cut down a connifer and erect it in thine dwelling, and having done so, decorate it with lights and shiny bits in honor my sons birthday." (An aside: all the evidence in the bible points to Jesus being born in the spring. We celebrate it in the dead of winter because it was easier than getting the Druids and the Celts to change their honly days.)

2. People wishing you a "Happy holiday:" It is simply rude to assume that when someone wishes you happiness in this season, that they are doing it because they hate Jesus and want him out of Christmas. Most likely, they are simply whishing you happiness, at worst, they are trying to be PC, and still wishing you happiness. (For all you non-believers out there, the reverse applies. I mean, seriously. They're not trying to convert you; they just want you to be happy.)

3. Store use of the C-word in advertising: If you are truly in touch with your faith, the spirit of the season, and meaning behind Jesus' birth, death, and resurrection, then you should be appalled at the very idea that some multinational corporation should use his birth to encourage nothing more than crass comsumerism. Imagine the outrage if Jews saw an ad saying "Yaweh says shop Sears for all your hannaukah needs," or if Muslims saw Wal-Marts new slogan "Make like Mohammed and shop Wal-Mart this Rammadan." Christians should not be fighting for stores to continue what basically amounts to blasphemy, or at least, taking the Lord's Name in vain.

Never have I been so happy to hide behind bureaucracy.

A lady customer approached me at the self-checkout I was manning, carrying a bottle powdered instant breakfast.

"Can you buy this with food stamps?"

I checked on the computer and said no, you can't.

"Well, you should fix that, because I have this for breakfast every morning so it's food." She inflected the word you, as if I, personally, could effect the change.

"Oh ma'am, I don't make that descion."

"Well who does?" she said testily, looking around as if that person might be walking past at the moment.

"State of Idaho, Department of Health and Welfare"

She rolled her eyes, made an exasperated noise (somewhere between a sigh and a growl), and stalked off.

Sydney

will be six months old this week, and I can hardly know where to begin. First of all, she's the wrong age. I can't tell weather it feels like we've had her forever, or only a few days, but it really seems she's the wrong age.

Syd is turing into a little person, as opposed to a baby. Babies just eat, sleep, cry and crap themselves, and while Sydney does her fair share of that, she is also getting a personality, with her own set of likes and dislikes. She loves her little Sesame Street car that makes noise when you push buttons. She loves cords, strings and cables of any kind. When she's on the floor in the living room, we have to be careful or she'll make her way over to the Dreamcast and Xbox cables and start gumming them, and occasionally pull them out. (Did I mention she mobile? MOre on that in a moment.) She hates being put to bed or down for a nap, but always sleeps really well.

She is increadibly good tempered, particualrly in the morning. This makes us wonder if she was switched in the hospital, because Nomi and I are not, nor have we ever been, morning people.

Mobility! Sydney is thiiiiiiis clost to crawling. She been able to roll around for a while, but now she's getting the knees and hands into position for crawling. She can sometimes make one or two crawling steps, forward, but mostly what she does is fall down or go backwards. Going backwards pisses her off something fierce. She can see the toy she wants, and trys to go for it, but ends up farther away.

She smiles and laughs a lot, and I have discovered there is very little I won't do for that smile.

about half past midnight, we found ourselves on Main Street in Nyssa, OR. We had been driving since about eleven, more or less randomly, and philosophizing, as is our wont. We were immeaditly struck by how cool Main Street was under the streetlamps, when we saw an illuminated sign reading "Nyssa Tavern."

Someone said, "We should stop and get a beer."

"Are they open?"

"Yes!"

"I'm there!"

So we pulled over. The bar was long and narrow, dimly lit and smokey. Pool table. Juke-box.

Red States vs Blue State and Having Children

Was chatting with my Phillip the Wise (he can quote Gollum in Polish; it doesn't get wiser than that) and he was wondering why rural areas of the country and world tend to have more children than in urban places. I expained that out on the farm, another kid is another pair of hands to get some work done. It you live in a place where you must walk three miles every day for water, then extra legs means more water, whereas in a city, all children do is cost money; from a strictly economic standpoint, having a kid is the worst financial decision we could ever make, short of actually setting money on fire. Phil then wondered why areas with a tendancy toward more children tend to be more conservative. I pondered that for a while, and think I may have come upon a (possible) connection based on my (limited) parenting experience.

As of 05.25.05 (my daughters birthday) I had a pretty god handle on the world. I knew, for the most part, which things were hurtful and dangerous and which things were good and healthy. This is not to say I was the be all end all when it comes to morality and safety, but my wife and I were comfortable in the world at large and had spent much of the pervious nine months talking about how to explain that world to Sydney.

The problem is, the world keeps changing. All this new stuff is coming down the pipe: new drugs, new technology, new research, new dangers, new pleasures, etc. And I suddenly find myself in the position of having to evaluate all these new things not in terms of weather or not they're good for me, but weather or not they're good for my family. Right now, it's not so hard because Syd is still a baby, and unable to think about this stuff for herself, but that will change very quickly. She will start walking and talking and appprehending the world in a manner completely her own. As she grows older and becomes more and more independent, it will be harder and harder for me to make sure she's judging The New in a way that is healthy and right.

If you think back to the last election and the genisis of Red State vs. Blue State (an aside: I despise this term. It is divisive and jingo-istic.) the blue states/areas tended to be closer to large urban centers and red states/areas tended to be more rural. Here is a county by county map to refresh your memory. (Although I prefer the Purple America map as it shows how much more united the country is. It also demonstrates my point, but it's a little harder to tell.)

It seems that areas that have a tradition or necesscity of larger families also have, at least recently, a tradition of political conservitivism as well. I think this effect applies globally as well. If you look at urban, industrialized countries (Great Britain, France) versus more rural countries (Saudi Arabia, Iran) the urban countries trend towards a political liberalism, while the other countries trend conservitive.

I wonder is anyone more learned than I has ever said anything on the subject?

I have had a few of what I like to call Old Man Moments

A few weeks ago, I had Sydney in my arms while we walked through the park. A mother with her young child point our way and said, "Look! There's a daddy with his baby!"

