Things To Do When You're Sleep Deprived

• Recite tongue twisters


• Stare thoughtfully at your calendar and try to replicate REM condtions with your eyes open


• Play a guessing game with yourself: "Who's real and who's a hallucination?" or "Did that happen or did I dream it"


• Take a typing test, save scores as a baseline so when you've had a good night's sleep, you can take the test again and win a "Most Improved" award


• Hone your old man/woman face by pursing your lips and frowning


• Really try to listen, you'll be surprisd at how much you miss!


• Think about Pitfall for the Atari 2600 and try to remeber how to get over those ponds


• Talk in a southern accent (if you're already southern, try a midwestern accent)


• See if you can pass a roadside sobriety test

Others?

I'm a Sheep Dog

No, that's not my photo snapped at the latest "Furry" convention. Actually that photo has been doctored with my face on a sheep dogs body. (I know! It's amaizing how real that looks!) As a rule, I don't dress up as a Sheep Dog. But I am of their ilk. I'm a herder. I know I've mentioned this before in passing, but I wanted to get into more detail to see if any of you are herders too. Or am I just abnormal.

My tendancy is to be in constant contact with my loved ones. I'd prefer that we all be in the same room, if we are all home. If one of us is gone, I need to hear from that person, usually if he or she is going to be late. I'd really like a call when anyone is about to head home so that I know when to expect him or her and I don't have to watch out the window and worry that he/she is dead in a ditch.

I suppose I can dispense with the vaguries of him/her...I'm talking about Doc here. He's more of a cat. His philosophy is "If the phone doesn't ring, it's me." If I don't hear from him, I should assume all is well. Which is kind of a logical leap for this pup, because I also wouldn't hear from him if he were dead. So, really? Not helpful for herding purposes. There's also a matter of our different interpretations of what "I'll be back in about 20 minutes" means (See this post, #3 for more information).

I know he hates the phone and would rather never have to use one. And in general, we're an awesome team; I have no complaints. For example, when we cook in the kitchen, we communicate almost completely implicitly; no words are necessary. I aspire to this level of communication with the people in my life and I'm lucky to have it. But it would be nice, for me, if he would just call on his way out the door from work to let me know he'll be home soon and to check to see if we need anything. Or let me know if he was going to be late or off on walk-about.

But that's an old saw and really off the point.

I was talking about me.

My herding instincts really come out at night. It's very difficult for me to be the first one to go to bed. I really can't settle down until I know that everyone is home, safe and out like a light. This is tricky for me and Doc, him being a night owl and working afternoons and me also being a night owl but on the early shift. I want to stay up with him, but it ruins me for the next day.

Last night, however, I had to go to bed first, even before the girls. I had the world's worst stomach ache, complete with cramps and chills. I hadn't slept well the night before and I was just worn out. I slugged down some Pepto and reluctantly headed off to bed. I should have been comforted. I had the bed to myself, I had the heated mattress pad turned up to ward off the chills, I popped in a Bob Newhart Show DVD, but I had this feeling of fear/emptiness.

Everyone was still up. My herd could drift while I'm in here. What if Lucy sleep-walked again? What if Riley runs away? What if Doc scarpered off to the back yard for a whiz and slipped and fell and cracked his head open?

Stop it, I told myself. Just enjoy sprawling out and drifting off. I did, eventually. Then at about 4 a.m. I woke up, still alone. I experienced a sheep dog frisson of fear. I got up and wandered through the house, eventually discovering the girls on the couch and Doc sleeping on they chair with his legs out on the ottoman. I thought about waking him up and dragging him back to bed. And then I thought better of it. They were fine. They were herded. I could go back to bed.

Still...what if...

Three Minute Posts: John Cleese Loves To Teach

I'm not sure if you're aware of this or not, but John Cleese from Monty Python fame has a long list of training videos on his resume, including "Meetings, Bloody Meetings." I've seen a few of them here and there, but they are prohibitively expensive. The last time I looked MBM was close to 800 smackeroos. Ah, now I see it's almost a cool grand.

