Coincidence?

Charter finally settled their negotiations with the NHL and last night, the hockey package was available. It was the first Thrashers game I was able to watch. And they finally won!

I doubt it was a coincidence. Don Waddell should hire me as the new head coach. Or, he can hire Joe Torre. I hear that guy is available now.

This is a poem I wrote for Michelle.It's meaningless to you, but to her...

You are a mommy now,
so maybe sometimes you forget that



you are mine.



I don't forget,
when I see you sleeping, dreaming
with subtle smiles crossing your face.
You can touch my arm as I sleep next to you,
I won't mind it,
even if I say I do.



You will always be my favorite thing in the world.

Equalibrium

I'm impatient.

Damn, that took too long to type.


I'm not as funny as you think I am.

Here's a brief, real example of what I mean.

The other day, I was bringing the trash to the curb for pick up when I noticed something small moving slowly in the road. It moved in a weird way, almost like the wind was doing most of the work. I set the recycleables down and walked into the road to see what it was. It was a little squirrel. It appeared to have been involved in an automobile accident. Fortunately, it was only stunned--it's legs, back and head were all fine--it was only still a little scared. It looked like a young squirrel based on it's size and the roundness of it's face, but I really couldn't tell. I lifted my leg up enough to feel the stretch in my pants. Saddly, I admit, it was actually a little bit tough on my muscles, and it helped me realize I am a little out of shape and unflexible. I waited a moment with my leg in the air like some sort of yoga master. The sun made my shadow look long and funny. Then, suddenly, I dropped my foot, and my leg followed. Smash! The squirrel's head was crushed. I picked it up and drank it's blood, celebrating my victory over nature.

No! I'm just kidding, I didn't drink it's blood, that would be gross.


The point is, I'm only funny sometimes, and sometimes I'm not funny. When I'm not funny, I'm here. I probably won't update much, but I'll try real hard.

You might wonder how I can find the time to jibber-jabber all over these blogs, and I wonder how you have time to read them. Mostly, I don't do much at work, and my friends avoid me with clever excuses. If I really spent time with them, why would I need a blog to tell them what I'm always doing sometimes? They'd be there watching me do whatever it is that I always do sometimes!

There is a guy who makes marbles. He starts with some glass (which I guess is just sand) and melts it in a real hot oven of some type. He rolls the glass around, letting gravity shape the glass into a ball. He heats other colored glasses into long rolls, like logs. He scores the logs and breaks then. He heats the pieces up and layers them onto the glass ball. Then he heats the whole thing up again, rolling it around to let gravity make the shape into a ball. Then he adds more colors, sometime logs of colored glass, sometimes fragments or slivers. Then he heats it up again and rolls. The process repeats any number of times until he's satisfied with what he's made. He said that no two marbles are the same, with all the layers and rolling and heating.



I keep one of those marbles for a brain. That's why I'm so dumb.

Dead nuts

My friend Nate and his subordinate Liz(ard) bought a house this summer. It's pretty ugly, but so are they, so it's a good fit for them. They put a list on their fridge of things they needed to do around the place such as, paint doors, clean carpet, replace garage lights, punch angry holes in walls, etc. I thought it was a great idea. I decided to do the same thing. This way, when I go to get a beer from the fridge, or Michelle goes to get some Bon bons while I'm at work, we see the list and do something about it. (Like pretend to not see it.)

The list is pretty long, some things on it are:
- hang and paint new interior doors,
- install new bathroom floor downstairs,
- buy new towel warmer for the pool house,
- punch angry holes in the walls,
- and so on.

So I've been getting a lot of stuff done around the place. I got the interior doors up except for the few I have to order because they are odd sizes. Not one door jamb was square in the house. The more work I do around the house, the more I realize monkeys must have built it (or drunken carpenters..."Why do birds suddenly appear...")

I've got most of the shed done, (in fact, earlier today, I was outside in the rain banging up trim work), pulled out some bushes, bought lots of things like the bathroom tiles and new front door, and I even put up three of the new exterior lights.

Here's how the new interior doors look:


That's the door to the basement. The other day, I went to replace the cable spliter in the basement with one that works with high frequencies. I opened the new door and saw this:


You can't really see it, but the piece of paper says, "How to fix squeaky stairs."

Michelle hung it there. She seems to think it bugs Logan when we go up and down the stairs when he's sleeping. Of course, when he's a teenager, she's going to want me to make the stairs squeaky again so she wakes up when he gets home. The funniest thing is that I asked Logan about it, and I don't think he really cares. Oh well. I told him, "When Mommmy's happy, we're happy."