After reviewing the results from our recent contest, we have determined the winners. The competition was fierce, the injuries were severe, and the refreshments were terrific. The results were much contested, with loud protests on all sides. However, we have come to the conclusion that the winners are as follows:
For Guess Baby's Birth Date, the winner is Lynda Cotton, who chose December 18th, which was the actual date of birth.
For Guess Baby's Weight, the winner is Tammy Miner, who guessed 7 lbs, 1 oz. Baby's actual weight was 6 lbs, 14 oz, and Tammy was the closest entry.
Congratulations to our winners! Prizes will be awarded in person by the distinguished Prize Committee, at a private ceremony that will make the Oscars look like Lady's Night at Classy Bill's Discount House of Ribs and Denture Repair. Those fortunate enough to be graced with an invitation will be expected to appear in their Tuesday best. Shoes are optional.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
The Words of Brandonhi
Chapter 1
Brandonhi reviews the previous nine months and laments his weekend.
1 Now it came to pass that in the fourth month of the ninth year of the new millennium, Brandonhi and his wife did conceive a child. And the doctor said unto them,
2 Behold, on the twelfth day of the twelfth month, thou shalt deliver a baby. But behold, it may be late.
3 Nevertheless, Brandonhi and his wife did rejoice much, for their home had been desolate of child for lo these many years, and they did pray unto the Lord their God for a child of their own.
4 And it came to pass that Brandonhi did say unto his wife,
5 Carleneha, look ye at yonder calendar. Behold, many months do we have in which to prepare for the coming of our child. Many things have we to accomplish, but there is time enough.
6 And Carleneha said unto him, Yea.
7 And nine months did pass away, in the which many of those things were neglected.
8 And it came to pass that Brandonhi said unto his wife, Behold, these nine months have withered away as a reed in the noonday sun. Our days of preparation have passed, and lo, many have been wasted in idleness and childbirth classes. Yea, we are unprepared for the coming of our child, therefore, cross thy legs and hold her in.
9 But Carleneha reproved her husband with sharpness and said, Behold, have not we prepared a room for her in our place of dwelling, yea, even a nursery? Is it not pink and lovely and well furnished?
10 And Brandonhi said unto her, Yea.
11 Nevertheless, and not withstanding, they did look forward to the twelfth day of the twelfth month with much gladness.
12 And lo, the twelfth day of the twelfth month of the ninth year of the new millennium did draw near, yet there were no signs given that their baby should be delivered as the doctor had led them to believe. Therefore did they lament.
13 And it came to pass that on the eleventh day of the twelfth month, yea, Brandonhi did return home from his labors in the workplace, and he was exhausted nigh unto sleepiness. And he did wax joyful in the thought of the weekend.
14 But lo, as his wife was preparing their evening meal, there came a strange noise from the parking place of their automobile. And Brandonhi was sore afraid. And he did hasten to that parking place and did discover an evil mess.
15 For behold, because of the dreaded warming of the climate, it had been freezing lo these many days. And such freezing did put much strain upon the plumbing of their dwelling place, insomuch that on the eleventh day of the twelfth month, their plumbing did give up the ghost. Behold, the plumbing did break, and did spill much precious water.
16 Now behold, when Brandonhi and his wife had laid their eyes on their broken plumbing, they were stricken with terror, for never before had they seen such a calamity in their own dwelling place.
17 And it came to pass that they did spend many hours on the telephone, trying in vain to communicate with their company of insurance. And the night did come upon them, and there was no water throughout their dwelling place.
18 And they said unto themselves, Behold, wherefore shall we stay this night, for we have no water to drink and wash ourselves and flush our toilets. And Brandonhi said,
19 Yea, we have foreseen many disasters, but this one hath caught us unawares. Blessed are we, for we have prepared water in barrels, lest the day should come that there was no water. Behold, let us therefore, use this water in barrels for the flushing of our toilets.
20 And Carleneha said unto him, Whatever. I am great with child, and the room of rest is my second home. Nevertheless, I no longer believe in the stories of old, that an insurance adjuster will return our calls. Therefore let us stay the night in our own bed.
21 And Brandonhi said unto her, Yea.
22 And it came to pass, that the twelfth day of the twelfth month did arrive, but it brought with it no child, nor any signs thereof.
23 Now behold, instead of delivering a child, they did spend many hours on the phone trying to find a plumber. Yea, and they did find for themselves a plumber, but behold, he could not mend their plumbing until many days hence. Nevertheless, he did instruct them over the phone, and did bless them with running water again.
24 And much business will Brandonhi and his wife refer to that plumber for his kindness, and may the blessings of heaven rest upon him and his posterity for all of their days.
25 And it came to pass that Brandonhi and his wife did cease to lament their hardships for a time. Nevertheless, they did wonder among themselves over the existence of the claims adjuster, for he has yet to contact them.
26 And now, Brandonhi and his wife do only lament the lateness of their baby, for Carleneha doth say, Get it out! For though I am glad she did not come unto us this day, yet I am anxious that she be delivered, yea, for I weary of her kicking me in the ribs.
27 And now, many doth wonder about the condition of Carleneha and her husband. They are anxious for the coming of their child, which they already doth love and adore. And they do trust in the Lord that their plumbing shall soon be made whole, but do curse the name or their company of insurance and praise the memory of their plumber.
