One Dad's Life

Stupid Gregg Tricks - Doors are Tricky!

More frequently than not, my work day consists of abutting, or even overlapping meetings.  This is the unhappy consequence of the group I manage being involved in nearly EVERY project at our company.  Even delegating or ignoring most meetings, there are some I just can't avoid.

Thursday was one such morning.  While I was already late for one overlapping meeting, I just KNEW I would die during the meeting if I didn't have my morning caffeine.  Usually, I grab this on the way to work, but on this particular day, traffic prevented that, and I didn't worry too much about it since I actually had a dollar bill and some change!  (Rare)

So, I decided to make a run for the soda machine, located on the lower floor of my building.  Now, when I say "run", I really mean "rushing as fast as I can without actually running."   So basically, I looked like one of those olympic power walkers STRIDING with great purpose towards the stairs...at a very high non-running velocity.

I was moving.

Now, the hall where the stairs are located have a pair of glass doors between the office area and the stairs.  Our cleaning crew keeps these SO clean, that you often can't even tell that there is glass IN the doors at all!  I know what you are thinking.  You are thinking that I couldn't tell the doors were there and I ran right into the glass.

You would be wrong.

I didn't do that at all!  No, obviously, I knew the doors (and glass) were there. I'm an intelligent adult.  That's why I'm invited to all of the meetings! Duh!  No, what happened is that as I strode towards the doors at my olympic walking pace, I reached for the handle - which must be turned to open the door (no simple pushing doors for a area full of engineers) - and....

I missed the handle.   Uh oh.

Well, if you've ever had physics or studied the laws of motion on your free time, you know what happened next.  Momentum being what it is (p = mv) and the rule that objects in motion tend to stay in motion dictated my next action:

I ran right into the glass door, nearly crumpling under the impact.

I heard a smattering of laughter, some polite applause, and one person even cared enough to mutter "impressive."   Oh yeah, I'm smooth.

Door 1,  Gregg 0.

On the upside, when I returned to the same set of doors, soda in hand, a number of people offered to get the door for me!

 

What's that Noise?!

Periodically, instead of staying up late to work (either for "work" or home stuff), I'll sit on my bed and play some Nintendo DS games, prior to going to sleep.  Well, this past week has been COLD in St. Louis, so I was much more inclined to crawl into my nice soft and WARM bed, than being up and about.

It was early in the evening, for me, at 10:30, so I figured I had a fair amount of gaming time in front of me.  I settled in to play a little bit of the "Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box" game that Dianne gave me for my birthday.

I was having a great time playing, and Dianne was in bed next to me reading a book.  Eventually, she decided to go to sleep and turned out her light.  I decided to continue playing for a while...in the dark...as I commonly do when she is ready to go to sleep.  Can I have a hooray for back-lit LCD screens?  HOORAY!

I was playing for a while, sitting with the blankets over my lap, propped up on some pillows when suddenly I heard a very loud sound.  It sounded like someone slammed the back door leading into our kitchen.

This was odd, as I knew everyone was in bed, and I knew the back door was closed.  Also, none of our critters even budged. My dog remained asleep in the living room, and our youngest cat, Mozart, was curled up next to me.  She didn't even lift her cute little head!  Our oldest cat is deaf and probably wouldn't have noticed anything, anyway.

I decided NOT to get out of the nice soft and WARM bed, and continued playing the game.

Suddenly, BOOM!!!, the sound came again.  This time, the wall behind me (plaster - and solid as a rock) shook.  Even the picture on the wall over the bed rattled a little.  OK, I was NOT imagining things.  What was going on?  The cat next to me lifted her head, looked around, and went back to sleep.

Again, I decided NOT to get out of the nice soft and WARM bed, and continued playing the game.

BOOM!

This time, I very nearly dropped my DS game, the shock was so great.  The cat again looked around.

I sat in the bed, very very still, hoping to hear a clue as to what was happening.  Something must be going on outside, I thought.  I didn't hear any voices, or other activity.  No dogs were barking in the neighborhood, either.  Strange.  VERY strange.

I went back to the game.  It is a fun game, if you like riddles and puzzles.  I recommend it! (Shameless Nintendo plug.  BTW, Nintendo, I'd be perfectly willing to host a Nintendo party in my home. Hint. Hint.  You're the greatest!  Even better than Boar's Head Horseradish sauce and that is saying something!)

Did I mention that I went back to the game?  Yes, I did. I went back to the game.

BOOM!

This time, the impact ended up knocking me back, and even off the side of my pillow a little bit! Holy COW!  What was going on?  Why did no one else hear this or wake up?  It was LOUD and the wall was even shaking, for goodness sake.

It was then that I realized what was happening.  I was actually briefly falling asleep, my head would fall back and SMASH into the wall behind me, which then woke me up.  OUCH. It happened so quickly, I didn't even realize I was falling asleep and getting woken up by the impact of my skull smashing into the rock hard plaster wall.

