tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12191066914441626562024-03-05T09:59:40.679-06:00Trying To Be CleverMaking it all up as I go.mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.comBlogger344125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-77042079621465962262012-03-14T09:11:00.004-05:002012-03-14T09:39:10.487-05:00Overheard Conversation "...cause you're from India"<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">This morning I stopped in the gas station to by a big-ass Pepsi, since tired Matt was tired and only got about five hours sleep last night. </span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">When I went into the gas station there was a gruny looking 20-something guy talking to the clerk. The conversation went like this. </span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Grungy guy: ...I recycle this stuff, steel, old stuff, whatever. There's all this stuff that was our fathers' and grandfathers' and people are just throwing it out. Like this *grabs something on the counter* imagine this was something from the 20s and people are just throwing it out. I take it and recycle it. </span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Clerk: How do you recycle it? </span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Grungy guy: I hold onto it for a week and then I try to sell it on Craigslist or in the newspaper. Or I'll go to a flea market, a swap meet. You know what a swap meet is cause you're from India. </span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Me: *jaw drop*</span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The guy went on to talk about how he also collects stuff from hoarders "You know, those people that have shit stacked up 25 feet high." </span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The clerk, as near as I could tell didn't bat an eye. I'm sure they get a lot of people saying strange, or obnoxious, or offensive things all the time. Still, it was not at all what I was expecting to hear on my way into work this morning. </span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-81645903194508029732012-03-09T08:50:00.004-06:002012-03-09T09:13:41.653-06:00Dear Library User, How Hard is it to Follow the Fucking Rules?<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This rant brought to you by the asshole with the bagel. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Specifically, I'm talking about the rules that have been established for users at the library I work at. It's not hard. Really, there are only a few rules that one must be aware of and abide by, and even those aren't really that hard. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The rules that I'm talking about are: </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1. Lidded beverages are okay, non-lidded beverages, not so much. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2. No food allowed. Period. If you want to eat, take it outside (meaning outside outside), or take it to the brand new, shiny and wonderful cafe that was built for you unappreciative assholes and just opened a couple weeks ago. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">3. This is a quite zone, which means no group work and no talking on your cell. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In case you are unclear about any of these things, there are signs posted all over that repeat these rules and indicate if maybe rule three doesn't apply because of the area you're in. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Of the above rules, I've never had a problem with the first one. A few times a week we have to talk to people about 2 and 3. Usually it's not a big deal. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You may not realize that I can see pretty much everything going on in the library from the counter. It is a big open space after all. You also may not realize that because of the way this building was designed and the way the acoustics are, I can hear just about everything that goes on, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family:trebuchet ms;" >especially </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when there are less than a dozen people in here, as there were this morning. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So when you sit down about 20 feet from the desk and start unwrapping the wax paper bag that holds your bagel, what do you think the most likely outcome is going to be? I'll tell you what it is. I'm going to roll my eyes, look for where the sound came from, come out from behind the counter and tell you that food is not allowed. Your options at this point are either to 1. put it away until you leave or 2. take your food to the above mentioned cafe and eat it there. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Of course you took the high road, what with your frustrated sigh, and jamming your bagel back into the bag, getting up in a huff before I was done talking, and storming out to the other end of the hall to stare into the library (from the other library where food still isn't allowed) and eat your bagel in silent fury. Oh, and saying "Thanks bro" to me as you walked in was total class. I hope you choked on that bagel just a little bit. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I understand that it's finals next week and you're probably pretty stressed about that. And hey, it's early-ish in the morning and you're probably hungry. Maybe you should have eaten your bagel </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family:trebuchet ms;" >before </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">coming into the big building full of books where food isn't allowed. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now I've been dwelling on this for far too long, and it's starting to color my Friday poorly. I wasn't looking forward to today anyway, but you've really put the icing on the cake. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I should really get back to work, because there are a couple guys that have been whispering this whole time and I should probably say something to them. Maybe one of them will give me a big 'ol thank you like you did. </span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-60047587649043038302012-02-21T21:42:00.002-06:002012-02-21T21:50:33.430-06:00Ugh<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">That subject line pretty much describes my mental state at the moment. So here, have some music about transvestites. </span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Ixqbc7X2NQY" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe></span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/0KaWSOlASWc" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="420"></iframe></span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Why do transvestites make such good subject matter for songs? </span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-9996358129072144832012-02-09T21:09:00.004-06:002012-02-09T21:24:56.059-06:00Out of the Hole<span style="font-style: italic; font-family:trebuchet ms;" >This was written as a writing exorcize for the February 8, 2012 meeting of the <a href="http://valibrarywritersgroup.blogspot.com/">Vernon Area Writers' Support Group</a>. It has been transcribed here with only spelling mistakes being fixed.