28 And thus endeth the twelfth day of the twelfth month, and Carleneha saith, At least this weekend is over.
29 And Brandonhi saith unto her, Nay. For there remaineth yet one more day for things to go wrong in this weekend. But we shall pray that the Lord keep us safe and unfrozen, and that he deliver unto us a child before Monday, so that I do not have to return to my labors for a week. For behold, I needeth a week off.
Brandonhi reviews the previous nine months and laments his weekend.
1 Now it came to pass that in the fourth month of the ninth year of the new millennium, Brandonhi and his wife did conceive a child. And the doctor said unto them,
2 Behold, on the twelfth day of the twelfth month, thou shalt deliver a baby. But behold, it may be late.
3 Nevertheless, Brandonhi and his wife did rejoice much, for their home had been desolate of child for lo these many years, and they did pray unto the Lord their God for a child of their own.
4 And it came to pass that Brandonhi did say unto his wife,
5 Carleneha, look ye at yonder calendar. Behold, many months do we have in which to prepare for the coming of our child. Many things have we to accomplish, but there is time enough.
6 And Carleneha said unto him, Yea.
7 And nine months did pass away, in the which many of those things were neglected.
8 And it came to pass that Brandonhi said unto his wife, Behold, these nine months have withered away as a reed in the noonday sun. Our days of preparation have passed, and lo, many have been wasted in idleness and childbirth classes. Yea, we are unprepared for the coming of our child, therefore, cross thy legs and hold her in.
9 But Carleneha reproved her husband with sharpness and said, Behold, have not we prepared a room for her in our place of dwelling, yea, even a nursery? Is it not pink and lovely and well furnished?
10 And Brandonhi said unto her, Yea.
11 Nevertheless, and not withstanding, they did look forward to the twelfth day of the twelfth month with much gladness.
12 And lo, the twelfth day of the twelfth month of the ninth year of the new millennium did draw near, yet there were no signs given that their baby should be delivered as the doctor had led them to believe. Therefore did they lament.
13 And it came to pass that on the eleventh day of the twelfth month, yea, Brandonhi did return home from his labors in the workplace, and he was exhausted nigh unto sleepiness. And he did wax joyful in the thought of the weekend.
14 But lo, as his wife was preparing their evening meal, there came a strange noise from the parking place of their automobile. And Brandonhi was sore afraid. And he did hasten to that parking place and did discover an evil mess.
15 For behold, because of the dreaded warming of the climate, it had been freezing lo these many days. And such freezing did put much strain upon the plumbing of their dwelling place, insomuch that on the eleventh day of the twelfth month, their plumbing did give up the ghost. Behold, the plumbing did break, and did spill much precious water.
16 Now behold, when Brandonhi and his wife had laid their eyes on their broken plumbing, they were stricken with terror, for never before had they seen such a calamity in their own dwelling place.
17 And it came to pass that they did spend many hours on the telephone, trying in vain to communicate with their company of insurance. And the night did come upon them, and there was no water throughout their dwelling place.
18 And they said unto themselves, Behold, wherefore shall we stay this night, for we have no water to drink and wash ourselves and flush our toilets. And Brandonhi said,
19 Yea, we have foreseen many disasters, but this one hath caught us unawares. Blessed are we, for we have prepared water in barrels, lest the day should come that there was no water. Behold, let us therefore, use this water in barrels for the flushing of our toilets.
20 And Carleneha said unto him, Whatever. I am great with child, and the room of rest is my second home. Nevertheless, I no longer believe in the stories of old, that an insurance adjuster will return our calls. Therefore let us stay the night in our own bed.
21 And Brandonhi said unto her, Yea.
22 And it came to pass, that the twelfth day of the twelfth month did arrive, but it brought with it no child, nor any signs thereof.
23 Now behold, instead of delivering a child, they did spend many hours on the phone trying to find a plumber. Yea, and they did find for themselves a plumber, but behold, he could not mend their plumbing until many days hence. Nevertheless, he did instruct them over the phone, and did bless them with running water again.
24 And much business will Brandonhi and his wife refer to that plumber for his kindness, and may the blessings of heaven rest upon him and his posterity for all of their days.
25 And it came to pass that Brandonhi and his wife did cease to lament their hardships for a time. Nevertheless, they did wonder among themselves over the existence of the claims adjuster, for he has yet to contact them.
26 And now, Brandonhi and his wife do only lament the lateness of their baby, for Carleneha doth say, Get it out! For though I am glad she did not come unto us this day, yet I am anxious that she be delivered, yea, for I weary of her kicking me in the ribs.
27 And now, many doth wonder about the condition of Carleneha and her husband. They are anxious for the coming of their child, which they already doth love and adore. And they do trust in the Lord that their plumbing shall soon be made whole, but do curse the name or their company of insurance and praise the memory of their plumber.
28 And thus endeth the twelfth day of the twelfth month, and Carleneha saith, At least this weekend is over.
29 And Brandonhi saith unto her, Nay. For there remaineth yet one more day for things to go wrong in this weekend. But we shall pray that the Lord keep us safe and unfrozen, and that he deliver unto us a child before Monday, so that I do not have to return to my labors for a week. For behold, I needeth a week off.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Enter Now to Win Fabulous* Prizes**!
