"You know what sounds good right now? I don't know. Something yummy!"
Listening to: The wife, in bed
Thursday, 16 July 2009
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
Sometimes Even "I Told You So' Is Too Much
Remember a few years ago the woman who became the oldest new mother at the age of 66?
Well a strange thing happened on Saturday, she died, at the age of 69.
I have nothing else to say.
Well a strange thing happened on Saturday, she died, at the age of 69.
I have nothing else to say.
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
What A Weekend!
This weekend sucked pretty much.
On the run up to it we were both looking forward to having some well deserved quality time together. It was going to be good.
Sometimes though life seems to like to kick us in the teeth. This weekend was one of those times. After the bills were paid off on Friday we had a little bit less money than we had realised. What was left over wasn't going to buy what we needed for the rest of the week. Horrible times. Lots of stress, frustration resulted in a whole lot of stubbornness for two people who can be too much alike at times. The only solution I saw to the whole horrible situation was to swallow my pride and do something that in normal circumstances I would never want to do. Which made neither of us happy. This solution to our unfortunate situation meant that for the two days we had been looking forward to so much we barely saw one another and had none of the good times we had been dreaming of.
By Sunday though things had improved enough of an extent that we could at least spend some quality time together without the stress of the previous two days. The sun was shining. We had 50 minutes to ourselves, a beautiful field of wheat, a quiet road and a moment where I almost got to convince her to jump on in the car. It was such a beautiful moment I almost want to get this picture blown up and put on the wall as a keepsake.
If only that speeding motorist hadn't come round the corner at that moment, waving his finger, it might have been an even nicer memory.
Ah well, in this car I don't think there would have been much left to the imagination what we were up to.
On the run up to it we were both looking forward to having some well deserved quality time together. It was going to be good.
Sometimes though life seems to like to kick us in the teeth. This weekend was one of those times. After the bills were paid off on Friday we had a little bit less money than we had realised. What was left over wasn't going to buy what we needed for the rest of the week. Horrible times. Lots of stress, frustration resulted in a whole lot of stubbornness for two people who can be too much alike at times. The only solution I saw to the whole horrible situation was to swallow my pride and do something that in normal circumstances I would never want to do. Which made neither of us happy. This solution to our unfortunate situation meant that for the two days we had been looking forward to so much we barely saw one another and had none of the good times we had been dreaming of.
By Sunday though things had improved enough of an extent that we could at least spend some quality time together without the stress of the previous two days. The sun was shining. We had 50 minutes to ourselves, a beautiful field of wheat, a quiet road and a moment where I almost got to convince her to jump on in the car. It was such a beautiful moment I almost want to get this picture blown up and put on the wall as a keepsake.
If only that speeding motorist hadn't come round the corner at that moment, waving his finger, it might have been an even nicer memory.
Ah well, in this car I don't think there would have been much left to the imagination what we were up to.
Thursday, 9 July 2009
When Sporting Idols Were Human
Today when Real Madrid can spend 80 million pounds on a Portuguese footballer and 56 million on another Brazilian and can afford to pay them weekly wages on top that most of us can't dream of in a lifetime of working its almost hard to imagine that sport didn't always have such superstars. In sport there has always been athletes that have excelled above the rest but not all got the lifestyle that today's top athletes can expect.
I was just reading the story behind a new song written by Blair Douglas, a founding member of Runrig, the song is about a man named Giovanni "Johnny" Moscardini, who though born in Scotland in 1897 who went on to have a successful football career in Italy during the 20s and 30s. He became the top scorer for his club Pisa, before playing for the Italian national team where he was capped 9 times only to give it all up to help run his Uncle's ice cream shop back in Scotland. Somehow I just don't see Ronaldo or Kaka doing likewise. They might well send a cheque back home to a relative that needed some help but I doubt they'd be willing to give up their priviliged lifestyle to physically help the family business.