Good grief.

Sadly, this is not the only experience I've had with falling asleep playing video games.  It has also happened on my couch.  The neighbor's house was on fire that time.

I'm pretty sure I deserve that Nintendo Party.  I'll be waiting.

Dr. Pepper, Can I Have A Second Chance?

When I was a child, I was fascinated with all of the prizes, special offers, and giveaways that the cereal companies offered.  I ended up getting a number of cereal themed frisbees, drawstring bags and similar items.

One giveaway stands out in my mind, and if you have ever read one of my bios from a musical program, you know what it is - A Winnebago Camper!

Yep, there was a point, I'm not even certain what age I was, that I was convinced that if I just sent in my required number of boxtops and an entry form, that I was certain to win the Winnebago!  Boy, the things I could DO with that camper!  It didn't even matter that I couldn't drive, I would let my parents drive it, of course.

I was shocked when I didn't win.

Fast forward to today.  I need a new car. Seriously.  My car is functional, but it is at that point (at around 200,000 miles) where every day there is a new noise and it feels "not quite right" in a whole new way.  There are few things that I really want, other than peace on earth and a really good margarita (with chips and salsa), but I actually know what new car I want.  In fact, it's an obsession.

I want a 2010 Camaro in the worst way.

Many Sundays, I pull into the dealer (so the sales guys won't hassle me) and admire the cars.  I've wanted a Camaro since I was a teen.  Of course, I wanted (and still do) a '68 Camaro - Z28 if possible - but that is completely out of reach.  The new Camaro seems just about perfect to me, and even the base model could be considered a performance car!

Well, recently, it seemed like the stars aligned for me.  My favorite drink, Dr. Pepper, launched a campaign to give away 23 Camaros!  Certainly, one of those cars had my name on it!

Every bottle, and every box of Dr. Pepper had an entry code that you typed into their website to tell if you have won. 

With an eager anticipation that I haven't experienced since Mario Kart Wii came out, I entered in my first set of numbers with shaky hands, KNOWING that I would have a positive outcome.

I didn't.

That was OK, though, there was still time.  As summer progressed I entered more and more numbers, all failing to provide me with my dream car.  I was still confident, though.  Time was on my side.

I consumed a larger and larger amount of Dr. Pepper, entering all those codes in the website.

I began to make plans of what I'd do when I won. The version of the car they were giving away had an automatic transmission.  That seemed wrong to me.  I wondered if the deal would let me get a car with a manual transmission instead?  If not, I'd still accept the car, of course, but sell it immediately and get the manual version.  Sure, on paper I'd take a bit of a loss, but it would be worth it.

OH, OH, OH!  As long as I was selling, I could trade up to the 420 H.P. SS version! SWEET!!!!  There is no way my budget for a car (which approaches zero, as we are already paying for a new used car for Dianne) could support an SS by any stretch of my imagination, but if I had a brand new LT to trade...IT WAS POSSIBLE!  I planned to get an all black SS, then changed to a blue one with white stripes. Man was this going to be awesome!

Life is good!

The problem is, I wasn't winning.  Something must be wrong with the boxes of Dr. Pepper I had purchased.  Something just wasn't right.  Time was also running out.  I was getting agitated.  The stores were running out of the boxes, too.  The contest was being replaced by some dumb football contest.

I started digging behind the stacks of Dr. Pepper in the store, successfully finding more Camaro promotion boxes on several occasions.  Then, my daughter and I hit the mother-load.  The Walgreens by our house had about 12 cases of the stuff!  We loaded up the cart with eight of them less than a week before the deadline.  Why I didn't get all 12, I'll never know, but other people bought them.  Two days before the deadline, I found another load of cases and bought another 4 or 6 (can't remember).  I now had a stack of full Dr. Pepper cases filling a shelf in our basement.

I opened all the boxes, carefully removing the cans and entering the codes.  Each one came up short.

I couldn't believe it.  I'm sure by this point YOU can't believe it, either.  You were positive there was a happy ending.  So far, there is not.  I read the rules to find out how they were going to handle any Camaros that were not being given away.  Basically, it is up to their discretion.  I'm hoping they randomly draw from the entries on hand.  If so, I have a great chance!

Wish me luck!

In the meantime, McDonald's has launched another round of the Monopoly game.  I'm going to be a millionaire!

The Neighbor's House is on Fire!

It's no secret that I'm just a bit of a Nintendo fan.  In fact, if you are a regular reader (thanks to both of you!) then you know that if I had MY way, my life would revolve around music, Nintendo, and photography.  Please note, I'm not excluding my family, pesky as they may be, just as I'm not excluding eating and sleeping!  No nasty emails, please.

So, last night, as with many nights, I wanted to spend a bit of time playing Animal Crossing.  I have to collect all the available fish, bugs, clothes and furniture after all!

Animal Crossing is a pleasant, slow moving simulation game where you are a human, living among interesting talking animals.  It's such a pleasant "life" that many a day I've wished REAL life were more like Animal Crossing.