In preparation for our first child's birth, we are beginning two contests, and we hope you will enter.
Contest #1: Guess Baby's Weight!
Guess how much the baby will weigh. The closest guess wins a prize.
Contest #2: Guess Baby's Birth date!
Guess the day on which baby is born. The closest guess wins a prize. Her due date is December 12th.
Rules:
Contest #1: Guess Baby's Weight!
Guess how much the baby will weigh. The closest guess wins a prize.
Contest #2: Guess Baby's Birth date!
Guess the day on which baby is born. The closest guess wins a prize. Her due date is December 12th.
Rules:
- Enter by posting a comment to this post. Posts are time-stamped, so if two people guess the same weight or date, the earliest entry will be accepted.
- Only one entry per category per person.
- If you are unable to post a comment to enter, you may email Brandon or Carlene your guess, and it will be posted for you.
- Deadline for entry is Davina Lily Rose DeLeon's birth date. No entries will be accepted after she is born, so don't even try it.
Update 11/16/09: Please read the comments before posting your guesses if you wish to be considered for winning prizes. Only the first guess for a specific date or weight will be accepted. The following dates are already spoken for: December 4th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, 16th, and 18th. The following weights are spoken for: 6 lbs 4 oz, 6lbs 5oz, 6 lbs 7 oz, 6 lbs 9 oz, 6lbs 10 oz, 7 lb 1 oz, 7 lbs 2 oz, 7 lbs 3 oz, 7 lbs 5 oz, 7 lbs 8 oz, and 8 lbs 3 oz. Thanks.
*"Fabulous" to be defined by contest originators, and is subjective. Recipients of prizes may not necessarily agree. Contest originators are under no legal obligation to make prizes "Fabulous."
**"Prizes" to be determined by contest originators, and may or may not include the following: Sliced Ham; Chocolate; Spider Monkeys; Hearty Congratulations; Feeling of Superiority; Used Paperclips; Unidentified Cheese of Indeterminate Age.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Sometimes You Feel Like A Nut...
And I'll be the first to admit that I am a nut. Yes, I am a certified, bona-fide, french-fried gun nut. Not that I like french-fried guns. I'm not that far off the deep end. Anyway, about my nuttiness.
If you have been following my blog, you will know... nothing. I don't write often enough to keep anyone informed about my goings-on. But if you follow Carlene's blog, you will know that we recently completed a pre-birth class called "Bringing Baby Home." It was very much worth going to, and I really learned a lot.
In the last of the four classes, the teacher had us sit in a circle (as circular as you can get with one other couple and the teacher (I suppose it was something more akin to a triangle, really)) and talk about... stuff. Concerns about being a parent, things we were looking forward to, that kind of stuff. That was actually pretty nice, despite the moderately "Koombaya" feel the event had.
When the teacher recalled that the two pregnant women in the whatever-shape-it-was are having girls, she told a funny little anecdote. And yes, I am getting closer and closer to the point. She commented that in a previous class, all the women were having girls, and the fathers were quasi-joking that they were going to go out and buy a gun so that they would be able to protect their daughters. That incited laughter from all. Ha ha, isn't that funny!
Well, I thought it was funny, too, and I laughed along with everyone else. But I doubt that I found it funny for the same reasons that anyone else did. While everyone else was laughing about the Dad going out and buying a gun, I was laughing because I've already been thinking about buying my daughter her own gun. I realize that that may qualify me for a padded cell of my own, but so what. Just like my faith, it's something that is terribly important to me, and which I think is important to pass on.
I would really love to be able to take my daughter shooting some day and let her fall in love with it. I can already imagine the pride and love I would feel upon hearing, "Daddy, I want to go shooting, too!" That's when I'll know that she'll turn out alright. Will I be disappointed if she fails to fall head-over-heals for guns and shooting? Not too much, I hope. But I am hoping that it is something we will enjoy doing together, father and daughter. And isn't that really what it's all about?
If I feel proud at just imagining my daughter asking me to take her shooting, imagine what I'll feel when she says, "Daddy, I don't want to shoot your guns. I want my own gun." Good thing Carlene buys Kleenex at Costco.
Yes, I know, this is all a lot to hope for, and she may just as easily turn out to have a penchant for basket weaving, tightrope walking, eggplant carving, or cat juggling. But besides reading books, this is really my one hobby, the one thing I want to do with my daughter. So call me a nut (I do). I plan to be crazy about my daughter, and I want her to be crazy about me. I want to do things together that we are both crazy about. And if she isn't crazy about guns... well, I'll get over it. Because that means I'll get to do something she loves, and it might be fun to juggle tightropes, walk on eggplants, or carve cats. As long as I get to do those things with my daughter, we'll be just fine.
If you have been following my blog, you will know... nothing. I don't write often enough to keep anyone informed about my goings-on. But if you follow Carlene's blog, you will know that we recently completed a pre-birth class called "Bringing Baby Home." It was very much worth going to, and I really learned a lot.