Yet sporting history is littered with interesting stories. Around the same time when Giovanni was playing football for Italy a Scottish runner was refusing to run his best event at the 1924 Olympics, the 100 meters, because it clashed with his religious beliefs. The heats were to be run on a Sunday so Eric Liddell, a devout protestant, felt that with it being the day of the Sabbath he could not compete. Instead he decided to train for the 400 meters, another event he was good at but was only expected to come 3rd in. A lot of today's 100 meter sprinters will double up on the 200 meters but it takes a special athlete to be able to compete at both 100 and 400 meters such is the differences in the discipline of the two events.
As it turned out, he not only won the race but set a new world record.
After his athletics career was over he continued his Missionary work in China, staying on to carry his work in 1941 when the British government advice was to leave due to the war between China & Japan. The Japanese later overtook the mission station with its members interned at the Weifang Internment Camp. Liddell died of a brain tumour hastened by malnourishment and overwork in 1945, months before the Japanese surrended. An unfortunate end for a man that was so admired by his peers for not only his athletic ability but for the man he was.
Its not only the athletes of the distant past that have interesting life stories, more recent athletes have done so as well. Take the story of amateur Scottish cyclist Graham Obree. When his bike shop failed with the burden of bad debts he decided that the way out of his problems was to beat the World hour velodrome record which had stood for 9 years. Unlike his English rival, Chris Boardman, who had access to the help of the UK Olympic team for coaching and sponsorship as well as custom made carbon fibre superbikes thanks to the backing of Lotus, Graham had to not only design his own training regime but build his own bike from left over stock from his shop and parts from an old washing machine.
The bike he subsequently designed had an unusual riding position, which he later became famous for, because not only was it aerodynamic but also because it allowed him to put more pressure on the pedals allowing him to get up to speed without the need for standing up. On his first attempt at the record he failed but he had booked the track for 24 hours so decided to come back early next morning to try again. In order to prevent his body from seizing up while he slept, he made himself drink pint after pint of water so that he would have to wake up every two hours for toilet trips which allowed him to stretch his muscles. With so much punishment on his body it should have been a waste of time even going back on track. The day before he had been fresh and had failed the old record by a kilometer, but this time the effort was not in vain and he beat the record by over 400 meters.
At a time when most professional cyclists seemed to be ruining the sport by competing with the aid of illegal drugs the World governing cycling body (the UCI) seemed to be more concerned that the evolution of the bicycle was making it possible for a disproportionate improvement to track records. So they banned the unusual elbows tucked in riding position that Graham had used to set his record, which meant that this necessitated the need for a new bike to be designed and built if he was to continue racing after Chris Boardman broke it a week after he had set it.
His new bike had yet another unusual riding position, later to be named the Superman position because of the way his arms were outstretched in front of him as he rode. He used this new bike to win the World Championship pursuit.
Not bad for someone who had to get over bouts of depression, which at times in his life was so severe that he had tried to kill himself not once but twice. The first time as a child when he was only saved by the luck of his father getting off of work unusually early and once as an adult after his brother died of a car crash, this time being saved by a woman who was checking out a barn.
To me its unusual stories like that can make Sport so much more interesting than impressive skills and crazy income levels and the building of expensive superteams such as Real Madrid.
I was just reading the story behind a new song written by Blair Douglas, a founding member of Runrig, the song is about a man named Giovanni "Johnny" Moscardini, who though born in Scotland in 1897 who went on to have a successful football career in Italy during the 20s and 30s. He became the top scorer for his club Pisa, before playing for the Italian national team where he was capped 9 times only to give it all up to help run his Uncle's ice cream shop back in Scotland. Somehow I just don't see Ronaldo or Kaka doing likewise. They might well send a cheque back home to a relative that needed some help but I doubt they'd be willing to give up their priviliged lifestyle to physically help the family business.
Yet sporting history is littered with interesting stories. Around the same time when Giovanni was playing football for Italy a Scottish runner was refusing to run his best event at the 1924 Olympics, the 100 meters, because it clashed with his religious beliefs. The heats were to be run on a Sunday so Eric Liddell, a devout protestant, felt that with it being the day of the Sabbath he could not compete. Instead he decided to train for the 400 meters, another event he was good at but was only expected to come 3rd in. A lot of today's 100 meter sprinters will double up on the 200 meters but it takes a special athlete to be able to compete at both 100 and 400 meters such is the differences in the discipline of the two events.