The game is so relaxing and slow moving that I often drift off to sleep for brief moments while I'm waiting for a fish to bite, or similar event.  This may also have to do with me being really tired by the time I get around to Nintendo!

It's not that uncommon for me to drift off to sleep on the couch and wake up later in the night, with the game patiently waiting for me to do something.  Last night was one of those nights.  I would momentarily nod off, then wake up, find some bugs or fish, and nod off again.  On one of the moments when I woke up from a brief nodding off, I was panic struck by the glow coming through our colored glass living room window. It would seem that perhaps the neighbor's house was on fire!  I jumped up, amazed I hadn't heard the sirens and commotion.  It was at this moment that I realized the house next door was NOT actually on fire.  The glow I was seeing came from another source - THE SUN.

I had somehow managed to repeatedly doze off and wake up, playing the game ALL NIGHT LONG!

This CAN'T be a good influence on my kids. 

Tomorrow, I get a day off for the 4th of July holiday, so tonight we will be having a BONUS Mario Kart Session!  On that game, there will be no sleeping.

Proof I Have No Control Over My Life

I share a number of characteristic with the comic strip character Dilbert. 

First, I'm an engineer.  In fact, I'm an electrical engineer - though essentially I have never worked a day in my life AS an electrical engineer.  I do software - software on those little bitty chips inside of controls.  It's pretty cool if you are a nerd like me.  Please note that I blame any terrible writing on the fact that I'm an engineer - not a writer. Engineers typically don't write.  It's tradition.

Second, like Dilbert, I have no control over my life. Unlike Dilbert, this lack of control is not made manifest in a tie that won't lay down.  In fact, I don't do ties. They don't go with T-shirts and polo shirts.  Even I, an engineer, knows this. Everyone else, STOP BUGGING ME TO WEAR A TIE. 

No, my lack of control over my life is instead made manifest in another seemingly innocuous item: the office chair.  Office chairs are out to kill me.  Can you imagine how frightening my day must be knowing that the chairs are trying to kill me?  Despite how easy I may make it seam on the outside, it is not easy being me.  I'm a mess.

Lets run through a couple of the evil office chair's common tactics.  I've named them for future reference.

1. The Pinch

This is the office chair's number one attack method.  Somehow, no matter what height my desk is, or the height of my chair is, the chair - the evil chair - manages to find a way to pinch my hand or arm between the chair and the desk. How does it do this?  Easy. The chair waits until I'm not paying attention and then instructs one of my office mates to run up behind me and ram the chair (and me) forward until it is stopped by my hand being wedged between the chair and the desk. Ouch! Bad chair.  Other times, the chair waits patiently (it's amazing how patient certain inanimate objects can be) until a hand, finger, or little piece of skin is between the chair and the desk. The chair then activates the "shock absorber" feature of the chair to slightly raise the chair...thus painfully trapping my errant appendage.

2. The Press

This stunt is the office chair's equivalent of a bear trap.  While I would probably be well suited for one of those ergonomic chairs that make it look kind of like you are kneeling down to pray to your computer, I don't have one. Also, I don't pray to my computer. I like to think I have power of IT.  Additionally, I'm not shelling out the kind of dough those fancy chairs go for.  However, I do generally sit with my feet tucked under my chair, propped up on the horizontal legs under the chair that the casters are attached to.  Well, the evil office chair has clearly evolved to take this into account. My particular chair moved evolved its little lever that adjusts seat height to a location fully under the seat, near the center post, and down a bit...just over were my feet rest.  I think you can see where this is going.

While sitting on my seat, with my feat tucked underneath me, I frequently am coerced by the nefarious chair to "bump" that little lever with my heel.  This is like the little trigger portion of the bear trap without the yummy steak!  What happens next is rapid and horrifying.  The chair, accelerated by gravity and the weight of my body sitting ON the chair, instantly snaps down to its lowest height setting.  Funny so far?  The problem is, this results in my foot being trapped between the feet of the chair and the top of the chair.  I can't stand up, because my foot is trapped, and I can't get the chair to go back up because you can't do that without lifting your weight off the chair (already not possible) and letting the chair go DOWN just a little bit more.  This is also incredibly painful.  I generally end up face down on my office floor trying to shake the bear trap...er...chair...off my foot as I am biting down on my teeth in an effort not to yell out something inappropriate, while pens, pencils and paperwork are flying everywhere in my struggle to get free.

The chair is evil. Clearly.

3. The Grab

"The Grab", as I like to call it is performed by the wheels of the chair.  Cleverly, the wheels apparently adjust their size to EXACTLY match the loop size in my shoelaces.  The wheels do this so that very slowly and stealthily, they can grab my shoelace loop and very carefully (and quietly) wrap them around the wheel.  Then, if I stand up, or need to move the chair to get into my file cabinet, the chair SPRINGS INTO ACTION and jams the shoelace up into the little cover that surrounds the wheel, firmly capturing the shoelace.  If I'm lucky, at this point, I only have the chair attached to me and being dragged behind me by my shoelace.  If I'm lucky.  This attack can be thwarted, usually, by untying my shoe and pulling the shoelace through the wheel.  Other times, I'm not so lucky and I'm again down on the floor, face first, wondering what hit me.

