Sometimes I get overwhelmed by all the things in front of me--this is going to be one of those weeks.
Yesterday I was trying not to think of all of these things that I have to do--I was trying to just enjoy the day at the zoo with Fran and the kids. The weather is finally starting to turn autumn-like, which is one of my favorite times of the year. But yesterday I was fighting the urge to make mental lists of all of the things I really should be doing or will be doing.
I tend to load myself up with so many responsibilities that it is impossible to accomplish my list. I'm always hurrying from one place to another, and feel like I'm always running late. I know people who just refuse to be bogged down with more tasks than they can complete, and in fact for good measure they leave themself 10-15% of their time unscheduled for good measure. I always thought of those people as lazy.
Then I listened to this CD by Stephen Covey called "First Things First"--I'm sure it's based on one of his books, but it sounded like an excerpt from a lecture series. I've referred to this before, because it seems that every time I listen to it it changes my perspective a little--very powerful. But one thing he says about people who schedule every moment of their time is that some people get addicted to the urgency, the rush, of running around frantically and being busy. I don't think this applies to me exactly, because I do take time away, but sometimes I wonder if it's enough.
Several times, I've wondered if I could get away with just turning the car north and driving. When I was in fourth grade, I read about a bus driver who entered a "fugue state", during which he just zoned out, forgot his responsibilities, left everything and just drove off. I have a car--gas isn't the limiting factor, I could pack some snacks...Maybe it wouldn't be too bad to fake a fugue episode and just take off...I'm sure I would be forgiven a couple of days.
I wonder if I'm thinking this way because a person I know just died...the grandfather of a girl I knew in High School--I saw his obituary in the paper this weekend (I remember reading somewhere that you know you are getting older when you stop looking for your friends in the "Engaged and Married" section of the paper and start looking for them in the Obituaries). I remember that this grandfather was a very quiet man. He would go to McDonalds every morning to have coffee with a group of friends--we called them "The Breakfast Club". One time he won $20,000 in one of those promotional games they have where you peel stickers off the side of your hash browns or whatever. One of the things I remember about this man is that he would sometimes just announce to his family that he was taking a break, and drive off in his van for several days. Sometimes a week.
Where would I go? I'd probably get lonely before I got fifty miles away. And then, once I got out of range of my favorite radio station I would start to get depressed. I would just start munching down my snacks. Things would be so quiet, because I would have to pause on the bridge over the lake as I leave town and gleefully, vengefully fling my ever-squealing cell phone into the murky depths. It wouldn't be a break unless I did that...
No, I would probably have to take my little buddy--Ryan, my son, and let him fugue-out with me. He'd be cool with it as long as I let him bring the GameBoy and a stack of games. We'd go out to the Grand Canyon and check that out--maybe do some fly fishing in Colorado. Drive up into the mountains, then to the ocean in California--he's never seen the ocean. See? I couldn't just do something overtly selfish--I would have to do it under the guise of a goal-driven trip for the benefit of my son. I couldn't just wander aimlessly. I'd make a terrible homeless person--I need goals, dammit!
Well, I'll face my responsibilities for today...and this week...and I guess the rest of my life. I'll let you know if I decide otherwise....
25 September 2006
24 September 2006
Sizing up the Competition
I had an opportunity to go to a software training class this week, and I went--but under false pretenses. Not too much was covered in the meeting that I didn't already know. The truth is that the only reason I went to the meeting was to get a read on a group of guys--and now I know I'm in trouble.
It's really just a minor dispute over some accounts within our little group--I've got prime real estate in the market, so it makes sense that some people are coming after it and trying to steal my customers. It actually happens all the time--competition within the company. This group, though has been pesky and has resorted to a little bit of deceit and trickery, which has been annoying me.
His strategy has been to go way over my head to people located in our corporate office, then put pressure on them to let him have several of my major accounts. Then I was called into the office to justify every move I was making with each of these customers. My sense of their strategy is that they really want to shake loose one of the major customers, but their multi-pronged attack is a setup for the real negotiation that will happen down the road. Smart negotiators have a little patience, like a skilled chess player. One of my accounts in particular is very high profile and valuable, and so I think they will come back in a few months and just focus on that one. But, wisely, Bryan starting out arguing for multiple accounts, they will look like they are asking for a compromise when they drop their request to just one of my accounts. My counter-strategy is to let their initial attack lose steam, and then call their next move out publicly, which will take some of the effect away. Also, I have to make sure that I am diligently taking good care of those customers, which, of course, I am.
The last straw was the point where they complained that I wasn't working hard enough at the accounts that they wanted: They claimed to have inside sources who say that I don't come around and help enough--and that I missed out on a deal that was worth a lot of money. The straw on top of the last straw was when they held an open house party and invited all of my customers to come (but not me!). Did I mention that these people actually work for the same company as me?
I tried to dress very professionally for the meeting, wearing a conservative, well-starched white dress shirt with no tie, and I arrived early to pick a good seat. I had no trouble spotting the group as they walked in. The represent a faction within the company who is lobbying for more control, to include, as I mentioned, part of the territory I cover--they would love to move me out. Bryan and Ricky are their names. Bryan is the oily, well-spoken boss and Ricky looks a little like a sixty-ish caricature with a mop of sandy hair and coke-bottle thick glasses and slightly buck teeth. I quickly figured out that, while Ricky is on board for the ride, Bryan is the real problem.
Before the meeting, Bryan was very assuming and smug--actually, very charming. He quickly took control of the room and was introducing visitors to each other and dominating the group, some of whom were somewhat experienced men. No wonder I'm having problems with this guy. These personality traits seem to serve some people, the people who can put it to good use, well. I'm more of the stand back and observe type. I can't remember who told me that "Intelligence and money are a lot alike. The less you speak about them, the more people think you have." My personality is actually quite shy, which people who know me always laugh about. Once I become comfortable I can speak relatively well, but I would rather be cautious and know exactly what I'm talking about before jumping in.
Bryan had positioned himself verbally to be our resident professional, and he often assumed the posture of leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, waiting to be satisfied with the outcome of the current discussion. Even his introduction of himself was delivered perfectly: He transformed into a soft-spoken voice, false humility, and looking down as he delivered his credentials, which were actually impressive. Also impressive was his haircut, a little too long and perfect and vain for his age--it was well-gelled. It was obvious to me that this is a very proud and arrogant man. A couple of comments that he made signified that he considered himself to be the voice of experience and wisdom in the marketplace, and he grew bolder and bolder in the meeting, challenging assumptions, smugly giving "pointers" and anecdotes, and passing judgement on ideas that he thought wouldn't work--and I don't mean in a constructive way--I mean in an extremely cocky way. Additionally, his whole demeanor showed that he is a little on the selfish, inconsiderate side. Alternatively, Ricky looked a little more like an Asian tourist--his thick glasses made his eyes look smaller, and he had a camera draped around his neck with a thick strap--(during our class, which was quite bizarre).