In the last of the four classes, the teacher had us sit in a circle (as circular as you can get with one other couple and the teacher (I suppose it was something more akin to a triangle, really)) and talk about... stuff. Concerns about being a parent, things we were looking forward to, that kind of stuff. That was actually pretty nice, despite the moderately "Koombaya" feel the event had.
When the teacher recalled that the two pregnant women in the whatever-shape-it-was are having girls, she told a funny little anecdote. And yes, I am getting closer and closer to the point. She commented that in a previous class, all the women were having girls, and the fathers were quasi-joking that they were going to go out and buy a gun so that they would be able to protect their daughters. That incited laughter from all. Ha ha, isn't that funny!
Well, I thought it was funny, too, and I laughed along with everyone else. But I doubt that I found it funny for the same reasons that anyone else did. While everyone else was laughing about the Dad going out and buying a gun, I was laughing because I've already been thinking about buying my daughter her own gun. I realize that that may qualify me for a padded cell of my own, but so what. Just like my faith, it's something that is terribly important to me, and which I think is important to pass on.
I would really love to be able to take my daughter shooting some day and let her fall in love with it. I can already imagine the pride and love I would feel upon hearing, "Daddy, I want to go shooting, too!" That's when I'll know that she'll turn out alright. Will I be disappointed if she fails to fall head-over-heals for guns and shooting? Not too much, I hope. But I am hoping that it is something we will enjoy doing together, father and daughter. And isn't that really what it's all about?
If I feel proud at just imagining my daughter asking me to take her shooting, imagine what I'll feel when she says, "Daddy, I don't want to shoot your guns. I want my own gun." Good thing Carlene buys Kleenex at Costco.
Yes, I know, this is all a lot to hope for, and she may just as easily turn out to have a penchant for basket weaving, tightrope walking, eggplant carving, or cat juggling. But besides reading books, this is really my one hobby, the one thing I want to do with my daughter. So call me a nut (I do). I plan to be crazy about my daughter, and I want her to be crazy about me. I want to do things together that we are both crazy about. And if she isn't crazy about guns... well, I'll get over it. Because that means I'll get to do something she loves, and it might be fun to juggle tightropes, walk on eggplants, or carve cats. As long as I get to do those things with my daughter, we'll be just fine.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
The Late, Great Outdoors
As part of my strategy to broaden my horizons and improve myself as a husband, father, provider, and human being in general, I plan to go out in the woods and shoot cute, furry woodland creatures.
My reasons for wanting to hunt rabbits are many and varied, and I won't get into them right now, because I'm afraid that if I do people will begin to suspect that I am more crazy and unbalanced than I appear. But to prepare myself to go rabbit hunting, my Dad and I went out in the woods on Saturday and set about finding the dwelling places of those elusive cottontails. During the four or five hours we spent tromping around the woods we were amazed at the diversity and sheer numbers of wildlife that we saw. In the hours that we spent combing the forests, we came across countless numbers of... of... ummm... well, we saw a squirrel! Yes, one lone, scrawny (I assume it was scrawny), depressing squirrel. On my 15 minute commute I see more wildlife smooshed on the street than could be found in several hours of active animal seeking-out.
As depressing as that was, I still had a really good time. You see, this is how Dad and I used to go hunting. We would pack up our hunting gear, drive out into the Coast Range (or the San Bernardino Mountains, when we lived in SoCal), and hike around until we came upon a place where the animals should have been. As you have no doubt surmised, the animals had been notified of our coming and had all fled to Argentina, where they sipped tropical drinks (I assume there are tropical drinks to sip in Argentina) and snickered at those pasty goobers sweating their freckles off in their furry animal search, and will only find that all the wildlife has skipped town.
But it was always fun. And that's why our recent trip was such a great time; it was just like old times. I remember trudging through the woods in search of deer and elk, and finding only insects. I recall sleeping in stinky tents, curled up in Dad's old Army sleeping bag - the one stuffed with down (or some type of feathers, at least), but not sleeping well for all the feathers sticking out of the fabric and puncturing my tender skin in random locations. I honestly don't remember a lot of things from my childhood, but I remember being in the outdoors, and I remember it fondly.
Many years have passed since Dad and I went marching around in the woods together, and a lot has changed. Dad and I are both older and wiser (debatable, in my case). I've got a job and a wife, and a baby on the way. Dad's got a boat. I've got a house and a mortgage. But clomping across that clearcut and sitting in the shade, waiting for rabbits to pop into view... well... I was 10 years old again, and it was just Dad and his little boy. Twenty years vanished and I got to relive some very precious memories.
Unfortunately, I have not kept pace with changing times. Dad and I don't get to see much of one another anymore. Life's demands seem always to be getting in the way. Hunting isn't so popular, and camping can now be described as "reserving a 'camp site' months in advance, filling the RV with canned goods, driving to a campground packed with fellow 'campers', and watching DVDs and eating microwave popcorn." I have a feeling that developments like these will lead to many "When I was your age" speeches when our little baby is old enough to be subjected to them.
But then again, perhaps for us, camping could be what I grew to love: hiking through endless miles (endless to a 10 year old), trying to find a spot of ground level enough that we wouldn't roll downhill in our sleeping bags. Eating flattened peanut butter sandwiches, or our favorite, cold hotdogs. Watching the stars move through the sky for entertainment. Not seeing any living things in the forest, because they had all fled. To me, those things are more precious than gold. If I can pass some of those things on to our kids, I think they would be very lucky, indeed. And if all that comes without us being able to find one stinking rabbit, well, it was probably worth it.