The worst part of "The Grab" is that it occasionally works in conjunction with the other attacks of the chair.  Worst case, the attack sequence begins with "The Pinch." The sudden and extreme pain of my hand or a finger being jammed between the top of the armrest and the bottom of my desk will force me to push back on the chair to free my hand. This is often all the chair needs to finish the job of ensnaring my shoelace, causing the chair to SUDDENLY stop moving backwards.  This has the effect of throwing me slightly FORWARD in relation to the chair, which nearly always results in my heel raising slightly...just enough to trip the "The Press."   Remember, I am already in a slight forward motion, and as the chair crashes down, it traps my OTHER foot as described in point #2.  However, with that forward motion, I'm guaranteed to be GOING DOWN.  The chair shoots out behind me taking both of my feet with it, I'm heading face down to the floor...AGAIN...and there is nothing I can do to stop it.  Oh, yeah - pens, pencils, sharp objects, reference books, diet Dr. Pepper and paperwork are flying everywhere in the violent struggle that ensues.

At this point, all I can hope for is that I don't hit my head on the desk on the way down, or that something sharp (like scissors) doesn't land on me, or something heavy (like a book), doesn't hit me in the head.  If you are keeping track of the falling objects and my desk, you'll see that I have a two out of three chance of being knocked unconscious. Unconscious.

Without fail, when THIS happens, as the materials that were once on my desk come fluttering down around my prone and nearly lifeless form, the tipped over Dr. Pepper slowly pouring it's contents on my head, SOMEONE will come around the corner to my work area and say something clever like, "are you coming to this meeting or WHAT??!!!"

I have no control over my life.

Friday Night Fun! (part 3 - Game Time)

Earlier in the week, I recounted my experiences on the way to my favorite night of the week - Mario Kart Wii game night!  Every Friday night, starting at 10:30PM at the earliest and sometimes after midnight, I play Nintendo's Mario Kart Wii game online with some friends and other miscellaneous strangers from around the world.

So far if you have been keeping track - and who wouldn't be!? - you have learned (in brief):

1. I cut my grass in the deepening night and in the front line of a major thunderstorm.
2. My wife and daughter, while I was cutting the grass in the dark and rain, ate my snacks I had purchased for Mario Kart!
3. When I went to Shop 'n' Save to replace my pilfered snacks (and buy a backup bottle of Yellow-Tail) I was mocked for my Ruffles and wine combo by a snaggle-toothed man who had a matted ZZ-top style beard and an actual spider living in his hair!

Fast forward to 10:30. None of these earlier adventures meant a thing to me anymore, as I was rapidly approaching game time!  I loaded up the game and went online.

None of my friends were there, yet.  That's OK.  I wouldn't give up on any of them until sometime after midnight, and started playing online with some other people.  The interesting thing about my Friday nights is that while I now have a pretty good friend list set up in Mario Kart, non of MY friends have each OTHER listed as friends.  What does this matter, you ask?  Well, if you aren't familiar with Mario Kart, it is a basic go-kart type racing game, in which you can have up to 12 people playing at the same time.  The races are set in Nintendo's Mario themed worlds, where there are all kinds of magical things that can give you boosts, or bizarre weapons (like flying exploding turtle shells) that can be used on the other racers.

Since I could easily be in a race with four or five people I know, but who don't know each other, I get a disproportionate amount of attention paid to me.  In this case, attention is NOT what I'm looking for! So, to race without my friends being online gives me a chance at a FAIR race, one that I have a chance to win and get some Nintendo ranking points.  I need these as they will no doubt be erased later in the evening...when everyone focuses their exploding shells and giant mushroom kart crushing power on ME.

I raced for about 30 minutes until my friend Tim - my primary racing partner - was JUST ABOUT TO GET ONLINE.  I was excited and looking forward to playing! As I mentioned in earlier posts in this series, I look forward to playing this game every Friday night.

I had my snack chips.

I had my dip.

I had my diet Dr. Pepper.

I had a bag full of batteries.  (I use "used" batteries from our wireless microphones.  Since they start out at the end of their life, how long they last for Mario Kart is completely random - and sometimes they suddenly die without much warning!)

I was ready!  I was pumped! I was ready to take on the world (literally)!

Naturally, this is the point where OUR POWER WENT OUT FOR NO GOOD REASON!!!!

Perfect. Just peachy.

The storm that I had cut the grass in had passed through the area by now, so there was NOT an immediate or apparent reason as to why I should no longer have electricity.  I started wondering if ol' snaggle-tooth was actually a Stephen King character like the clown in "It" and every time he laughed, something bad happened.

