Doing It Wrong archive

Category : Family (18)

Let me explain… no there is no time, let me sum up

Categories: Family, Life
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Published on: March 17, 2010
  • Wife was ill
  • Grew another eye on the back of my head
  • Wife is better
  • I was ill
  • The eye is still there
  • Exercise is hit and miss
  • Emily loved the Lightning Thief
  • Emily loves Lady Gaga
  • Still hacking out ideas for Memento
  • Going to get the eye removed soon

New home

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Published on: December 7, 2009

So I decided to let the ossuary.org domain lapse and move in with the wife at martinitime.org. I didn’t really use the domain for much apart from hosting a weblog I don’t write in much and for the spam trap that my email address had become. Really no point in paying the hosting fee anymore.

So I mostly have everything migrated. Just a few minor details to hammer out.

Flying Trolls, Smelly Dinosaurs and Self-Induced Sinus Pressure

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Published on: January 5, 2009

Conversations with my daughter

Emily: Daddy, I need help.
Me: Sure, what with?
Emily: Well… I was playing a jumping game with my dolls and sort of forgot the “no throwing” rule and one of my trolls is behind the bed.

After the troll extraction from behind the guest bed I notice that she has the TV on to the cartoon network which is playing Jurassic Park III. After I warn her that the show might be scary she responds

Emily: That’s okay, you’ll protect me.
Me: Yeah I keep the dinosaurs out of the house.
Emily: You’re silly, dinosaurs are extinct. And I don’t mean they stink, I mean that they are EX-tinct.

Following this I go back to the bathroom where I’ve been going through a number of gyrations trying to get the water out of my sinuses. Following the wisdom tooth extraction over the Christmas holiday I noticed I have a small channel from one socket up into my sinuses. I was careless with the water-pick and apparently blasted some water up through this channel and into my sinus cavities. Woo fun.

Games my daughter plays

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Published on: December 3, 2008

So this evening when I got back from TKD I went in to give my little girl a kiss goodnight and she announced that even though the light was off she was playing a game; a game about a great warrior and his wife and how they had adventures and fought monsters and aliens. She knew the warrior was great because he had a dragon around him that made him elite.

This evening, the part of the warrior was to be played by a Puss’n’Boots doll and the part of the wife by another doll who, although not a cat, was to be treated as one for the purposes of the game. After I had given her a kiss and closed the door she yelled that they also had children but the children didn’t go on the adventures until they were older.

A few days ago she very meticulously arranged her dolls and ponies on the stairs but was quite secretive about what they were doing and why.

Bathing a twenty pound maine coone…

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Published on: June 27, 2007

He’s always been our little guy. He’s very timid and quiet. He hides from strangers. Never bites or bares his claws. As far as cats go he’s a seven foot queen of a gay man with a tiny chihuahua peeking out of his man purse.  But the one thing I forgot was that every gay man I know can fight like Mike Tyson after smoking a $20 rock.

He tried to climb the walls. He tried to climb me. He knocked me over. My wife thought I was moving furniture. Our soft, fat boy had, in a matter of seconds, converted the body built by a life of leisure into an engine of muscle and bone with a single purpose: escape. I muscled him back into the tub and got the soap on him. He was now not only wet but slippery. I know there is a part of me that is suicidal because I suddenly had the thought “I can keep him in the tub if I get in with him and slide the shower door shut”.

With a laugh that is only possible when your reptile brain has seized the wheel and screamed “THIS IS THE END! ARMAGEDDON!” I  followed the instructions and began to build up a  luxurious lather by rubbing the soap into his fur, being careful to avoid his eyes.  It’s kind of a blur of lathering, rinsing and repeating after that. I’m pretty sure I lost consciousness at least once but Mr Teatime appears to be clean and won’t come anywhere near me.

All or nothing

Categories: Buddhism, Family, Journal, Life
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Published on: February 3, 2007

The last few weeks have been hard. It’s hurt. A lot.

It’s one thing to think about the pain and transience of our lives when things are going well and another entirely when it sneaks up behind you, knocks you down and starts kicking you in the stomach. We grow up beliving that all options are open to us, all paths available. It’s hard when you realize that some ways are now closed and that there are things that we’ll never do or feel again. We can’t go back, we can only go forward.

Jyllian told me one time about how if you ever wanted to switch places with anyone, that to be perfectly honest, you had to take everything that they had. Leaving nothing out. At the same time you had to abandon everything of your own. Your experiences, your memories, the very essence of who your are. You can’t look at someones life from the outside, pick the good parts and splice them into your own life. It’s all or nothing.

I think the same thing goes when we look back at our lives and wish we’d taken a slightly different path. We’re the accumulation of our experiences and even a slight change would require an abandonment of everything we now have. I couldn’t have left Santa Barbara for San Francisco at any other time and still be sitting here in my office listening to my daughter thump around upstairs. I couldn’t have met and married my wife at any other time and had the marriage I cherish today. The forks in the road don’t ever converge again.

Looking at what I have now and the opportunities before me there is no way I would take that gamble that turning right instead of left would have produced a better outcome. It’s a bittersweet waste of time to even speculate on what might have been. There’s no way to know and no way to go back.

What I have is going to hurt for a while. Like an old football injury, there will be moments to come when an unexpected turn of thought will cause it to ache again for the rest of my life. But it’s all or nothing. What I have hurts but is wonderful as well.

She admitted it

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Published on: November 29, 2006

My wife just keeps me around for my precious bodily fluids.

Cemetary ducks

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Published on: October 12, 2006

After I got done with work this evening Jyllian, Emily and I walked around the corner to the graveyard to feed the ducks some bread. It’s been a little chilly the past few days but it was still nice. The ducks and geese were hungry and chased us to get the food which was fun but I kept thinking of Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Ducks”.

We walked around a bit more putting the flowers back in order and looking at all the old stones. There must have been some sort of event of holiday or something because there were a huge number of flowers in the cemetary, far more than usual. It was strange looking at the stones, their different styles and ages. I found one that was barely readable and well over a hundred years old. People apparently also buy family plots and put up marker stones when nobody is even in them which I find more than a little creepy. Like putting a bookmark at the end of the book when you’re still in the middle.

There also appears to be some serious competition going on in the more “well to do” area of the cemetary (which oddly enough backs up onto some pretty generic apartments and has a surprisingly poor view). The older area of the cemetary had the usual headstones you expect to see before the easily mown plates became all the rage. The standard headstone sized markers prevailed with a few celtic crosses and a couple of obelisks.

The newer “garden” area is downright gauche in comparison with markers clearly designed for the McMansion and H3 crowd. One monument was an upright slab of black marble that looked like the monolith from 2001 and had to be at least nine feet tall. Even creepier, the guy under it was a year younger than I am. When I die I want the biggest, gaudiest monument I can get. I want a fat cherub with an eternal flame shooting out of his ass and a big screen monitor with a video of me extolling my virtues in an endless loop. I want an eyesore that will drive down the local cemetary property values. I would then like to actually be cremated an interred under a small headstone in the old section of the yard which has been artificially aged to match the stones around it.

Or they can just feed me to the ducks.

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