Just to clarify, the meeting lasted all day and Bryan's interjections were only about 2% of the total time--he wasn't obnoxious or overbearing. As I mentioned, he was actually a very sociable and charming person--in the same way that your typical Frat guy is, albeit arrogant and a little blind to himself. This is one of the things that worries me, though. He seems to really believe himself to be better than others, and that he is doing the earth a favor with his blessings of wisdom.
That's not to say that Bryan was the most annoying person at the meeting. That award went to the guy sitting next to me, whom I nicknamed the Grinch who Stole Christmas. I'm pretty good at geometry, and I calculated that Grinch stole 17 1/2 square feet of the table space where we were working, leaving me approximatley 1 square foot with the corners of my computer hanging off the edges. He looked like a pallid white version of the Grinch, and had a face that came together in a wedge-shaped line, and was frozen in a constant frown. Later, I learned that he had a lot to frown about--when we installed some things, he couldn't figure out how to drag something into a folder. He glanced at me as I learned the secret he was trying to keep--He didn't know ANYTHING about computers, except possibly how to turn it on. So, I figured that he felt very out of place, and helped him a little. I even asked a very dumb question during the class for his benefit, because I knew that he wasn't following.
When it was all over, I felt like I had a little insight into Bryan and his group, although I'm not sure what I'm going to do to counter their subversive efforts. Maybe just hide his hair gel so he can't leave the house.
But at least now I know what I'm up against. A fight against an oblivous foe who feels that he's right. A somewhat daunting task.
It's really just a minor dispute over some accounts within our little group--I've got prime real estate in the market, so it makes sense that some people are coming after it and trying to steal my customers. It actually happens all the time--competition within the company. This group, though has been pesky and has resorted to a little bit of deceit and trickery, which has been annoying me.
His strategy has been to go way over my head to people located in our corporate office, then put pressure on them to let him have several of my major accounts. Then I was called into the office to justify every move I was making with each of these customers. My sense of their strategy is that they really want to shake loose one of the major customers, but their multi-pronged attack is a setup for the real negotiation that will happen down the road. Smart negotiators have a little patience, like a skilled chess player. One of my accounts in particular is very high profile and valuable, and so I think they will come back in a few months and just focus on that one. But, wisely, Bryan starting out arguing for multiple accounts, they will look like they are asking for a compromise when they drop their request to just one of my accounts. My counter-strategy is to let their initial attack lose steam, and then call their next move out publicly, which will take some of the effect away. Also, I have to make sure that I am diligently taking good care of those customers, which, of course, I am.
The last straw was the point where they complained that I wasn't working hard enough at the accounts that they wanted: They claimed to have inside sources who say that I don't come around and help enough--and that I missed out on a deal that was worth a lot of money. The straw on top of the last straw was when they held an open house party and invited all of my customers to come (but not me!). Did I mention that these people actually work for the same company as me?
I tried to dress very professionally for the meeting, wearing a conservative, well-starched white dress shirt with no tie, and I arrived early to pick a good seat. I had no trouble spotting the group as they walked in. The represent a faction within the company who is lobbying for more control, to include, as I mentioned, part of the territory I cover--they would love to move me out. Bryan and Ricky are their names. Bryan is the oily, well-spoken boss and Ricky looks a little like a sixty-ish caricature with a mop of sandy hair and coke-bottle thick glasses and slightly buck teeth. I quickly figured out that, while Ricky is on board for the ride, Bryan is the real problem.
Before the meeting, Bryan was very assuming and smug--actually, very charming. He quickly took control of the room and was introducing visitors to each other and dominating the group, some of whom were somewhat experienced men. No wonder I'm having problems with this guy. These personality traits seem to serve some people, the people who can put it to good use, well. I'm more of the stand back and observe type. I can't remember who told me that "Intelligence and money are a lot alike. The less you speak about them, the more people think you have." My personality is actually quite shy, which people who know me always laugh about. Once I become comfortable I can speak relatively well, but I would rather be cautious and know exactly what I'm talking about before jumping in.
Bryan had positioned himself verbally to be our resident professional, and he often assumed the posture of leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, waiting to be satisfied with the outcome of the current discussion. Even his introduction of himself was delivered perfectly: He transformed into a soft-spoken voice, false humility, and looking down as he delivered his credentials, which were actually impressive. Also impressive was his haircut, a little too long and perfect and vain for his age--it was well-gelled. It was obvious to me that this is a very proud and arrogant man. A couple of comments that he made signified that he considered himself to be the voice of experience and wisdom in the marketplace, and he grew bolder and bolder in the meeting, challenging assumptions, smugly giving "pointers" and anecdotes, and passing judgement on ideas that he thought wouldn't work--and I don't mean in a constructive way--I mean in an extremely cocky way. Additionally, his whole demeanor showed that he is a little on the selfish, inconsiderate side. Alternatively, Ricky looked a little more like an Asian tourist--his thick glasses made his eyes look smaller, and he had a camera draped around his neck with a thick strap--(during our class, which was quite bizarre).
Just to clarify, the meeting lasted all day and Bryan's interjections were only about 2% of the total time--he wasn't obnoxious or overbearing. As I mentioned, he was actually a very sociable and charming person--in the same way that your typical Frat guy is, albeit arrogant and a little blind to himself. This is one of the things that worries me, though. He seems to really believe himself to be better than others, and that he is doing the earth a favor with his blessings of wisdom.
That's not to say that Bryan was the most annoying person at the meeting. That award went to the guy sitting next to me, whom I nicknamed the Grinch who Stole Christmas. I'm pretty good at geometry, and I calculated that Grinch stole 17 1/2 square feet of the table space where we were working, leaving me approximatley 1 square foot with the corners of my computer hanging off the edges. He looked like a pallid white version of the Grinch, and had a face that came together in a wedge-shaped line, and was frozen in a constant frown. Later, I learned that he had a lot to frown about--when we installed some things, he couldn't figure out how to drag something into a folder. He glanced at me as I learned the secret he was trying to keep--He didn't know ANYTHING about computers, except possibly how to turn it on. So, I figured that he felt very out of place, and helped him a little. I even asked a very dumb question during the class for his benefit, because I knew that he wasn't following.
When it was all over, I felt like I had a little insight into Bryan and his group, although I'm not sure what I'm going to do to counter their subversive efforts. Maybe just hide his hair gel so he can't leave the house.
But at least now I know what I'm up against. A fight against an oblivous foe who feels that he's right. A somewhat daunting task.
23 September 2006
From a 7-year-old's perspective...
