Reunited

My son and I are together again.

Unfortunately, to make this happen, we had to go to the funeral home yesterday to pick him up. Today is Thanksgiving and, not surprisingly, I'm not in much of a mood to get together with folks.

We will head North sometime over the long weekend to spread his ashes. I had so many plans for the things I wanted to do with him.

In no way could I have ever imagined this would be the outcome and, again, I am devastated by his loss.

Adolf didn't like jazz...

Who knew?

Sports in Seattle

I gotta say, up front, that I'm not a big sports fan. The whole meathead mentality, I just don't get (and don't want to get). You can keep all the Joe-Sixpack macho bullshit and leave me to my music, reading, or whatever else it is I do. You waste your weekends away watching someone else live out their fantasies, I've got a life to lead.

That said, I don't mind going to the occasional Mariners game. I love sitting out in the stands: the sun shining, a hot dog, a beer. The nice relaxed pace; sometimes wild and crazy, but generally nice and mellow. Baseball is certainly a lot more civilized than the knuckle-dragging, drunken behavior you get at a Seahawks game.

And don't get me wrong, I enjoy PLAYING sports (softball, golf, bowling), but to pay whatever it is they're charging for tickets these days... No thanks.

So, I won't mind coming out and admitting, I absolutely LOVE watching the Seahawks stinking it up from one end of the stadium to the other. Here, there, and everywhere... they suck! Huskies losing weekly? Love it. Nothing better than a bunch of meathead fratboys getting all drunk and depressed after another pathetic performanc on the grid iron.

Let's see: Seahawks are 2-9, Huskies are winless... I've got a smile on my face.

Texas Cops are Criminals

January, 1986.

Pecos County, Texas.

Speeding along I-10 in an RX-7, with my ex-girlfriend, through the middle of nowhere.

Literally. Nowhere. Speeding.

Nothing as far as the eye could see, except for the weeds growing in the median, obstructing my view of the Texas Rangers, who happened to be lurking on the other side of the highway. I didn't see them until I'd passed them (Oh, shit!), and looking up in my rearview mirror, I could see two cars crossing the median and coming my way. I immediately pulled over. I mean, where the hell was I going to hide? One car pulled up behind me and two pathetic, little rednecks got out. As we stood there, the other car passed, while one of the cops I was tied up with, gave his redneck brethren a macho "Yeah-we-got-'im" salute.

The two-foot-tall trooper with a 10-gallon hat asked me (verbatim), "Son, you see any reason to be goin' 80 miles an hour?" I wanted to tell him that between my desire to get out of the shithole that is Texas, and my distracted, getting-a-hand-job state of mind, I wasn't paying much attention to speed. Of course, remembering that discretion is the better part of valor, I made some lame excuse about being behind schedule, and was just looking to make up for lost time.

After looking at my drivers license and handing it back to me, he told me to follow him back into town. "Town" (and that would be a generous use of the word) consisted of a few shitty trailers, and the low, sun-baked municipal building that probably contained the police station, courthouse, jail, utilities departments, and town diner; all rolled into one, miserable hell hole.

As we walked into the building, he told me to wait in the lobby, while he went in to talk to the justice of the peace. He told me he would see if he could cut me a break, then disappeared from view. After about 15 minutes (I guess that's how long it took those guys to blow each other), he came back out to tell me my fine was $126. Hmmm... I wasn't ticketed, and I didn't appear before a representative of the judicial system; my fine just happened to be $126.

Now, I knew what game was being played. I also knew that unless I paid, then and there, I would be sitting in a shitty Texas jail until Monday morning, with the possible result not being any different than the offer I'd been presented. Was I going to call their bluff? Fuck no.

We went back out to the car, rounded up all the cash we could find (including change from the ashtray) to scrounge up the amount it would take to keep my hindquarters out of jail. Sure, we had a lot of money in traveller's checks (remember those?), but I sure as hell didn't want them to know that. Money in hand, I gave it to Officer Fuckstick, and was magically free to go. No ticket, no receipt, no "You sure got a pertty mouth" ass-fucking. I may be a lot of things, Ned Beatty I am not.

All-in-all, a fair trade.

Please do

We had to go to the funeral home this afternoon to take care of the final details, provide the funeral home with some information they needed and, of course, pay for everything.

We had hoped going into the meeting that it would be quick, business-like, and not emotionally upsetting. The entire meeting was 15 minutes. The gal who worked with us was professional, but not devoid of emotion. As we were getting up to leave, she said "We'll take good care of him."

A lump in the throat, a mist in the eye...

And they flowed...

Throughout the entire ordeal, I was stoic. No misty eyes, no quivering lips, nothing. I was a block of angry marble...