As it turned out, he not only won the race but set a new world record.
After his athletics career was over he continued his Missionary work in China, staying on to carry his work in 1941 when the British government advice was to leave due to the war between China & Japan. The Japanese later overtook the mission station with its members interned at the Weifang Internment Camp. Liddell died of a brain tumour hastened by malnourishment and overwork in 1945, months before the Japanese surrended. An unfortunate end for a man that was so admired by his peers for not only his athletic ability but for the man he was.
Its not only the athletes of the distant past that have interesting life stories, more recent athletes have done so as well. Take the story of amateur Scottish cyclist Graham Obree. When his bike shop failed with the burden of bad debts he decided that the way out of his problems was to beat the World hour velodrome record which had stood for 9 years. Unlike his English rival, Chris Boardman, who had access to the help of the UK Olympic team for coaching and sponsorship as well as custom made carbon fibre superbikes thanks to the backing of Lotus, Graham had to not only design his own training regime but build his own bike from left over stock from his shop and parts from an old washing machine.
The bike he subsequently designed had an unusual riding position, which he later became famous for, because not only was it aerodynamic but also because it allowed him to put more pressure on the pedals allowing him to get up to speed without the need for standing up. On his first attempt at the record he failed but he had booked the track for 24 hours so decided to come back early next morning to try again. In order to prevent his body from seizing up while he slept, he made himself drink pint after pint of water so that he would have to wake up every two hours for toilet trips which allowed him to stretch his muscles. With so much punishment on his body it should have been a waste of time even going back on track. The day before he had been fresh and had failed the old record by a kilometer, but this time the effort was not in vain and he beat the record by over 400 meters.
At a time when most professional cyclists seemed to be ruining the sport by competing with the aid of illegal drugs the World governing cycling body (the UCI) seemed to be more concerned that the evolution of the bicycle was making it possible for a disproportionate improvement to track records. So they banned the unusual elbows tucked in riding position that Graham had used to set his record, which meant that this necessitated the need for a new bike to be designed and built if he was to continue racing after Chris Boardman broke it a week after he had set it.
His new bike had yet another unusual riding position, later to be named the Superman position because of the way his arms were outstretched in front of him as he rode. He used this new bike to win the World Championship pursuit.
Not bad for someone who had to get over bouts of depression, which at times in his life was so severe that he had tried to kill himself not once but twice. The first time as a child when he was only saved by the luck of his father getting off of work unusually early and once as an adult after his brother died of a car crash, this time being saved by a woman who was checking out a barn.
To me its unusual stories like that can make Sport so much more interesting than impressive skills and crazy income levels and the building of expensive superteams such as Real Madrid.
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
Watch Out Guys, Thanks To Some Clever Boffins We Might Just Have Become A Little Bit Less Useful
Apparently a team of scientists in England have claimed that they can make sperm from stem cells. This may be bad news for us guys because producing sperm by the gazillion was one of the few things that we were exclusively good at, for no good reason other than we could. If we aren't required for that in future what will we be needed for?
But seriously, what were they thinking? There are at least 5 billion people on this planet, maybe closer to 6 or 7 (sorry I haven't been counting and too lazy to get my facts straight), even if less than half of those were sperm producing males that makes up a lot xy and xx chromosomes swimming about. That's not even including those being kept at optimum temperature in the fridges of Sperm Banks. So my question is - why? Yeth I know that there are a lot of people out there wanting babies that can't have them because the guy in the relationship is struggling to do his bit, because his swimmers just don't seem interested but really I hardly think that the world has a shortage of usable sperm. Maybe there is a reason that men are getting less fertile as time goes by, it might well just have been predesigned in our make up that as our numbers grew we were diluting our reproductive abilities so that 7 billion didn't quickly become 27 billion.
I don't want to be seen to belittle the issue of infertile men but with all the current sources of spermatozoa alternatives could these boffins not have put some research into something more useful and necessary, like I don't know perhaps increasing food production for all the people that already here and all the people that are going to be here in future? Or do these 'intellectuals' only do things because they think they can or for their own ego and the respect of their peers?