Narrator: "Sometimes reaching the size of automobile hubcaps, the black eyes of the giant squid are the largest eyes on this planet."
My son, gasping "That must mean that there arelarger eyes on another planet!"
My son, gasping "That must mean that there arelarger eyes on another planet!"
20 September 2006
...And now, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury...
By this time, all nervousness by this time had vanished. I looked across the aisle at the thin, hawk-nosed attorney opposing me. I thought about his grey suit, which flowed loosely as he moved around the worn table in the dimly lit room. I felt a little underdressed in my slacks and starched white button-down with no tie. I wondered if it would have an effect on the decision either way. Am I trying to convince someone to take my word, or can I just trust justice to be served without bias?
I was as prepared as I needed to be--I had a printed out copy of my blog entry about red lights--mostly because I forget which is which when trying to make a point about Type I and Type II errors, and it really loses its punch when you fumble around with confusing the two. That was kind of the point I needed to make so I didn't want to screw it up. I also kind of liked bringing in defamatory comments about the backward hicks of the city--it felt naughty.
Additionally, I had a copy of a recent article in the newspaper that exposed the city of Denton for having extremely short light cycle times, which were found to be faulty and were scheduled to be lengthened. Lastly, I had a fuzzy printout from a videocamera which, at least in my mind, pretty clearly shows my car in the intersection before the light turns red. I showed it to several other people and they agreed with me, so I felt pretty good about things. My strategy was to try to detect if the argument was at all winnable. I hadn't gotten my hopes up, though.
Alas, we will never know--the only place where the scene described above will be played out is in my mind....
My original page of notes somehow became misplaced, and I asked Fran to call the company to "confirm" my hearing time (ie. figure out what time it was actually scheduled for on Tuesday). When she called, the girl informed her that the fine was "paid".
Fran called me and asked "Are you sure you haven't paid this?" Yes I'm sure. "Well, that's what the girl said--It's paid, and you don't have to show up tomorrow at 9:00 as you had scheduled." I have to say that I was really dreading the drive to the courthouse, because it is about forty miles from my home, and it is flanked by low-speed zones. Getting there in the middle of rush hour traffic, and then parking, etc. was going to be terrible.
On the other hand, I didn't want to miss my appointment because of something stupid like a clerk making a typo on the computer, so I called back. Then the truth came out.
It turns out that the city police had decided to dismiss any challenged fines from the intersection where my alleged offense occured. It had actually been "dismissed", not "paid." Maybe I'm being a little overanalytical, but in my mind there's a difference. Also,in this case, it was only dismissed if contested.
I have to tell you that, last week after I got my complaints about this nonsense out of my system, I really wanted to just send my money in to take care of it without having to go to court. I wasn't in the mood to get embarrassed publicly by losing or being humiliated in some way, and I just didn't trust things to work out as they should. I remember a friend of mine, an attorney, who told me of this phenomenon--this is why so many people settle out of court. They fear being judged, and would rather take the certainty of a settlement.
In fact, I have had the opportunity to spend some time in courthouses and in the preparation of legal documents (in my former life as the VP of a small company). Maybe this is where I honed my sharp distrust of the legal system.
So, I suppose I "won". Thanks for the encouragement not to cave in, which was still a temptation even yesterday. I never really had the satisfaction of making my point to someone about the irresponsibility of not properly reviewing things before inconveniencing me, the fact that this was attested to by some illegibly-signatured officer, and how this whole setup is a slippery slope of inconvenience and ambiguity. The trick was going to be explaining it while on the defensive for my own alleged transgression, and I wasn't sure I could walk that line without my blood pressure getting raised. I would have been pretty annoyed at making the trip to the courthouse just to learn that it had been dismissed. I think it was pretty sorry of them to not notify me of the decision beforehand.
Is it a victory that I was quieted, saved the expense of the fine, but never got to express my disgust or make my point? I think I should just be happy and shut up.
I was as prepared as I needed to be--I had a printed out copy of my blog entry about red lights--mostly because I forget which is which when trying to make a point about Type I and Type II errors, and it really loses its punch when you fumble around with confusing the two. That was kind of the point I needed to make so I didn't want to screw it up. I also kind of liked bringing in defamatory comments about the backward hicks of the city--it felt naughty.
Additionally, I had a copy of a recent article in the newspaper that exposed the city of Denton for having extremely short light cycle times, which were found to be faulty and were scheduled to be lengthened. Lastly, I had a fuzzy printout from a videocamera which, at least in my mind, pretty clearly shows my car in the intersection before the light turns red. I showed it to several other people and they agreed with me, so I felt pretty good about things. My strategy was to try to detect if the argument was at all winnable. I hadn't gotten my hopes up, though.
Alas, we will never know--the only place where the scene described above will be played out is in my mind....
My original page of notes somehow became misplaced, and I asked Fran to call the company to "confirm" my hearing time (ie. figure out what time it was actually scheduled for on Tuesday). When she called, the girl informed her that the fine was "paid".
Fran called me and asked "Are you sure you haven't paid this?" Yes I'm sure. "Well, that's what the girl said--It's paid, and you don't have to show up tomorrow at 9:00 as you had scheduled." I have to say that I was really dreading the drive to the courthouse, because it is about forty miles from my home, and it is flanked by low-speed zones. Getting there in the middle of rush hour traffic, and then parking, etc. was going to be terrible.
On the other hand, I didn't want to miss my appointment because of something stupid like a clerk making a typo on the computer, so I called back. Then the truth came out.
It turns out that the city police had decided to dismiss any challenged fines from the intersection where my alleged offense occured. It had actually been "dismissed", not "paid." Maybe I'm being a little overanalytical, but in my mind there's a difference. Also,in this case, it was only dismissed if contested.
I have to tell you that, last week after I got my complaints about this nonsense out of my system, I really wanted to just send my money in to take care of it without having to go to court. I wasn't in the mood to get embarrassed publicly by losing or being humiliated in some way, and I just didn't trust things to work out as they should. I remember a friend of mine, an attorney, who told me of this phenomenon--this is why so many people settle out of court. They fear being judged, and would rather take the certainty of a settlement.
In fact, I have had the opportunity to spend some time in courthouses and in the preparation of legal documents (in my former life as the VP of a small company). Maybe this is where I honed my sharp distrust of the legal system.
So, I suppose I "won". Thanks for the encouragement not to cave in, which was still a temptation even yesterday. I never really had the satisfaction of making my point to someone about the irresponsibility of not properly reviewing things before inconveniencing me, the fact that this was attested to by some illegibly-signatured officer, and how this whole setup is a slippery slope of inconvenience and ambiguity. The trick was going to be explaining it while on the defensive for my own alleged transgression, and I wasn't sure I could walk that line without my blood pressure getting raised. I would have been pretty annoyed at making the trip to the courthouse just to learn that it had been dismissed. I think it was pretty sorry of them to not notify me of the decision beforehand.
