Have Yourselves a...

More posts to come in 2007. I promise!!!

Why They Play 162...

Yes, Ed.  I'm talking about baseball.  America's pastime.  At least it used to be, until Pete Rozelle and Paul Tagliabue made every move in the NFL a televised event.  Monday Night Football.  Thanksgiving games.  Draft day.  Oh, and the championship game played in late January or early February.  What's it called?  Oh, yeah.  The Super Bowl.  I'm sure I'll be sued for using it on my blog "without express written consent of the National Football League".

But before all of this, there was baseball.  The defining sport of a nation.  An eliquent game with a ball, a stick, 3 strikes, 4 balls, 3 outs, 4 bases on a diamond, 9 innings, 18 players, and 140/154/162 games.  Every starting pitcher has the possibility to pitch in 30-35 games.  Starting position players get 500 at bats to get hits and multiple chances per game to record an out.  People who follow baseball don't talk about games, but groups of games called series.  The game is all about providing chances to prove yourself.   And what's more American than that! Right now I'm watching my team (the St Louis Cardinals) play their 156th game to prove their worth for post season.

Early in the season the Cards showed they could be the class of the National League by winning series after series and leading their division by as many as 11 games.  A 4-game losing streak in early May showed the could be beaten, but they quickly righted the ship.  But then June came and they lost more than they won.  They even lost 8 in a row during a stretch at the end of the month, but because the rest of the teams in their division were also losing their lead remained big.  Winning 3 out of 4 against rival Houston gave everyone renewed hope that they would return to form.

But by the midsummer classic, their form was already showing.  The starting pitching struggled to go deep into games.  The bullpen struggled to hold leads.  Their closer, Jason Isringhausen, blew more save opportunities than he had in years past.  But fortunately they had the best player of this generation in Albert Pujols (go ahead and challenge me on this, but he's doing things only legendary hall-of-famers did) to save their fannies.  And this year he's doing it without the help and protection of Scott Rolen and Jim Edmunds.  In addition, the defense up the middle has been average at best, where in previous years it had been incredible.  But when the math still came out, the positives still outweighed the minus, and the team was still good.  But they had another 75 games to play...

Playing .500 ball will not win you championships.  Another 8 game losing streak in July/August will not win you championships.  Playing less than .500 ball loses your home field advantage.  A 6 game losing streak at the end of September when the teams right behind you are on winning streaks leaves your magic number at 5 for the last week and reduces your lead in the division to 2.5 games.  If you lose the division, your record is so pathetic you can't even make it as the wild card.  It's do or die.  And right now, the Cards are on life support.  Will they make it into the post season?  We'll know this weekend.  If my heart can take it. 

But that's why they play 162.  That's the beauty of the game.  After that many chances, we find out what teams really deserve to be in the playoffs.  It's not like the NBA or NHL (who's really following this sport anymore - baseball barely survived losing a World Series, let alone a whole season!) where half the league makes the second season.  And football has a good season length, but because of the brutal nature of the sport, the loss of a key player for a week or 2 can be the difference between a playoff birth and a good position in next year's draft.  But in 162 game in 180 days, you can measure a team's metal for the long haul.  Sure there are streaks (both good and bad), but they even out.  Guys go down, but many times they have a chance to come back - just like Jim Edmunds did last night with a 3 run home run in his first at-bat after a month out of the lineup.  But the patterns of the team will develop and be evident to everyone over the course of the long season.  The right teams will win and lose.  And the true champion will be crowned.  Unfortunately, it probably won't be St. Louis.

Tonight, the boys wearing the Birds on the Bat lose again.  Ace pitcher Chris Carpenter gives up 4 runs in a disasterous 7th inning to put the Padres ahead 6-5.  In the 8th inning, Pujols comes up as the tying run at the plate, but just misses his pitch and pops it up to center field.  A lead-off hit in the bottom of the 9th goes to waste as the rest of the order goes quietly.  The losing streak is 7 - the Cardinals have now had 3 losing streaks of  7+ games (not the mark of a division champion) - and their lead over the Astros is 1.5.  Earlier this month, a fellow Cards fan sent me an email rejoicing when the Cubs had finally fallen to the cellar.  I couldn't join in the jocularity knowing the Cubs were also the team involved in one of baseball's most famous collapses.  Now we might be replacing them in the history books.

