WakeUpWalMart.com: Video

WakeUpWalMart.com: Video
This video, among many others, tells it like it is. I think I might spend the whole month on a rant against the Evil Empire and corporate commercialism, over-consumption, and the like. Feed the Greed!

That's Not Turkey! 4 - Worth1000 Contests

That's Not Turkey! 4 - Worth1000 Contests

I need shock therapy

Why do I have this video here?

I need a shock collar. I need one that is not sensitive to volume or to every utterance, but one that edits my speech. Two years ago I made a new year's resolution to not speak unkindly to my kids, but I failed miserably. The problem has continued to plague me and load my spirit with guilt. It makes me second guess everything I attempt for the good of parenting. I loathe myself when I yell at my kids, yet I do it near every day.

Now, I'm not abusive, in case you wandered onto this blog as a stray who does not know me. I waited 40 years to have a go at child rearing for I know myself to be a hot head and wanted to simmer down some. For the most part, it worked. I've become much more tolerant than I was even 7 years ago, when my little one threw up his weight in baby food all over me in the middle of the night. (Good times).

Still, I think if I were to be able to video tape and review my behavior, I would put my kids up for adoption, hoping they would find a better home. I know I am not alone, I know we all likely do things behind closed doors we would not want broadcast, but I really, really do not like this about myself. It jaundices so many special moments.

Example: I just built some "way cool" bunk beds for my brood. This set is complete with a subterranean chamber. It altogether accommodates all four kids. The cost? absolutely nothing. I used materials I had on the farm. They love it. They were all four romping all over it before it was even done, as I was working on it, and yes, I barked at them. They were jumping from one level to another, hitting their heads on the ceiling, generally threatening the collapse of the universe--and I yelled. At lights out, they were bickering over who gets what bunk--and I think I might even have cursed. Way cool bed = evil dad yelling memories.

So, if I have to, I'm getting a shock collar. I AM going to overcome this, just like I did smoking, sleeping too much, etc. I AM going to learn some strategies for coping with spontaneous combustion. I WILL get this under control. Maybe I need a shock collar on a more sensitive part of my anatomy? Maybe I need that video tape surveillance camera running 24/7--reviewing a few days of that would surely break me?

Meanwhile, on a lighter note: http://www.spike.com/video/doritos-shock-collar/3334609">

Art

The pictures above are two self-portraitures constructed by my middle son. He, like me, can find art in anything. I can hardly wait to take him to an art museum.

The eldest can tell stories until you fall asleep. (Yes, you is here a ganeralization, for I've yet to find anyone, gentle reader, that he cannot overcome with his words...even you.) His medium is words.

The youngest boy is coming into his own. He is the most emotional, from random hugs to Irish smackdowns. He's not really too into art or expression outside of the physical.

The 'baby' girl is violent when mad, heart-melting when affectionate...much like her brother. Who knows how she will come to express herself artistically--but I hope she is not programmed by commerce to only work in shades of pink, to only color princesses and care bears.

Every kid has his/her own strengths and values. I find it interesting that "art" comes to them early, and from what I can tell, about the same time as language. That may not be true, for I have seen some dynamic finger painting from kids under 2, but it seems the knowing it as "art" or the ability to share the nature of it as an artistic work might somehow depend upon language, both acquisition and expression.

What makes us miss? and who? and why?

It's been said that of mammals, only humans have much sense of meta cognition, of actual memories, of reflection. Sometimes I wish I did not. There are days when I am so very reflective it's hard to find my way forward. For me, memories are brought to the foreground by many stimuli, but predominantly by music and images.

Today, it seems, I'm really suffering from missing folks.

I really miss my dad every November, for he died at Thanksgiving, 2003. I'd just seen him in October, for a funeral and then a good sit down (just the two of us) in his home office which he was so proud of. I miss him whenever I hear classic country music, like from Wichita's 92.3 (check the current playlist) and sometimes I just have to change stations, it's so overwhelming.

I miss my best buddy, Danny, all the time, but particularly whenever I smell beer or am reminded of Hays, Kansas; bowling, cantaloupes, or Steely Dan's song, FM.