Is it a victory that I was quieted, saved the expense of the fine, but never got to express my disgust or make my point? I think I should just be happy and shut up.
14 September 2006
Life in The Red Light District
It started out bad and got worse. Then, it became a dilemma. An epic struggle between convenience and morality, if you will.
I practically live in my car--I have driven OVER 200,000 miles in the past five years. The law of averages catches up with you after a while--earlier this year, I had a bouncing piece of metal nearly kill me in a construction zone. It didn't kill me, but it did put a hole in my car and make me go "whew!". I get tons of parking tickets, which I promptly pay so I don't get hauled off to jail. But I give myself leave to shoot the finger at parking attendants (when they aren't looking) any time I feel like it--it feels therapeutic.
I guess driving alone so much makes me quirky. I naturally gravitate toward certain routes around town, and it drives Fran nuts to think that we are driving .02 miles out of our way and will perhaps arrive three seconds later to some destination. Ironically, she disagrees with my philosophy of leaving ten minutes earlier to things so we get there with plenty of time to spare, but that's another story.
The other thing that drives her completely crazy is when I let the gas level run low in the car. When you drive lots and lots of miles, you sometimes feel like your life is a big connect-the-dots between gas stations. It's not uncommon to have to fill up twice in a day. So, knowing my car, I am careful not to run out of gas but I feel pretty free to let the gauge get down in "the red", often leaving just a gallon or so in the tank--sometimes less.
About a month ago, on a Sunday afternoon, we were headed to Fran's mother's house about 45 minutes away on the highway. Even though we were in Fran's car, we were, as usual, running low on fuel, and it was getting late in the day. I passed several gas stations which would have caused us to have to loop around highway exits because I knew one station that was right on the way and would save time. The yellow low-fuel warning light came on in the car, which sends Fran into panic mode and caused her to unleash an extremely enlightening and helpful lecture on the benefits of fueling your car promptly. It made me completely change my perspective and vow to myself to do a better job in the future. Yeah, right.
Wouldn't you know it? When I pulled up to fill my car up, the attendant informed me that their credit card machine wasn't working, and that I had to use cash. I had about ten or fifteen bucks in my pocket, and for some reason it really pissed me off to have to give it to this gas station. Now all my cash was gone, just because this thing wasn't working. It was unsettling to be driving so far with no reserve, but I felt like I had no choice at this point since there wasn't a station very close and I had Frannie the Fuelminder riding along in the passenger seat, my two small children in the back, and it was about 108 degrees outside--not a good time to risk breaking down.
Back in the car, I was now on the agitated side of things and we zipped along to my mother-in-law's house, where I fixed her TV and we ate dinner. The End.
...or was it?
A week later, we received a "Courtesy Notice" in the mail with a picture of our car running a red light on this same Sunday afternoon. The notice was signed by a police officer and requested that we kindly send $75 to their office.
So, embarrassing faux pas I made here: I took the paper to Fran and demanded an explanation of why she was running red lights. She pointed out to me that it was a day that I was driving her car. Whoops #1. Sometimes it seems like I'm just asking for it, doesn't it?
Then I started looking into this situation. They actually had videotaped my car going through the intersection, and they made the videotape available online. I played through it and sheepishly admitted that it looked pretty damning. Then I played through it frame by frame, and my car clearly enters the intersection before the light turns red. The camera is at a funny angle, actually the perfect angle for photographing license plates, but a pretty bad angle for seeing the intersection and making a judgement about a car going past the line after the light turns red.
That's another misconception that I think is being preyed upon: As it has been explained to me, if your vehicle "breaks the plane" of the intersection before the light turns red, you are legally passing through the intersection. Granted, I don't believe in living life on the wild side and trying to time things out this way, but, you know, right is right and wrong is wrong. I stopped the video showing my car in the intersection with the light still yellow, and showed the frame to Fran. She was actually more outraged than I was, and said "You've got to fight that one!"
Now emboldened by communicable outrage, I Looked into the matter further, and it seems like a big scam to generate income for a backwardl, hick town.
It turns out that the City of Denton, Texas has hired a company to write a bunch of these tickets. It amounts to a citizen's arrest and not an actual traffic citation, because a traffic citation apparently can't hold up in court if it wasn't witnessed in person by a police officer. This company installs camera equipment at local red lights, records cars going through, and then sends out Courtesy Notices (calling a ticket that just makes me want to punch somebody in the teeth) that are signed by a "witnessing officer" who is stating that they looked at the videotape and that a violation has occurred. The ticket doesn't go on your traffic record if you pay it, but is a legal obligation because of the way it is filed.
By making the "fine" $75, it is just low enough that it is appealing to just pay it rather than fight it, and if you do protest it, be prepared to reserve half a day and travel to the podunk municipal courts building on the other side of the world. Oh, yeah, and if you do protest it and lose, you have to pay $100.
So, now I'm stuck. I actually protested this an set a court date. I was hoping that they were just after "low hanging fruit"--you know, the people who just pay the fine and make it go away. Logically, this is exactly what I should do. If someone asked me for advice on this, cynical Mike would tell them to do just that--I believe that this is an unwinnable case. I actually feel guilty of "cutting it too close", although technically I know that I didn't commit the offense I am being accused of. And $75 isn't going to break the bank at our house--there are lots and lots of ways I would rather spend it than give it to these tobacco-chewing bumpkins who are probably sitting around laughing at how much money they are raking in from all the sheep-like citizens of the community while clicking their tongues and shaking their heads in disgust at the video monitor and making new entries in their coffee-stained ledger. No, I'm not bitter.
I imagine that, when I show up at the courthouse, I will be opposed by an attorney representing this company. In fact, I called the company and they set up the court date at their convenience, which probably means that they have multiple cases in a row so they can just have the attorney on hand for all of them. A very wise friend of mine once told me that, if you show up for a civil case and the other side has an attorney and you are representing yourself, you lose. Period. He said to ask for a continuance and then decide if it's worth pursing. If it is, pay for an expert legal representative. I'm drawing the conclusion that me, average Joe, can't receive justice against an attorney without paying for it. It's like playing board games against someone who is hoarding the box top with the rules printed on it...
I practically live in my car--I have driven OVER 200,000 miles in the past five years. The law of averages catches up with you after a while--earlier this year, I had a bouncing piece of metal nearly kill me in a construction zone. It didn't kill me, but it did put a hole in my car and make me go "whew!". I get tons of parking tickets, which I promptly pay so I don't get hauled off to jail. But I give myself leave to shoot the finger at parking attendants (when they aren't looking) any time I feel like it--it feels therapeutic.