You know, maybe 156 games is better measure of a team...

Over-The-Shoulder-Boulder-Holders

When was the last time you heard that term? Third-grade? Well, welcome to my reality! I'll get to the reason why this is the title in just a moment, but first: an introduction into the story...

Our house is just over 7 years old and most of the rooms still have the contractor's High-hiding White paint on the walls. If you've ever been in a new construction with contractor paint, you know this stuff is not meant to last more than a month without showing wear. Add 3 kids, a dog, and an incredibly slobbish guy and you get a cave. Suffice it to say that I have a lot of painting to do.

One of the rooms in desperate need of fresh paint was the hall bathroom. Because we began an Illini theme to the room a few years ago (a couple of U of I landmark sketches, an "Illini Fans Parking Only" sign hung above the potty, and navy blue shower curtains and towels), I thought it would be great if the room were painted orange. Prudence balked at the idea. When she consulted one of our friends, Sue, who's taste she trusts, she thought she'd get different response. But Sue was on my side! So Prudence agreed to a trial period on an Illini orange paint job. She seems to think it was 2 months, but I don't remember a time period being set (but that's a different argument...). Since I didn't want the agreement to expire - guys, you know what I'm talking about - I needed to get the paint bought and on the wall...pronto! So this past Saturday afternoon, I made plans to go to Lowes and get my supplies for painting Sunday afternoon (it was supposed to rain).

When I told Prudence I needed to make a Lowes run, she asked me if I'd run a couple of other errands: look for dress shoes for The Boy and return/exchange/buy some items at Kohl's. Save a trip into "town" and saving some gas? Sure, just print off the descriptions of the items at Kohl's and I'll pick them up for you. This is where the title comes into play.

She wanted me to by a couple of bras for Panda.

I'm comfortable doing the laundry containing bras. I'm okay with seeing models in the Sunday ads containing women in bras. I've even come to grips that my daughter wears a bra (and has a monthly "visitor" to boot). But I'm not at ease with buying them. At a store. In a department that has never had a drop of testosterone in its isles. In front of people. Women somewhat, but mainly guys starring in from the "outside". Laughing. Even worse, not laughing but thinking I'm weird (in a way I'm not used to being thought of).

I gotta buy over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders. OTSBHs.

Suck.

Since I'd already "won" a victory with the orange paint, I thought I'd better keep up the good vibes and agree. My only stipulation was that everything about the bras needed to be written down on a piece of paper that could be handed off to a lady in that department so she could get the product for me and I would never have to set foot on their "domain". I'd still have to take them to the register, but there I could mix them in with other buys. The beauty of online shopping made this request a piece of cake. Now I needed to come thru with my end of the deal...

I arrived at Kohl's and make the necessary returns/exchanges. Now it was time for me to come thru. Fortunately Kohl's was running a good sale on long-sleeve dress shirts. Mine all look like crap, so I knew I'd be able to buy 2 or 3 to hide the OTSBH. I ended up with 6, just to make sure. Then I made my way to the "intimates".

I walk up and find no one to help me. Other departments have 2-3 people restocking shelves and refolding the merchandise, but there's no one close to the bras. I walk around the perimeter, hoping that the items would be on the endcaps and that they'd just jump into my arms (and underneath my shirts, of course!), but alas, it was not meant to be. So I wander into the Misses department right across the way and ask 2 women employees for help. They were sympathetic to my cause and rushed into action. Unfortunately they claimed to have no expertise in the bra department (huh?). Betty was the chief stocker for intimates and would be able to find what I wanted in a snap. The way they went to look for Betty was like I was a crash victim and they were looking for medical help. And of course they had to talk about it. Loudly. To each other. I felt like I was Michael Keeton in Mr Mom needing a price check on tampons. But in all their hustling and bustling (pun intended), they were able to scare up Betty. I gave her my sheet of paper and she said she new just where she put the items. Apparently they took up too much room in the middle of an isle, so they had to be moved to an endcap. But the endcap was within her intersanctum. And she wanted me to follow her. I paused at the place where the tile walkway gives way to the carpet of the department. It was almost like I was going into Narnia. I just hoped that Betty wouldn't be the White Witch. So I entered.