<br /><br />The description for the exorcize read: "It's spring. Your character is walking out of doors and sees the burgeoning trees and flowers, hears the birdsong. But the character's reaction to all this newness and freshness is not what you would expect..."<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It had seemed like such a long time being stuck in that pit, the darkness, the closeness, the press of the other miners, of the rough rock walls. To emerge into this picturesque spring day was exactly what they had all talked about as hours became days, as the canteens ran dry and their throats became coated in dust and grit. Hadn't David talked about walking out into the sun and praising any deity that would listen? And Tony wouldn't shut up about the first thing he was going to eat when they were finally dug free. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Clarence had gone along with all of it, had his dream of dunking his head into a barrel full of icy water. And then there was that jar of shine he'd been saving for a special occasion. </span><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But as they emerged into the light and openness it was all wrong. The birds were too loud. The media people with their cameras and shouted questions. It was too much. Clarence drifted back toward the hole. </span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-63324627669361317032012-01-30T09:58:00.002-06:002012-01-30T10:05:19.182-06:00St. Jude Trike-A-Thon!<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">It's that time of year again, Logan is participating in the St. Jude Trike-A-Thon at preschool! He is hoping to make his fundraising goal for the second year in a row and needs your help! If you are able to make a donation, any amount, no matter how small will help this worthy cause. All proceeds go to St. Jude Research Hospital.</span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">St. Jude is internationally recognized for its pioneering work in finding cures and saving children with cancer and other catastrophic diseases. St. Jude is the only pediatric cancer research center where families never pay for treatments that are not covered by insurance, and families without insurance are never asked to pay.</span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Click on the link below to donate to Logan's fundraising page!</span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Thank you for your time!</span><br style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Matt, Brandi & Logan</span><br /><br /><object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,0,0" id="fsw_v3" height="250" width="250" align="middle"> <param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="false"> <param name="FlashVars" 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mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/9KsfiqAdSW0?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" width="420" frameborder="0" height="315"></iframe></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">Monday night I was playing Connect Four with the kids. With a five-year-old you can play by rules and have an actual game. With a five-year-old and a two-year-old, it quickly devolves into a contest to see who can shove as many red and black checkers into the slots as possible to fill up the board. When the checkers are spilled, it also becomes a bare-knuckled, scratching, screaming fight to see who can drag the most checkers into their laps. (I could have gotten the most if I really wanted to.) There was also a little bit of sticking one of the black checkers in my eye and pretending to be a pirate, which the kids then tried to imitate. </p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">That’s not the most dangerous part, though. The most dangerous part comes in the disassembly. Our version of Connect Four is a little different from the version in the above video. As a kid I had the version in that old commercial and that think would fall apart if you breathed on it too hard. The newer version snaps together so it’s sturdier, and has a ring around the base that not only makes it more stable, but makes sure that checkers don’t go rolling all over the place when you slide open the bottom of the board. </p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">I had it all taken apart except for the last side. It didn’t want to come free, but I had to get it off to store it back in the box. I applied a little more pressure (I didn’t want to break anything so I was trying to be careful) and the support leg came away from the board in a sudden jerk. My thumb was in the way and the dull bit of plastic that was sticking out dug in. </p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">I tell you people, watch out for Connect Four, otherwise, this could happen to you!</p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji01I3sZA6CuJtx9AcIVoFBtrMyyYbQIXzfvsAg2K52QnOjpq2WwZlMeysUD38MN2uMvH_-0ljYiMPGWlhS1ns0sB3P_qrOCd8uz9cRULZ0hMhqBcvSysyE6ZlhqBs6To_OjQ5TagXyW0p/s1600/Thumb.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji01I3sZA6CuJtx9AcIVoFBtrMyyYbQIXzfvsAg2K52QnOjpq2WwZlMeysUD38MN2uMvH_-0ljYiMPGWlhS1ns0sB3P_qrOCd8uz9cRULZ0hMhqBcvSysyE6ZlhqBs6To_OjQ5TagXyW0p/s320/Thumb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696037404409637538" border="0" 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mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">Last year, Brandi decided she wanted to make a huge change in her life and go back to school to ultimately go back to work. She had wanted to stay home with the kids during the early years, and we were able to make it work, so that’s what she did. </p><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </span><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">Ever since she’d had Logan, the exceptional care she’d received from the nurses and nursing assistants made her want to enter into that field. She waited until the right time, and then after some discussion, she went back to school to become a certified nursing assistant. </p><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </span> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">It meant some changes in our house, but we adjusted. She threw herself into the coursework and passed with one of the highest grades in her class. I had no doubt that she would do well, despite her own worries, and I was proud of her for going after what she wanted and being so dedicated to her goals. </p><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </span> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">After a relatively short job hunt, she successfully landed a job at a hospital nearby that is, from everything we’ve heard, hard to get a job at unless you know someone. She’s been working there evenings and overnights and although it’s been a big transition (and we’ve both lost a lot of sleep) she’s helping people get better and building a career for herself.