I actually turned to see who she was pointing at before I realized she was pointing at me. I had to fight the urge to run over to this woman and explain that I'm not as old as I look.

Also:

I walked in on two of the younger people at work discussing last summers Warped Tour and I mentioned that I've always wanted to go, but never have; for whatever reason, I just don't go to concerts. Josh (17) said, "You should really go, it's a blast."

Daniel (18) looked at me and said, "Do you even like that kind of music?"

The Other Day At Work

I saw a forgotten pink balloon, barely able to float three inches off the ground for the weight of it's ribbons. I picked it up, trimmed the excess ribbon, and taped it to my work station. For some reason, it was important to me to save this balloon, and it made me happy to place it where others could see.

When I got back from break, someone had thrown it away.

Today is September 30

Today, I sold my first Christmas-themed magazine, and saw two seperate ads on television for CDs of Christmas music.

There are 86 days until Christmas.

How do you titillate an ocelot?

You oscillate his tit a lot.

(This joke was stolen)

People often ask me how fatherhood is, and the best adjective I can come up with is weird. I still really don't identify myself as a father, and it's bizarre to think of my father as a grandfather, and my grandparents as great-grandparents.

I have noticed that I'm beginning understand parents more. I'm sure all my readers can remember their own parents saying somthing to the effect of "You're not a parent; you won't understand until you are one." Those of you who are parents know what they meant. To those who aren't, well you won't understand until you have kids of you own.

A recent example: We watched a TV father go into almost ridiculous detail about how he worried about his daughter. My roomate said, "Wow. He put a lot of thought into that," and I had to exlain that's what parents do: they don't just worry about their kids, they obessively worry about their kids.

Someone without kids thinks "What would happen to a baby left in a car on a hot day? It would probably die." A parent asks that question and their mind is off and running: the scenario plays itself out in their head in the most agonizing, brutal, gruesome detail: in their mind, it's not just a random baby, it's their baby, and it's their car, and it's their fault their child slowly baked to death. They see their daughter screaming and screaming and no one sees or hears, then the screaming dies off into sobs which slowly fade and they baby is just lying there, her breaths coming slower and shallower untill they stop entirely, and you have to force yourself to stop thinking, because if you don't, you're just going to shut down.

The house I live in

is very crowded. It contains myself, my wife, my daughter, my sister, her fiance, and my buddy from Vermont who just moved out West and is looking for a job and a place of his own.

There is also my dog Lou, two beta fish, a cat and two ferrets.

Today, for the first time since I don't know when, I am the only human in the house.

It's quiet and wonderful.

Sydney

Is three months old now, and largely the reason I haven't written anything in so long. She pushes herself up onto her elbows whenever she's on her stomach, and pretty much has the whole 'holding my head still' thing down. She loves to sit up (still have to prop her; she dosen't quite got the hang of that yet) and be a part of the conversation, insofar as she is able.

About that: she id highly vocal, not crying and screaming (though she does her fair share of that...), but making sounds and trying out her voice. She occasionally suprises herself with what comes out of her mouth.

she also loves to laugh and smile, and I have quicklyy learned that there is little I won't do for that smile. Nomi has taken to calling her the Strongest Baby in the World: "She can wrap a 280 pound man around her little finger."

I know understand certain things I didn't before, like pictures in wallets. I never, never, had pictures of anybody in my wallet, but now I have a few of Nomi and I and a couple of Sydney. At work, I find myself looking at them and grinning a stupid grin.

Also, I understand what people mean when they say they don't want their kids to grow up. A small part of me wants sydney to stay this young forever, and the knowledge that, one day, she will have a like of her own makes me very sad.

******

I read an essay once, about a British woman who married and American discussing the common language barrier that Britian and America share. He would ask her opinion on a necklace or some candlesticks or some other knick-knack ("It's a knick-knack Patty Back; give the frog a loan.") and she would say "It's quite nice," then be mystified when he bought it. You see, in England, 'quite' softens enthusiasm reather than intensifies it. This also explains that he meant know insult when he called her home cooked meals "Quite good."

Nomi and I shared a moment like this the other day. I have a problem, sometimes, of remembering to do the shores she asks of me (in fact, every single screaming match we've gotten into has been over chores.). She feels that I don't attach importance to what she asks of me, and I have trouble convincing her that there is no malice (nor indeed, any thought at all) in my absentmindedness. We almost had another fight it about when, something clicked in my mind.

Naomi will frequently say. "The one thing I need you to do today is X" which I always took to mean, "Here is a single item (as opposed to three or four) to add to the list of things you want to accomplish today." It always seemed that it didn't really matter if I finished it or not, as it was just one more thing on the list. What she means is, "The most important thing you can do for me today is X"

Every major argument we've had boiled down to the simple problem of two peopel speaking the same language. Further proof, in my mind, that language and communication are among the most complicated things on the planet.

***

I san an interesting thing on 60 Minutes today about stress and aging. We've all heard that stress ages you, but now, a psychologist working with a molecular biologist, have proven that sentiment to be true, and pinpointed how it occurs.

The DNA that resides in every cell in your body is "capped" on either end by a structure the biologist likened to the plastic caps on shoelaces (I forget their proper name). These caps wear thin and brittle with age, until eventually, they break, the DNA unravels, and the cell dies. This is why we lose eyesight and muscle strength as we get older.

The study, in order to find people with a lot of stress in their lives, used 30 mothers who cared for children with chronic diseases like autism or cancer. The researchers got the mothers thoughts on the stress in their lives: how much they felt, how well they feel they cope, as well as recorded their bio-chemical responses to sressful situations. They also examined earch womans DNA. The research concluded that excessive stress and, more importantly, feeling unable to cope with it, , had the same effect on the DNA caps as aging. The effect was not minor; the women who were coping poorly had effectivly aged 10 years over the ones who were managing. A figure the biologist called "very conservative."

I do not feel

that fatherhood has required me to make any uncomfortable sacrifices. I've heard that some new fathers really resent the responsabilities and personal limitations that come with having a child. For the most part, I just accept them as things that I have to, and I do them quite gladly.