I guess driving alone so much makes me quirky. I naturally gravitate toward certain routes around town, and it drives Fran nuts to think that we are driving .02 miles out of our way and will perhaps arrive three seconds later to some destination. Ironically, she disagrees with my philosophy of leaving ten minutes earlier to things so we get there with plenty of time to spare, but that's another story.
The other thing that drives her completely crazy is when I let the gas level run low in the car. When you drive lots and lots of miles, you sometimes feel like your life is a big connect-the-dots between gas stations. It's not uncommon to have to fill up twice in a day. So, knowing my car, I am careful not to run out of gas but I feel pretty free to let the gauge get down in "the red", often leaving just a gallon or so in the tank--sometimes less.
About a month ago, on a Sunday afternoon, we were headed to Fran's mother's house about 45 minutes away on the highway. Even though we were in Fran's car, we were, as usual, running low on fuel, and it was getting late in the day. I passed several gas stations which would have caused us to have to loop around highway exits because I knew one station that was right on the way and would save time. The yellow low-fuel warning light came on in the car, which sends Fran into panic mode and caused her to unleash an extremely enlightening and helpful lecture on the benefits of fueling your car promptly. It made me completely change my perspective and vow to myself to do a better job in the future. Yeah, right.
Wouldn't you know it? When I pulled up to fill my car up, the attendant informed me that their credit card machine wasn't working, and that I had to use cash. I had about ten or fifteen bucks in my pocket, and for some reason it really pissed me off to have to give it to this gas station. Now all my cash was gone, just because this thing wasn't working. It was unsettling to be driving so far with no reserve, but I felt like I had no choice at this point since there wasn't a station very close and I had Frannie the Fuelminder riding along in the passenger seat, my two small children in the back, and it was about 108 degrees outside--not a good time to risk breaking down.
Back in the car, I was now on the agitated side of things and we zipped along to my mother-in-law's house, where I fixed her TV and we ate dinner. The End.
...or was it?
A week later, we received a "Courtesy Notice" in the mail with a picture of our car running a red light on this same Sunday afternoon. The notice was signed by a police officer and requested that we kindly send $75 to their office.
So, embarrassing faux pas I made here: I took the paper to Fran and demanded an explanation of why she was running red lights. She pointed out to me that it was a day that I was driving her car. Whoops #1. Sometimes it seems like I'm just asking for it, doesn't it?
Then I started looking into this situation. They actually had videotaped my car going through the intersection, and they made the videotape available online. I played through it and sheepishly admitted that it looked pretty damning. Then I played through it frame by frame, and my car clearly enters the intersection before the light turns red. The camera is at a funny angle, actually the perfect angle for photographing license plates, but a pretty bad angle for seeing the intersection and making a judgement about a car going past the line after the light turns red.
That's another misconception that I think is being preyed upon: As it has been explained to me, if your vehicle "breaks the plane" of the intersection before the light turns red, you are legally passing through the intersection. Granted, I don't believe in living life on the wild side and trying to time things out this way, but, you know, right is right and wrong is wrong. I stopped the video showing my car in the intersection with the light still yellow, and showed the frame to Fran. She was actually more outraged than I was, and said "You've got to fight that one!"
Now emboldened by communicable outrage, I Looked into the matter further, and it seems like a big scam to generate income for a backwardl, hick town.
It turns out that the City of Denton, Texas has hired a company to write a bunch of these tickets. It amounts to a citizen's arrest and not an actual traffic citation, because a traffic citation apparently can't hold up in court if it wasn't witnessed in person by a police officer. This company installs camera equipment at local red lights, records cars going through, and then sends out Courtesy Notices (calling a ticket that just makes me want to punch somebody in the teeth) that are signed by a "witnessing officer" who is stating that they looked at the videotape and that a violation has occurred. The ticket doesn't go on your traffic record if you pay it, but is a legal obligation because of the way it is filed.
By making the "fine" $75, it is just low enough that it is appealing to just pay it rather than fight it, and if you do protest it, be prepared to reserve half a day and travel to the podunk municipal courts building on the other side of the world. Oh, yeah, and if you do protest it and lose, you have to pay $100.
So, now I'm stuck. I actually protested this an set a court date. I was hoping that they were just after "low hanging fruit"--you know, the people who just pay the fine and make it go away. Logically, this is exactly what I should do. If someone asked me for advice on this, cynical Mike would tell them to do just that--I believe that this is an unwinnable case. I actually feel guilty of "cutting it too close", although technically I know that I didn't commit the offense I am being accused of. And $75 isn't going to break the bank at our house--there are lots and lots of ways I would rather spend it than give it to these tobacco-chewing bumpkins who are probably sitting around laughing at how much money they are raking in from all the sheep-like citizens of the community while clicking their tongues and shaking their heads in disgust at the video monitor and making new entries in their coffee-stained ledger. No, I'm not bitter.
I imagine that, when I show up at the courthouse, I will be opposed by an attorney representing this company. In fact, I called the company and they set up the court date at their convenience, which probably means that they have multiple cases in a row so they can just have the attorney on hand for all of them. A very wise friend of mine once told me that, if you show up for a civil case and the other side has an attorney and you are representing yourself, you lose. Period. He said to ask for a continuance and then decide if it's worth pursing. If it is, pay for an expert legal representative. I'm drawing the conclusion that me, average Joe, can't receive justice against an attorney without paying for it. It's like playing board games against someone who is hoarding the box top with the rules printed on it...
If they get the right attorney on a mission, maybe I'll find myself on trial for attempted vehicular assault and end up behind bars...
Here's the slippery slope of reasoning that wakes me up thinking about this...
1) Some dude who says he is a sworn police officer signed this form saying he witnessed an offense. That actually means something to me, and it is disturbing that it's pretty clearly a lie. I think this system is set up to take advantage of an actual problem, which is that lots of people get into accidents running red lights and such. Nobody can argue with that, and I'm not trying to defend that issue--it's just that I think this is a group who is maliciously capitalizing on this issue.
2) I think that, in a scenario where a civil ticket is given out, that there should be an overwhelming burden on the entity issuing the "fine". Otherwise, couldn't I just print out a bunch of these and send them out to the world, telling them they owe me some money and just to send it in?
3) I think that, along with this burden, is the expectation of a type II vs. a type I error. A type I error is a false positive. That's what has happened in my case--it is actually a very dangerous situation, where you say "I want to catch every single violation--therefore, we will actually accuse innocent people, too". Type II error is false negative, as in "yes, we may let some guilty people go, but we want to be sure that innocent people aren't punished."