Listening to: "Helplessly Hoping" Crosby, Stills & Nash
But seriously, what were they thinking? There are at least 5 billion people on this planet, maybe closer to 6 or 7 (sorry I haven't been counting and too lazy to get my facts straight), even if less than half of those were sperm producing males that makes up a lot xy and xx chromosomes swimming about. That's not even including those being kept at optimum temperature in the fridges of Sperm Banks. So my question is - why? Yeth I know that there are a lot of people out there wanting babies that can't have them because the guy in the relationship is struggling to do his bit, because his swimmers just don't seem interested but really I hardly think that the world has a shortage of usable sperm. Maybe there is a reason that men are getting less fertile as time goes by, it might well just have been predesigned in our make up that as our numbers grew we were diluting our reproductive abilities so that 7 billion didn't quickly become 27 billion.
I don't want to be seen to belittle the issue of infertile men but with all the current sources of spermatozoa alternatives could these boffins not have put some research into something more useful and necessary, like I don't know perhaps increasing food production for all the people that already here and all the people that are going to be here in future? Or do these 'intellectuals' only do things because they think they can or for their own ego and the respect of their peers?
Listening to: "Helplessly Hoping" Crosby, Stills & Nash
Thursday, 2 July 2009
Reminiscing & Discovering Utah
Occasionally I miss things from back home. Its a mixture of things depending on the day or what I am doing.
If I am eating it might be things like HP Sauce on my chips. Utah fry sauce is ok, but at the end of the day its only ketchup and mayonnaise, no big deal. HP sauce is different, you can get it here in the British store but at $4 for the small bottle its a little pricey, especially when you know the real price. So I guess for now I'm stuck using ketchup or fry sauce.
Speaking of fries, I much prefer British style cut chips to fries. I might be flaco myself but those skinny little things don't do it for me, I like my chips meaty. Thankfully I have a wife who will on occasion cut them the way I like em. I think she loves me or something.
I miss my Irn Bru that I used to drink by the gallon, but although again it is possible for me to get it in the Scottish store I just don't know if I can justify a 30 minute trip downtown for the $2 small plastic bottles, especially when for some reason it tastes much better chilled in the glass bottles that aren't available here. Strangely I think I even miss the Irn Bru adverts, they are far more wittier than anything that seems to available here.
If I am watching tv I might miss the BBC. Sure you can get BBC America, but thats crap. Very few programs on it are BBC programs, a lot of whats on it is programs that few people want to watch back in the UK like How Clean Is Your House. Blah. Where is the good stuff that the BBC is good at like the Natural History programs or Wimbledon coverage.
Of course when it comes right down to it TV isn't that serious a thing to miss, not when I didn't watch too much of it anyway. I do on occasions miss places more, like being able to spend a few hours around Loch Lomond, go away for a couple of days in Skye or go hiking in Glen Lyon for example. But I'm finding even that isn't that big a deal when I have a whole new beautiful country to explore, this time with company by my side which is fun, but maybe we do need to prepare some food before we leave the house so that we can enjoy it a bit longer.
For now at least, even the blue skies of Utah in Summer is still a novel experience for someone who is used to cloud cover. Its taken my eyes some time to get used to it, and will probably take my pale skin even longer but it makes a nice change. Back home it seemed like it just wasn't fair that the most time scenes like below would occur would be on a winters day when it so cold that you would have to wrap up to enjoy it.
If I am eating it might be things like HP Sauce on my chips. Utah fry sauce is ok, but at the end of the day its only ketchup and mayonnaise, no big deal. HP sauce is different, you can get it here in the British store but at $4 for the small bottle its a little pricey, especially when you know the real price. So I guess for now I'm stuck using ketchup or fry sauce.
Speaking of fries, I much prefer British style cut chips to fries. I might be flaco myself but those skinny little things don't do it for me, I like my chips meaty. Thankfully I have a wife who will on occasion cut them the way I like em. I think she loves me or something.