There is one exception, however. Being married (to a certain extent) and have a baby (to a much larger extent) has robbed me of my ability to leave suddenly and quickly. Time was I would drive, the long way, to Las Vegas on a few hours notice. Drive all night to spend the day in Salt Lake City on mere minutes notice. These times are no more. Now, even a short trip to the grocery store reqiures locating all the gear that small children need. Diaper bag (also got to pack it), stroller, blankets, binks and bottles. If anything is forgotten, the trip becomes remarkably difficult.

There is a part of me that mourns the loss of my mobility, even resents my family for it. The other part of me understands that that chapter of my life is closed, and that a new one has begun.

Long time, no blog.

I've been a little busy, as you can imagine. Sydney is now more than a month old and, for all of us, it has been a month of firsts.

First poopy diaper, then shortly, first empty pack of diapers.

First (of many) sleepless night.

First car trip where we forgot to buckle the baby in her car seat.

etc.

I'm not very inspiried at this point, so we'll close it here.

Nomi has had a few. . .

vainglorious moments regarding Sydney. On Memorial Day, we were sitting in the Rose Garden gazeebo, enjoying the afternoon as people passed us by. After about ten minutes, Nomi leaned into me and asked in an irritated whisper, "Why aren't people telling me how cute my baby is!"

The next day, we were riding in an elevator to Syds first pediatric visit. Another woman got in the lift and Nomi started cooing and fussing over our baby. The woman looks over and coos "Aww, how precious!" Once we were out of the elevator, Naomi confessed that she started making noise in order to draw attention to how cute Sydney is.

Pretty horrible, isn't it? Although, truth be told, I'm inclined to agree with Nomi: Sydney's a damn cute baby.

Sydney has been home a few days now,

and we're settling in nicely. I'm waiting for God to yell "Not!" and Syd to develop a six month case of colic. She sleeps well, dosen't fuss for no reason, and nurses like a champ.

I fear

fir the future of videogames. Read this (and this) and fear also.

What weighs 6lbs, 13oz and is 20 inches long?

No, you idiots, it's my daughter.

Here is the story of how my daughter, Sydney Elizabeth Ferree came into existence. You can go here to see some pictures online (click 'sydney elizabeth' in the left hand column).

On the evening of Thursday, May 25th, we checked into St. Alphonsus Hospital. Nomi was given a drug to help her cervix dilate, and it required about 12 hours to work. The next day, she was given Pitoson (usure of spelling) a drug that starts contractions and gets labor rolling. Contractions started about 6 am, and steadily increased throughout the day. Around noon, the doctor decided to break Naomi's water to help things along. This was very painful for Nomi, so we opted to have an epidural put in to help with the pain. Around five pm, it seemed that her dilation had leveled off, and was not yet at the 10 centimeters necessary for delivery. They gave it a few more hours, and with no appreciable progress, the decision was made to do a c-section.

Naomi was wheeled away, and I was given a suit, hat, and booties to wear in the operating room. A few minutes later, I was called for, and sat on a stool near Naomi's head to comfort her. The docs had raised a sheet across her shoulders so I did not actually see how they did it. About 30 minutes later, Sydney had arrived. She was checked out for several minutes on a nearby table. I was allowed to take some pictures, but it was with a film camera, and we have not developed them yet. Shortly, they let me take Sydney in my arms and carry her to the recovery room.

Official stats are: Thursday, May 26 8:52 PM; 6 pounds 13 ounces; 20 inches long.

Sydney was very active, looking around and crying some, though not much. By all accounts, she was an extremely healthy baby. A neo-natologist came in for a brief word and remarked "That dose not look like a child of a diabetic mother." Naomi, on the other hand, suffered some complications, though not serious ones. Her blood sugar was extremely high, and her blood pressure was extremely low (at one point dropping to 80/20), aking her very tired and confused, while at the same time almost convulsing as her body burned off the andrenaline. It took a couple hours, but she came out of it fine, and was allowed to return to her room with the baby and all the family.

We stayed in the hospital all day Friday and Saturday, and left around noon on Sunday. We could have stayed another night, but Nomi and the baby had recovered remarkably and the doctors gave us the ok to go home, and we were eager to get out of the hospital. For being an institution of healing, it's amazing how little sleep ones gets while admitted.

Sydney is home now, and I'm wondering what I did to deserve such a mild baby; certainly Nomi and I were not this noce to our parents (my father in law describes Sydney's tempermant as "completely unfair." Aside: My father in law is the first male in his family to live long enough to see a grandchild in at least three generations. I think that's cool.)

As I type this,

it's a little past one am, and I'm sitting in the hospital room while Nomi sleeps. We got here at about five pm, and are now on the thresh hold of giving birth. In the morning, she will be given a drug that starts contractions and... and then we wait. The worst part about inducing labor is how up in the air everything is. The doctor can't tell us what will happen because there too many variables. We will playing it by ear, and that's a little frightening.

Best case scenario: She takes the drug, labor occurs, and a few hours later the baby arrives vaginally.

Worst case scenario: She takes the drug, labors hard for many hours to no effect, and they have to put Nomi under general anesthesia for an emergency c-section.

Or anywhere in between. It's maddening, really.

I keep telling myself that this is the best place to be considering the unknowns; that whatever happens, the staff here is well trained and can handle emergencies. It's still annoying not to have any idea what will actually happen, other than, by this time tomorrow, I should be looking at my new daughter.

I've been trying to come to grips with the emotion of the situation, and I really can't. It's been an intimidating mental roller coaster. I go from absolute elation, to Full-Blown Linear Panic (as opposed to Modified Stationary Panic) and everything in between. I'll be giddy to the point of bugging the hell out out of my wife, then ten minuets later, breathing so fast I need to sit down before I pass out. Since we've arrived at the hospital, I've tried really hard to remain calm and collected, and let Nomi do most of the panicking.