My reasons for wanting to hunt rabbits are many and varied, and I won't get into them right now, because I'm afraid that if I do people will begin to suspect that I am more crazy and unbalanced than I appear. But to prepare myself to go rabbit hunting, my Dad and I went out in the woods on Saturday and set about finding the dwelling places of those elusive cottontails. During the four or five hours we spent tromping around the woods we were amazed at the diversity and sheer numbers of wildlife that we saw. In the hours that we spent combing the forests, we came across countless numbers of... of... ummm... well, we saw a squirrel! Yes, one lone, scrawny (I assume it was scrawny), depressing squirrel. On my 15 minute commute I see more wildlife smooshed on the street than could be found in several hours of active animal seeking-out.
As depressing as that was, I still had a really good time. You see, this is how Dad and I used to go hunting. We would pack up our hunting gear, drive out into the Coast Range (or the San Bernardino Mountains, when we lived in SoCal), and hike around until we came upon a place where the animals should have been. As you have no doubt surmised, the animals had been notified of our coming and had all fled to Argentina, where they sipped tropical drinks (I assume there are tropical drinks to sip in Argentina) and snickered at those pasty goobers sweating their freckles off in their furry animal search, and will only find that all the wildlife has skipped town.
But it was always fun. And that's why our recent trip was such a great time; it was just like old times. I remember trudging through the woods in search of deer and elk, and finding only insects. I recall sleeping in stinky tents, curled up in Dad's old Army sleeping bag - the one stuffed with down (or some type of feathers, at least), but not sleeping well for all the feathers sticking out of the fabric and puncturing my tender skin in random locations. I honestly don't remember a lot of things from my childhood, but I remember being in the outdoors, and I remember it fondly.
Many years have passed since Dad and I went marching around in the woods together, and a lot has changed. Dad and I are both older and wiser (debatable, in my case). I've got a job and a wife, and a baby on the way. Dad's got a boat. I've got a house and a mortgage. But clomping across that clearcut and sitting in the shade, waiting for rabbits to pop into view... well... I was 10 years old again, and it was just Dad and his little boy. Twenty years vanished and I got to relive some very precious memories.
Unfortunately, I have not kept pace with changing times. Dad and I don't get to see much of one another anymore. Life's demands seem always to be getting in the way. Hunting isn't so popular, and camping can now be described as "reserving a 'camp site' months in advance, filling the RV with canned goods, driving to a campground packed with fellow 'campers', and watching DVDs and eating microwave popcorn." I have a feeling that developments like these will lead to many "When I was your age" speeches when our little baby is old enough to be subjected to them.
But then again, perhaps for us, camping could be what I grew to love: hiking through endless miles (endless to a 10 year old), trying to find a spot of ground level enough that we wouldn't roll downhill in our sleeping bags. Eating flattened peanut butter sandwiches, or our favorite, cold hotdogs. Watching the stars move through the sky for entertainment. Not seeing any living things in the forest, because they had all fled. To me, those things are more precious than gold. If I can pass some of those things on to our kids, I think they would be very lucky, indeed. And if all that comes without us being able to find one stinking rabbit, well, it was probably worth it.
Oh Baby!
As most of you already know Carlene and I are expecting our first baby in December. To say that we are excited about it is a shocking understatement. We've been waiting for a while for this, and we are ecstatic. On Wednesday we get to find out if it's a boy or a girl. Or a unicorn. Carlene and I (but mostly Carlene) have been reading up on baby maintenance and with all the baby toys and clothes others have given us, we've been stockpiling supplies.
That is the one thing I really wanted to address, as far as the baby goes. Thanks for all the stuff you all have given us. We've got the nursery about 1/3 full of baby supplies, virtually all of it given to us by friends and family. The only thing we have paid for ourselves up to now is a stroller and a package of diapers. (Speaking of diapers, I may have to do a poll about that) We really appreciate everything you guys have given us. I often worried about how we would be able to afford to have a baby. All the things that have been donated to our baby cause have saved us a lot of money, for which we are very grateful.
Now it is time to vent! Why is it that if a perfect stranger came up and touched my non-pregnant wife's tummy (yes, I call it a tummy), it would be an assault, but because she is pregnant, she is doomed to suffer the unwanted proddings of random passers by? Am I the only husband that is upset by people laying hands on my wife without permission, or am I just being too protective? I am tempted to have a maternity shirt made that says "Yes, I am pregnant. No, you may not touch my tummy." Below that, and about where the baby would be hanging out, would be a life-size hand print, enclosed in a circle with a line through it, using the international symbol for "Keep Your Hands Off My Wife." Would anybody buy one?
One more gripe before I move on to different post subjects; Please do not ask if we have a name picked out. If we don't, we won't have anything to tell you. If we do, we probably won't tell you anyway. Those of you with children of your own must know what I'm talking about here. Right? Wow, nobody? Really? When the baby comes, we will let everyone know what his or her name is.