Shudder.

I called Tim and explained my predicament.  I also explained that since there was no reason for the power to be out (as far as I understood), that he should not give up on me!  He said he was going to continue to play.  "I'll keep you informed", I said.

I paced around the now candlelight house for a while, and then decided I wasn't going to let ol' snaggle-tooth's possible curse keep me down.  I whipped out my Nintendo DS and played Mario Kart on THAT machine.  Yeah for portable, battery powered game systems!  Mario Kart night was BACK!

So that is the story of my Friday night.  It's a story of courage and perseverance.  It's a story of undeterred Nintendo fun! It's a story off beating everything that nature, your family, and snaggle-tooth can throw at you!  It's a classic story of good vs. evil.

Oh, and shortly after midnight, the power was restored.  I even got to play online like I was looking forward to.  My friends waited for me. How awesome is that?

Now, tonight, it is Mario Kart night again. Email me and we can swap friend codes!  I'm looking forward to playing with you.

Life is good!

Friday Night Fun! (part 2 - The Grocery Store)

The fun continues...

In yesterday's installment, we learned the following:

1) I'm very busy.

2) I panic if the grass doesn't get cut on Friday night.

3) To avoid #2, I will even cut the grass in the deepening night and the front line of a major thunderstorm.

4) I look forward to my Mario Kart night all week long.

5) My wife and daughter, while I was cutting the grass in the dark and rain, ate my snacks I had purchased for Mario Kart!

Let me just back up the story a paragraph and rejoin it, already in progress...

...fate had other plans for me, since I walked into the house to find my wife and "sick" daughter, sitting on the living room floor EATING MY MARIO KART MUNCHIES AND DIP!!!!

ARRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!????!!!!", I politely asked.

"What does it look like we are doing?" they very snarkily replied.

"Eating my Mario Kart Munchies!" I exclaimed.  I was amazed this didn't make more sense to them.

"Are we not allowed to eat these?" they asked.

"DOES IT SAY 'FAMILY SIZE' ON THE BAG?" I quizzed.  "NO IT DOES NOT! Plus, if Rebecca is sick, then she is sticking her sick hands into that bag.  You will be sick, too."

"Ewwww", my wife said.

"Well, I'm going to the store to get another bag."

And off I went.  It was raining, of course, and pretty hard, too, due to it being a thunderstorm. However, I needed to be ready for Mario Kart!  Priorities, people!  Clearly, I couldn't return to Walgreens to get another bag, because seriously, they'd think I ate the previous bag and was back for more, so I went to Shop 'n' Save instead.

While there, I decided I would also get another bottle of wine, since they had some good sales on Yellow Tail varietals, which I find both inexpensive and pleasing to the palate.  So, I grabbed my bag of chips and bottle of wine and headed for the self-check.

It was closed.

I picked what seemed like the shortest line, and let me tell you, short is a relative word at Shop 'n' Save. I always get behind someone who is paying with at least three different payment methods, usually ending with coins from the bottom of the purse, so they don't have to break a twenty!   Right before it was my turn, some, um, interesting people piled their groceries on the little conveyor belt behind behind my two items.  Their groceries were similar to mine, except they had a couple of bags of chips, and two 12-packs of beer that looked like it might be in the $3.00 range...for the 12. 

Ewwwww.

The woman looked normal enough for a 60 year old, though I suspected she was more around 35. Hard life. I get it. The guy was much more interesting.  It was impossible to tell the age of him, as his entire face was covered in a long, tangled, ZZ-top beard.  I thought there might have been a small finch living in one section of it.  Something was moving in there, at least! He had a snaggle-tooth, and a few others.  There was an actual spider web matted in his hair on his head.  It had a spider in it.

IT WAS ALIVE.

(Sorry about the spider reference Abunslife and Nathan!)

I tried not to stare, but come on, sights like this don't occur naturally.  Usually, there is a makeup and props department involved.  I looked around, but didn't see any cameras.  I hoped the spider wasn't one of those jumping spiders.  As for the interesting people, they didn't seem to notice me...but they noticed my groceries.

"Look at what he's buying", the women said in a voice that was clearly intended to be a whisper, but instead rattle off the gum and magazine rack.

"SNORT" went the man.  I think sawdust flew out of his beard when he snorted, though it may have just been normal dust...or dried up bits of previous snack and beer runs. I took it this meant he was also amused by my Yellow Tail Merlot and Ruffles combination.  I found it hard to believe that snaggle-tooth, spider-web head thought my selection was somehow inferior and even laughable compared to their generic chips and el-cheepo beer selection, but hey, to each their own, right?

The cashier smirked.

I assumed she was smirking at the guy with the spider living in his hair.  She rang out my groceries and barely choked out, "Have a great night!"  The snaggle-tooth man and his wife giggled up a veritable pig-pen storm of debris.

Oh. My. Gosh. She was one of THEM.  Snaggle-tooth, finch in the beard, spider in the head, sawdust snorting people were all around me!!!!