</p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">She might not always be happy to be leaving the house at night to start a shift where she’ll be on her feet all night and then have to deal with the kids the next day, but she goes out there and provides the best service she can helps people in the healing process. (She gets some pretty good stories out of it too.) I’m proud of all the work that she’s done and the way she sticks with it, and I’m proud of the fact that she’s followed her dreams and made a big change in her life. </p>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-12998843624623448262011-10-19T21:06:00.002-05:002011-10-19T21:44:48.950-05:00Adventures in Parenting: Milk Run<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The other night I was getting in bed, it was a little after midnight, the missus was at work a little more than an hour into her overnight, and the kids were asleep. I had checked on Ava a couple hours before when she started crying, and I knew she was fine, but I wouldn't be able to sleep again until I checked on her. I got up and crept into the kids' room. Of course as soon as I set one foot inside the room she sat up and said "Daddy, more ba-ba." Tired and ready to fall over in exhaustion, I trudged down the stairs to warm up a little more milk so she'd go back to sleep.<br /><br />I poured out the milk, which left not enough milk for the next morning. So I sent Brandi a text letting her know she'd have to pick up milk in the morning and laid down, figuring she wouldn't get the message until I was on my way to work and leaving her no option but to stop at the store on the way home. Not my best move, I know. Of course, just a couple minutes later, she texts me back that I'll have to get it. She won't have time in the morning because she has to take Logan to school when she gets home.<br /><br />I throw on some jeans and a t-shirt and run out for milk. Brandi's dad's up, so I let him know that I'm running out, and I go to find some milk. It's 12:30 by now, so Walgreen's is out of the question. The one by us is only open till 10:00. I run over to Jewel, but that's apparently only open to 12:00. Gas station? Nope, that's closed too. I'm trying to figure out where I can go to get milk this late at night, and decide on going to the 24-hour Wal-Mart in the next town over when I pass by a 7-11 that's still open.<br /><br />When I get there, there's one car in front of the store, one person pumping gas, and another car off to the side. There's a woman in the car in front of the store waiting for one of the guys inside. As I walk in, a tall skinny guy is leaving. I get the milk and approach the counter where a guy with really short hair but a rat tail about half way down his back is trying to decide between a Hustler and some other hard-core porn mag, which I didn't happen to catch the title to. After looking over the covers, he decided to go with the latter. After he paid, the cashier rang up my milk and rolled his eyes at the guy leaving with his porn.<br /><br />I exited the store and saw the first guy and his girlfriend hunched over something in the car, concentrating intently on something. I figured it was one of two options, drugs or scratch cards, and really it probably wasn't scratch cards.<br /><br />I returned home with the milk and crawled back into bed, now completely awake and unable to fall asleep.<br /></span>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-57257644764024195432011-09-01T08:36:00.002-05:002011-09-01T08:48:02.814-05:00Breaking Musical Law<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">On my way into work this morning, as I was switching out CDs for the audiobook I'm listening too, the radio station that came on (</span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.947wls.com/">94.7</a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">) broke musical law. It was a horrible atrocity and I was genuinely surprised, especially by the sequence of songs that was played. </span>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The song that was playing as I switched out audiobooks was none other than </span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://queenonline.com/">Queen's</a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">Another One Bites the Dust</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">. Musical law dictates that this must be followed by the </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">We Are the Champions</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">. But that wasn't what happened. Instead, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">Another One Bites the Dust</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> was followed by </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">The Hustle</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">. WTF? </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">The Hustle</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">? There are only four unique words in that fucking "song." This will not do. Admittedly, I wasn't really in the mood to listen to either Queen song, and in fact I ended up popping in an </span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.eaglesofdeathmetal.com/">Eagles of Death Metal</a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> CD because the audiobook I'm listening to right now is making me a little stabby. However, it is musical law, and I must rectify it. </span>
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<br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Understand that if you listen to one, you <span style="font-weight: bold;">must</span> listen to the other. </span>
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<br />mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-89371062524444401402011-08-04T12:17:00.002-05:002011-08-04T12:24:00.184-05:00Ladies and Gentlemen, The Eels!<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">This is where I'll be </span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://pabsttheater.org/show/eels2011#">tomorrow night</a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">. Watching these guys. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ueaD4W15KIg" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="560"></iframe></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I haven't seen them since they came to Chicago for the Shootenanny! tour in 2003. Can't wait. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">And while we're at it, have another song. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/K4Qp1TEKswQ" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="560"></iframe></span>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-10185425471319282942011-08-03T10:33:00.003-05:002011-08-03T10:51:01.022-05:00Blizzard Survival Depends on GarbageSo the other night, Logan and I were sitting on the couch watching an episode of <a href="http://www.shaunthesheep.com/">Shaun the Sheep</a> before he went to bed. My father-in-law was sitting on the recliner next to us. The house was silent except for the antics of the above mentioned claymation quadruped. Without any kind of preamble, my father-in-law says “If I were stuck out in a blizzard and there are garbage cans out like we have here, I’d dump one out and then climb inside. If you pack some snow around it, it’d be like an igloo.”<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDRA9LWQpeMFEKNE-n2nQNTb8TQreBWVUd-5-cwv8PSobhxhkUruOxyyuq9LbMDLmhDxVvRObTMeKbKQydaxq90-rF6ye6-z-C0FhbFXTze6Qi4hGn9ybfAbWaeQ78odeMfcl3ELS8OOp/s1600/Garbage-Can.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDRA9LWQpeMFEKNE-n2nQNTb8TQreBWVUd-5-cwv8PSobhxhkUruOxyyuq9LbMDLmhDxVvRObTMeKbKQydaxq90-rF6ye6-z-C0FhbFXTze6Qi4hGn9ybfAbWaeQ78odeMfcl3ELS8OOp/s320/Garbage-Can.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636654351635351474" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I remained silent, waiting for more. Sure enough, it came. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Of course, you’d have to lift the flap a couple times so all the snow doesn’t pile on top of it.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Again, I paused. When there wasn’t any more forthcoming, I asked why, on a humid, 90+ degree day would he be thinking about getting caught outside in a blizzard. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Gotta know what you’d do in case of an emergency,” he said. This was followed by “That cools you down, thinking about being stuck in a blizzard,” a minute later. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I may have mentioned here before that we live with my father-in-law and that he is blind. He has been blind for close to three decades now, and consequently, spends a lot of time living in his head. This is not the first off the wall, seemingly spontaneous thing that I’ve heard him say, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I suppose, if I were stuck outside in a blizzard and I couldn’t find any other shelter, I may empty out someone’s garbage can on the street and climb inside. That seems like an effective way to try and keep some warmth contained. The garbage cans we have (pictured above) aren’t roomy, but would provide enough space to squat down in. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s not like living in or near garbage cans is unheard of either. There’s at least one high-profile individual I can think of that’s known for residing in a garbage can. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuxSyeu3k-V_CjiF8vsmXkbdVwaFrgIX5lDlRiqpZ3QVhcHYKdZjjif1HAhaig4ujtqomIP887ERPdj6XnEfaKkuFG5PwbvnCoYpaWnLswl-6e_4UnaomXvM8pBC56UCyVYeSVeiAHpWbW/s1600/oscar.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuxSyeu3k-V_CjiF8vsmXkbdVwaFrgIX5lDlRiqpZ3QVhcHYKdZjjif1HAhaig4ujtqomIP887ERPdj6XnEfaKkuFG5PwbvnCoYpaWnLswl-6e_4UnaomXvM8pBC56UCyVYeSVeiAHpWbW/s320/oscar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636654354551935074" border="0" /></a></p>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-42865794739194145722011-04-05T11:36:00.003-05:002011-04-05T11:47:26.366-05:00David Bowie: Most Versitile Musician EVAR, or Secret Controller of Pandora<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So I'm listening to </span><a href="http://www.pandora.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Pandora </span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">on my station that is cleverly named The Kinks Radio, and what comes on? David Bowie. More specifically, it's Space Oddity. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And I know if I were to switch it over to Tears for Fears Radio (what?) I would be hearing one Bowie tune or another within a half hour, an hour at the most. It might take a little longer if I were to switch over to George Harrison Radio, but I'm pretty sure I've heard Bowie there too. I haven't listened to the other stations in a while (Flaming Lips Radio, Eels Radio, Blues Traveller Radio, Eagles of Death Metal Radio), but honestly I wouldn't be too surprised if David Bowie popped in on one of those other stations. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What does this all mean? </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The way I see it, it goes one of two ways, either 1) David Bowie is the most versatile musician ever, or 2) David Bowie secretly controls Pandora Internet Radio. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm not totally decided either way. What I do know is that while I'm not a huge fan, I don't mind Bowie's music, but I don't need to hear it everywhere I go. To me, it's one of those things that's better in small tastes that you have only on occasion so you don't get sick of it. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Bowie, with all his sounds and styles, is the most adaptable and musical act to come around in some time. What do you think? </span>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-30217400278331038512011-02-28T20:32:00.003-06:002011-02-28T20:49:59.755-06:00Adventures in Parenting: What the Hell is with all the Screaming?<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">For those of you following along at home, we have a four-year-old and a one-year-old. Sometimes they are quiet and play nice. Sometimes. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Most of the time, though, that isn't the case. I'm sure any of you that have more than one child know what I'm talking about here. One could be playing with a toy and the other has nothing to do with it, and then sees the other one playing with that toy and now they've got to have it. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">For example, Ava's playing with a train that Logan hasn't looked at all day. He sees and needs his train back. Or Logan's playing with one of Ava's toys and she wants it back. Since she doesn't understand yet, she screams and hits. Logan knows he's not supposed to hit, so he can't do anything about it and so he cries and tattles and yells. And of course if they're actually playing together, Logan's usually concerned that Ava's going to break or knock over or somehow wreck whatever they're playing with and so he starts getting vocal as soon as she gets near him. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">This afternoon they were playing okay. They were at the train table, and as long as I was sitting right there everything seemed to be fine. Sure, Logan would hover protectively over Thomas and the 12 or so train cars he had trailing behind, afraid that Ava would knock them over, but I was able to keep him calm. I went upstairs to check on something and was upstairs for no more than </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">two minutes</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> and there was screams coming from both sides. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Then there's the fact that they just won't listen. Ava understands a surprising amount for her age, but there's a lot she doesn't understand. Plus, when she wants something, she doesn't give a rat's ass what you're trying to tell her. She just wants you to fork over whatever she wants NOW. Logan is a little stir crazy from being inside most of the winter, and he's testing his limits, seeing how far he can push us. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I really don't know what the point of all this is, other than to rant a little bit. Okay. I feel a little better now. </span>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-4266996146494809742011-02-03T21:30:00.003-06:002011-02-03T21:51:17.541-06:00Some Thoughts on Snow Removal<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Living in the greater Chicagoland area, we were hit by Snowpocalypse 2011 on Tuesday night/Wednesday. The official total for O'Hare airport, which is only a few miles away, was 20.2 inches. Due to all of the strong winds, accumulation on our driveway alone ranged from a couple inches to about chest high.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkPDj_c-fDR8dmIsaMU9C3OM65TIUVbeqXKAC2N6V4IkER2L1ezCn4FABRnXIH8nrAWjDD5C1YL5y3aic2qlYPev3812ewC70wNd7Ll0lCErWofRdiBiP1ltvogwYRViwTTDSexS9BaHaB/s1600/003.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkPDj_c-fDR8dmIsaMU9C3OM65TIUVbeqXKAC2N6V4IkER2L1ezCn4FABRnXIH8nrAWjDD5C1YL5y3aic2qlYPev3812ewC70wNd7Ll0lCErWofRdiBiP1ltvogwYRViwTTDSexS9BaHaB/s320/003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569672977672181474" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">That's my car there, the drift next to it completely covered our garbage cans. The shallowest snow bank was directly in front of the car. The tallest was just past that. Between the garage in the far back and the tall drift in front of the car everything was 2-3 feet deep. All the stuff the plows pushed up on our driveway made the snow about 2.5-3 feet deep at the end of the driveway. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I managed to cut a single path from the garage to the street, clear a single path on the sidewalks, and start to clean out behind my car when the snowblower broke. From that point, it was shovel or be stranded. It took about 3 hours after the snowblower broke for us to clear just enough room to get the cars out onto the street. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">While I was throwing shovelful after shovelful of snow over increasingly large piles, I had some thoughts about other methods of snow removal. Let me share them with you. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">1. Pour out the rest of the gas for the broken snowblower, light a match and walk away. Possibly effective in the short term, but it wouldn't cover much area. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">2. Take my father-in-laws space heater out of his room, plug it in, and set it on one of the drifts. His space heater isn't one of the ones that rattles and blows hot air and will cause a fire if you look at it wrong. His is one that's more like a radiator and creates ambient heat. While this might be somewhat effective, I didn't want to short out the heater, and wouldn't have had enough time for it to melt all the snow. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">3. Dig out our little fire pit thingie, start a fire next to a snow drift, and move it around as the drift melted. The two big problems with this right off the bat would be digging out the fire pit and then digging out dry wood (if we have any at this point). </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">4. Body heat. When I got tired, I just sat down in the snow. While this was kind of comfortable, I was too bundled up for my heat to get through, and I was just compacting the snow instead of melting it. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Anybody have any good, or even not so good, ideas for snow removal? </span>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-67481344560206648652011-02-01T10:16:00.003-06:002011-02-01T10:24:09.301-06:00St. Jude Tike-A-Thon<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Logan participated in the St. Jude Research Hospital Trike-A-Thon at this preschool last week. They were late getting the fund-raising packets so we were not able to collect donations before the event, but we are now! Logan completed 12 laps for the Trike-A-Thon and learned all about bike safety and earned his Trike License! He also learned about the incredible kids at St. Jude and how the Trike-A-Thon was going to help them get better!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">If you are able to make a donation on his behalf we (and St. Jude's) would greatly appreciate it. I can't image what those parents and children go through and anything we can do to help, I am sure they will be forever grateful for.<br /><br /> </span>Click on the link below to donate:<br /><object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,0,0" id="fsw_v3" width="250" align="middle" height="250"> <param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="false"> <param name="FlashVars" value="xmlFILE=http://waystohelp.stjude.org/sjVPortal/Global/Flash/generateXmlForSwf.do?programId=751&eventId=159910&userId=603835&to=user"><param name="movie" value="http://waystohelp.stjude.org/sjVPortal/Global/Flash/widget.swf"><param name="quality" value="high"><param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"> <embed src="http://waystohelp.stjude.org/sjVPortal/Global/Flash/widget.swf" flashvars="xmlFILE=http://waystohelp.stjude.org/sjVPortal/Global/Flash/generateXmlForSwf.do?programId=751&eventId=159910&userId=603835&to=user" quality="high" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="fsw_v3" allowscriptaccess="sameDomain" allowfullscreen="false" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.adobe.com/go/getflashplayer" width="250" align="middle" height="250"></embed></object>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-14277803052117495022011-01-26T21:56:00.002-06:002011-01-26T22:21:59.549-06:00Adventures in Parenting: What Time is the Right Time, for Star Wars?<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The other day, Logan and I were in the basement and after some flipping around of TV channels, Logan said "That's just like Star Wars." I don't know exactly what was "just like Star Wars" about changing channels on the TV. Maybe it was something he saw that flashed by on the screen, who knows.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Then I wondered where Logan had come across Star Wars before. I've never really introduced him to Star Wars. It's not that I've tried to keep him away from Star Wars, but it's not something he's really had much exposure to. I have no problem with him enjoying Star Wars, I was quite the Star Wars nerd back in the day.