Now I'll move on to other things, because if I keep going on in this vein, people will start to think I am some jerkwad blowhard. They would only be mostly right. And thanks again for all the stuff.
That is the one thing I really wanted to address, as far as the baby goes. Thanks for all the stuff you all have given us. We've got the nursery about 1/3 full of baby supplies, virtually all of it given to us by friends and family. The only thing we have paid for ourselves up to now is a stroller and a package of diapers. (Speaking of diapers, I may have to do a poll about that) We really appreciate everything you guys have given us. I often worried about how we would be able to afford to have a baby. All the things that have been donated to our baby cause have saved us a lot of money, for which we are very grateful.
Now it is time to vent! Why is it that if a perfect stranger came up and touched my non-pregnant wife's tummy (yes, I call it a tummy), it would be an assault, but because she is pregnant, she is doomed to suffer the unwanted proddings of random passers by? Am I the only husband that is upset by people laying hands on my wife without permission, or am I just being too protective? I am tempted to have a maternity shirt made that says "Yes, I am pregnant. No, you may not touch my tummy." Below that, and about where the baby would be hanging out, would be a life-size hand print, enclosed in a circle with a line through it, using the international symbol for "Keep Your Hands Off My Wife." Would anybody buy one?
One more gripe before I move on to different post subjects; Please do not ask if we have a name picked out. If we don't, we won't have anything to tell you. If we do, we probably won't tell you anyway. Those of you with children of your own must know what I'm talking about here. Right? Wow, nobody? Really? When the baby comes, we will let everyone know what his or her name is.
Now I'll move on to other things, because if I keep going on in this vein, people will start to think I am some jerkwad blowhard. They would only be mostly right. And thanks again for all the stuff.
Oh Brandon, Where Art Thou?
It has recently been brought to my attention that I haven't been blogging in a while. I just got on my blog and realized that it's been about 2 months since I last wrote something. Mostly, I haven't had the motivation, or the material, to blog in a while. I usually tell myself, "Jeeze, I need to blog about something, but I don't know what. And besides, I'm tired and need to make my lunch for work tomorrow. And I'm lazy." That's how my conversations with myself often go.
So here I am again to take another stab (or three) at blogging. Carlene has helped me come up with some things to write about. It is to be hoped that they are things you will find interesting. If not, well, I'm sure there are lots of interesting blogs out there. Now let's get started!
Oh yea, I'm going to put up a poll before I start in on the subjects I want to cover, so please take it if you have a chance.
So here I am again to take another stab (or three) at blogging. Carlene has helped me come up with some things to write about. It is to be hoped that they are things you will find interesting. If not, well, I'm sure there are lots of interesting blogs out there. Now let's get started!
Oh yea, I'm going to put up a poll before I start in on the subjects I want to cover, so please take it if you have a chance.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
I'm Not Green, I'm Cheap!
With all the talk about "Going Green" I am really surprized that more people don't put up a laundry line. Perhaps it is too "White Trash" for the hip, urbane Portland-Metro types. Maybe it is too much work for most people. Whatever the case, I rarely see anyone hanging their clothes outside to dry.Our clothes line did not happen because I care about the environment, or I want to save the spotted owl, or keep glaciers from melting. We have a clothes line up now because I'm cheap.
The Fridgidair washer and dryer we use came with the house. The washer washes, but the dryer doesn't dry. I've done what I can to get it to dry our clothes better, but it often takes over an hour to dry a load of clothes. That is a lot of electricity. It is also a lot of work for Carlene, who works from home and takes time out of her work schedule to do the laundry durning the day. She has to start drying the clothes and constantly check the dryness of the laundry and restart the dryer.
I can't remember how we decided to put up our laundry line, but it's been many months in the making. About two months ago, we finally made it happen. With two 10 foot cedar posts and a lot of elbow grease, I got the posts set in our concrete-like soil. We ordered a laundry line from an internet company, and when it got here, I made a cedar cross-piece and put the whole thing together. Because our back yard faces south, we will have plenty of sun in the early spring, summer, and fall with which to dry our clothes.
Yes, it does take some time to hang all the clothes, but once it's up, you can forget about it for a while. Unlike the dryer, you can leave them to dry for hours without worrying about overdrying. The clothes can be a little stiff (especially cheap towels; I could build shelves with our cheap towels after they've been dried in the sun), but 5 minutes in the dryer on a no-heat tumble softens up most things to the point that you would never know they were dried outside.
Overall, I estimate we spent about $200 putting the thing up, but I believe it will pay for itself in a couple years.
Now, about that internet-ordered laundry line... It's not easy to tell from the photo, but ours is a 5-line retractable unit. So it has five seperate lines, which when streched across the 13 or so feet between the posts, gives us a lot of room for clothes, towels, sheets, or whatever we want to hang. By loosening a knob, we can retract all the lines into the reel housing and get the lines out of the way. Why would we want to do that? Well, for one thing, since we can't really use it all year, we can take it down when the weather is no longer conducive to line drying, thus extending the life of the setup. Secondly, with the lines retracted, we can use the posts for other things, mainly hanging our hammock.When Carlene and I went to Cancuna few years ago, we bought a hammock at the resort gift shop. We paid about 300 or 350 pesos for it. That was $26 American. Since we were living in our apartment at the time, we stored it until we had a place of our own to hang it up. Well, the time has come! Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of the hammock up right now. I'll try to take some later, if anyone is interested. I need to show Carlene how to put up the hammock, because I would like her to be able to take a break out of her work day to stow the clothes line (assuming she isn't drying anything at the moment), put the hammock up, and relax in the sun for a few minutes.