I decided not to explain how my loving family stole my Mario chips and I needed the wine as dinner wine backup. Nope.  I'm better than that. Let them laugh.  At least I apparently provided a ray of sunshine in their otherwise (clearly) bizarre life.

Besides, that night was Mario Kart night!  The best night of the week!

Life is good!

---------------------------------------

Editor's note: There is still more to tell! The final installment of this tale will either be tomorrow, or we'll take a break for Wordless Wednesday and finish up on Thursday.  It's hard to tell.  I have no control over the staff here at "One Dad's Life!"

Friday Night Fun!

My schedule is....beyond ridiculous. Every moment of every single day, including - and sometimes in particular - the weekend, is booked.  Sometimes, double and triple booked.  I've pretty much given up accomplishing anything beyond the obligations and then just the highest priority obligations are what get worked on.  I rank priorities based on how much grief I'll get if the obligation isn't actually done.  This leaves virtually no time for R & R!

That's why I look forward to Friday night.  Every single Friday night, starting sometime between 10:30 and midnight, I have a weekly Mario Kart Wii meetup with some friends.  In some cases, the kids of friends.  It usually ends between 2:30 AM and 3:00 AM Saturday morning.  It seems like about 30 minutes have passed.

The earliest I can get home on Friday, if nothing else is going on, is around 7:30 or so.  At this point, I try to get my lawn cut, if it isn't raining.  If I miss Friday night mowing for any reason, I'm in a near panic all weekend because I KNOW it won't get done, and my next chance will be a week away, due to that schedule issue from paragraph one.

So, last Friday, I left work a bit earlier than usual on the way to pick up my daughter from a rehearsal so I could get snack supplies for the late night Mario Kart fun!  Just as I left work, I got the call that my daughter Rebecca wasn't feeling well and I should pick her up right away from rehearsal.  That meant no stopping for snacks.  I also knew that BIG storms were working their way across the great state of Missouri, so I needed to be getting that grass cut!  Panic was beginning to set in and I wasn't even home, yet!  After picking up Rebecca, she asked me to stop at Walgreens and get her some cough drops.

Ah ha! I could pick up Dr. Pepper and munchies there!  So, I ran into the Walgreens, grabbed some Dr. Pepper (diet) and some Ruffles with Sour Cream and Onion dip.  The proper dip is important!  I also managed to remember Rebecca's cough drops and ran out to the car.   It was already looking like it was going to just DUMP water on me at any second. 

CRISIS!!!!

I hurriedly threw all the important snacking supplies in the kitchen, changed into some mowing clothes and ran outside.  If you are keeping track, this has involved a lot of running, so far!  I mowed in prioritized sections that I knew gave me the greatest chance at getting the most done, leaving the area under the big trees as my last section.  It takes a while for rain to get through those trees, you know. 

I mowed like Charlie Daniels battling the devil with his fiddle. (Feel free to let that soundtrack go through your mind at this point in the narrative)  First I cut the common ground area that runs behind the first three houses on our street.  This used to be an open storm-water drain, but got filled in a few years back when the sewer underneath it was reworked.  My neighbors behind me, that have no discernible yard care skills at all and barely cut their grass, will non-the-less scalp the area behind our house just to spite me...knowing (because I told them) that this results in dead grass and proliferating weeds.  If I don't do it first, they'll run out their with their mowers to scalp the lawn.  This makes me VERY upset.

Sometimes, even cutting the grass doesn't stop them. One week, I mowed the grass on evening and the next morning they were out scalping away!  Can you believe that? Some people's kids!

So, that part of the lawn is first.  Then I moved to the front yard, because people see that.  Part way through, it started to rain.  I continued to mow.  Despite the steadily increasing volume of rain, I got done with the front yard without getting too wet and prepared to put the mower away, thinking it was too late to get the back yard.  However, that panic thing started setting in again and I fired up the mower and started on the back yard.   Since this was under the big trees, I really didn't get very wet and didn't notice too much rain. I assumed it had let up a bit. In fact, I didn't really notice how hard it was raining until my wife yelled at me from the back porch that it was probably time to come in.  When I turned off the mower to see what she was saying, I noticed it was raining pretty hard.  Very hard, actually.

Undeterred, I yelled back to her "two more minutes!" , and fired the mower back up.

I finished that section, leaving only the section that once was a driveway and has since been reclaimed by the lawn and weeds (the reclaiming process took about 2 weeks. Apparently, my lawn is closely related to Kudzu - and the gravel is still under it!) that also now holds my daughter's swing set.  Pretty good, overall!

I wasn't even really that wet, despite the thunderstorm raging outside!  I even had dry areas on my shirt to wipe my glasses on!  I was really looking forward to my later Mario Kart play period, I figured that would be just reward for being such a trooper and mowing the grass in the dark, during the beginning of a thunderstorm.

Life is good!