There's quite a bit about the next rest of my life that scares me now. I worry about money and keeping up on the housework. I worry about teaching my child right. I worry about trying to explain why there's evil in the world. I worry about the shows on TV and the songs on the radio. I worry that she'll be healthy. As silly as it may seem, I worry that she'll love me. I worry about my marriage, not that we're having any trouble, but because a child changes everything and I wonder how we'll cope.

I worry about being a good dad.

I've been told that the joy of having a child more than makes up for the worry, but right now, in this darkened hospital room, the worry is coming through pretty strong.

I've learned to value my friends and family more. I really don't say it enough, but I could not have made through this without them. Beyond the financial support (of which there has been much, deeply appreciated) simply being there has really helped. Knowing that I can still drop in late at night for some gaming, or that they're still up for a long drive to nowhere, philosophizing, really helps. In an absolutely startling move, a couple of my friends have actually taken the weekend off, so they'll be available if we need them.

My perception of time has been fundamentally altered, in a way that I'm not certain I can explain. If you asked me, two years ago, what would be going in 20 years, I probably would have shrugged, mumbled something about being 40 and teaching English somewhere. Now, I look 18 years hence and I see Sydney graduating high school. She's had an entire life and I've been there to witness it: learning to walk, to talk, to read, making friends, getting into fights, finding love, loosing it, and on and on and on.

It's weird to think about.

Along with this, has come a greater, I dunno, understanding? (Acceptance? Realization? I can't quite pick the right word) of my own mortality. I think it strange that creating a new life has caused me to consider my own death, but it has. My death now has consequences, whereas, before I was married, it would affect only my friends and family. But now, it'll truly affect my kid, in a profound manner. Not to belittle my friends and family, but my dying won't affect them as much or in the same way as it will Sydney. (I say 'will', because it will happen, eventually) I need to be careful. Eat better. Peel my ass off the sofa once in a while. I need to be there, in life, for my kids. Before Sydney (this may sound melodramatic, but words fail me), I had no reason to live. I wasn't suicidal; I had no particular reason to die, but I had no compelling reason to keep breathing, either. Now I have something (someone, specifically) to live my life for.

It's startling when your life comes into focus like that.

At what point

does teaching your children what you believe to be right become brainwashing? This was the question I asked after I saw a lenghty news article about how it appears that a group of polygamists have plans to set up a community in Northern Idaho. Before I go further, allow me to say that if you think polygamy is the key to everlasting life, by all means, go for it; it's certainly not the strangest notion of salvation I've ever heard. What I do oppose is the practice of marrying young girls (15, 16 years old) to older men; to me, that smacks of exploitation. Also, if you choose to have a dozen wives and several dozen children, you should not be eligible for certain welfare benefits, such as food stamps. That, too, is exploitive, but in a different manner.

Anyway, this segment had statements from some of the polygamist women and men, saying that this is how they have chosen to live, that it's not abusive, they are happy, etc. The counter argument, from other citzens and some kind of expert was the only reason these people are saying they're ok is because they've been brainwashed into accepting their lifestyle, hence my question.

From a certain point of view, everything everyone teaches their kids is brainwashing. I plan to teach my children that, despite it's flaws, democracy is the best form of governance yet devised. Meanwhile, some shild in China may be learning that, despite it's flaws, communism is the best form of governance yet devised. It's all brainwashing, according to an ardent advocate of feudalism and Divine Right. These polygamists are merely teaching their children to adhere to a doctrine that, while non-standard, is every bit as valid as people teaching children to pray to Baby Jesus, or follow the 8 fold path, or to revere their ancestors. Before anyone points out that Christianity is an accepted religion the world over, I would remind them that, once upon a time, Christianity was considered a dangerous and subsersive sect.

That's about all my thoughts on that, really. I think I had more, but had to step away from this post for about two weeks and now I can't rmemeber where I was going with all this.

I would say I'm cautiously optimistic

about Oregon's mileage tax. Basically, because cars are getting more fuel efficient, revenues from gasoline taxes (used to fix roads and fund projects) are falling. As a possible solution, Oregon department of Transportation is conducting a study where drivers are charged for the miles they drive via a specialized GPS in their car. Here is another article, and here is a disenting opinion.

I'm glad lawmakers are investigating such an innovative approach to taxation. I'm not saying it's a solution and that we should implement it on a federal level, but I am saying it has a lot of potential. Some of the ideas surrounding the mileage tax are paying a premium for driving during rush hour in congested areas and, assuming national implementation, tracking and paying the mileage rate for each state you drive in (the gas tax already works somewhat like this, as you pay each individual states gas tax when you fuel up there). Also, this system could be used to charge a heavier tax on larger vehicles that do more wear and tear on the road. An idea I had was, if the GPS systems were sensitive enough, you could charge a special, temporary tax on a road or highway that needed extensive repair, such as a new interstate exit or major resurfacing. This could, arguably, create extra revenue for special projects allowing them to be financed easier and completed quicker. Also, states could charge a premium for driving in wilderness areas where even one or two vehicles on a backcountry road can cause extensive damage.

This idea is not without potential problems, though; chief of which is privacy and fairness. The State (and potentially Federal) government is essentially wanting to put a tracking device into your car to read when and where you drive. Security of this data would have to be airtight, and even then many people would not be comfortable with it. Also, the way test is being conducted, it treats a Toyota Prius the same as a Kenworth 18 wheeler towing three trailers, which removes some of the incentive for buying fuel efficient/hybrid cars.

My impending fatherhood

has caused me to reevaluate my positions on some things. Most recently, I've been thinking about registered sex offenders. In Idaho, as many other places, convicted sex offenders must register their address with local law enforcement. Ada County even has a website where you can get the address and picture of offenders in your zip code.

This registry has me conflicted.

On one hand, arrests and convictions are a matter or public record. It's really not anyone's business, but you can head down to the DMV and see every ticket I've ever had. You can plug in local notables and see their records as well. That's all well and good, but the nature of sex crimes taint a person for life. We seem to willing to believe that a burglar can mend their ways, or a drug dealer can walk the straigt and narrow again, but not child molesters and the like. These people are branded and outcast from normal society, and putting their pictures and forceing them to register their addresses leaves them vulnerable to public prejudice and bigotry. There have been recent stories where citizens have abused this information.