Betty showed me the bras I needed. They looked just like the other thousand that surrounded me. I just wanted to get 2 of them and leave! Then she asked me, "What color?" That was the one detail that wasn't on the sheet. Suck. I assumed that the color should be white, but you know what they say about "assume". So I called Prudence to confirm. Yes, 2 white bras. Well, they only had one in Panda's size. So Betty took me to another endcap to look for another. Please let there be one there to end this! No? Double suck. Oh, well, one's better than none. I'll be on my way. But no. Betty's good at her job. She told me that another shipment came in earlier in the day and that she wanted to check in back. She asked me to wait right there while she looked. I told her I'd wait in the main walkway until she returned. Time seemed to stand still. And it felt like everyone was watching me. To throw them (whoever "them" might be) off, I stared at the housewares. Great plan - I think it worked. Soon Betty returned letting me know that she couldn't find another. More loud talking, now in the middle of the big isle! "Thanks for all your help!" and I'm outta there. At the checkout, I had to fight back the urge to explain my purchase to the clerk. But once I got by her I was home free! Fortunately I saved the Lowes trip for last. It felt good to be back in a guy's element: spackling compount, sand paper, paint brushes, etc. Ugh! Ugh!

I was able to paint the bathroom on Sunday (and Monday because it takes semi-gloss too long to dry on cool rainy days). It turned out awesome! I just hope Prudence comes to like it as much as I do. If anything, she'll probably not ask me to buy any more OTSBHs if I have to get more paint...and I won't feel obliged to do so!

Livin' Like The Jetsons!

After years of sending Prudence every day down the road a quarter mile to the crick down by Jimmy's house to wash the clothes on a rock, I decided we could splurge this year and upgrade our laundry process.  What do you think?

Actually, Prudence hasn't done the wash on a rock in years:)  The drum in the Maytag we've had for the last 12+ years began to leak about 2 months ago.  I called the local repair man and found out that it would cost $250+ to fix, so we began the research.  And I'm using the royal "we" on this one.  You've got to know Pru to know that no purchase like this is done quickly or easily.  Every website and resource is read and re-read and everyone that's purchased a similar item is grilled.  She was intrigued with the promises made by the front load washer people.  Bigger loads, less water, and cleaner/"dryer"/less worn clothes at the end of the wash cycle.  And for the most part she found they were true.  Everyone she talked to raved about them.  The biggest deterent was the cost - $1000 (after stand and sales tax) for the one most people recommended: the Whirlpool Duet.  But most people claimed that the payback in water alone would be in about 3-5 years.  Labor Day weekend most everyone was running sales (and some with 1 year free financing!), so I told her she needed to pull the trigger.  So she got Best Buy and Lowes in a price war, and Lowes wanted her business more.  She drives a hard bargain!  Gotta love that girl!