However, fate had other plans for me, since I walked into the house to find my wife and "sick" daughter, sitting on the living room floor EATING MY MARIO KART MUNCHIES AND DIP!!!!

ARRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!

Editor's note: This story is just too action packed to fit into just one post. Come back tomorrow for part 2 of the series!

Man, Does it STINK in Here!

This morning, I'm at home watching my youngest daughter, Rachel, who unfortunately has the flu.  So, I thought that I'd make good use of the amazing morning light and take a few spring flower pictures in the yard.  Over my lifetime, I've taken more flower pictures than ANYTHING else.

So, I pulled on some jeans and slippers and waddled out into my yard.  I say "waddled" because I don't think that I walk exactly normally wearing the slippers.  Just a hunch.   I took a few dozen pictures and grabbed some shots that I wanted to combine with the flowers as a texture.  I had a nice idea for a "Friday Photo" shot.   After taking what I thought I needed, I headed inside and downstairs to my office to download the pictures from the SLR to my computer for editing and posting to "One Dad's Life."

While waiting for the download software to figure out which pictures were new (I had around 1200 shots living on the camera...I don't always delete them right away as kind of a backup until I MAKE a backup) I started to notice a mildly unpleasant odor.  At first, I thought perhaps the T-shirt or jeans I was wearing had a little mildew on it, since I'm sensitive to that odor.

I continued to wait for the pictures to download.

I noticed the odor was getting a little teensy bit stronger.  It wasn't mildew.  I thought perhaps the cats had just used the litter box in the adjoining utility area and I was smelling that.

I started to look through my newly downloaded pictures to see if I had what I needed for today's shot.

The odor was steadily increasing.  "Holy COW!", I thought, "what have those cats been eating?"

I was zooming in on a couple of shots to check for sharpness.

"It really is starting to smell bad in here," I thought. "Maybe the dumb cat didn't cover up their mess!"

A couple of the pictures looked promising.

The odor was steadily increasing.  I didn't think it was coming from the litter box anymore.  "Maybe they went around my desk for some reason", I wondered.   I looked around, but didn't see anything.  They have NEVER gone around my office area, but you never know.  They are getting to that geriatric age where animals get....interesting.

I thought I was going to be able to create the final shot that I was trying to get!  Hurray!  I probably wasn't going to have to head out to the yard for another try.

The smell was now totally overpowering.  I also realized, due the my highly trained culinary nose, that this was NOT cat poop odor. No. It was dog poop.  Yes, there is a difference.   I gave another glance around the office looking for the evidence, which was increasingly hard to do because of the fact that my vision was starting to blur from the odor.

"MAN, DOES IT STINK IN HERE!"  I exclaimed.   No one was listening.

I scooted my chair back and looked under the desk.  Nothing.   Then, I wisely thought to look at my slippers.  Nothing on the left slipper.   Then I moved to the right slipper.  HOLY COW!!!!  It was LOADED with dog poop.  LOADED.  Apparently, in all my yard waddling, I had waddled into some of my dogs handiwork.

I took the slippers off and walked upstairs, looking for evidence of poop around the rest of the house.  I didn't notice anything on the carpeting in my room and the stairs, but when I got UPSTAIRS, there were little poop footprints marking the path I had walked like one of those Family Circle comics. 

I knew right then that I would NOT be editing a picture for today's post.  No. I was going to be doing some mopping and vacuuming.   I threw my slippers on the back porch, turned around to go back in the house and promptly STEPPED in a chunk of poop that had scraped off my slipper on the door jamb.

Fabulous.

Now I had to hop on one foot to the bathroom to wash off my foot, carefully avoiding the other little poopy footprints. 

Well, at least we now have freshly cleaned floors, and I did get my shot (which will now be up next week sometime).  And, hey! For once, there was a "Stupid Gregg Trick" that didn't involve water! Unless, of course, you count the cleanup water.

Life is good.

The Vacuum Monster

This week is Spring Break for our kids, so Sunday after church my wife and two daughters decided to drive to Kansas City to spend a few days with their cousins.  Since this meant that the house would be empty, I thought it was the perfect time to steam clean the basement carpeting.

In retrospect, it concerns me just a teensy weensy little bit that I was going to have the house to myself and the first thing that entered my mind was...ding ding ding....STEAM CLEANING.  Seriously, my life is over.

Anyway, I rented a Rug Doctor and went to work.  Step one was to remove any objects in the way and vacuum the floors.  So, I carried a few things upstairs, moved other things out of the way of the area to be cleaned and went to work.  Vacuuming the main walkways naturally picked up a bit of dirt and debris.  Our vacuum is actually quite amazing at picking up stuff you can't see...until it is swirling around in the little whirlwind behavior.  It's like your own little carpet-dirt tornado.

Yeah, it's cool!

So things went smoothly, actually picking up much less in the walkways than I expected, until I got to our girls' room. Knowing that they have a lot of tiny parts to go with various toys and dolls, I carefully checked the floor for any important parts, and only found a couple of things...plus a number of hairpins. I was actually pleasantly surprised by how little small stuff I found on the floor.