(This song should be played while my blog is read.) My best buddy for life, since kindergarten (yes, they had that back when I was young). Danny's a busy guy these days, but I really should just saddle up and go visit him.

I miss my bestest littlest brother, Kyle, who is deployed to Afghanistan these days. I especially miss him whenever I see a squirt gun, for the memory that stands out is one in which he's having a big shoot out with my kids, and he's holding a squirt gun to a kitten's head, using that cat as leverage. (It's especially funny, for Kyle loves animals like no one else; the irony here--gets me every time. No kittens were harmed in the making of the water gun fight.)



Whenever I smell patchouli I miss my pal, Travis. He's a vagabond in the finest sense of the word, a world traveler who hitch-hikes just because he can. In that video, he dwells on the essence of hitch-hiking: "It pushes the edges of what I am as a human, and it strengthens my faith in god...Spirit seems to dwell heavily 3 feet away from a 70 mph-moving semi-truck." We were very fortunate to see him one afternoon this last summer. Such a rich life.

As a finite being, I often dwell on my own passing. It seems this semester I've really wrestled with my mortality, seeing the long view. I've had a rich life, a long life by some standards. Lately it seems, for no particular reason, like it's about over, and so I've been trying to get my life in order. I think it's a good way to live anyway, but it's really been a powerful preoccupation lately. I want to get things done, I want to tidy things up, and I want all my loose ends tied, right down to the paper work. One of my colleagues has her lesson plans ready and on her desk daily for the next day, just in case. I want to be that proactive. Another has his will, living will, funeral arrangements, etc. all in place for his survivors. That's how any thoughtful person should prepare, but I have none of that in place (at least my organ donation is in order, I guess).

Told'ya so!

I've been fortunate to surf some respectable futurists' sites, camp on some great technology links, and generally be informed of what's coming down the pike.

TSA AIT: Neked before the full-body scanners...I told'ya so!
Back in November of 2008, I was well aware of the whole scanning issue, but at that time no one wanted to throw down on it. At that time, my thinking was that the technology was invasive, that I was more conservative than I thought of my self previously.

Today, after hearing and reading too much about this whole thing, I've reached a new stand...

In Israel they do not have expensive hardware and high tech devices to check people out, they do it the old fashioned way--interrogation. Of course, civil libertarians have issues with racial profiling and facial recognition software that altogether seem to be targeting some people over others (the Israelis do not interrogate everyone thoroughly, only those who reveal "tells" in initial questioning). In many ways, I'm all for this. Ask away. If a would-be passenger has something to hide, has some reason to feel picked on or targeted, then they need a good talking to. My parents wouldn't let me go out with strangers until they had thoroughly vetted them.

On the other hand, since we have the technology, why not use it? TSA Advanced Imaging Technology works, and it's ready to run in over 450 applications. Fire them up. I have nothing to hide.

Boys and girls, this is nothing new! Behold, a clip from Total Recall, circa 1990, twenty years ago!




I think Americans are pretty prudish when it comes to nudity, whether it is in film or on a TSA AIT. What difference does it make--really? We're all just mammals, and we all have our shortcomings or bumps, ripples, or ridges that we generally hide under flattering clothing. Truth is, our raiment is irrelevant to who we really are.

So, snap my nads, scan my junk, shoot my noodle...I do not care. Put the images up on the web, big deal. Is it an invasion of privacy? Maybe. Does it make any difference? No...I can hear my dad's voice, however, forewarning, "Once they get away with that [fill in the blank], it's only a matter of time until..." and somewhere in the back of my mind, even though I have this carefree attitude toward nudity, I know he's got a point there. What's next?

While I'm in a Told'ya So Mood, I'll tell you what's next, or coming soon...

We already have neuro-marketing rearing its enterprising head, a sleeping giant of manipulation that will be able to push our buttons at a biological level we cannot resist. We already have forfeit our whereabouts, entirely, via GPS chips in cell phones. We have already given away our most intimate information on Facebook and blogs, Twitter and other online media. All this transparency and vulnerability will no doubt produce some tremendous backlash. We will be such easily controlled sheep, in the future.