4) It turns out that this light is right on the road which leads from the trailer park to the local Piggly Wiggly. I am sure that a lot of people are busted on this deal that can't afford the $75. Maybe if I had my say in front of this company's representative, it would make someone be more careful about their accusations. If you would like to be outraged by the following, feel free--it is a pandering, gross, exaggeration, but makes the point:
When the Nazis came for the communists,I remained silent;I was not a communist.When they locked up the social democrats,I remained silent;I was not a social democrat.When they came for the trade unionists,I did not speak out;I was not a trade unionist.When they came for me,there was no one left to speak out.
Martin Niemöller
See? I just envisioned myself as Perry Mason, using this poem stoically as my closing argument while staring off into the distance...Exhibits A and B, maps and photos, are flanking me on either side, mounted on Easels.
In other words, if I don't say anything now, maybe this will get out of hand. Like I said, it's a slippery slope.
Obviously, I have delusions of having watched too many episodes of Law and Order and fantasize about having my unhindered say in front of a thoughtful judge. Something tells me this isn't going to happen.
I think I've just spoken my mind, and I feel released from my burden. Maybe I'll just send my $75 in now...
12 September 2006
Creative Writing
Ryan has been learning creative writing in second grade. Actually, he has been very frustrated with it.
He was given an assignment to write a story about a dog that got lost and had an adventure. As he sat down to write the story, his eyes filled with tears and he became frustrated and upset. He stood up and threw the paper on the floor and stormed off.
Fran went to talk to him and ask him why he was so frustrated.
Ryan responded, "If the dog gets lost, how will I know what kind of adventure he has?!"
Later, I explained to Ryan that, since he was the writer, he got to decide exactly what happened to the dog. That, if he wanted, he could have the dog run into a circus, or get a juicy steak, or jump into a hot air balloon, or anything he wanted. He smiled excitedly and seemed to get it. I told him that it would get easier and easier the more he tried it.
Sunday, while sitting in church, I started sketching a scene which has been in my mind from his baseball game this past summer. One of the fielders threw a ball to the catcher as Ryan was running home--the catcher flopped backwards with the ball to tag Ryan out. Ryan, however, while still in perfect stride, leaped over the outstretched glove and stepped on home plate for a run. I was coaching at third base and got the best view of anyone on the field. It was one of the most athletic plays I've seen him make, and it made me proud. Things like that sometimes come to me at inopportune times, like when I should be listening to the preacher.
He was given an assignment to write a story about a dog that got lost and had an adventure. As he sat down to write the story, his eyes filled with tears and he became frustrated and upset. He stood up and threw the paper on the floor and stormed off.
Fran went to talk to him and ask him why he was so frustrated.
Ryan responded, "If the dog gets lost, how will I know what kind of adventure he has?!"
Later, I explained to Ryan that, since he was the writer, he got to decide exactly what happened to the dog. That, if he wanted, he could have the dog run into a circus, or get a juicy steak, or jump into a hot air balloon, or anything he wanted. He smiled excitedly and seemed to get it. I told him that it would get easier and easier the more he tried it.
Sunday, while sitting in church, I started sketching a scene which has been in my mind from his baseball game this past summer. One of the fielders threw a ball to the catcher as Ryan was running home--the catcher flopped backwards with the ball to tag Ryan out. Ryan, however, while still in perfect stride, leaped over the outstretched glove and stepped on home plate for a run. I was coaching at third base and got the best view of anyone on the field. It was one of the most athletic plays I've seen him make, and it made me proud. Things like that sometimes come to me at inopportune times, like when I should be listening to the preacher.
At the Park
Saturday, I took Kaitlyn to the park to play. There's this really weird phenomenon that happens when a dad takes a small child out in public--I get odd, suspicious looks like it's my court-appointed custody weekend. I don't know how to describe it.
We went to the donut shop and got some health food, then stopped to get coffee and juice, and headed to the park. There is a little lake with a path around it, so we walked around. This one guy passed me -not jogging, but more like running as though he was being chased by the cops--and he was pushing a baby stroller with a jostled infant inside. Crazy.
There were tons of ducks in the pond, and Kaitlyn has such a sweet personality. She carefully watched them swimming around and then turned around and told me "I love them so much, Daddy! I want to kiss them in the water!"
Then we went to the playground to swing and slide. One mom was there with her little boy who was about the same age as Kaitlyn. She asked me if it was "daddy weekend".
As we talked, I mentioned that Kaitlyn likes a show called "Go, Diego, Go", which is a cartoon about animals and the rainforest.
The mom proudly folder her arms and said "Jacob watches Baby Einstein"--and she literally gave me a triumphant look over the top of her glasses.
Here were possible responses that came to mind:
1) You realize that the actual Einstein has nothing to do with that show, right?
2) Hey, I think Einstein Junior over there just pooped his pants.
3) Huh? I heard that was determined to retard development--You know, Einstein didn't talk 'til he was four years old!
4) "Kaitlyn, let Baby Einstein up for air"
(some poor physicist is going to google this post up and be disappointed).
It's funny how new parents get defensive/proud/competitive of their kid. We had one neighbor who was obsessed with comparing childhood milestones with us between their son and Ryan, almost on a weekly basis.
We moved on from the park to the library where we enjoyed reading Curious George Feeds the Animals and other stories. Then, Kaitlyn tried running through the Children's section screaming, so it was time to go.
It was a great day.
We went to the donut shop and got some health food, then stopped to get coffee and juice, and headed to the park. There is a little lake with a path around it, so we walked around. This one guy passed me -not jogging, but more like running as though he was being chased by the cops--and he was pushing a baby stroller with a jostled infant inside. Crazy.
There were tons of ducks in the pond, and Kaitlyn has such a sweet personality. She carefully watched them swimming around and then turned around and told me "I love them so much, Daddy! I want to kiss them in the water!"
Then we went to the playground to swing and slide. One mom was there with her little boy who was about the same age as Kaitlyn. She asked me if it was "daddy weekend".
As we talked, I mentioned that Kaitlyn likes a show called "Go, Diego, Go", which is a cartoon about animals and the rainforest.
The mom proudly folder her arms and said "Jacob watches Baby Einstein"--and she literally gave me a triumphant look over the top of her glasses.
Here were possible responses that came to mind:
1) You realize that the actual Einstein has nothing to do with that show, right?
2) Hey, I think Einstein Junior over there just pooped his pants.
3) Huh? I heard that was determined to retard development--You know, Einstein didn't talk 'til he was four years old!
4) "Kaitlyn, let Baby Einstein up for air"
(some poor physicist is going to google this post up and be disappointed).
It's funny how new parents get defensive/proud/competitive of their kid. We had one neighbor who was obsessed with comparing childhood milestones with us between their son and Ryan, almost on a weekly basis.