The other day, I was cruising Netflix's Watch Instantly list and found two more teaching videos: "Wine for the Confused" and "The Human Face." The former is probably more overtly instructive while the latter is more of a documentary. If you ever want to do any training, I recommend watching "Wine for the Confused" to see a great facilitator in action. He knows how to probe for deeper responses and he also knows how to sum things up. There's also a good blend of humor and instruction combined with good transitions. I'd say it's a master class in Training and Development. Hmmm...maybe I should share it with my team at work...

Check it out if you get the chance.

Haiku While On Hold

I like this music

It takes me back to my youth

Muzak Maneater

WebMD Symptom Checker Sucks

I've been having severe headaches this week. Yesterday, it came complete with light sensitivity and nausea. Today, it's just the headache and light sensitivity. I hope I was able to stave it off with some Ibuprofen.

But I went to WebMD to see if there might be something going on I ought to have checked out or if this was just a stress related thing. What's first on the list of possible problems I have?

A brain aneurysm.

I suppose that's better than a tumor...

Perhaps I just can't decide whether I'm more torn up over Ed MacMahon's death or Jon and Kate's divorce.

What John Mayer Knows About Parenting Could Barely Dampen a Doily

Father's Day is always pretty low key around here. For the past three Father's Days, Doc, the only father on his team, has been scheduled for work on Father's Day. Which mildly sucks. I mean, we can always use the dough, but it would be nice to have him around on a day that honors him and what he is to his family.

There's been a bit of talk lately around here about the importance of fathers to daughters, that leaves John Mayer in the dust. We've decided that daughters need to know that they are beautiful, special , accepted. They need to know what a good man looks like. They need to be able to smell a rat and cross the street to stay away from them.

One thing I've learned that I hope to gift my daughter with is the knowledge is that when you're facing something you rather not, a Cornish Horn-Tailed dragon, an audit, or court, for example. You need to do the right thing, keep your head, pray and do your best to not freak out. It's hard. It hurts. It's scary. But as old Bill Cosby once said, "Decide that you want it more than you are afraid of it." I've done this myself and it works. It's a way to love something hateful.

I can't pinpoint how I learned to do this, but I'm glad I did. I know my Dad did't tell me directly; he preferred to let me find my own way and offered his opinion only when asked. But his faith in me and his love showed me how to be strong and true. Sure I'm scared. But I just conjure up Captain Kirk or Hawkeye Pierce (another Captain, by the way) or some other larger than life model of bravery whom I wouldn't have know without my Dad's influence.

He pointed me in the direction of many things that give me strength:

• Star Trek
• Rock and Roll
• MASH
• Classic Cars
• The Lord of the Rings
• Attention to Detail
• Puns

And, Doc...the influence he has he uses well. He laid down "Rule Number One: Do No Harm." I like this rule very much. We've even started using it around the neighborhood (and not just with the kids). But kids respect it. It's simple. It covers a lot of ground. This will help the girls make HUGE life decisions in the future. It's an inspirational parenting tool and a stroke of genius.

Doc also takes his time. He explains stuff. He shows the kids stuff I don't know how to do. With my good looks and his know-how, they are going to be unstoppable!

Another bit of Doc's wisdom that we haven't shared with the kids yet (though Riley is reading this over my so the jig is up) is the idea of giving someone "A Pass." Imagine this. You're Doc's friend, right? You've been friends for a while. You've had a good time, shared some laughs. Then you goofed it up. Royally. You apologize to him and he looks you straight in the eyes and swings in close. "You. Get a pass." And he means it. I've never gotten a pass and then had the record of it thrown up in my face. This will also be of great service to the girs. It's unwise to harbor ill will to the people who are closest to you.

All in all, my girls are really lucky to have two wonderful gentlemen they can look up to and measure other people by. Pop and Daddy are the tops, so hopefully the girls will look for people like them to form their circles of friends. If that came true, baby, then I'll be on top of the world.

And I'm pretty lucky too.

Riley Blogs!

You've asked for it...she's done it.

If you comment, please be nice and use good language...or I'LL THUMP YOU!

Lucy's Weather Report

Let's Record!

Lucy Sings

Birthday Party Rant

Betty and I usally spend our birthdays whooping it up and painting the town red. This year is no different, in that we'll be spending our birthdays together, but we haven't quite figured out how we're going to whoop it up.

I know Genn6 will be joining us. And the Cap'n and Doc, of course. We've got the players we're just looking for a playground. But frankly, we're getting older. We're tired. We're sore. We're wore out from the day to day grind.