As a citzen, I feel that these offenders should be given a chance to redeem themselves, to have some privacy and chance to return to a normal, productive life. I don't think they should be forced to have a seperate registry of addresses. These registries are often implimented and defended by saying it's for the safety of our kids and neighborhoods, but there are lots of other crimes that prey on the innocent, such as murderers and drug dealers. Why isn't there a registry for these people? I would like to know if there's a convicted narcaotics trafficer living near by. Or people conviced of DUI. They pose a similar danger to the welfare of my community, why aren't they forced to post their pictures and addresses online? It really bothers me that we, as a community, are heavily stacking the deck against someones' right to a second chance and a decent, private life.

As a father, I want to know where these bastards live so I can tell to stay the fuck away from my kids.

Baby Update

I feel lucky. Other than the diabetes, this seem sto have been an extremely easy pregnancy, for me at least. There have been no weird 3 am cravings for sardines and bean sprouts (she has had some cravings, but they've been fairly mundane, and nothing that she hasn't craved before) and with one exception, we've managed to avoid any highly emotional pregnant outbursts.

The one exception is kind of an interesting story. On her way to work, Nomi decided she wanted some coffee, so she stopped at a gas station, fixed her cup just the way she likes it and took it out to the car. When she set it on the top of the car to open it, it spilled all down the front of her work shirt. Now, this is something that make just about anyone upset , but for Nomi, that it day it was devastating. She came to work in tears, and I just happened to be in the break room when she walked in, clearly upset. Between sobs, she told me what happened. I tried to comfort her, but she could not be consoled. She left to go clock on and about an hour later, I got a call at my register. She was still distraught, and need to talk to try and feel better. I did what I could, but we were busy and I couldn't spend too much time with her. Three hours into her shift, she is still crying in the kiosk, and her boss says it's ok to go home. This made here feel worse, as it meant her already short handed department had to pull someone from the floor to run the fuel station, and she was shorting her paycheck four hours. We all tried to tell her it was ok, that we understood, she was pregnant, and we didn't hold it against her, but she wouldn't believe us. She still wasn't totally ok when she came to pick me up from work. We laugh about it now, but at the time her whole universe was upsidedown.

In baby news, we are 20 days from induction. Nomi had an ultrasound yesterday, and Sidney weighs six (!) pounds. This is exactly where she needs to be, and the doc said she may gain up to two more pounds by the end of it. I was really happy to hear this. I was afraid that, because of the gestational diabetes, Sidney would be far above agverage, which would cause problems. Also, she has flipped over, and is head-down, ready to deliver. This explains why Nomi had been especially uncomfortable over the last few days.

Two Positions I Hold

Position #1

High prices at the pump could be good for the country, in the long run.

First off, the US has some of the lowest gas prices in the world. In Europe, prices regularly run $4 and $5 USD a gallon, so quit bitching.

Second, gas prices are not coming down in the foreseeable future. Why? Two words: 'China' and 'India'. With a combined 2 billion (just under 10 times the population of the US) souls and counting, and massive untapped markets that are gowing amazingly quickly, their demand for oil and petrolium products is surpassing our own. It's a simple law of free markets: when demand goes up and supply stays the same, prices go up.

Third, our dependance on foerign oil is a huge weakness in our economy. Relying heavily on another nation for something so very vital to everything in this country (buisiness, trade, national defense etc. all run on oil) is foolish. As long as oil is cheap, we have no real impetus to wean ourselves. We are the largest market for crude, so of course they'll keep selling it to us, even if they don't like us very much, because they want to make money. But we're not the largest market anymore; the oil producing countries can sell to others and still make a profit.

Fourth, it's bad for the environment. Again, as long as oil is inexpensive, we have no reason to investigate other energy sources. When the price of crude is down, who cares about hybrid cars or hydrogen fuel cells or effective mass transit, or what the mileage on your Urban Assault Vehicle is? Gas is $1.50 a gallon, I'm making $6.75 an hour. But when it breaks the $2.00 mark and continues to climb, peopel get worried.

If handled properly, high prices are very good for us in the long run. We can make our econmoy stronger, prices of goods shipped by truck (basically everything) would stabilize, and if it's the US who develops truly viable fuel cells (or whatever) we could make a killing selling it to other countries.

Position #2

I am pro-choice, but against abortion.

I have been told, recently, that this particular position is not merely untenable, but logically impossible. I was not afforded the time to explain myself, so I thought I'd do it here.

At first, it would seem that my position is inherently contradictory; either you allow abortion or you don't. However, I see the pro-choice/life debate as two seperate arguements, one moral, one legal.

From a legal standpoint, I don't feel that it is within a governments sphere of influence to tell a woman she cannot have an abortion. I see nothing in the constitution that supports that argument, and not from a 'freedom of choice' standpoint, either. It's more that I see nothing that specifically gives the (Federal) government that power.

That being said, I feel that women (and men. We must always remember it take s two to tango) should look at all the possibilities before getting an abortion, starting with not having sex unless you're ready to face the consequences.

If I were to give my view a soundbite, it would be "Abortion should not be made illeagle, but neither should it be used as a form of birth control or as a procedure of convinece."

Of Anniversaries and such

Today marks one year of continous employment with one company. This is the longest I've worked at one place since 2000.

Are we sick?

The wife and I were just figuring what our newborns AC would be:

10 (base) + 2 (tiny size) - 5 (dex 1) = 7

I love

8 bit music videos.

It's amazing

what topics become poilte conversation when you're expecting a kid. The other day I was chatting with a co-worker who has a son of her own. We've worked together for about a year, and I would only consider her an acquaintence, but there we were, taking about her Cesearean Section stiches. I can casually mention that my wife has been to the hospital twice since the pregnancy began; once for some unexplained spotting, and the other for some unexplained leakage. People don't bat an eye.

I get all kinds of stories about marathon labor sessions, surprise breastmilk, and tearing. It strikes me as slightly creepy and weird, but no one else (not even the wife) seems to mind, and they all seem to be hungry for info, so I keep dishing.