I miss my Irn Bru that I used to drink by the gallon, but although again it is possible for me to get it in the Scottish store I just don't know if I can justify a 30 minute trip downtown for the $2 small plastic bottles, especially when for some reason it tastes much better chilled in the glass bottles that aren't available here. Strangely I think I even miss the Irn Bru adverts, they are far more wittier than anything that seems to available here.
If I am watching tv I might miss the BBC. Sure you can get BBC America, but thats crap. Very few programs on it are BBC programs, a lot of whats on it is programs that few people want to watch back in the UK like How Clean Is Your House. Blah. Where is the good stuff that the BBC is good at like the Natural History programs or Wimbledon coverage.
Of course when it comes right down to it TV isn't that serious a thing to miss, not when I didn't watch too much of it anyway. I do on occasions miss places more, like being able to spend a few hours around Loch Lomond, go away for a couple of days in Skye or go hiking in Glen Lyon for example. But I'm finding even that isn't that big a deal when I have a whole new beautiful country to explore, this time with company by my side which is fun, but maybe we do need to prepare some food before we leave the house so that we can enjoy it a bit longer.
For now at least, even the blue skies of Utah in Summer is still a novel experience for someone who is used to cloud cover. Its taken my eyes some time to get used to it, and will probably take my pale skin even longer but it makes a nice change. Back home it seemed like it just wasn't fair that the most time scenes like below would occur would be on a winters day when it so cold that you would have to wrap up to enjoy it.
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
It was my Sister-In-Laws baby shower this weekend so she asked my wife to take some pictures of the event with my camera. As a result I have a lot of editing to do before this weekend approaches when I have a photo shoot of my own to do as I must make space on the computer before then. As I am going through them I am starting to realise that my wife not only has a wacky dreams of Australian chefs but she also a fetish of womens' feet.
Friday, 19 June 2009
I Really Need To Be less Judgemental
When it comes to the weekly grocery shopping trip, I much prefer to go to Smiths rather than Walmart. Partly because I have found that the meat in Smiths taste better than the Walmart variety. Why that should be the case I do not know, but the Walmart meat does seem to taste like cardboard.
But another reason is that at Smiths they don't feel the need to greet you at the door. I've always thought that Walmart were patronizing to the older worker, the disabled or the sick because thats the type of worker that they seem to use as greeters. Personally I thought that the older worker or even the disabled worker would have been more useful in another position, something that was more involving than "Hello, welcome to Walmart". But the day I saw a man standing, using a zimmer frame for support with an oxygen tank by his side, performing this role I was disturbed and thought that Walmart was taking the piss.
But a few weeks later, with my back once again acting up and my papers not yet finialised and therefore unable to visit the doctors for fear of it costing me a fortune I am looking on that Walmart memory a little differently. I realise now that I looked upon that sight as someone who is used to living in a country with a socialised healthcare system. That man I saw that day, living in a land where you need to have insurance to afford healthcare, probably had to work just to be able to pay his health costs, and Walmart was good enough to give him a job when many other places couldn't have accommodated him. It's not like he could have dragged his oxygen tank around the floor of the Olive Garden whilst serving diners.
I may well have changed my mind over the role of some of the Walmart greeters but until I taste some better meat, my opinion on that remains the same.
But another reason is that at Smiths they don't feel the need to greet you at the door. I've always thought that Walmart were patronizing to the older worker, the disabled or the sick because thats the type of worker that they seem to use as greeters. Personally I thought that the older worker or even the disabled worker would have been more useful in another position, something that was more involving than "Hello, welcome to Walmart". But the day I saw a man standing, using a zimmer frame for support with an oxygen tank by his side, performing this role I was disturbed and thought that Walmart was taking the piss.
But a few weeks later, with my back once again acting up and my papers not yet finialised and therefore unable to visit the doctors for fear of it costing me a fortune I am looking on that Walmart memory a little differently. I realise now that I looked upon that sight as someone who is used to living in a country with a socialised healthcare system. That man I saw that day, living in a land where you need to have insurance to afford healthcare, probably had to work just to be able to pay his health costs, and Walmart was good enough to give him a job when many other places couldn't have accommodated him. It's not like he could have dragged his oxygen tank around the floor of the Olive Garden whilst serving diners.
