Valentine's Ramblings: or My Wife is Trying to Kill Me.

I like it when my wife laughs at my jokes. She did it all the time when we were dating. She did it when we were newlyweds. But somehow it seems she doesn't laugh as much at my jokes anymore. I'm lucky to get a smile. I know my wit is about a half step behind what it used to be as neural pathways are closing down (see last entry "So you say it's my birthday"). But I think the real problem is she isn't impressed by me anymore. It's not that familiarity breeds contempt, it's just that familiarity breeds…well, familiarity.

Or maybe it does breed contempt. I think the woman may be trying to kill me. I know, I know, you look at her sweet little facebook profile picture and you think, "Who? Her? No way!" But hear me out. I think she is intentionally leaving the cabinet door under our bathroom sink open at night. I suppose you think me mad at this point, but madmen know nothing. I am rational. Let me but explain the genius behind her modus operandi for my demise and you will see. I only ask that if there is a sudden funeral you use my Facebook page as evidence.

Michelle (our baby) still sleeps in a bassinet in our room. So if I have to get up in the middle of the night to make the long trek of about twelve feet to our bathroom, it must be done in the darkest night so as "not to wake the baby." A nightly trip, I might add, that I am having to make more and more frequently (again, see last note "So you say it's my birthday"). Okay so maybe it isn't age so much as my ability to suck down a two liter of diet pop in the evening isn't conducive to an uninterrupted night of sleep. FACT: She buys the pop. Sometimes. Well, mostly I do. BUT she knows I do.

So in pitch black as dark as the deed, I stumble into the bathroom confident of speedy business and a quick return to slumber. But it is not to be. In drowsy haste I feel along for the doorway trim, enter the convenience and run SMACK right into that cabinet door. Man, does that hurt! You should have the coroner check for contusions on my shins. FACT: The little hobbit safely tucked away in the covers she stole from me in the night often leaves the right cabinet door open. If it were the other side left open then I would simply kick it closed. But as it is the right side she leaves fully open, it stands its ground against my weight so that I trip on it. On the other side of that barricade is the toilet and the tub. The aerodynamics of a bathroom fall would land me face first in the bathtub. I have sorted out the possibility of leaving the tub filled at night. But have pretty much discarded the idea because then she might just leave the cabinet door open if she thought I needed a bath. But I digress.

FACT: She is a female. She knows that 70% of accidents at home occur in the bathroom (that's a line just begging for quip). And with over 200,000 incidents a year in the United States, successful completion of her scheme would most likely be officially ruled as just another mishap in the john. Plus, I believe her feminine mind has deduced that should I trip into the bathtub the cleanup will be minimal. Unless the tub is full; then we will need lots of towels.

To date, I have, through pure innate athleticism and nimbleness, thwarted her carefully laid plans and have returned to my cool blanket-less side of the bed with throbbing leg but whole in body. And, as for her? Not an indication or sign from her side of the bed except for a slight shaking under the mound of blankets and the muffled sound of her stirring in the night. Or is that a giggle? I think she could be chuckling under there. Maybe I still make her laugh after all. But I'm thinking I'm going to have to give up the carbonated nightcaps. Comedy is more painful than it used to be. My shins can't take it.

So you say it's my birthday...

A thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday. Birthdays always seemed a little weird to me. It's not like I feel I did anything to deserve a celebration. Or if I did I don't remember it. But they tell me I was there. I even have a government document to prove it. And to avoid suspicion, it's from a state other than Hawaii. I have all the requirements to be president…

Birthdays are important to women. I have learned this because I live with five of them – well, the five month old doesn't really participate yet, though she is manifesting her double X chromosome status more and more. I expect hugs and kisses next birthday. Evidently birthdays are important to women because they are a celebration of you. Your birthday is special because you're special. I confess to enjoying being surrounded by women. As far as my boys, this is the conversation with my oldest son. "Birthday, Dad?" "Yep." "Cool. Well, I'm headed out for Edinboro now." He got it all in – acknowledgement, validation and detachment. That's the XY for you. My next oldest son probably thinks my birthday is next week or something – but he's in middle school. They're pretty clueless at that age. Besides, he's too young to drive to another town. If he acknowledges he'll have to celebrate with the clan females who are making a day of it.

I just can't believe that next year I'm entering a new demographic. The one that is just above decomposing when you fill out those surveys and warranty cards. The one where people never again will say, "But you're still young." Well, my father will still say it. He calls anyone born 5 minutes after him a "kid", as in, "Oh, he's just a kid." I was buying something in Wal-Mart and the warning ding went off. Is customer over 21? The register asked. The cashier didn't even look up. I asked, "Aren't you going to card me?" It was a joke. She laughed. Which was fine. It just wasn't fine as she was still laughing as I was walking out the door. It wasn't that funny, lady.