The best thing is, I'm told, once the pregnancy is over, these topics will fade from my lunch hour chats.

That is, until the next person gets pregnant.

Every once in awhile

I come across an artist who simply seizes my attention and will not leave it be. The last time it happened was in the 10th grade (Holy shit! That was 8 years ago!) and it was this guy, though this search will probably give you a better idea of what he's about.

Today I came across this guy via this article. Here's some more stuff in the same vein.

(Sure I could have explained it out for you, but there is a certain pleasure in finding things out yourself, and you really can't discuss art unless it's in front of you. Also, I find this digital pointing kinda fun ;)

In other news: Canadian assholes!

Before you say anything let me say that, before today, I had a 100% success rate with Canadians. Without exception, every single person I met or dealt with from the Great White North was simply swell: a few kids I knew in highschool, as well as all your funny exports: Jim Carrey, Dave Foley, Lorne Michaels, maple syrup, etc. From it's cheap perscriptions, to it's potent marijuana, to the Canadian dollar being perpetually weak against the US (making it The Country That's Always On Sale!), Canada has effected my life only in positive ways. Today, however, I dealt with a Canadian asshole who stole more than $5,000.00 from somebody's grandmother.

This woman walked into my store today, asking about Western Union money transfers to Canada. Something didn't seem right (I have no idea exactly what it was) so I asked a few questions, and with my manager's help, we discovered that she was being ripped off by a random guy in Canada. It's a depressingly common scam, that preys on the elderly and single parents, and it goes something like this:

The mark is contacted by someone claiming to be from a branch of a foreign buisiness regarding a lottery prize/settlement/court decision/etc in your favor, for a large sum (this victim was told $500,000.00). Now I realize that the majority of my reader's Bullshit Meters just buried the needle, but this is serious shit and people fall for it all the time. These guys are professional con men, extremely smooth and sound nothing but genuine and honest on the phone (as well as utterly heartless). They explain that, since the payout is in Canadian, their business can accept the prize for you, convert it to US dollars, then send it to you. The catch is, because this money would be reported as income for their business, they would be have to pay income tax on it. If you want this service, (and who wouldn't want and easy payday?) you'll need to cover the taxes, which is going to be a couple thousand dollars. It sounds good, because you send them a couple grand, they send you 500 large; you're still way ahead. Then there's the actual fee for the service, which is another grand or so, then there's the actual cost of sending it to you, and all that entails (tariffs, customs, US taxes, etc) all of which we would need to pay, and you need to reimburse us for in advance. Still, you're only need to send us about $7,000.00 and we'll have your $500,000.00 in the mail! The "fees" and "taxes" continue to add up until you stop sending them money, at which point they close up shop, never to be heard from again. If you're older and on a fixed income, wondering how you can afford to live out your golden years, and wanting to be able to leave something for your kids, this may sound like easy money, worth even a little risk if it means you can provide for your family.

We discovered that she had sent about $2,500.00 on each of the previous two days and was going to send almost 3k more today. We explained the situation to her, made the proper reports to Western Union and the home office, and I proceeded to seethe and feel pity for this old woman for the next several hours. I'm not sure what was going on in her head. I kinda think that she didn't quite grasp the truth of the situation; she seemed sad and confused. The WU operator talked to her for a minute or two and we gave her a toll-free number to contact the Canadian authorities (this kind of thing is so common, there is a seperate number, dedicated to this kind of fraud), but I don't know if she will. I tried to hint around at getting her daughter's phone number, so she could come to her mother's aid, but I was a little too diplomatic about it, and she didn't know what I was after; I didn't want to come across as saying, "I'm not convinced you can follow up on this properly; let me call your child and talk to her." I'm thinking now that I should have pressed it a little harder, gotten the number of a pastor or perhaps a friend to make sure everything goes as well as it can.

I hope she calls the number, and they catch the cruel fuckheads who did this, and she gets her money back.

I have developed

an odd routine. The routine in and of iself is not odd, what's odd is that it is my routine.

I wake up at about nine. Not 'set an alarm for nine.' The alarm is set for ten, but recently my body has decided that nine is when I wake up. Even last night, when I didn't get to sleep until ten hours ante meridian (a prize* for the reader who can tell me what time I went to bed), I just kind of woke up at nine.

I surf the net for an hour or so, check my e-mail and beloved web comics, read some news, investigate whatever weird question I may have (this morning I suddenly wondered what Bollywood was).

Then, and this is what scares me the most, around eleven, I do housework for an hour or two.

Those who know me will understand why this is very strange, and may be concerned and/or convinced I'm lying.

*There is no prize

I had forgotten about

this. It's a few years old and not updated anymore, but it's still very worth your time. Funny, observant and true, it has made for some of the most enjoyable reading I've ever done.

There is a PIC

(Person In Charge) meeting this morning at work. I have worked my way into the very lowest ranks of management, so I was a little surprised, and very happy, when I saw that I was scheduled to attend the meeting.

I found out yesterday that I am not to attend the meeting; I am to watch the floor while the rest of the management is gone.

After much though,

I decided that inducing is probably for the best. The OB told us that diabetic women generally have bigger babies, and wating an extra week or two for full-term is just asking for an uncomfortably large baby. Also, ther biger the baby is (past a certain healthy birth-weight range) increases the chances of nerve and cardiovascular damage, as well as an increased risk of stillbirth.

Also, this is a high risk pregnancy, and by inducing, everything will be in place when we arrive at the hospital. The room will be prepared, the doctors and nurses and other staff will be aware of the potential problems and be better prepared to deal with them. This will eliminate the mad dash to hospital at God knows what hour, trying to inform all the staff of her medicla history, while trying not to completely freak out myself. It is possible that Nomi could go into normal labor before they induce, but the Doc doesn't think that likely.

Gnus

Just found out that the OB we use likes to induce diabetic women at around 39 weeks so as to avoid some potential complications that come with waiting the full 40/41 weeks. This increases the chance that we will have a C-section birth, which is a little troubling.