As we were getting ready to leave the hospital, one of the nurses who'd been working with us came in with a certificate of birth. It wasn't one of the typical state-issued birth certificates (those may be issued only for live births), but it had all the necessary information on it. As she sat it down on the roll-away table, I could see them there on the paper: two tiny footprints.

It is over

Amy went into final labor about 1:15, and by 1:45 it was all over. The doctor said the baby's umbilcal cord had slipped through the cervix and was compressed by it, ulitimately causing his death before delivery.

Amy is resting and I suspect we'll be discharged sometime in the morning.

Thank you for your thoughts, prayers, and support.

A & E: What's so Artful or Entertaining about Rape and Murder

As I sit here in the hospital with my wife, I've been twisting the dial on the remote, looking for something to watch while the wife rests.

It's only 3 pm, and I find the A&E network is rerunning shows from late this morning. Anyway, they are showing these crimes shows that, for the life of me, I can't figure out why they would show them on this network. Arts & Entertainment... Hmmm... I don't know: ballet, painting, music, theater... Sure, I'd expect to see that on this network, but this? No, I wouldn't expect to what they've been showing all day. Maybe the A&E part kicks in at night?

Closer than I'd wish

The doctor just left the room. After a quick exam, she said my wife is fully dilated and that we're probably not that far away. I know others have been through worse, but what a shitty thing to have to go through.

Here we are...

Ballard Swedish. Wife has been here since 10:30 am, yesterday. It turns out that the baby has an infection in the lining and has gone into labor. If the infection spreads to the mother, it would be a very serious thing, possibly resulting in the mother's death. The only way to prevent that is to induce labor. Unfortunately, the baby is only 20 weeks along and doesn't have the proper lung development that could sustain life.

A great deal of consultation was performed between our doctor and a perinatal (sp?) specialist. Though our condition is rare, the consensus is that there is nothing that can be done to save both the baby and the mother.

We stayed overnight, though I went home last night about 11:30 to get some things for today and to get some things to make the dogs comfortable in the car, where they were to stay overnight. I left early this morning for home to get the dogs fed. The wife called and suggested I take them to day care, which I did. I then returned to the hospital.

I expected today's events would transpire quicklyl, but it's just now noon, and they've just give the wife another IV in her other hand, into which they gave her a relaxant and pain medication. So far, there haven't been strong contractions, but I suspect that in the not-too-distant future they will give her something to start them.

They've asked us if we want to see the baby after he's born, if we want to bury him or have him cremated, do we want to see him after he's died. How do you answer any of those questions?

We've had a chaplain come to our room twice now; once yesterday, once this morning. Instead of being supportive, it seems more intrusive and I resent her presence. She says all the cliched things I expect someone of faith to say and it seems insincere to me (whether or not it is, I can't know).

We're in a birthing room where, normally, the occasion would be one of joy, but there's nothing of the sort in this room today. The nurses continue to provide her with water in a bottle that proudly proclaims "Born in Ballard". Maybe, for some, but not for us.

I don't have any timeline for what the rest of the day will look like, but I'm not looking forward to what I expect we'll be experiencing.

Veterans Day 2008

Another Veterans Day has come and gone. More than the religious holidays, the holidays that commemorate our country's history seem more significant to me. We have a lot to be thankful for (ironically, we'll have a day later this month to do just that), and much of that is due to the sacrifices made by millions of U.S. veterans (both living and dead).

I'm not much of a flag-waver, but I appreciate that many young men have died over the course of this country's history. It's sad to think of the futures they never got to live or, in the case of the severely wounded, the futures that didn't turn out like they might have wished or hoped for.

You also have to give a nod to the parents of the boys who went to war and never returned. I can only imagine what their pain must have been like, and hope to never experience that pain for myself.

Kick-Ass Gift!

Picked up the wife from the airport this morning. On the way home we stopped off for breakfast at a place we used to frequent, but haven't been to in years. I was reminded why we don't go out of our way to eat there.

After getting home and lugging the suitcases upstairs (that must be why it's called luggage), the wife was pretty wiped out and went to bed.

She just woke up a few minutes ago. After getting out of bed, she opened up one of her suitcases, and pulled out a smallish, cardboard box and handed it to me.

I had no idea what she might have found that I would like, but I was intrigued. Upon opening it, I found a beautiful Starbucks coffee mug, which is part of the Collector Series line (i.e., go to Italy: get a Rome mug).

We have several of these from other locations, a couple from Hawaii, one from London, and they all have a very similar appearance: white mug with a green design and bold, black lettering. The new mug is an altogether different beast: it's a light cream color, and on one side is a sepia Chinese dragon design, with deep red accents; the other side shows a mountain scene in the same red color with sepia clouds spanning the peaks. The mug's interior is the same deep red color. Not surprisingly, the mug is made in, of all places, China.

This mug is too beautiful to use.