Last Saturday the beast was delivered - free (part of Prudence's deal)!  She stayed home from The Boy's soccer game to be there for the delivery dudes.  They did an excellent job.  I guess the biggest complaint with these washers is that they spin so hard and fast that they shake the whole house if not leveled right.  The guys put in a load of towels (the heaviest thing we had a lot of), did a wash and rinse and leveled the thing to the point where I can't hardly hear/feel it when it runs.  Even quieter than our old one!  They were there about 1 hour and Prudence and Panda were able to make the end of Em's game.  When we arrived home, everyone crowded in our laundry room to bask in the glow of the miracle machine.  Prudence announced that it had a DVD that we needed to watch in order to run the thing.  A DVD?  To run a washing machine?  Yep.  And The Boy couldn't have been more excited.  He swore he'd watch the DVD all day.  Need to get the kid out more.  Anyway, all of us rushed into the living room and for the next 30 minutes were educated on the new way to clean clothes.  The washer would dispense soap, bleach, and fabric softener at "just the right times" to take the thinking/guesswork out of laundry.   But it was very picky about what kind of soap to use and how much to put in it.  It had safety features that would prevent the device from being used for evil instead of good by young laundramateers.  Unfortunately, the washers-in-training were also in the room, so they now know all its secrets.  Drat!

After we'd received our training - I'm still waiting for my framed certificate - we all went to the laundry room to give her a spin (pun intended).  The Boy called us on every cycle change.  It was amazing to watch it lazily flop our clothes around during the wash cycles and then turn around and spin like it was trying to open a wormhole for time/space travel.  After an hour, everything was finished.  The clothes seems to be a little dryer, and there was more of them to put in the dryer.  The dryer took everything in and dryed them as promised.  It was purchased 6 months earlier after the Maytag dryer failed for a 3rd time.  We went with an extra large conventional dryer then as Prudence's research showed that there was no advantage to purchasing a fancy front loader to match a future front loading washer.  Time will tell if it saves the condition of our garments and money in our checkbook.  No one at work has commented on my cleaner duds.  And if they did, I'd have to get another job.  Might have to anyway to pay for this new luxury...

Anyway, this new gadget makes me feel like George Jetson!  Now where do I pick up my space plane and the automatic dog walker?

All I need...

...is $99,000 and my fantasy life will be complete! How can a guy who has a blog named "Three Hour Tour..." and an email that starts with ssminnow7 NOT OWN THIS??? http://www.ablboats.com/details.asp?ListingID=74883 I'll be accepting donations via PayPal...

"It's not my bag, baby!"

I love it when life imitates the movies, especially when it's one so shagadelic!  Next, this guy will be wondering if the female security guard is a man, baby!

Click here for the details...

I Can't Think About Elvis Without Thinking of Cheech, Chong and Mom

Note: Caveat Reader! Let the Reader beware! I feel a rambling post coming on. This topic has too many tentacles to my past for me not to get wrapped up in a number of them. Hopefully it will be an enjoyable read. It's a story I love to tell, especially on this day - the anniversary of the event - but I've never written it down before. When I tell it, I feed off the comments of others to make it more entertaining, usually in a self-deprecating way. But none of you are here as I write, so I'll have to draw on past experiences of telling the tale. My good friend Ed is the one I like to tell it around most. He shares my appreciation for one of the items involved, and he has the keen ability to make me laugh hard at my moronic behavior. I also like to remember my mom in this pose. It's how I picture her uttering her "lines", and it makes me feel warm inside

See, lots of tentacles, and I haven't even started. Don't say I didn't warn you...

It was the summer of 1977 and I discovered the drug culture. No, not like that. In the safest way you can - by comedy. One afternoon, a guy 3 years my senior played his Cheech & Chong album collection for his brothers, his cousin (my neighbor), and me. And we were addicted. We began listening to them over and over, trying not only to memorize each line, but to emulate the voices of Pedro and Man, Ralph and Herbie, Sister Mary Elephant, Sgt Stedenko, Cheborneck, Basketball Jones, and of course, Dave. To this day, if anyone asks for a "Dave", my mind immediately repeats "Daves not here." Sometimes it comes out of my mouth. I find that I have to explain the bit more and more as the years pass. Thankfully Tommy Chong has made appearances in "That 70's Show" that make it easier to relate to the younger crowd (yes, I'm talking about you, Rudiger).