I may well have changed my mind over the role of some of the Walmart greeters but until I taste some better meat, my opinion on that remains the same.
Tuesday, 16 June 2009
America Lost
When I saw this old abandoned store I could almost taste the ice-cream that a young American kid bought long ago, whilst smelling the fruit carefully stacked by the shop owner and feel the newsprint between my fingers rubbed off from the daily paper.
It's shops like these I have seen plenty of in old American movies and photographs.
When I moved to the States back in March I hoped to see old authentic shops like these still open and active. Sadly though the reality is its mostly malls and big stores with little character that seem to exist in Utah today. So far, in my admittedly limited experience of Northern Utah of the past few months, a few small shops that I have seen have tried hard to replicate the look of the old store such as this one but lack a certain something to feel authentic.
So when I saw this store I couldn't help but dream a little of reopening it and bringing it back to life and making it once again an active, useful part of town. Sadly though a town as small as Bear River that is situated about 10 miles or so from the the Interstate with all its modern amenities sprawled by the roadside will probably never be able to bring life back to such a store ever again. The price of progress I guess.
It's a shame that such places that give a taste of what small town America must once have looked like for so many are now only stopping places for the curious to take a photograph or two.
At least they haven't yet knocked it down.
Listening to: Paolo Nutini - High Hopes
It's shops like these I have seen plenty of in old American movies and photographs.
When I moved to the States back in March I hoped to see old authentic shops like these still open and active. Sadly though the reality is its mostly malls and big stores with little character that seem to exist in Utah today. So far, in my admittedly limited experience of Northern Utah of the past few months, a few small shops that I have seen have tried hard to replicate the look of the old store such as this one but lack a certain something to feel authentic.
So when I saw this store I couldn't help but dream a little of reopening it and bringing it back to life and making it once again an active, useful part of town. Sadly though a town as small as Bear River that is situated about 10 miles or so from the the Interstate with all its modern amenities sprawled by the roadside will probably never be able to bring life back to such a store ever again. The price of progress I guess.
It's a shame that such places that give a taste of what small town America must once have looked like for so many are now only stopping places for the curious to take a photograph or two.
At least they haven't yet knocked it down.
Listening to: Paolo Nutini - High Hopes
Wednesday, 3 June 2009
A Crazy Few Days
A year ago marriage couldn't have been further from my mind. Then I met a girl that broke through my defences and all that changed.
Just 4 weeks we were making plans for getting married in September/October of next year. And then we brought forward those plans. On a crazy, limited, budget we decided to marry on the 29th of May this year and then repeat our vows in the manner that we had been originally planning, later on.
It was going to be so easy. A small simple ceremony in a courthouse with a couple of witnesses, a few photographs taken and a nice meal at the end of the day with some friends and family. Not hard at all until you realise on the day before that the booking you thought you had for the courthouse hasn't been placed and you have to find an alternative at the same time as when you have an 8 hour drive between 2 States to do. That was all stressful enough but then we had difficulties getting a restaurant to take a booking for 23 seats. You would think a business would be happy to cater to a booking of that level but not in Utah apparently.
Thankfully it was all resolved in no small part to the energies and generosity of my new wife's Sister and Mother - who made what was supposed to be a small simple ceremony a beautiful day indeed.
Anyway here are some photographs of the day
The Bride getting ready - or is that an instrument of torture?
The beautiful Bride
Important conversation about flower duties
Rest time before ring carrying
Getting photographed is boring when there is a pond to be explored
Despite the worry and the stress of the day before, everything turned out well, far better than we had planned. A beautiful Chilean woman made a Scotsman a very happy man. Of course we have to repeat it all some time in the future - this time we are going to be better organised!
Listening to "Worried Man" Paolo Nutini
Just 4 weeks we were making plans for getting married in September/October of next year. And then we brought forward those plans. On a crazy, limited, budget we decided to marry on the 29th of May this year and then repeat our vows in the manner that we had been originally planning, later on.