On an unrealated note, I recently failed to peel a hardboiled egg in a manner that rendered it at all edible.

Sad News

You may remember a while back I made mention of Tauhid Bondia, a young webcomicist who quit his day job to make his webcomics pay. This with a wife and kid. Recently, there was post on Spells & Whistles saything that things weren't going so well, and he may have to get an actual job again. Since that time, the S&W site has gone under and there is a notice on Suzie View (his other comic) that is has been discontinued and the last strip will be March 8th.

I don't know what happened. Hopefully it's just a setback and he isn't leaving hte webcomic arena. I liked S&W and loved Suzie View. I thought of SV as a new Calvin and Hobbes (the gold standard of syndicated comics in my opinion).

Here's hoping you come back.

Death's Advocate Approaches....

We are sick. We have the flu times two. For the past four days we have simply waited for death. I have missed two days of work, Nomi one, and am about to miss a third. Fever, body ache, sore throat, the whole deal. Thus far, the only thing we have been spared is nasuea/vomiting.

Needless to say, the house is a disaster. It wasn't looking good before, and a week of total inactivity hasn't helped matters mush. Today we actually bought paper plates, bowls, and plastic flatware because, quite simply, there is not a clean dish in the house, and we still need to eat.

Nomi got a prescription for the Pink Stuff (amoxicillian) for her ear infection (did I not mention that?), and I got an anti-viral that should help shorten the duration of this mess, as well as cause dizzyness and blurred vision! (About that: at first I was overjoyed beacause 'may cause drowsiness' is among my favorite words. Dizzyness, however, I'm not so sure about...)

In rejection

of the popularity of 'Minima Black,' I have chosen a new template: 'Tekka.' It also facilitates my penchant for titling my posts with the first clause of the post.

I was wondering

why "Minima Black" (the Blogger template you see before your eyes) is so damn popular?

A Legacy.... Of Sorts

In the beginning, there was the playstation, and it was good, except for that nasty little problem with overheating, which Sony downplayed, but quietly repaired.

Then there was the PLaystation 2, and it was also good, except for that nasty little disc read error (where your PS2 simply refused to play some games and DVDs), which Sony downplayed but quietly repaired.

Now there is the Playstation Portable, and it is good, except for the square button not working properly. This time however, they are not downplaying the problem, they are defending it, though Mr. Kuaragi's defense may seem a little over the top

... and just like that, I became a carb counter.

Not that I wanted to be. It wasn't so long ago that I swore I'd never be one of those unhappy people, tabulating the exact caloric content of a half-teaspoon of fat-free, low-sodium, reduced-calorie ranch dressing that they are about to dip their precisely one ounce, USDA-certified organic baby carrot into. (I like hyphens today.) But here I am. Measuring out my lo-fat cottage cheese, weighing bananas and frozen chicken breasts with our new kitchen scale, which, interestingly enough, I suggested we purchase. In the last three weeks, I have seen more food labels than in the last three years.

You see, my wife has been diagnosed with gestational diabetes. For those not in the know, gestational diabetes is diabetes caused by pregnancy. Sugar is the body's fuel, and insulin is the hormone that allows us to procees that fuel. During pregnancy, the placenta actually suppresses insulin production in the mother. I think this is so that more blood sugar will pass through to the fetus so it can get all the nutrients it needs, but that is conjecture on my part. Anyway, insulin production can be suppressed to the point that the mother becomes diabetic. This is what happened to Nomi, and we've got it bad.

I say we've got it bad, because we're in this together. It would be unfair for me to continue eating as we had while she must be highly critical of her food. It would be even more difficult for her if was going it solo. Also, those who know me personally know that I could stand to lose a few pounds. Because carbohydrates break down into sugar and effect blood sugar, we have to watch carbs.

Diving head first into a carb-controlled diet is not easy. The way we used to eat is not so different, in terms of actual items, than what is allowed. Where it differs is in amounts. We're limited to 240 carbs a day, and while that may sound like a lot, you must remember that its spread out over six meals, eaten every two to three hours: 15-30 for breakfast, 15-30 for a snack, 40-60 for lunch, another snack, 40-60 for dinner, then another snack just before bed. It's not exactly a low carbohydrate diet, more like a carb controlled diet.

I freely admit that Naomi has been a lot better about it than I. I suppose that's to be expected, as it's her health that is affected by not eating properly. And it is affected significantly. Already we've a few instances where she "crashed." One of the dangers of lowering your carb intake, is your blood sugar can get very low. If you throw a syringe full of synthetic insulin on top of that, it can get dangerously low. Diabetic coma low. We haven't had a scare quite like that yet, but sometimes she gets very tired and nauseous, and dizzy and a little confused, and we know that it's time for a juice box; some quick carbs to get the blood sugar up.

One interesting side effect of all this, is now we're using more of what we buy. We like to have fresh and canned veggies around, but more often than not, the fest ones rot in the crisper and the canned ones languish in the cupboard for months before we break down and open them up. Having to buy food with a purpose, rather than because it seemed like a good idea at the time, means that when we run out food, we're really out of food. Not just out of stuff that's convenient, or things that we really like.

The obstetrician seems to think that Nomi was borderline diabetic before the pregnancy, and we agree. I suppose that makes her more of a Type II, than gestational, but that's not the point. The point is, we'll have to continue this for the rest of our lives, most, likely. About the best we can hope for is, once the baby is born, her insulin levels return to where they were before, and we can control it with diet and exercise.

The Red Door

This is an idea I had for a reality show a while back, I think it's a very good idea, in that it appeals to my specific sense of humor.

You start with the requisite group of contestants, men and women, from diverse age groups and backgrounds. Give them a physical exam; we don't want (physically) frail people on this show (Mental/emotional frailty, on the other hand, is what reality TV is based on, and my show especially) and have them sign a waiver (very important). We tell the contestants that this is a "Big Brother" type show, where they will be sequestered from the rest of the world for the duration of the program. For the first episode, we'll have something of a send off party: last chance to see family/friends for a while, a chance to get to know their fellow contestants, etc. The evening ends with a private dinner for the contestants. At which point we drug them. Or gas them, or whatever. The point is, they all need to be very compliant for an hour or so, and the less they remember, the better. (This is why that waiver is so vital.)