But meeting in the guy's house became old - and we worried that parents would listen to the records and ban them for their promotion of drugs, sex, and rock 'n roll. So we devised a plan to record the albums on cassette tapes that we could take anywhere. Unfortunately none of us had a stereo system, much less one that played LPs AND recorded stuff directly to tape. We weren't rich, you know. But I had a record player, similar to the one shown here, and access to a microphone and a Panasonic tape recorder via my dad's work. I could do the recording and bring the player out to the street corner of an evening so that we could listen and learn.

Now I had to find a good time to record. The room/house had to be relatively quiet and free from parental involvement. Mornings were out - too many good game shows on (Card Sharks, The Price is Right, High Rollers, etc.). Evenings wouldn't work - either I'd be outside hangin' out with the kids in the neighborhood, or I'd be watching great 70s TV, in all of it's 3 network + PBS glory. Afternoons would work best. Dad would be on the road, and Mom would be locked in on her soap operas, sitting in her favorite chair usually bundled up with an afgan my sister made for me when I was about 10. "All My Children" was on from 11am-12pm, "As The World Turns" from 1:130am-12:30pm (yeah, I know they overlap, but she'd usually choose "World" over "Children" - she could always catch up tomorrow on one or the other), and "Guiding Light" from 2-3pm. She used the 12:30-2pm time period to do chores around the house - especially the vacuuming. So really 2-3pm was prime time for recording. And before I'd begin, I'd tell her what I was doing so that she might make less noise.

So one August day - this day - I was setting up to record. Can't remember if it was Big Bamboo or Sleeping Beauty. Doesn't really matter - they're all good. I had the record player and tape recorder on the floor with the mic sitting next to the speaker. I limited my walking so as not to cause it to skip. If one occurred, I'd have to start again and I'd lose valuable time.

At about 2:20pm, I hear Mom's voice yelling for me from the living room. Now, you have to know my mom to know that you couldn't ignore her call. It was high pitched with a little lilt to it. She somehow managed to add a second syllable to "Chris" that drove me nuts as a kid. Often when I'd be outside playing at a friend's house on another block I could here her cry as clear as if she were standing right next to me. Uncanny.

But I was in the middle of a "session". Do I answer her and risk ruining the recording and losing time? Do I ignore her and hope she quits after 2-3 calls, thinking I may be outside or asleep? I couldn't get up to go to her because I'd risk skippage. What if, after failing to hear from me, she comes to investigate? What if she hears one of the routines? She'd already made me take down my Farrah Fawcett poster. What would she do with these tapes? As all this was running thru my head, I make the call to answer her in as short and quiet response as I knew how.

"Yeah?" I answered in the shortest, pimply-est voice I had at the time (maybe still do?), deflecting the sound away from the record player. My hope now was that it was some instruction rather than a question that I might have to give a long response to. She came back with one sentence I can still here to this day.

"Elvis Presley died."

At 13 I was not a big Elvis fan. Sure, I had a healthy respect for who he was and what he represented but I really knew him from the movies Channel 3 would show on "Dialing for Dollars" at 3pm - "Spinout", "Roustabout", "Blue Hawaii", etc. The music was fun, the girls were hot, and the settings were usually cool. Far from the rock icon he really should have been. But Mom knew this was a big moment in the entertainment world, and she thought I should know.

But I was recording Cheech and Chong! "Dave" wasn't there! Billy was about to get turned in to Sgt Stedenko! The stuff he gave Pedro "couldn't get a fly high". It was hilarious! And I didn't want to miss any of it! So I answered her.

"Okay."

That seemed to satisfy her, as I didn't hear anything more...

I would listen to the tape later and here the following exchange over top of the jocularity:

"Chri-is" (muffled but audible)

"Yeah?"

"........." (not as clear, but I knew what she said)

"Okay."

A few days after his death, Mom and I were traveling to Decatur for an orthodontist appointment. The radio was still buzzing about the death of the King. It was then I started to grip what the loss meant - to an industry, to a generation, and to a nation.