Liar! Cheat! Psst... Hey, can you show me how to do that?

There's a 22-year-old kid out of Illinois who's shot 5 hole-in-ones in the last week. As if that's not strange enough, not one of those has come on a par 3. How does one sink a hole-in-one on a par 4, let alone on a par 5? Either those are the shortest 4s and 5s in the country, or this guy hits like a gorilla.

Regardless, what are the chances that your ball is so well hit that it's on-line for the pin AND has just enough speed/momentum to drop into the cup? Mighty slim, indeed.

The White Man Will Want His Civil Rights...

A recent MSNBC article mentions that in Obama's first press conference, he made a passing reference to his race and described himself as a "mutt". Some say that his off-hand reference to his racial background could indicate that he may take on some of the bigger racial issues that confront America today. There has never been a president more qualified to discuss race than this one. That's a good thing.

Another item mentioned is the reality that, in the not-too-distant future (estimated 2042), the White man will be a minority in this country. For as long as Whites oppressed the blacks (and all other racial minorities), the tide will soon turn. I wonder, then, how much Whites will be bitching about their rights as a minority, and how badly they will wanted to be treated with the dignity and respect they feel they are entitled. My, how the worm has turned...

It stands to reason that with the changes in the racial make up of this country, in that not-too-distant future, many of our politicians will look more like a Barack, a Juan, or Ichiro, than they will that pasty-faced loser, GWB. Good.

While I will be a geezer in 2042 (assuming I live that long), it will be interesting to see if the white minority feels oppressed and, in their righteous indignation, demand to be treated like equal citizens under the law.

We shall see.

Take that!

I collect year books, mostly from one school. Ironically, it's not even a school I attended.

I find most of them through eBay and have done a decent job finding them over the years. It used to be that I was usually the only person bidding on these books, however, over the last year or so, I've developed some competition, and another person is frequently bidding against me for these yearbooks. Just last week I was outbid in the last few seconds of an auction, depriving me of the chance of a nice 1957 yearbook. That really pissed me off. The only consolation I got from that was knowing that I greatly inflated the cost of the item toward the end of the auction (but the sting of losing still hurts).

Another auction came up last week for a school lapel pin; class of '39. I watched the bid for days and there was no activity on it. This morning, I took the dogs to the off-leash dog park, and planned to come straight home and make a bid. When I got home and checked on the auction, I found that the scumbug I've been competing against placed a bid about an hour before auction's end.

Given how badly I was scammed on the last auction, I was not going to be denied. I waited until there was less than 30 seconds and put in a rather sizeable bid. Thankfully, it was larger than the other person's highest bid, and there wasn't enough time to put in a final bid , as they'd done on the previous auction. Ha! Ha! The lapel pin is mine!

What the hell am I going to do with a lapel pin?

I hate Gene Simmons

I used to think Gene Simmons was the shit. Seriously, I thought he was the baddest thing alive. Then I grew up and realized he was nothing more than a two-bit huckster, selling anything and everything with the KISS logo on it. There's even a KISS Kasket. Don't believe me?

I was perusing the vids on MSNBC yesterday, when I saw a thumbnail showing that jackass on the set of Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader? He's also got his own show that's nothing more than a cheap rip-off of the Ozzy Osbourne family "reality" show, Meet the Osbournes.

This is all pretty old news, but I'm sitting here looking for some tennis shoes and I surf on out to the Vans website. What is the first thing staring me in the face? I'll be damned if it's not a pair of KISS high tops.
















I have to guess that most fans of the band have got to be in their 40s by now. What middle-aged doofus is going to spend $65 for the privilege of looking like the oldest geek on the block? Not I.

As the years have passed and interest in the band waned, it seems the other members of KISS (original or otherwise) have adjusted nicely to their life outside the limelight. They obviously have other things in their life that have replaced KISS (or the compulsive need for attention). It's sad that Gene doesn't have anything else going on in his life, apart from this one thing. Trying to drum up demand when said demand has long since dried up, is really quite pathetic.

The idea of this clown hawking his wares at 80 is not terribly appealing, and at this rate, he'll be eventually become Rock's answer to Hugh Hefner. Simmons has become a buffoon, but he's so in love with himself, he can't see it.

Gene, get a life.

Please.

And baby makes three

So, I made a short announcement on another blog that we're expecting a baby. I will probably use this site to make future announcements, post pictures, etc.

Still can't believe we're having a kid (boy), but I'm pretty excited about it. He's due at the end of March. Name: TBD...

The wife comes home tomorrow

My wife has been in Beijing and Singapore on business. Her plane gets in at 6:30 tomorrow morning (could they have picked a more inopportune time?), so I've got some cleaning up to do around the house today. It's not too bad, but could certainly use a "freshening up".

We (that would be the dogs and I) can't wait to have her home.