Our contestants awake in the Room. It is white, windowless, and square. Table and stools (bolted to the floor) in one corner, sleeping mats in another, toilet in a third, shower (no curtain) in the fourth. I haven't decided on the exact dimensions on the Room, except that it should be a little small for the number of people in it. The only things of interest in the Room, are the security cameras plainly displayed on the wall, and the Door, which is bright, candy-apple Red. (An aside, I never understood the fun in Big Brother with having the cameras hidden behind mirrors. If the contestants can pretend the cameras aren't' there, they will relax and act normal. We don't watch reality TV to see normal people.) For the moment, the Door is locked.

Eventually, they will notice that they are not wearing what they were at dinner. They are all wearing identical white jumpsuits. Any personal items (jewelry, etc.) are missing. Once all the contestants are awake, we give them a little time to come to terms with their situation. When the time is right, a voice comes over a loudspeaker and says, "The rules are simple: You may leave whenever you want. The last one in the Room is the winner." There is an audible click as the Door is unlocked, and we leave them to their devices.

Food is delivered at regular intervals through an opening in the wall by the table. Remember the gruel from the Matrix? That's what I'm going for: all the nutrients, vitamins, and minerals a body needs. The only thing it lacks is flavor and appealing texture. At 12 hour intervals, the lights cycle on and off. When the lights are out, it is pitch black, and then in the 'morning' they come back on at full intensity. The contestants will bitch and moan and complain, and some may feel horribly violated (again, we need some boiler plate liability waivers here) but the kicker is, they CAN leave when whenever they want. It they're unhappy, it's only because they're stubborn or greedy, and won't leave. No one is forced off, no one is voted out. If you hate someone in the Room, you're stuck with them until either you or him has had enough and leaves.

After the initial shock, I figure that many people will adapt and be able to take it. Also, watching people sit around a featureless white room makes for boring TV. That's when we start fucking with them. We could take away the hot water. We could start increasing the length of the 'day' by 15 minutes each cycle, until there's only a few hours of 'night.' Or the reverse, making the 'night' overly long. Or we could make it a permanent twilight for a week or two: neither dark enough to sleep, nor bright enough to see clearly. We could play with the temperature of the room, making it as hot of cold as we please. The Room could be on hydraulics so we put it a few degrees off level. Or 25 degrees. The room could start rotating the Room very slowly, then increase it until it's distracting. Then stop it abruptly. We could start playing soft, classical music. Or Hanson's "Mmm Bop" ad nauseam. Or, we could start playing sounds very very softly, so that only those contestants with excellent hearing can detect it. One morning, the contestants (though, at this point, the word 'victims' may be more appropriate) may wake up to find a red rubber playground sitting on the floor. We''l let them play with/fight over it for a while, and hopefully, it will become an object of great importance to the group. That will make it much more satisfying when we take it away. We could mess with the menu. After a few weeks of gruel, I'll bet pepperoni pizza would be pretty good. I wonder if they'll still like it five days later...

The things that could be done to them are limited only by imagination, and the language of that oh so important release of liability. They can be as subtle or as overt as the producers decide, though I favor more subtle actions.

The show is pointless for the contestants. There are no challenges to complete, no immunity tokens to be won. There is no strategic value in forming alliances, as no one will leave until they're good and ready. The point for the viewers at home is much the same as it is for other reality shows: watching people unravel and seeing what people will go through for a fat wad of cash. The big kicker here is that the contestants are doing it to themselves. They can leave as soon as it suits them. If it looks like people will be leaving too fast to fill a seasons worth shows, we could always announce that the prize money went up. Or, perhaps, the prize money will slowly climb the longer the show takes.

Some technical considerations:

If there are women on the show, I haven't decided what to do about menstration. That is, if tampons should be provided, or if, in keeping with the broader themes of the program, they should just suffer without.

I like the idea that Big Brother started, of people being able to go online and choose what camera to watch.

I've thought about having one camera assigned to track each contestant, either by manual control, or perhaps some kind of RF identifier in their jumpsuit.

If it's totally black when the lights go out, then conventional night vision cameras won't work, as they amplify available light to create an image. I'm not certain how well thermal or infrared cameras would work. I may have to concede a little ambient light at night so the cameras can function.

The physical screenings will have to be exhaustive. While psychological damage is the name of the game, I don't want anyone who's likely to have a heart attack or stroke getting on the show.

Also, what to do if someone gets violent with another contestant? Ideally, the other contestants will put a stop to it, but I will need a contigency plan if things get out of control. The best thing I've got is having the lights go out, perhaps soak the room in ice cold water to get people to pay attention, then have some burly men come in and remove the offending person/persons. When the lights come up, the violent one is gone and the others have little idea what happened.

That's about it. I could go on and on with the ideas I've had for messing with the people, but I'm sure you get the idea. Let me know what you think.

I came to the conclusion the other day

that I am a closet Rolling Stones fan. By that I mean, if someone came up to me on the street and asked, "Hey, you like the Stones?" and would probably reply, "Not really." But if that same person played me a bunch of their songs, I would find most of them familliar, and that I enjoyed them.

Piqued

There is an "Oriental Health" spa that I walk past twice daily as I travel to and from work. According to the sign on the door, they're open from 9am to 10pm every day of the week, Thing is, other than the SUV occasionaly parked around back, I have never seen a single car in the parking lot. It snowed the other day, and there were no tire tracks in the lot, either in the evening, or the next afternoon. I was beginning to think they were out of business, but then I saw an older man, probably the owner of the SUV, shoveling the lot.

Indisputable Proof

That people love nothing more than an excuse to hold a ceremony and award prizes.

PS: I am not seeking nomination.

Long-Term Memory Loss

I had about a dozen things to say, but at the moment, I can't remember any of them. My laptop is down (need a new battery charger) and can't just jump on it whenever the mood strikes.

Damn.