When I listened to the tape I thought of that day. Sometime in high school I lost track of the tape, but never the memory. I'd tell the story whenever Elvis was brought up in conversation. A few years ago, when Ed and I returned to our Cheech and Chong roots and bought all their stuff still in print, I remembered the tape with each track played. So imagine my surprise when I found this buried in the rubble that was my room:

I couldn't wait to get in my car that night and play it tape deck! To hear my mom yell again. To hear my stupid responses. To reconnect.

I wish I had a happy ending to this find. The tape had been reused. Gone were the voices. Worse yet, they were replaced by a episode of Mork and Mindy (what was I thinking???) My only hope is that this isn't the tape I'm looking for. Maybe its out there, still in a box I have yet to unpack. Maybe its in the box of "college stuff" I have in my basement. Wherever it is - if it still "is" - it will now be my "holy grail". Or should I call it my own "Zapruder film". One day it will surface. And when it does, I'll laugh like a pimply 13 year old and think of Mom...

So tell me: where were you when Elvis died?

Playin' Catch Up

As usual, I'm behind on my blogging. Where are we on that lobby to add more hours to the day? Who do I see about that? Well, if it's a government office, it'll probably be a long wait, which leads me into the first item of the post...

---

Whoop! Whoop! For Whooping Cough!

Yes, our kids have a case of pertussis. Panda had a cough during the week of the fair, but nothing else. No cough medicines where helping to loosen it up or suppress it for sleep, so after the competition (BTW - she finished with 4 blue ribbons and 3 red. Not too shabby!), she went to the doctor. Neither Prudence or I were able to take her, so Oma did. The doctor called it a "100-Day Cough" and told them to go to the local hospital for testing. Once there, she took the test and they were told the samples would be sent to the state lab and it would take 10 days to get the results back. No other instructions. No medications. No nothin' else. When they arrived home and found out how much they DIDN'T know , Prudence called the doctor to ask more questions. We found out it was actually Pertussis (extremely contagious and particularly dangerous for infants and toddlers) and started calling families that Panda had spent any time with. Fortunately it was only 4 families, and all the kids were 7+. But unfortunately it wasn't until late last week that we were able to get medications to treat it. By then, The Boy and Em came down with a cough and had to go in for the test. We'll wait another 10 days for their official diagnosis, but luckily the doctor we saw at Convenient Care saw our need and prescribed a round of antibiotics for all of us. The kids, while doing much better, will still have their coughs for another 80+ days and be contagious until Wednesday, but since Prudence, Oma, and I have shown no effects from the disease, we've been released to the general public.

But if the government really wanted to control this infectious disease, I'd think they'd want to have a quicker turn-around time than 10 days (we've read your contagious for about 14 days, so by the time you get into the doctor, get the results back, its too late to do anything) and have a method to get those possibly infected medication ASAP. Am I off base on this?

---

Prudence Update

She's probably 60-75% to normal. She's sleeping on her side for portions of the night, but the results of her surgery are still waking her up. They said it would be 6-8 weeks before she'd be completely healed and it's been 3, so she's pretty much on target or ahead of the curve! Yea!

---

Has Anyone Out There Lost Any Weight?

If you have, stop looking for it. I know where it is :( With all the fantastic meals from Oma and friends from church, I've put on 5-7lbs depending on the time of day I weigh in. The past few days have been beautiful here in central Illinois, and I've been trying to take advantage of them with bike rides with the kids. But tonight's stop at the local ice cream establishment may sideline my progress. I just hope I don't have to grow much beyond 9ft to meet my ideal body mass index...

---

One Less Mama in the House...

Oma left today after 3+ weeks. She was a HUGE help to Prudence and I! The kids had a great visit with her! And I she made all of my favorite "Oma" meals (thus the reason for my recent weight finds)!

---

But Before She Left...