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">So for the past couple days now I've been wondering if it's the right time to introduce Logan to Star Wars. Some of you may have seen this before:</span><br /><br /><iframe style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/pCjMGOvMghY" allowfullscreen="" width="425" frameborder="0" height="349"></iframe><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">All joking aside, is now the right time to introduce Logan to Star Wars? He's four years old, and primarily, I'm worried about him getting scared and then getting turned off from the movies. I would obviously start with </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">A New Hope</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">. We'll save the prequels for another time, perhaps the next time we have a bonfire. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I don't think there's too much in </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">A New Hope</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> that will scare him. Sure there are a variety of aliens in the bar and there's the monster in the trash compactor in the Death Star, but I can't think of anything that's downright scary. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I think </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">Empire </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">with the wompa, the bounty hunters, Han Solo's torture, etc. will have to wait. Likewise, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">Jedi</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">, with the rancor, sarlac, and other creatures. But I'm really tempted to sit down with him one of these days and watch </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">A New Hope</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I think I'll play it on the safe side, though, and wait until he's at least five. But I don't know, what do you think? </span>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-86672316778500406012011-01-17T16:14:00.000-06:002011-01-17T16:15:03.717-06:00The Puzzle is Coming Together, a writing post<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I’m still chugging along on my current writing project. As of this writing, I’m at 41,408 words, all hand written. I’m setting monthly goals, and so far have been able to make them. For the current writing project, it amounts to writing at least 400 words per day. Some days I make it, some days I don’t. Friday, I didn’t write anything, but have gone over my daily goal most other days this month.<br /><br />Why am I writing it all out longhand? I don’t know if there’s one really good reason. It started that way, as most of my writing projects tend to. There was something that seemed to work about writing it all on blue paper, folded into quarters and carried around in a pocket or book bag. It made me really think about the story. And I didn’t have to rely on being able to get to the computer, which I don’t always have access to since we have one for the household.<br /><br />I’m nearing the end of the story, and as things come together, I’m seeing that the picture I originally thought was there is very different from the picture I see now. I have lots of sections written in red pen that completely change some of the story that has come before it and will call for major rewrites later. This is where I’m kind of kicking myself in the butt, because if I had been typing this from the get go, I could easily put those notes in the proper places or even do a little revising now to make the process easier later. As it stands, I have a lot of rewriting and expansion to do during round two. But even that isn’t bothering me too much.<br /><br />The original word count goal for the first draft was 80,000 words. But I’m thinking that it will really be more like 50,000 with a lot added in later. I know in On Writing Stephen King said that the second draft = first draft - 10%, but that never seems to be the way it works out for me. Usually the first draft is quick and dirty, I’m getting the story down so I don’t forget it and adding the details later.<br /><br />After this first draft is done, I think I’ll be revisiting my NaNovel from 2009 and writing some short stories. It’s time to get serious about the writing life if I want to see my name in print (outside of when I was on someone’s payroll doing magazine work that is). I think I’m headed in the right direction, but only time will tell. </span>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-10244784685234291522011-01-10T11:56:00.003-06:002011-01-10T12:10:08.475-06:00Adventures in Parenting: I've Created a Monster<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">That's right, I've created a four-year-old, 42+ pound, snap happy monster. And this really, truly is all my fault. Let me 'splain. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sometimes to get Logan's attention, or to try to get the point across that X needs to happen now, as in right now, I would snap my fingers. A typical exchange might go thusly: </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Me: Logan, it's time for bed. Let's go brush your teeth. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Logan: No. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Me: Let's go now. *snap*</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">or </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Me: Logan, what do you want for lunch? </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Logan: ...</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Me: *snap* Hey, Logan, what do you want for lunch? </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Logan was fascinated with the finger snap, the simple application of pressure of the middle finger upon the thumb causing the middle finger to slam into the palm of the hand. He wanted to learn how do to it. At first he just tried to imitate, rubbing his first two fingers together. Then he asked how to do it, so I would show him how, first showing him with my hand and then putting his fingers in the right position and trying to explain so that a four-year-old would understand where the application of pressure should occur. After a week or two of showing him and him trying to get it on his own, one day we're sitting on the couch and he snapped his fingers. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I congratulated him on learning a new skill. That was a few days ago. Now, the boy is punctuating *snap* everything *snap* he says *snap* with a *snap*. He'll even be in bed snapping his fingers as I try to get him to go to sleep; the two of us in the dark, and his little fingers snapping away. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Needless to say, it's gotten old really quickly, and now I'm working on what so far seems to be the more difficult task of explaining to him that it's not necessary to snap his fingers about everything and that it's rude to snap his fingers in someone else's face. At least we haven't gotten any notes from his preschool teachers yet. And, it's made me seriously pause and consider before snapping my fingers when I'm trying to get his attention. </span>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-28966091051808712872010-12-14T12:02:00.001-06:002010-12-14T12:04:14.549-06:00Arrrrrgggghhhhh!!!!!