So there is my attempt at being green. Well, not really. More like saving green. I'm hoping this project will save us money in the long run. It was not a lot of fun to put up, but I believe it was well worth the effort. I would like to thank Mark and Feney, and Paul for lending the tools, supplies, and logistical support necessary to making this happen. Thanks guys!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Amen, Mr. Paine
I don't really know how to start this blog, but I thought I should write something. This morning on my way to work, I was listening to the news on the radio, and I heard some of the government's plans to "take back" (read: steal) the AIG bonuses. I am in the minority who thinks that the bonuses should be given to those employees whose contracts require them. It's not a popular opinion, but after hearing both sides, I believe it is the right one. When I heard what the government wants to do to take that money, I felt like throwing up. This morning it finally sunk in that ours is no longer (to paraphrase President Lincoln) a government of the people, by the people, and for the people.
That's why I'm writing this tonight; I simply cannot think of another way to express my concern - nay, my horror - over what is happening to my country. I know that some of you may disagree with my politics, and that's okay. Whether or not you think like I do, I urge you to watch this video. Sure, I do not agree with all of his ideas, but if I know most of you, this will stir something inside of you which demands that we take action to save ourselves and our nation. Please watch this. Then, pick up a copy of Thomas Paine's "Common Sense" The actual book from 1776, not the YouTube video. Our nation is now over 230 years old, but the ideas that lead to its founding and prosperity are not the mouldy, dated, and useless novelties that they are held up as by our career politicians and the media that supports them.
Now that I've written a blog about this, lame as it is, I have something else I've wanted to do for several months now. We fly an American flag on our front porch, and we fly it proudly, because it stands for freedom, bravery, and liberty such as has been enjoyed by no other nation in history. Well, we used to fly it proudly. It is still up there, but the principles it once embodied are quickly being smothered. This weekend I am going to furl the flag on its pole and wrap it in black ribbon as a display of my - disgust is too weak a word - over the path our nation now treads. No, I do not expect it to accomplish anything, but until I think of something that can, this is the best I can come up with.
Take the words of the above video to heart and do not sit idly by while our country is stolen from us. I have no intention of someday having to explain to my children how our nation used to be the greatest.
That's why I'm writing this tonight; I simply cannot think of another way to express my concern - nay, my horror - over what is happening to my country. I know that some of you may disagree with my politics, and that's okay. Whether or not you think like I do, I urge you to watch this video. Sure, I do not agree with all of his ideas, but if I know most of you, this will stir something inside of you which demands that we take action to save ourselves and our nation. Please watch this. Then, pick up a copy of Thomas Paine's "Common Sense" The actual book from 1776, not the YouTube video. Our nation is now over 230 years old, but the ideas that lead to its founding and prosperity are not the mouldy, dated, and useless novelties that they are held up as by our career politicians and the media that supports them.
Now that I've written a blog about this, lame as it is, I have something else I've wanted to do for several months now. We fly an American flag on our front porch, and we fly it proudly, because it stands for freedom, bravery, and liberty such as has been enjoyed by no other nation in history. Well, we used to fly it proudly. It is still up there, but the principles it once embodied are quickly being smothered. This weekend I am going to furl the flag on its pole and wrap it in black ribbon as a display of my - disgust is too weak a word - over the path our nation now treads. No, I do not expect it to accomplish anything, but until I think of something that can, this is the best I can come up with.
Take the words of the above video to heart and do not sit idly by while our country is stolen from us. I have no intention of someday having to explain to my children how our nation used to be the greatest.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
A Little Taste of Heaven...or is it? (Yes, it is)
When I was growing up I always assumed that the way my family did things must be the way every family did things. I figured every Mom made cookies or cinnamon rolls for their kids to eat when they got home from school. Every family must have had an ancient TV that required getting off the sofa to change the channel. Certainly, everybody put ketchup on their Mexican food.Well, I don't know about most of those, but I now know that the Mexican food/ketchup thing was not universal as I once would have believed. Turns out that very few people do it, as far as I can tell. Having grown up with it, it is perfectly normal to me, but it seems to attract nothing but scorn from non-ketchuped-Mexican-food-eaters.
Carlene and I are admittedly picky eaters. When we got married, there were certain things that I simply could not get Carlene to eat, onions and peas being two of them, and the rest I have forgotten. Since then, she has slowly come to accept onions and peas (the peas are eaten on a very limited basis) as part of her diet, along with some of the other formerly verboten foods. The one thing I have yet to convince her even to try is ketchup on her Mexican food. I've even nicknamed it "American Salsa" in an effort to get her to try it, but to no avail.
To my disciplined taste buds, Mexican food without Ketchup is bland and uninteresting, like Cher without Sunny. If you like sour cream, you would be in for a very special treat; ketchup and sour cream together on Mexican food is a taste sensation not to be missed. Oh, sure, I've heard the arguments: It doesn't taste good; It's not authentic; I'm a fossilized troglodyte stuck in a culinary rut so deep I can't see the blue sky above me; I'm part of the Women's Anti-Ketchup-and-Other-Tomato-Based-Products League.
