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Daily doings in the land of The Time Sink

After pondering what to do about all the warnings and how to become an alertist, Kitty's mom has her solution:

Maybe I will just be cool about this whole thing and do what I have always done. Always look both ways when you cross the street.

That should do it.

Eminently sensible, my dear; eminently sensible...

I really didn't feel like I needed to follow one of garret's links today:

yahoonews/reuters: pope accuses israelis and palestinians of extremism.

Yeah, I know there's an entire story there; but when the editor slaps a headline like that on an article, everything else seems redundant...

Past time to go home...

12/13/01 3:29:40 PM

Okay, maybe I'm getting closer... the Christmas spirit, that is. I often end up almost missing Christmas completely: by the time I come up to speed and grab the brass ring of good feelings, the carousel of life has already spun past the target date...

Stories like this one help remind me about how the season should be. (via Shamrock Songs)

12/13/01 8:43:55 AM

Any thoughts on that?
Thursday 12/13/01 8:41:26 AM

One morning at the Cleaver residence...

Scene I: The Kitchen

June is off to a job today and Ward is filling in as best he can, for a non-morning person trying to deal with getting kids ready for school. ...and Ward's done something he rarely attempts: breakfast. Well, if you can call some phony cheese and false margarine melted into some bread in the toaster oven "breakfast"...

Enter the Beaver, saying that he absolutely has to have a check for lunch money or he won't be able to eat today. As visions of endless peanut butter and jelly sandwiches pass through Ward's head, he asks when this came up.

"Um, yesterday; that's when I got the note."

"Okay, let's see the note (hoping for information like 'how much' and 'payable to:').

"It's wadded up in my shoe; it may even be gone..."

"No note; no money..." (The Gord would be proud!)

The note wanders in, attached to the Beav's hand. It's a sorry sight, all wrinkly from living in a shoe since yesterday afternoon. Hmmm... No amount; no payable information... As a matter of fact, no information at all beyond "Pay up!"

Recap: June is a stay at home mom who takes wonderful care of the children and handles all these little problems with grace and ease; Ward isn't a morning person. ...and his artificial breakfast is getting cold.

Time to call the school. No number on the note... Okay, check the menu calendar? Brilliant idea! No number. ...just a mention that if the child's account is empty, "Alternate Foods" may be served. Ward shudders as more memories begin flooding back.

Meanwhile Scene II has been playing out in the living room:

Beaver, how much money do you have left?

I dunno...

But you just got the note yesterday?

I dunno...

You should have given it to Mom last night!


Back in the kitchen, Ward has finally found the phone number to his kid's school and reached the secretary. ...the one who trained at the local DMV. <Sigh>

Scene III: dropping the boys off

"Gee Dad, thanks for the swell check" (tears in his eyes)...

"That's okay, son; sometimes Dad just gets a little tense" (cold pseudo-cheesewich sitting like an iceberg in his stomach).

"Hey, Dad!"

"Yes, Wally?"

"He really did need that check, you know..."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, if they run out of money, they just feed them milk and bread!"

"That sounds like prison!"

"Well, sometimes they throw a fruit cup in with the milk and bread..."

...and the episode fades to a close with Ward motoring serenely off to the office, secure in the knowledge that, while he had spiked Wally's hair, he had no idea if his clothes matched.

Tue Dec 11 23:08:07 2001

Any thoughts on that?
Tuesday Dec 11 23:07:49 2001

Two very different people...

Two very different stories...

Both fighters; both winners...

Sun Dec 9 20:19:12 2001

Any thoughts on that?
Sunday Dec 9 20:11:38 2001

The few, the brave, the foolish...

Today marked the the end of soccer season for Daniel's team. ...and for a celebration, the kids wanted to play the parents!

Around 1300, we gathered at one of the local parks for some pizza and play. The thought was that we'd limit the game time by ordering the pizza to the field. ...and we'd play a 'half-court' game. ...and we'd have even teams. Not...

We ended up playing for over an hour... Full field. Ten parents against twenty kids (team members and siblings). Oh, my...

First and foremost: I'm built for the long haul, not sprints. I blade because I can control the amount of work my body has to do. I'm over fifty. I don't run. For any reason. Usually...

...and some of those little kids are fast!

We held our own, though: the parents jumped out to an early lead. ...and the kids learned about intimidation (from parents barrelling down on them). ...and our seventy-year-old, grandmother fullback flat schooled about four of them on footwork and anticipation.

But as the game wore on, and the pizza didn't show up, age began to take its toll. See, there's this thing called stamina. Ruggus Rattus Domesticus has an over abundance. ...especially when they hear things like, "Hey, Karl, just slow 'em down; we'll be there in a minute!", to our goalie. ...and the adult crowd just worn down.

4,3 Kids

Not counting the scrapes, bruises, sore muscles, and at least one cracked rib on the adult team. No, not me; when Carter and I collided, I just landed really, really hard.

...and man, Bradley is just fast!

Does anyone have a crane I can borrow to get me out of bed in the morning?

Sat Dec 8 22:37:03 2001

The red-headed step-children of the blog world...

Man, you gotta' love a line like that!

By the way, that link's live now: the stepkids have a home away from home to hang out in. Drop on by and say "hi!"; it's an interesting group of people.

Sat Dec 8 00:56:30 2001

Any thoughts on that?
Saturday Dec 8 21:50:13 2001


Copyright 2001 by
Daniel C. Bowman