But dammit. The kids will be at my parents and I'm going to be irresponsible! I think I might have wine and liquor. I might wear a mini skirt at my advanced age. I'm going to take some wooden nickels and make sure my nose is NOT clean. I will welcome Greeks bearing gifts and I will suspect nothing. I'll count my chickens prior to hatching because all my eggs will be in one basket. I'm not going to walk on the sunny side of the street and I will not avoid talking to strangers. I'll put the cart in front of the horse and cry over the resulting spilt milk. I will leap not look. I plan on wasting nine by not stitching in time and I will serve up my revenge piping hot. I will practice moderation in NO things. I will watch the pot 'til it boils and it will boil. I'm going to be sorry instead of safe. I'll make my bed, but I won't lie in it. I will prove that youth is wasted on the aged.

In short: I want to have my cake and eat it too.

And at the suggestion of my pals, I will also:

• Skyler's Dad said...I think you should burn the candle at both ends!
  
• Cid said... While you're at it you should make hay while the sun shines and do someting really bad when it sets. Have fun!
• The back in action Frank Sirmarco said...Mow your lawn in the dark. That usually freaks the neighbors out.
• BeckEye said... I'll do a few cartwheels down 10th Avenue for you when I get off work.
• Bubs said...And if you have to do any measuring, only measure once. You can always cut twice.

So, in conclusion, party people, If you're in the area, stop by Saturday night. There will be cartwheels.

I Guess I Should Have Seen This Coming

So, Mel Gibson is reproducing...AGAIN. This time it's with his new girlfriend, let's call her "Chump." This new information really draws all the strings together for me on this divorce. This is why his long suffering wife finally agreed to the divorce, I'm thinking. There's nothing quite as clear and final and undeniable as: I'm having an affair AND a love child.

It's funny. When you're first married, you think: This is forever! Yay! Then when the honeymoon's over and you hit your first rough patches, you think: This is forever...we can do it. But then you have some kids, hit some rough patches and maybe go broke in the process. Then you maybe think: Hey, who's that hot piece of ass over there? And run off. Or Maybe you think: This is forever and I made a committment and we're going to make it through this. Or maybe one of you says the former and one of you says the latter.

And maybe layered over that is this whole mantle of holiness that one of you, the former, has cloaked yourself in. You've made "authentic" movies about what it means to be a patriot, a freedom fighter, a martyr. But you're human, right? Maybe you just needed a roll in the hay with someone new for a change. There's no harm in that, if you don't get caught, you might think. But being human, your emotions got entangled and you trip yourself up. And now you're in a right mess and there's a baby involved.

And, being a Hollywood icon/leading man, you'll pick yourself up, dust yourself off and walk away unscathed. People will cut you a break. You may go on talk shows where people thoughtfully say, "huh," as you describe the problems in your marriage, your struggles and strife. They may even tear up over your ordeal, your battles with alcoholism/assholery. Then they'll coo over your new baby and snip/snap Bob's your uncle, you receive a lifetime achievment award and go to your new child's middle school graduation all in the same year.

But what if you're the latter? Sure, you're sitting on the pile of money that the State of California has awarded you. And you are enjoying your grandchildren in your golden years. But it kind of feels like failure. Where's my lifetime achievement award?, you might ask the universe. All you've gotten is invitations to Lifetime Movie pitch meetings to tell "your side of the story." Maybe you're thinking how unfair it all is, when you've tried to hold your family together only to watch your marriage fall away like so many Christmas tree pine needles.

I can almost imagine the day they had the conversation that started, "Honey, I'm having a baby with the other woman." The former, just trying to get through the moment. The latter having all suspicions confirmed. "Fine you can have the divorce" finally seeps from lips that once had a determined set, from a person who never dreamed that they would utter such defeat.

Then again, maybe the latter is the winner here. Afterall, she will get to see all of her children grow up. She gets to go through early middle age unecnumbered and independently wealthy. Maybe it is her turn to cry "Freedom!" and savor the time that is her own.

But what am I trying to say about this, you might ask. Good question, I'll say as I look off into the distance. Nothing, really. It's not a gender issue, so much. Though good luck having a baby after 50 as a woman. It is all Mel Gibson's fault, I'm thinking, as usual. More than anything, it's just the human condition. And sometimes, no matter how hard you try to honor your commitments, things just don't work out.