It was going to be so easy. A small simple ceremony in a courthouse with a couple of witnesses, a few photographs taken and a nice meal at the end of the day with some friends and family. Not hard at all until you realise on the day before that the booking you thought you had for the courthouse hasn't been placed and you have to find an alternative at the same time as when you have an 8 hour drive between 2 States to do. That was all stressful enough but then we had difficulties getting a restaurant to take a booking for 23 seats. You would think a business would be happy to cater to a booking of that level but not in Utah apparently.
Thankfully it was all resolved in no small part to the energies and generosity of my new wife's Sister and Mother - who made what was supposed to be a small simple ceremony a beautiful day indeed.
Anyway here are some photographs of the day
The Bride getting ready - or is that an instrument of torture?
The beautiful Bride
Important conversation about flower duties
Rest time before ring carrying
Getting photographed is boring when there is a pond to be exploredListening to "Worried Man" Paolo Nutini
Saturday, 23 May 2009
So What Can You Recall?
Somehow I have made it to 200 blog posts. A lot slower than some I admit. But here it is. And would you believe it I'm feeling really uninspired in regards to writing something original. No surprise there then!
So instead of writing something nonsensical like I usually do I thought I would mark this minor milestone by inviting you to partake in a little game of mental recall.
The rules are simple.
It is open to anyone who has read this blog for the last 5 or 199 posts (assuming they are not going to be my wife in 7 days time). I already know from experience all too well that her recall is too good. Maybe I'll get her to do the marking.
The object of the game is to try and name previous post titles or subject matter without looking back at previous posts.
The person with the highest score wins.
Unfortunately being skint I can give no prizes, in fact just like learning how to measure a hypotenuse in a school maths class it is largely a waste of time in regards to usefulness for the rest of your life - but it should be a little bit more fun.
Listening to: Little Birdy: Brother
So instead of writing something nonsensical like I usually do I thought I would mark this minor milestone by inviting you to partake in a little game of mental recall.
The rules are simple.
It is open to anyone who has read this blog for the last 5 or 199 posts (assuming they are not going to be my wife in 7 days time). I already know from experience all too well that her recall is too good. Maybe I'll get her to do the marking.
The object of the game is to try and name previous post titles or subject matter without looking back at previous posts.
The person with the highest score wins.
Unfortunately being skint I can give no prizes, in fact just like learning how to measure a hypotenuse in a school maths class it is largely a waste of time in regards to usefulness for the rest of your life - but it should be a little bit more fun.
Listening to: Little Birdy: Brother
Tuesday, 19 May 2009
Just Some Of The Joys That Come With Learning To Be A Step Dad
As a kid I used to enjoy watching the cartoon Charlie Brown but there was one character I never understood. I can't remember the name of the character but it was the one with the blue blankie, and it was the obsession with the carrying of the blankie around with him everywhere that I did not understand. Growing up in the UK myself I didn't know of anyone who had such a habit. And I know for sure I didn't have such a blankie. But in just a few short weeks of being a step dad here to somechileanwoman's kids I'm starting to realise that here in the US the culture is a little different.
Just this very weekend minichileanman said "My blankie! My power!" I have to confess I did not know what it meant - but it was damn funny! Maybe you had to be there to appreciate just how much.
At the time other than how funny it was I didn't give much more thought to what he said there.
Instead I spent the energy wondering why he hadn't pooped in 2 and half days. I couldn't believe I was worried about his lack of pooping but nonetheless I was. However he did finally poop. I couldn't believe I was so relieved to know that he had finally pooped. What the hell is wrong with me?
Shortly after somechileanwoman went off to work tonight I checked up on the kids sleeping in bed just to make sure everything was ok. So yeah I make for a nervous stepdad.