To all those, I can only say, "Okay, but have you tried it?" If it doesn't taste good, then fine, don't eat it. But don't tell me it's not good without eating it first. And who cares about it being "authentic"? How much of the Mexican food we eat here in America is authentic anyway? Do they make numbers that low? And the other excuses? Well, there is probably no hope for you.
The point is that trying new foods can be fun, and you never know if it is something you will like. Thus it is with ketchup. Yes, it sounds strange, I'll admit, but unless you've actually tried it, you will never know what you are missing. I've been eating it all my life, and I've turned out perfectly . . . duh . . . normal.
So take my poll and tell me what you think about this subject. Yes, I know that there are plenty of important, pressing matters in the world today. I just thought I would pick the most urgent one and start with that. I'm only one man, after all. Now, pass the American Salsa, please.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Oh Geeze, Not Again!
Several posts ago, I postulated on some political scenarios that I think may develop in the coming years. Certainly, this caused some to believe that perhaps I may be just a little bit crazy. Now it is time to remove all doubts! For Christmas Carlene (here's her blog) got me some books, one of which is Terror at Beslan: A Russian Tragedy with Lessons for America's Schools, by John Giduck. One of my predictions was that there will be another terrorist attack in the U.S. I firmly believe that what we will face will be exactly what is put forth in this book.
Terror at Beslan is a real life account of a terrorist attack at a Beslan public school. Beslan, for those of you who don't know, is located in North Ossetia, which is just north of the former Soviet state of Georgia. It is an area rife with terrorism, murder, kidnappings, and even human slave trafficking. This is not the kind of place you would see highlighted on some PBS travel show.
Anyway, Chechnya is right next door, and is home to, surprise, Chechens!, many of whom have turned to Islamic terrorism as a way to further their cause in their struggle for independence from Russia. It has largely been successful, as the Western media has tended to view the murderous Chechens as some sort of "freedom fighter" despite the inhuman acts they have perpetrated against those who fall into their hands. I will not describe some of the monstrous things they do, as this is a family blog, and I don't want to scare the kids. But if they ever invite you over for a friendly game of catch, take a large, noggin' sized mitt.
In their effort to expand their scope of operations, these Chechen terrorists have taken to working directly with Islamic terrorists, who have the knowhow, the experience, and the money, to spread the work of death among those who oppose the Chechens. Most of their endeavors revolved around taking hostages and making impossible demands. Usually the terrorists end up dead, but not often enough.
Beslan Middle School #1 houses grades 1-11, and typically hold about 1,000 students. September 1st, 2004, however, was the first day of school, and the school grounds were packed with students and their families. And that was when the terrorists chose to strike. Approximately 30 terrorists, Chechens and Islamic Arabs working together, stormed the school, herding everyone they could drive ahead of them into various parts of the school building. Around 1,200 men, women, and mostly children were taken captive. The terrorists picked out any persons that they thought may be able to fight back and executed them. They then proceeded to rape, torture, and kill those trapped inside for three days. The unspeakable acts committed by Chechens in the past was a day at the park compared to the horrors unleashed upon the hostages they held with guns and bombs.
On day three, the Russian military stormed the school, and after hours of face-to-face gun fights, all the terrorists were finally killed. Over 300 hostages, soldiers, and bystanders were died.
That is a very brief synopsis of the event that lead to the book. Giduck then goes on to describe such things as the plans that the Russians had in place to deal with this attack, what the terrorists had been planning, how it could have been handled more effectively (i.e.-with fewer deaths), and how the United States will likely deal with it when it happens here.
There's the most important part of the book: When it happens here. This was not the first attack on a school and directed toward children. This is something the terrorists have been doing in other countries for years. India, Russian, Israel, and others, have all fallen victim, and many experts agree that it is only a matter of time before the terrorists take aim at America's schools. In fact, they already have. Floor plans and diagrams of American schools have been found on computers confiscated from terrorists. One of those schools was here in Oregon. These terrorists are far more patient than we are, and when the time is right, they will strike.
And when they strike, America will suffer greatly. We will yearn for the days when radical Islamic terrorists simply flew airplanes into buildings, because as a nation, we are hopelessly unprepared for what will happen. And with so many roadblocks to becoming prepared (political, moral, ethical, legal, etc.), there is little hope that we will ever be ready to deal with an attack of this magnitude.
You will have to read the book to get the particulars, because that is far too lengthy a discussion to get into on this homely blog. Needless to say, this is a horrifying book, but one which I feel is necessary for everyone to read. Americans, as a people, seem to have a remarkably short memory. What happened last week is old news and no longer worth thinking about today. It's that inability to remember our past that puts us in so much danger today.
I know, I'm crazy. Maybe I worry too much (no maybe about that one, really), but I hope that I'm wrong, and that John Giduck's next book isn't Terror in Portland: How America Failed to Protect Her Children.
Okay, so thanks for coming. I'm sorry that was so depressing. I promise I'll write something more uplifting next time. Assuming that anyone will continue reading my blog after this.
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