<object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/o7PKAnaHlis?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/o7PKAnaHlis?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">That is all.</span>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-63039668616314066462010-11-05T11:36:00.003-05:002010-11-05T11:52:47.447-05:00NaNoWriMo Blahs<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It's November once again, and for the past three years, that has meant </span><a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">NaNoWriMo</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, that mad cap race to produce 50,000 words of fiction in 30 days. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Leading up to NaNoWriMo, I was a little on the fence about whether or not to go for it this year. I have successfully completed NaNoWriMo for the last three years, and I have a number of friends and acquaintences online and in meat space that are participating this year. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">With that in mind, I started over with a story that I began writing after NaNo was done last year and only got about 6,000 words into. I'm at about the same point now as when I stopped writing last time. There are differences in each version, mostly minor, but with a couple scenes from the original version that have not appeared in any way in the new version. I have a couple scenes in the new version that are expanded from the old version or did not appear in the old version. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This year, more so than any other year, trying to do NaNoWriMo is like pulling teeth. There are a number of factors that I believe are making it so: we have two children at home a 4 year old and a 1 year old (at least last year the 1 year old was only a few weeks old and was still at that mostly lay around or sleep/eat/poop stage); I've got a full-time job and plenty to keep my busy around the house (no real change there from last year); I have another story that I'm almost 20,000 words into that I'm really liking at this point and I want to work on that more than the NaNo; as I'm writing this year's NaNovel, it just seems so dumb which isn't very motivating; and I'm just <em>damn tired</em>. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Why don't I work on the 20,000-word project for NaNoWriMo you ask? Well, for one I'm taking this one a little slower, and I'm writing the first draft all by hand. I enjoy doing that every once in a while and I'm really enjoying the process right now. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Usually during the first few days of NaNo I'm excited and really want to jump into the project. I'm just not feeling that this year. We'll see how the weekend goes and how the story comes along, but if I'm not feeling much better about the whole thing by Monday, I might bow out this year. That would free up more time for the 20,000-word project, which is really what I'd rather be working on right now. </span>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-37458748144177028742010-10-27T22:14:00.002-05:002010-10-27T22:41:42.335-05:00Post Office Rant<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">The other day I went to the Post Office, that shinning pillar of customer service and efficiency. I didn't have a tall order. I had one piece of mail, already stamped, to drop off for a coworker, and I had one package that I needed to have sent to Aurora. I got to the post office at about 1:30 on a Thursday. I figured by this time I'd probably have missed the lunch rush and wouldn't have to wait too long. That was stupid of me. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I got in line behind ten to 15 people, many of them had already adopted body language that said this has taken way too fucking long and I'm still waiting in line. One window didn't have a sign up in front of it or anything. Another window had a sign directing customers to the third window. There was a person standing behind that window doing precisely dick. The third window had a staff member at it who was actively helping people. The person behind window number two would occasionally announce that the other person who was able to help us was at lunch and would be back in 20 minutes or so, and that if anyone had something to drop off and didn't require any actual assistance, she would take it. At least one cranky customer in line asked if there wasn't someone else who could help out, but of course there was. This despite the fact that the one woman was standing behind the counter doing nothing and at least two other Post Office workers stood behind the counter at one point or another. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">No wonder everyone bitches about the post office. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I've worked in the customer service industry in one capacity or another for roughly 12 years. About 10 of those years were in retail and the last two years are with the library. I know good customer service and I know bad customer service and I know horrible customer service. This was horrible customer service. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I got through the line faster than I anticipated, and never got to see this mythic second clerk who would be able to help move the line faster. I do know that by the time I left the line was just as long as when I had got there. Also, I counted nine security cameras in the lobby of the Post Office. What the hell? Why would a Post Office in a small, well to do community on Chicagoland's north shore need nine security cameras in the lobby? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">I've been thinking a lot about customer service lately. The good and the bad, and the people that can, can't, and can but aren't willing to provide it. Aside from being a pain in the ass, this little trip provided a good lesson on what is necessary in making a strong customer service experience. </span>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-56172210742830064812010-10-12T11:00:00.000-05:002010-10-12T11:00:06.661-05:00Happy Birthday Logan<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">On what was a very cold and surprisingly snowy October 12 four years ago I became a father. I don’t know that I was fully prepared for it at the time. Sometimes I still don’t know if I am fully prepared for it, but I suppose that feeling’s going to stay with me for the rest of my days.<br /><br />Much like his little sister would prove to be years, later, Logan was stubborn and was happy right where he was. After a long day of going to the hospital, making phone calls, checking on Brandi and waiting, lots and lots of waiting, my son came into the world. We had some scares those first ten days or so, as well as here and there throughout the first four years of his life. Still, it’s nothing I would change or give away for anything, even when I’m tired and frustrated and the kids are driving me nuts and I might say something to the contrary.