I opened the bedroom door and was hit my a wave of stink. It was bad. Think of bad and then multiply that badness by a figure of around 10 and you might be close to the level of badness that was the stink that hit my nostrils when I opened the bedroom door. I have to admit I was hoping it was just a fart, so I quickly checked that both of somechileanwoman's offspring were still breathing and then quickly left the room so that I could breathe some fresh air. I checked the room again 10 minutes later hoping to find that the smell had dissipated somewhat. It hadn't. By now I was desperate for reasons why the smell hadn't gone. Maybe because it was such a hot day - it was over 90 degrees farenheit today - it was just there was no place for the stink to go to but hang around and the heat was somehow making the stink worse than it should otherwise be. I know, I know I was clutching at straws. I knew as unlikely as this scenario was that I had to check the bottoms for poop. Sure enough head to bum confirmed that minichileanman had indeed pooped.
This presented problems. First of all, minichileanman does not like to be woken up at the best of times. Probably the only thing worse than waking him up before he is fully rested is me changing his nappy. Of course I now had to be in the situation of having to do both. Oh yeah - sometimes I love being a step dad!
Today was also the day that one of minichileanwoman's tooth fell out, which, beyond a small period of time where hysterics was the order of the day, in itself wasn't really a problem until we stuck it underneath her pillow for the toothfairy to come and collect tonight. She promptly rolled over and fell asleep on it, when normally she always sleeps on the other side of the pillow. Typical!
Of course at the moment they are of an age where they both sleep in the same room. Normally this is a good thing. Not so much when you don't want either to wake and you have to clean the bum of one, and lift the head of another all the while hoping, nay praying, not to be discovered - and me a heathen too.
The praying must have worked because somehow neither of them screamed, and somehow I managed to hold my breath long enough to accomplish the task without vomiting, but I have to say if that is the power of the blankie I don't like it much.
Just this very weekend minichileanman said "My blankie! My power!" I have to confess I did not know what it meant - but it was damn funny! Maybe you had to be there to appreciate just how much.At the time other than how funny it was I didn't give much more thought to what he said there.
Instead I spent the energy wondering why he hadn't pooped in 2 and half days. I couldn't believe I was worried about his lack of pooping but nonetheless I was. However he did finally poop. I couldn't believe I was so relieved to know that he had finally pooped. What the hell is wrong with me?
Shortly after somechileanwoman went off to work tonight I checked up on the kids sleeping in bed just to make sure everything was ok. So yeah I make for a nervous stepdad.
I opened the bedroom door and was hit my a wave of stink. It was bad. Think of bad and then multiply that badness by a figure of around 10 and you might be close to the level of badness that was the stink that hit my nostrils when I opened the bedroom door. I have to admit I was hoping it was just a fart, so I quickly checked that both of somechileanwoman's offspring were still breathing and then quickly left the room so that I could breathe some fresh air. I checked the room again 10 minutes later hoping to find that the smell had dissipated somewhat. It hadn't. By now I was desperate for reasons why the smell hadn't gone. Maybe because it was such a hot day - it was over 90 degrees farenheit today - it was just there was no place for the stink to go to but hang around and the heat was somehow making the stink worse than it should otherwise be. I know, I know I was clutching at straws. I knew as unlikely as this scenario was that I had to check the bottoms for poop. Sure enough head to bum confirmed that minichileanman had indeed pooped.
This presented problems. First of all, minichileanman does not like to be woken up at the best of times. Probably the only thing worse than waking him up before he is fully rested is me changing his nappy. Of course I now had to be in the situation of having to do both. Oh yeah - sometimes I love being a step dad!
Today was also the day that one of minichileanwoman's tooth fell out, which, beyond a small period of time where hysterics was the order of the day, in itself wasn't really a problem until we stuck it underneath her pillow for the toothfairy to come and collect tonight. She promptly rolled over and fell asleep on it, when normally she always sleeps on the other side of the pillow. Typical!
Of course at the moment they are of an age where they both sleep in the same room. Normally this is a good thing. Not so much when you don't want either to wake and you have to clean the bum of one, and lift the head of another all the while hoping, nay praying, not to be discovered - and me a heathen too.
The praying must have worked because somehow neither of them screamed, and somehow I managed to hold my breath long enough to accomplish the task without vomiting, but I have to say if that is the power of the blankie I don't like it much.
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