I know I'm never going to play a professional sport, that milestone was passed a couple decades ago. Now I wonder if I'm going to be able to get up to the stadium seating anymore (those are the only seats I can afford). Not only is the Everest-like ascent more difficult to the windpipes, I also need to be concerned about my feet now; my doctor told me so. I think I could summon more concern if I could actually see my feet. They're harder to find these days. I think it must be my eyes. My wife tells me I just have an obstruction – whatever that means.

And they tell me that I have to be more and more concerned about what I eat. Remember the Democratic National Convention nutrition police? To eat healthy you need colors, they said. The food police created the menu where the plates were filled with healthy bright colors, not just your greens, but yellows, reds and browns. I'm alright with that. Just give me a plate of M&Ms. Not healthy enough? Then I'll take the Skittles – they are after all fruit chews.

Well, I'm not going to whine anymore about it. I'll just enjoy my last year of "youth" and my 20 years of middle age. I understand that after that there is a new set of concerns. You worry more about what's coming out than what's going in. Either way, the journey is worth it. I sit here typing with one hand as my baby girl bounces on my knee. Behind me I can hear my youngest son play with his dinosaurs as Littlefoot and Petri run away from Sharptooth. The girls are upstairs laughing at some teenage faux pas. My wife is in the kitchen bustling into her dinner preparations. I am a blessed man. If the price of living life is the loss of youth then it is a price worth paying.

Hillary WASN'T LYING! Bosnia gunfire footage discovered...

Just in time for the inauguration...a nod to the heroic woman who would have been president if the winning campaign hadn't bused in his own Iowa caucus members.

The Year in Review

Really, there was only one event we focused on.

Michelle Elizabeth Doray b. Aug 24, 2008

The Sweetest Sound in the World

Election Thoughts ‘08

It was an interesting election night for the LDS Church. Many thought that Prop 8 in California was doomed to fail. This was considered a moral issue in which the church supported the proposal to amend the State Constitution of California to define a marriage as between a man and a woman. There is a historical irony to that.

Apparently the huge turnout among Latinos and Blacks for Barack Obama led to the passage of Prop 8. These groups are overwhelming against gay marriage. The huge Obama get-out-the-vote push killed the chance for gay marriage to become a state sanctioned institution.

The same thing happened in Florida. Prop 2 also sought to define marriage as between one man and one woman. The Obama landslide had the effect of preserving the traditional definition of marriage. History always has those unexpected twists.

Now the church is being vilified because it is okay to vilify Mormons.  They are a legitimate target on which to spew the feelings of disappointment and bitterness.  Already they are having their home addresses published on the internet - because we all need to know where the haters live.  The phone calls in the middle of the night aren't exactly kind either.  Mormons are being harassed as they enter and leave their meetinghouses.  Feces and other vile material are being smeared on LDS special edifices.  And evidently it is perfectly fine to burn a cross or spray-paint a swastika on Mormon property or the private residential property owned by Mormons. Obscenities, pushing matches, and vile abuse are being heaped upon Mormon people - the children, the elderly, and coincidently even the liberal-minded among them. 

Some are crying that the LDS need to have their tax-exempt status withdrawn; because, as you should know, morally minded people should not have the right to make morally minded judgments at the voting booth.  That's just unconstitutional.  This is a stupid argument made by angry people.  Hopefully, it is not a stupid argument being made by stupid people.  I reserve the right to give the benefit of the doubt to the angry.  But already Mormon artists and directors are being fired from longtime positions because of their religious affiliation.  And some are calling for the confiscation of mormon holdings.  It's the 1880s all over again. 

An angry protester screams at Mormons standing outside their temple in Westwood.

Well, you know how tolerant the group that screams for tolerance is towards others.  But this is not just sour grapes.  This is orchestrated.  The gullible and the radical are being recruited to make an issue out of the "Mormons" keeping them from achieving equal civil rights.  This is because you can bash and ridicule Mormons to your hearts' delight.  The government, evangelicals, any Utahan who is not a Mormon and the state of California have been doing it for 178 years.  You will recall that throughout European history the Jews were able to live among their gentile neighbors - until some local group had a cause that could score points by blaming the Jews.  Is this not the same?