Of course, as that evolves, I won't be able to tell you so, for I'll be among those led around by the nose. *sigh* You readers won't realize the control, either, in much the same way we fail to reckon with the power of the media and Patriot Act, today. *sigh*

So, what the hell...drop your trousers with me on National Opt-Out Day, November 24th. 'Might as well have some fun.

Language

Fun where you find it

I was stoked, steamed actually, to attend the Emerald City Steampunk Expo. I'd been looking forward to it for weeks. Unfortunately, work and money did not favor my idea of fun.

So, when I went home, I had a chip on my shoulder. I was greeted at the door by my kids and my beagle, which was heartwarming, sure, but I was really gruff with the missus. I was exceptionally grumpy, so I did what I always used to do when I was a difficult teen: I set something on fire.

It needed done because the trash pickup didn't happen this week. We had 120 gallons of trash and another 100 gal. to come this week with no where to go--so it was worthwhile on that practical note.

Even more, added value, I was soon to discover, was that the contagion of fire-tending was more amusing to my kids than a trip to Disneyland. The four of us had a blast burning trash for hours. Even papa joined in. I was able to teach the boys about how fire spreads, how it can be suffocated, how a can of pop, never opened, will open itself when it gets hot enough to blow.

No, not environmentally friendly. No, not something I'd do every day or suggest in particular to anyone else...but for me and my house, at that moment, it was practical, affordable, educational, and...almost fun.

Then, the next day I was trying (again) to get my old Farmall tractor started. I've now invested about 5 hours in the effort, and I'm getting angry. The boys all three spent time on the tractor and pickup, treating them like a jungle gym. They'd come and go, visit with me, ask a few questions, then go play on hay bales (today, a ship crossing to Narnia). They'd stop by once in a while to ask me what this lever did or why that thingy shot sparks. They were impatient, not understanding why daddy couldn't just fire it up and give them a hay rack ride. Neither could I. I found myself getting gruff, curt, and, okay, likely downright rude. I've skinned knuckles. I've spent too much time on something that should be so damn easy. I'm just about to the tool throwing, foot stamping part of my version of mechanics when I hear a high squealing giggle.

I leave the pickup 'jump-cabled' to the tractor to charge the battery a bit (I know, not effective) and I follow the laughter.

My boys are in the pig pen.

You'd think it was the big birthday party game extravaganza all over again, just by the noise and commotion. The two boys were running from the two little pigs, then alternately chasing the pigs. Carson, in a moment of bravery, straddled one pig in hope of riding it, but he was bucked off. All of us were laughing like we'd not laughed in weeks (and we laugh a lot). I laughed like a chain smoker. I laughed like I was stoned. I laughed 'til I cried, coughed, ultimately got hiccups from laughing!

Of course, you had to be there, to see the abject terror on the kids' faces when being pursued. You had to be there to see one of them squealing and squirming when he fell and the pigs nuzzled all over him, tickling him. You had to be there to see that 1-second pig ride that will never make it to a rodeo.

And I was there.

And I had fun.

And that's the moral of this story. Whether it's burning trash or watching a pig rodeo, fun is to be had. I had fun because I was there to share those priceless, silly, seemingly-insignificant moments with my boys.

No, I didn't get to go to the Expo, or a movie, or even on a date with my wife. I don't have money to even rent a movie right now, but that's okay. We watch old VHS Disney movies in the basement. We wrestle during the boring scenes and break for snacks now and again.

In ways, we don't have much, but in ways that matter, we've got it all.

Damsels...at Emerald City Steampunk Expo

"I kissed a Nerd" great tune. Also "Mysfit Toys" dance group. Also....well, just check out their site. I'll be there, likely in costume, even if my wife is embarrassed.

Knights and Daze

Party 'til you're pooped. (In some cases, yesterday, with as many toddlers as we had at the party, this was likely true. More than one kid waddled off with a load in his britches.)

I'd safely say we were all pretty exhausted after the 8th celebration of my eldest son's date of birth. We had 50 guests, 2 hrs of games, an exotic cake that was a true work of art, and I would offer, an overall great time. I was happy some of my best buddies were there, too, for we were able to talk shop over the ship among other things.

The theme was medieval. We had jousting, bridge sieges, a castle, a quest, dragons to battle, a cake decorated like an elaborate castle...altogether themed out and good times. I hope he will always remember it, and I hope the kids there had fun.