Gratuitous Cuteness

Chicago Dreams and Tiaras

So, I had this dream that I was going to Chicago to meet up with Bubs and the gang. I was driving around the city trying to find the place we were to meet. I had Doc in the car with me and we found ourselves on top of a tall building. We weren't sure what to do, so we looked around at the other cars. They were ramping off the buildings and landing on the streets below, no harm done. So I hit the gas and we were airborne. We landed with a thud and turned the corner to find our destination.

It was a white plantation style house, straight out of Atlanta. I knew then that Beth must also be joining us and I worried that I might not have packed a tiara. Doc said, "Don't worry, Darlin'; I'm sure they sell those in there."

Well, needless to say, I did finally make it to Chicago to meet with Bubs and Ms. Bubs and the lovely Nora. Sadly, there was no driving off buildings, nor was there any Beth or tiaras. But it was wonderful none the less.

We had agreed to meet up at the famous Hala Kahiki Tiki Bar and I arrived first. I let them know that I'd be there in a black sweater and my hair would be standing on end due to the high humidity. I found a place to park and grabbed the swag Doc had sent along with me, which included several Vampirella comic books, a Starlog magazine from back in the day and a few other comics. As I made my way through the door, I could smell the stale cigarette smoke which lingered even though the place was probably now smoke free for several years. I headed into the bar and tried to get the attention of the waitress.

"Are you selling something?" she asked, noting the books I was carrying.

"No, I'm meeting friends," I said.

She gave me a table and an eight page menu of drinks to entertain me until the Bubs's arrived. I flipped through the menu and watched the door as I wondered how this would go. So far, I have met Chris, from Some Guy's Blog, Coaster Punchman and Poor George, Beckeye, and Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein and I shouldn't be concerned as these have been delightful encounters, to be sure.

And it was.

Let me tell you, these are some of the sweetest, funniest, warmest people I have ever met. We chatted as we sipped our tropical drinks and watched the place fill up. Nora joined us and was as delightful as could be. After a while, we decided it was time to eat and made our way over to Gene's and Jude's for some of Chicago's famous hot dogs. Though, according to Ms. Bubs, they weren't the most authentic ones, since they lacked celery salt and some other key ingredients. But they were the bomb.

We headed back and said our goodbye's to Nora, who had school the next day. This time we were seated by a window that overlooked the atrium at the tiki bar. There were flowers and plants and a pond with a fountain, all dramatically lit by the thunderstorm. We chatted some more and had another drink. The waitress took our picture and then we decided to call it a night.

We parted company with promises to meet again. I told them to keep Groundhog's Day open. I also vowed to find a way to get Doc out to see this amazing place and meet these lovely people.

If you ever get the opportunity to meet fellow bloggers, I say this: Do. It is always a joy.

There's Nothing Quite Like Getting Felt Up at the Airport

Well, I made it to Chicago, I'm glad to say. I even got here on the right day, which is an accomplishment to be sure. I'll be working tomorrow and Wednesday and flying out Thursday morning, which is a much more humane schedule than I took on my last trip to Tenessee. By the time my return planed landed I was weepy with exhaustion. This time, though, I'll have time to collect myself before heading home.

And what better way to collect oneself than to be in the company of long-time blogger buddies, Bubs, Johnny Yen, Grant Miller and possibly Splotchy? I'll be meeting up with them and any other Chibloggers that can make their way to the famed Hala Kahiki Tiki bar on Wednesday. I'm totally stoked! I'm also bummed that Doc can't be here. But hopefully, he'll be so jealous, we'll have to plan another trip out here together in the very near future.

I'll let you know how it goes and I promise to take lots of pictures. But for now, I'm taking my exhausted, travel-weary self to bed with a trashy novel. I realize it's only 6:30 p.m. central time, but I don't care. I'm butt tired. And those of us who watch Murder She Wrote know the value of an early bird special and an early bed time.

Oh, and about the title of this post: I did get felt up on the top half on the way through security. Apparently because my fleece sweatshirt was deemed "bulky" and might possibly be hiding incendiary devices. Lucky me.