So, even though, technically, it was the large voter turnout among the minorities which caused Prop 8 to pass, it's just not politically correct to attack African-Americans or Latinos.  You can't claim to be a champion of civil rights if you attack the groups historically associated with civil rights.  It's so much easier to attack Mormons.  I mean, we don't need to worry about their constitutional rights at all.

Oh, and before you start spewing "separation of church and state" crap at me, you're right!  There is a separation clause in the US Constitution.  Wait, I left off a few letters.  I meant there is a separation clause in the Constitution of the old USSR.  It doesn't exist in ours.  Go read the document for yourself.

What? Leaving Already?

Whadda ya know? Another weblog. How many of these things does the world need anyway? Nobody can even authoritatively say how many blogs exist out there. I know because I've done a couple dozen searches to find the answer. The common estimates range from somewhere between 50 million to 215 million blogs. 50 to 215 million - that's quite a range. I wish I could have used that type of range for math tests in grade school. Miss Saunders, the answer to question #7, "1200 divided by 42" is between 1 and 175. Or how about that little incident on Colonial Drive last summer, "Yes officer, I do know how fast I was going in that 35 miles per hour zone. It was between 15 and 65." Second thought, no, not a good idea in that situation.

One statistical data site claimed that there are over 500 million weblogs globally. I had to throw that out as an anomaly. It was too high an estimate. It skewed the bell. Even so, is it really possible that there could be 215 million weblogs?! There are only six to seven billion people on the planet¹. And that's another problem: six billion to seven billion? What, are they not sure if they missed counting one of the continents or not? And oi vey, it's again with the ranges. Where does this actually work in real life? Yes, this week I will pay you between $500 and $5000. Only scientists get away with this. 6 billion to 7 billion is only an 11½% range difference, as compared to the 430% range difference in blog estimates; but it is still a ONE BILLION difference in people count.  Listen up students, we know that the world population is 6 or 7 billion, give or take a billion. Even so, the world population estimate is closer than the blog count estimate. We really don't know anything for sure, do we? Except this, there are an awful lot of bloggers out there. There are an awful lot of blogs to subscribe to. My little fingers could fall off typing in URLs so site visit counters can make somebody's ego swell. It's a lot of work this blogging business.

But that's just a raw estimate of how many total blogs there are on the internet. The number provides no info as to how many are abandoned, how many are taken down or hijacked, how many are duplicate sites? Or how many just stink on ice. Do Facebook notes and Tweets count as blogs? Does it count if you start a weblog and all you ever get around to doing is posting a profile and a comment? What happens if you migrate the same material to a mirror site – is it one or two blogs? Who counts these things and how do they do it? It's impossible to know and even if you could figure it out at any particular moment in the space-time continuum it would continue to change faster than the exchange rate for gold. The only sure thing is that there is no sure thing. And that's for certain. Probably.

1 in 4 of the under-25 crowd maintains an updated weblog with pretty regular daily updates. So they claim. I've seen the way my teenagers write. Question: Does a horribly grammar mangled Facebook status update count as a blog? David is up, David is going to school, David is home now, David is eating dinner, David is going to church for youth group, David is going to bed now. David is wasting bandwidth. The world needs less blogs, not more.

I have to ask myself, why am I even writing a blog? I mean, what the heck is wrong with me? Who in the world needs to see one from this old geezer? Especially one that will be admittedly intermittent in regularity. You don't care when I get up, go to work or have a date with my wife (except my wife – and the lucky teenage daughter chosen to babysit her younger sibs). And I won't vent every annoyance either. The web needs more dynamic or informational sites not another over-the-hill white male angst catharsis. But I give this promise – I will never do a vlog. I'm not young and beautiful enough for that.

Digital storage is cheap so I'm jumping in. But my toes are going in the water cautiously. I'm not sure what I want to share. I have a habit of venting and then deleting the rant. It embarrasses me after I calm down. I've learned that I should sit on emotional messages overnight before hitting the send button. And do I really want to sit there looking at the screen figuring out why my idea isn't translating to the written word, wondering if I'm making any sense, and knowing that some idiot is going to take offense at anything I say and post insulting comments about my heritage below my post? Not really; and yet I'm doing it anyway.

This little cyber-place is for me. It's another place to put my stuff. No dedicated subject, no excessive politicking and no redundant campaigning. If you happen on this blog – welcome! If not, I'm not counting visitors and I won't be checking the views every morning. If I see that this month I got 7 views but one of them changed their mind half way in it isn't going to bother me. There are 214,999,999 other blogs to checkout as well. Some of them are even worth visiting.

1. Data provided by the United Nations, Department of Economic and Social Affairs, Population Division, November 2008.