We moved on from the park to the library where we enjoyed reading Curious George Feeds the Animals and other stories. Then, Kaitlyn tried running through the Children's section screaming, so it was time to go.
It was a great day.
08 September 2006
September 8th Post
Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls;
Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing,
'twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
and makes me poor indeed.
-Shakespeare, Othello (Act 3 scene 3)
I had an evil teacher in high school who made us all memorize this and recite it in front of the class. I still don't know what to do with my hands when reciting prose in front of 40 people. I either feel like a mannequin or a participant in charades. Incidentally, she isn't evil because of making us memorize this poem--she was evil completely independent of her assignments. MY only detention in high school was in her class for having my hair so long that it (barely, with my head tilted back) touched my ears.
Also incidentally, the last 2 lines have always bugged me. Does it make me poor indeed because it doesn't enrich the filcher? Alternatively, is the emphasis on the fact that I am made poor indeed, or the fact that I've become poor? I love Shakespeare. These are the things I think about when the fish aren't biting.
But this came to mind because of an interesting turn of events which occurred last week: You may recall my entry about the Dell Battery recall and how I finally came to feel acknowledgement of the problem I had with my laptop smoking out a year or so ago with my child at the keyboard. Then I noted that I got some hits from Dell in Round Rock, Texas.
After posting that, I got an email from Neil in Customer Service at Dell, who was extremely professional and offered to help me if my computer mess hadn't been solved to my satisfaction. He even told me that he had enjoyed reading some of my ramblings and named some things specifically (which of course changed my whole tune and then made me feel a little guilty about being so critical). See? That's where they get you! It's psychological warfare! Just kidding, Neil.
Anyway, I put myself in Neil's position--you can see that he has a lot of pride in his company, and I thought that this recall must really bother him, since it's on such a large scale and since it seems to be from a supplier but still reflect on his company somewhat. Also, when you work for a large company, the people who work there can become the "face" of the organization, and when something goes wrong, you realize that other peoples' actions, for better or worse, reflect directly on you. Like the unhelpful, smarmy rep who was particularly annoying when I was in a pinch. Hopefully, Neil has had him taken out by now...Just kidding, Neil.
No, seriously, I told him I would send back the defective laptop and he promised to ship a 52" flat panel Hi-Def TV to my house and we would call the whole thing even...okay, maybe not.
But I did ask Neil to do a favor for me--I knew that an old friend with whom I had lost contact (16 years ago!) now works for Dell in Austin. I'm sure there are thousands of people who work there, but I told Neil what department my friend was in and I got an Email back from my friend a couple of hours later.
I asked him to hook me up with my old buddy, Dave, who lived across the street. I remember being friends with him when we were eight or nine, walking around the block, shooting arrows straight up in the air and scurrying for cover, and having violent chess tournaments (I know, we walked on the wild side). He is the guy who helped get me the job where I met my wife, and we roomed together when we were very poor after I left my parents' house.
When we went our separate ways, we were both under a lot of stress and were dirt poor--we had a third roommate who pretty much ate us out of house and home--he sat down with a spoon one time and ate all the jelly out of the jelly jars in the fridge! Pretty crazy times--no food in the house, and one time I thought I caught Dave sneaking up behind me with a huge kitchen carving knife muttering something about "six months' worth of flank steak"... Anyway, we both moved on and haven't seen each other since then, so I thought it would be interesting to touch base.
But the point of the story is that I really admire people who have a lot of pride in their work, and guard their good name as if their life depended on it. If more people felt that way, well, there wouldn't have been so many Shakespearean tragedies, but the world might be a little nicer.
Is the immediate jewel of their souls;
Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing,
'twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
and makes me poor indeed.
-Shakespeare, Othello (Act 3 scene 3)
I had an evil teacher in high school who made us all memorize this and recite it in front of the class. I still don't know what to do with my hands when reciting prose in front of 40 people. I either feel like a mannequin or a participant in charades. Incidentally, she isn't evil because of making us memorize this poem--she was evil completely independent of her assignments. MY only detention in high school was in her class for having my hair so long that it (barely, with my head tilted back) touched my ears.
Also incidentally, the last 2 lines have always bugged me. Does it make me poor indeed because it doesn't enrich the filcher? Alternatively, is the emphasis on the fact that I am made poor indeed, or the fact that I've become poor? I love Shakespeare. These are the things I think about when the fish aren't biting.
But this came to mind because of an interesting turn of events which occurred last week: You may recall my entry about the Dell Battery recall and how I finally came to feel acknowledgement of the problem I had with my laptop smoking out a year or so ago with my child at the keyboard. Then I noted that I got some hits from Dell in Round Rock, Texas.
After posting that, I got an email from Neil in Customer Service at Dell, who was extremely professional and offered to help me if my computer mess hadn't been solved to my satisfaction. He even told me that he had enjoyed reading some of my ramblings and named some things specifically (which of course changed my whole tune and then made me feel a little guilty about being so critical). See? That's where they get you! It's psychological warfare! Just kidding, Neil.
Anyway, I put myself in Neil's position--you can see that he has a lot of pride in his company, and I thought that this recall must really bother him, since it's on such a large scale and since it seems to be from a supplier but still reflect on his company somewhat. Also, when you work for a large company, the people who work there can become the "face" of the organization, and when something goes wrong, you realize that other peoples' actions, for better or worse, reflect directly on you. Like the unhelpful, smarmy rep who was particularly annoying when I was in a pinch. Hopefully, Neil has had him taken out by now...Just kidding, Neil.
No, seriously, I told him I would send back the defective laptop and he promised to ship a 52" flat panel Hi-Def TV to my house and we would call the whole thing even...okay, maybe not.
But I did ask Neil to do a favor for me--I knew that an old friend with whom I had lost contact (16 years ago!) now works for Dell in Austin. I'm sure there are thousands of people who work there, but I told Neil what department my friend was in and I got an Email back from my friend a couple of hours later.
I asked him to hook me up with my old buddy, Dave, who lived across the street. I remember being friends with him when we were eight or nine, walking around the block, shooting arrows straight up in the air and scurrying for cover, and having violent chess tournaments (I know, we walked on the wild side). He is the guy who helped get me the job where I met my wife, and we roomed together when we were very poor after I left my parents' house.
When we went our separate ways, we were both under a lot of stress and were dirt poor--we had a third roommate who pretty much ate us out of house and home--he sat down with a spoon one time and ate all the jelly out of the jelly jars in the fridge! Pretty crazy times--no food in the house, and one time I thought I caught Dave sneaking up behind me with a huge kitchen carving knife muttering something about "six months' worth of flank steak"... Anyway, we both moved on and haven't seen each other since then, so I thought it would be interesting to touch base.