...Prudence and I were able to squeeze in 2 movie nights with free babysitting! Last weekend we saw Superman Returns. I had high hopes for this movie, but it fell on its face. To start with, the explanation (or lack thereof) of why Superman had been gone for 5 years in space (Did he eat/breath in space?) left a lot to be desired. Then it seemed that Brandon Routh was playing Christopher Reeve playing Superman. Too many layers to look genuine. I tired of all the long looks between Lois and Superman and Richard (the significant other since Supes was gone). And if I saw Jason (Lois' 5 year old son - special emphasis on "5 year") looking like pathetic Frodo Baggins with an inhaler, I think I'd have stabbed HIM with a Kryptonite stake! This went on for 2 1/2 hours! Only the special effects redeemed the time. Superman flying was cool, and so was his heat vision. But why did he have to go to the edge of space with everything? Uuuuggghhhh! This was not the Superman I grew up reading...

But our movie season was redeemed somewhat by World Trade Center. I really didn't want to see this movie when it was first announced because the subject matter was still to fresh and raw, and I was unsure how Oliver Stone would approach this world changing event. And much like watching Titanic, we knew how it would end. But after I read Sue's review (she's now vaulted past Roger Ebert and Richard Roper as trusted voices - thanks, Sue!), it occurred to me that we needed to see it more than Pirates of the Caribbean 2 (there's always DVD). Stone did a great job storytelling. He parked his politics at the door and told the story straight from the hearts of the 2 men rescued from the rubble. He pulled at the heart strings, but not with the images of that day that we're all so familiar with. The attacks on the buildings, and their subsequent destruction, were only referenced by what the men would have seen or heard that day. No big special effects. Just rumor, sound, and vibration. But it was just as effective. And much more real. The scenes of the men in the rubble and the reflections on their lives at what they thought might be the end caused me and others to think about what's truly important. And the themes of men and women pulling together in the face of incredible adversity will ring true for ages to come. Now I can't wait until Panda can see it. She was only 7 when it happened and couldn't put everything in perspective. But next year at 13, this movie will help.

---

Lastly

My mowing jobs have picked up. The regular rains we've had keep me mowing my 3 regular lawns every 5-6 days. This week I've picked up the across the street. They're celebrating their 55th wedding anniversary on a cruise to Alaska - how cool is that (55th AND Alaska) - and won't be back for 2 weeks. In addition, its my turn again for our church's lawn. And again, the person who mowed before me mowed early last week meaning that the grass is long now and will be long again by Sunday, so it'll need 2 mowings this week. Its a good thing I have a 6GB MP3 player...

And I HAVE to write a post for Wednesday. If I don't, I'll have to wait a whole year!. G, I know I promised the first story from The Butterfly House would be "The Label Maker", but it can't be helped. This story is that important! Well, maybe it's just important in my head. I'll let you be the judge when you read it. But if you can guess what it might involve, I'll send you a free MP3 that relates to the story. If only I could send you the ACTUAL MP3, but I'm getting ahead of myself...

Have a great Tuesday everyone! See you back here on Wednesday!

Thank you, thank you vera much.

Nemo - July ??, 2006 - August 9, 2006

File Photo - May Not Be Nemo

Nemo, beloved first pet of Em 3HourTour, was found dead in his fish bowl just after 7pm August 9th, 2006. Funeral services were conducted around the hallway toilet in the 3HourTour home, as per the wishes of his family. His interment is the village sewer system. No foul play was suspected. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the charity of the donor's choice. He is survived by bowlmate, Bubbles. Nemo's life is a pond-to-pool story. While details of his birth and early life are not known, it was suspected that he was born and raised in a fishery, destined to be bait for tourists on a party boat in the Gulf of Mexico. But as luck would have it, he was rescued from that life to one just slightly better - 2nd prize in the ping-pong ball toss game at county/state fairs. He lived in a Coleman cooler with several hundred other "prizes" for several weeks during the hot Midwest USA Summer. However, his luck would change August 3rd, when Em would win him on her 20th toss at the McLean County Fair. He was brought home to live the life of a king in a 3/4 gallon fish bowl filled with neon rocks and sea shells, 2 meals a day, and fresh water every other day. His hobbies included breathing and swimming circles around his bowl. He was adored by Em to the very end.