<br /><br /></span><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl4C3Ic77WTVWlutQOthkeHpYOhEAj35hlLQwPu2rRqhD0LTWJ3KQIyICP6N8lgjdrxXW8W750NEBxSglFKLTdwUMKE-jBAa9qD2VauI_xIDvV9QH933qVG7bihN8U4GM7RW8X8x7uInFF/s1600/Logan+daddy.bmp"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 237px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 237px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526820157851431490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl4C3Ic77WTVWlutQOthkeHpYOhEAj35hlLQwPu2rRqhD0LTWJ3KQIyICP6N8lgjdrxXW8W750NEBxSglFKLTdwUMKE-jBAa9qD2VauI_xIDvV9QH933qVG7bihN8U4GM7RW8X8x7uInFF/s320/Logan+daddy.bmp" /></span></a><span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%; FONT-FAMILY: 'Calibri', 'sans-serif'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"></span></p><p><span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%; FONT-FAMILY: 'Calibri', 'sans-serif'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">Happy birthday Logan. I hope the coming year gives you everything you need and some of the things you want.</span></span></p>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-89678718542142317322010-10-08T15:39:00.002-05:002010-10-08T15:40:34.304-05:00Happy Birthday Ava<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It’s hard to believe that only a year ago we welcomed you into this world. It’s also hard to believe how much you’ve grown and changed over the last year. I can’t wait to see what the next year will bring. Happy birthday sweetheart!<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOi46SGlGfGoD0OZkOn-l75tiXDOQijk2FtJRWF4NJWzVBMNNgZS1E-mhWSg3gsRMkTlj6KewBs8unyk54Fuo1RGgT1x6UVqm_q15_zLueEZ1G1NCtW0czXnuOAFt1VZ7g1enJ92CBEXYg/s1600/Ava+Birthday.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525777756980682498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOi46SGlGfGoD0OZkOn-l75tiXDOQijk2FtJRWF4NJWzVBMNNgZS1E-mhWSg3gsRMkTlj6KewBs8unyk54Fuo1RGgT1x6UVqm_q15_zLueEZ1G1NCtW0czXnuOAFt1VZ7g1enJ92CBEXYg/s320/Ava+Birthday.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><div></div>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-10620983410200836612010-10-07T11:59:00.004-05:002010-10-07T12:06:53.414-05:00So Close!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm so close to my monthly writing goals this month I can...feel it?...taste it?...sniff it? I don't know, but whatever you'd do with an end result like that, I'm almost there. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My goals for this "month" (September 15-October 13, which is the cycle of the Writer's Support Group I went to) are: </span><br /><ol><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Write 10,000 words of the Sold Soul story. I've got about 1,900 words to go, or about 250 per day, which is totally doable. I should have room to spare for that one. </span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Complete one revision of a short story about love potions. <span style="color:#ff0000;">Done!</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ffffff;">Write 10 blog posts. I've got 8 done, and this counts for another, so I'm almost there. I even have one planned for tomorrow.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Complete one revision of the Merlin's Yard Sale story. This is the goal I'm farthest from at this point. I did start on it the other night, but was so tired I was having a hard time staying awake. Honestly, it was my own exhaustion that put me to sleep, not the story. I swear. </span></li></ol><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm in a really good mood about all this, which is helping to keep me motivated. And I'm starting to think of next month's goals and what will keep me going. NaNoWriMo is coming up, and I plan on torturing myself with that again, so I'll have to work that into the goals somehow.</span></p>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219106691444162656.post-28144476008302676052010-10-06T17:00:00.000-05:002010-10-06T17:00:04.257-05:00The Caveman Viking<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was after a particularly warm winter, while Sven and his clansmen were tracking game across the melting tundra, that they came across the shadow of a man seemingly embedded in a block of ice. It was a curiosity to them all, for even Swissgar Torbaldson, eldest warrior of the clan, had never spoken of such a thing as the shadow of a man in ice. Thinking this to be an omen, but not sure of what, Sven and his companions carefully removed the block of ice and returned with it to the village. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Everyone marveled at this thing, which must surely be a message from Odin. A great feast was prepared and the fires were piled high with wood to thank Odin for this omen and ask him for guidance. Soon the clan was sleepy with drink, and they returned to their lodges. The block of ice was left in the center of the village near the still roaring fires. In the morning, the members of the clan awoke to find that the ice was gone, and in its place was a man-thing. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">He was naked, and cold to the touch, but getting warmer as the day drew on. In his hand was a crude club. While his shape resembled a man, he was shorter than anyone in the clan, built squat and hunched. His forehead was tall and looked like it could be used to as a ram to smash his enemies. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“Could this be one of the dwarves from the mountain,” asked one of the women of the village. “Perhaps Loki played a trick on him, or maybe he angered Odin.” </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">“Surely not,” replied Swissgar, “because he has no beard, and no dwarf would ever carry a weapon as crude as that.” </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The men of the village brought the man-thing closer to the fire to warm and wake him, but kept careful watch in case he should arise and be an enemy. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When the man-thing finally woke, he was groggy and disoriented. He struck out at the people around him, but he attacked in fear, not from hate. Being trapped in the ice for so long, he fell tired quickly and was subdued easily. The men of the village brought him away to a storage house, but left him with food and water, and dressed him in some of the clothes that were too big for the boys and too small for the men. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">After many weeks and a God’s worth of patience and effort, the man-thing, who answered to Grog, was taught the way of the Vikings, taught to use their tools and weapons. And he became one of their fiercest warriors, rushing into battle without fear of pain or death. The other clans learned to fear the members of Torbaldson’s clan and their caveman Viking. </span>mattwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07934926340973044413noreply@blogger.com2