Jax received so very many nice, nice gifts. It was an incredible outpouring of generosity (even though we requested no presents, it was nice of you all). One neat idea came up, that we might offer in next year's invite that if anyone wished to bring a gift, that's welcome, but we're going to donate them to a children's home, etc.

It was a great day, as mentioned above...but it's also marking a very sad (in ways) date for me, as my little boy just keeps edging toward becoming a little man. He's only 8, my wife reminds me, but he seems to be 18 sometimes, and I just don't want to miss a thing.

That desire to capture it all, to experience everything, and to miss nothing--well, it's creating a big grudge against work. I like my job, but any job that separates me from family is just not good. If only some college or university could afford me full-time online! Someday, sooner every year I know, some school will pick me up. More and more academic work is conducted online, and I've been at it since 1990's somewhere...so maybe I'll be a viable candidate.

Meanwhile I just enjoy the hours I do have at home, and pack as much into the moments as they can handle. Sure it leaves me tuckered out, but it is a good feeling.

The Freeze, and with it...

...the gloom descends.

Last night we picked pears, scaling as high as possible in the tree (over 20 ft). We worked diligently, knowing the fruit was all about to be turned to mush by the freeze. Likewise, we put the pumpkins indoors, hoping to keep them around to Thanksgiving.

And thus it begins, the bringing-in-of things. The great Retraction. All warmth and growth is being redacted from the poem of life. This weekend is another harbinger: Daylight Savings Time. Darkness falls ever-more-early.

A mild fall was fine with me. Yes, I had to mow more. Yes, it was hard to be disciplined to come inside to grade papers. Yes, I broke a sweat on Halloween.

This freeze has frozen me. My blood runs cold. It coagulates into a freezee of red, salty sludge. I don't want to move. I don't want to play outside. I just want to curl up and clutch my blankets around me.

I know, seasons must change.

Children must grow up.

Time must pass.

X Posting to Family blog

I don't have much to share here that's not better said here.

I don't elaborate on family much, but my wife has taken on an ambitious project of taking a photo a day and writing about it. Sure, she falls a week or two behind on posting them, but she's been very faithful about taking them and writing about them. (Part of the posting problem is due to our pokey bandwith at home.)

That site she's created is a true treasure that shares some keen insight into what makes our lives great right now. Whenever I get down, whenever I miss home, or for that matter...whenever she posts something new, I go there!

You should too.

Yes we CAN

(Okay, I stole that from Bob the Builder)

This has been a bumper crop, a banner year, a true bin-buster. Due to timely rains (virtually weekly until late July) and mild weather, perhaps some due to the tons of manure I imported, too...we had a great garden.

I measure greatness by how much I learned, more than how much we raised or saved.

1. I learned I must do something radical to get rid of squash bugs. They decimated our potatoes and squash, put a dent in our pumpkins, and generally annoyed us.
2. I learned we just have to move our tomatoes next year (I did not even know the rule about relocation for them, but it makes sense for they tire the ground and recirculate illness and insects.).
3. I learned I want to TRAIN tomatoes, not let them run wild like we always have. For one, they will yield better if pruned. For another, it will be more pleasant harvesting them (this year it was like fighting through a jungle!)
4. I learned watermelons and cantaloupe are attracting something with teeth--likely rabbits--which we need to fend off with FENCE.
5. I learned that we're better off with some elevated trellis affair for every crop that can bear such rearing--because my lovely farm wife and I are not fond of stooping.
6. I learned that corn needs more attention than I've given it.
7. I learned that we are really good at raising pumpkins.

BEST OF ALL, we are learning to preserve and just generally do something with what we have on our place. My wife canned probably 36 pickle jars, some peach jelly, and we've been figuring out what to do with a blessed over-abundance of pears (so far pear crisp, pear pie, and some dehydrated pear novelties).

We CAN.

Now, we hope to learn much more about self-sufficiency and raising our own food. I recently read an article about a family who set a modest goal of raising their Thanksgiving dinner. That's a good goal for us to explore. I'd also like to get into family gardening more, something for the kids they'll ALL enjoy (right now we have one gardener, anyway).