But the point of the story is that I really admire people who have a lot of pride in their work, and guard their good name as if their life depended on it. If more people felt that way, well, there wouldn't have been so many Shakespearean tragedies, but the world might be a little nicer.
05 September 2006
Things I'm working on
1. Full Moon and Weird stuff
2. My new Hero: Neil from Dell who was professional and Emailed me about my blog entry, wanting to help...
3. A story about Ryan striking out every time during one game and coming home crying and wanting to quit the baseball team. The next game, he struck out but the opposing team's coach made an exception and gave him an extra pitch because the machine malfunctioned (this was the first and only time I've ever seen this). Ryan reached up and tomahawked the ball (the machine had malfunctioned again and it was sailing over his head) into the outfield for a home run--his first! The name of the story is "The Corner of Ryan and Homer", named after an intersection which we found near the ballpark--we superstitiously drove through this intersection before every game after we found it.
4. I don't know...some pictures or something.
5. How I came to own Union Square in San Francisco...
2. My new Hero: Neil from Dell who was professional and Emailed me about my blog entry, wanting to help...
3. A story about Ryan striking out every time during one game and coming home crying and wanting to quit the baseball team. The next game, he struck out but the opposing team's coach made an exception and gave him an extra pitch because the machine malfunctioned (this was the first and only time I've ever seen this). Ryan reached up and tomahawked the ball (the machine had malfunctioned again and it was sailing over his head) into the outfield for a home run--his first! The name of the story is "The Corner of Ryan and Homer", named after an intersection which we found near the ballpark--we superstitiously drove through this intersection before every game after we found it.
4. I don't know...some pictures or something.
5. How I came to own Union Square in San Francisco...
More Late-Night Thoughts
It's midnight and my contacts are starting to fog up. I almost crashed out at 9:30 PM but somehow caught my second wind. I'm doing mental calculations--like a diagram of the kinetic energy that I'm going to have to expend for the rest of the week. I'm rechecking my math, but I'm pretty sure that the energy budget can't accept an all-nighter.
Today it rained.
That may not sound like a phenomenon, but we've had forty-two days over 100 degrees this summer. The ground is cracking, and everything is turning brown.
Wrote a couple of letters, and a sad, sentimental old movie is playing in the background. I'm the only one awake in the house--times like these make me feel like I'm standing guard over my family.
I hear the static from Kaitlyn's baby monitor. Part of me wants to go pick her up and rock her while she sleeps tonight. I'm kind of panicking that she is growing up too fast. Today I took Ryan to go play video games, and I noticed how long his legs are getting and I looked into his face as he smiled with a big gap where the front two teeth used to be. I compared it to a picture of him as a four month old with fuzzy hair.
I guess the thing is, I know I'm supposed to be happy that they are healthy and growing up, kind of like I'm supposed to be happy that it rained today, but I'm just letting myself feel a little sad about it. Maybe I'm just tired.
And the real truth is, that about two weeks ago, I actually did go up and get Kaitlyn, wrapped her in her pink blanket, and held her. It felt wonderful. Well, eventually, she woke up and wouldn't go back to sleep, and it messed up her schedule and she was cranky the next day...
I know it's not rational to complain about something inevitable like kids growing up or a gray, rainy day returning, but I'll give myself a break; allow myself moments of weakness to be sad...
Today it rained.
That may not sound like a phenomenon, but we've had forty-two days over 100 degrees this summer. The ground is cracking, and everything is turning brown.
Wrote a couple of letters, and a sad, sentimental old movie is playing in the background. I'm the only one awake in the house--times like these make me feel like I'm standing guard over my family.
I hear the static from Kaitlyn's baby monitor. Part of me wants to go pick her up and rock her while she sleeps tonight. I'm kind of panicking that she is growing up too fast. Today I took Ryan to go play video games, and I noticed how long his legs are getting and I looked into his face as he smiled with a big gap where the front two teeth used to be. I compared it to a picture of him as a four month old with fuzzy hair.
I guess the thing is, I know I'm supposed to be happy that they are healthy and growing up, kind of like I'm supposed to be happy that it rained today, but I'm just letting myself feel a little sad about it. Maybe I'm just tired.
And the real truth is, that about two weeks ago, I actually did go up and get Kaitlyn, wrapped her in her pink blanket, and held her. It felt wonderful. Well, eventually, she woke up and wouldn't go back to sleep, and it messed up her schedule and she was cranky the next day...
I know it's not rational to complain about something inevitable like kids growing up or a gray, rainy day returning, but I'll give myself a break; allow myself moments of weakness to be sad...
04 September 2006
Ikea -- Scaring Me Very Much
The concept of modular, flat-pack furniture sounded great to me when I first heard it. My wife, Fran, went bananas at Ikea and I got carpal tunnel syndrome turning their crazy Swedish allen wrench-thingies all night trying to bolt together bookshelves in 65 easy steps. Ryan's hairdryer-inflated oversized denim chair is still a favorite among the kids.
We got the new catalog in the mail, and my wife brought it to me, laughing.
"They must have read your blog!" she chuckled.
She had it flipped open to a page with their new product called Frän.
I don't know what it is--some kind of bracket or something, but the fact that they NAMED A PRODUCT AFTER MY WIFE is not a good sign.
Yesterday, we got a call from Fran's sister, who reported a very unfortunate incident which had just occurred at Ikea where a poor older man had suffered an, ahem, accident--quite publicly. He had stood up in the food court and apparently lost all control of himself. Suffice it to say that I will never eat Swedish meatballs again.
There seemed to be mass hysteria as the man made his way through the corridor to the restroom, which was reported to be "way too far away." A wake of people ran hurriedly away clutching children and large blue bags full of odd-shaped yet utilitarian trinkets.
I told Fran that it would probably inspire a new product with an Ikeafied name: Kräppespuein. I'm not sure what it would be: rubber pants?
We got the new catalog in the mail, and my wife brought it to me, laughing.
"They must have read your blog!" she chuckled.
She had it flipped open to a page with their new product called Frän.
I don't know what it is--some kind of bracket or something, but the fact that they NAMED A PRODUCT AFTER MY WIFE is not a good sign.
Yesterday, we got a call from Fran's sister, who reported a very unfortunate incident which had just occurred at Ikea where a poor older man had suffered an, ahem, accident--quite publicly. He had stood up in the food court and apparently lost all control of himself. Suffice it to say that I will never eat Swedish meatballs again.
There seemed to be mass hysteria as the man made his way through the corridor to the restroom, which was reported to be "way too far away." A wake of people ran hurriedly away clutching children and large blue bags full of odd-shaped yet utilitarian trinkets.
I told Fran that it would probably inspire a new product with an Ikeafied name: Kräppespuein. I'm not sure what it would be: rubber pants?
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