Sucker Written on My Forehead

36 ping pong ball tries: $5 Glass Fishbowl: $3.74 Goldfish Food: $1.32 Neon Gravel: $1.67 Aqua Safe for tap water: $2.88 Fish net: $0.94 Snaggletooth Smiles from 2 proud 10¢ fish winners: Priceless!

Thursday was all-day ride band day at the county fair. $8/kid to ride rides til they puke. Prudence, Oma and the kids met 2 other moms and their kids for lunch at McDonalds. Our kids stayed with the moms and went to the fair while Prudence and Oma left for a follow-up visit with Prudence's surgeon in Champaign. I met up with the families after work. Somewhere along the line the kids discovered the carnies hocking their promises of large stuffed animals, stereo equipment and bicycles. The Boy was sure he would win a bike tonight. The kid behind the counter made it look SOOOOOO easy to stand up the long-neck bottle with the stick, string, and ring at the end. The only questions in his mind were "will Dad give me the $5 to play the game?" and "when he does, how will we get the bicycle home?" At least that how one mom relayed it to me... So after 7 hours of riding almost non-stop, I pulled The Boy aside and walked him thru all the games and explained the point to each and every one of them. It always boiled down to separating him from his money. He would occasionally make eye contact with one of the workers and I would have to explain that we weren't interested. By the end I think he got the jist of it. After we had finished I told him he could have $3 to spend on any one game, and that he should chose one he had he best chance of walking away with something. It came down to 2 games: one where he was guaranteed to "catch" a box with a toy in it (you just didn't know what it would be), and throwing ping pong balls into a table of fish bowls hoping one would land in a bowl. Landing in a bowl with red cotton in it would give the winner a toy. Landing in one with white cotton gave a goldfish - a 10¢ fish that wasn't even guaranteed to be gold. He thought that the fish needed a home, so he'd give that one a try. On his 14 toss, one of the balls landed in a white cotton filled bowl. You should have heard him shout for joy. It was like he'd won the lottery! When Em finished riding the rides, I explained the situation to her. But once she saw The Boy's fish, she had to have one of her own. It took her 20 tries, but she was able to win one, too! I thought we had a fish bowl, rocks, et al, at home from a previous fish adventure with Panda, but I later found out we had given the stuff away to a friend of hers. Now the pressure was on to provide a home for our new fish friends. Two Mason jars worked as makeshift homes overnight. Quite frankly I wondered if we would have them the next morning. Interlude... I once won a fish at the Illinois State Fair. The carney gave me the actual fish and bowl I won it in - filled with water colored blue from food coloring. I won it sometime in the morning but wasn't going to leave the fair until 5pm. Luckily Dad was displaying some farm equipment and I could leave it with him. We changed the water when we got home, but the fish was dead the next day. My guess is he had the "blue lung". Returning to the story... Prudence and I both hoped that if one died, they both would. It would make life between The Boy and Em so much better. But they lived. So one of my errands on Friday was to purchase a fish habitat. $11+ later, plus a couple of shells from our visit to South Padre Island, Nemo and Bubbles now have a humble abode. No filter on the bowl means we - meaning I - have to change the water daily. This has only complicated matters in my mind. Now do I want them to live or die? Then I look at the picture again, and I know the answer...

---

Prudence Update: She's doing great! Everything is healing wonderfully. Her only issue is that she is still unable to sleep comfortably on her side. The Dr told her that may last another week or so. She alternates sleeping on her back with her legs elevated (she's had some foot swelling from doing too much) and sleeping in the recliner in our living room. This is getting old for her, but knowing its temporary makes it bearable.

She should be cleared to drive on Wednesday. I'm sure she'll want to exercise that freedom - even if it's to the convenient store in town.

Again, thanks to all for the prayers and well wishes!

Like yelling "Fire!" in a crowded movie house

I may just park myself here and watch Spaces burn to a lump of molten silicone. I'll let you know...