Then I started to vacuum.

I have no idea what they do in there that makes such a mess...especially since we either force them to clean up every day or Dianne just does it while they are at school. It sounded like I was sucking all the cereal out of the pantry, combined with a healthy dose of gravel, and maybe a number of thumbtacks.  No doubt, there were a number of hairpins I couldn't see, too. As an aside, my wife and I once spent over an hour unclogging the vacuum from a serious number of hairpins.  They managed to wedge themselves sideways in the hose and proceed to block all the rest of the dirt from getting through.  We pulled enough twisted metal out of the vacuum to make a Yugo!

After vacuuming their room, I noticed that the little personal tornado wasn't really being much of a tornado anymore and there seemed to be a large amount of stuff jammed up in the vacuum, causing the tornado to fail.  This was going to have to be cleaned out.   I was already done with all the vacuuming so I took the vacuum upstairs,  saving the cleaning out process for later.

The steam cleaning went off without a hitch.

HA! You were expecting some nearly unbelievable catastrophe, weren't you!  Well, I'm not following the formula, suckers! A couple of days later, I couldn't put off the vacuum cleaning any longer because, well, we have a dog.  A dog that sheds enough that you could weave a sweater from the hair we collect in a single week.  I needed to vacuum, and bad.

So, I dragged the vacuum out into the light so I could see what was blocking the personal tornado area.  I wanted my tornado back! It seems that I had waited just a bit too long to clean the vacuum out, because the dirt and debris that had blocked the personal tornado area had apparently begun to organize.  By organize, I mean the junk had set up a hierarchical command structure and had decided it DID NOT WANT TO BE PULLED OUT OF ITS VACUUM HOME.

I tugged, it held firm. I scraped, and the crud organism avoided my scraping. I was starting to get just a little alarmed and, as you know, I was home alone.  I did NOT have a backup, and my cell phone was in the bedroom. If there was trouble, I was doomed.   I fought and fought the crud monster and seemed to be making a little headway.  By now, my cats and dog were getting interested in my struggle.  Never had they seen someone fight the Godzilla of Crud as valiantly as me.

My heart swelled with pride.  I was the crud monster fighting hero! The pride was short lived, though, because that is the exact moment that the sentient crud grabbed a hold of my hand and started dragging me into the bowels of the vacuum. Wait! This wasn't supposed to happen in real life, just in those stupid late night movies that air on the independent stations!  I MOCKED those movies, but here I was, being dragged into the vacuum. 

Flailing, I desperately reached around, looking for a weapon. ANYTHING that could stop this demon crud.  Looking around, I spotted my dog.  Dogs are man's best friend!  She would help me!

"Maggie!" I shouted in desperation. Her ears perked up.  "Go get me a knife from the kitchen. GO, girl, GO!"

Lassie always understood EVERYTHING that was going and saved Timmy on numerous occasions. Well, Maggie is no Lassie and had no idea what I was trying to say.However, she DID pick up the stress in my voice, but she mistook that stress for excitement.  Obviously, I was going to take her for a walk!  She started jumping up and down and barking, wanting me to stop "playing" with the Crud Demon that was trying to pull me into the vacuum cleaner...probably never to be seen again.

It was clear to me that Maggie was not going to be any help.  Our youngest cat had already lost interest, and had wandered off.  That left the old cat, Tiffany (see yesterday's picture).  Since I was fighting the demon in the hallway, I was very close to the closet that holds their food.  Tiffany was just sitting in the hall, watching me closely.  If only I could alert her in some way to my predicament, before my previously promising life was snuffed out by the host of dust demons in the vacuum.

"Tiffany!" I yelled. "BUGS!"

You see, in her younger days, Tiffany lived to hunt bugs.  If you yelled "Tiffany! BUGS!" she'd come running and look for anything to kill.  I hoped to leverage that killer instinct into an all-out attack on the small and dusty, yet powerful crud demon.  Unfortunately, Tiffany is now deaf.  Though she probably noticed my mouth moving, she doesn't read lips. 

She looked at the closet that holds her food.  She looked at me, thrashing around in the hallway fighting the crud demon.  Clearly, Gregg had some free time and can do something for me, she thought.  She meowed at me, quite loudly, clearly asking for some food.

The dog was now beside herself with near convulsions over the prospect of ACTUALLY GOING FOR A WALK.  I think she might have peed on my leg, just a little bit. Man's best friend? HA!

Finally, the Crud Demon gave up, and I pulled it free from the vacuum.  Thinking quickly, I grabbed a silver serving spoon and stabbed the vile dust beast from the netherworld.  Hey, silver works on werewolfs, right?  I was hoping it also worked on demons formed from the debris in my daughters' room.

Near exhaustion, I put the vacuum back together and finished vacuuming up the dog hair.  I think this near death experience has taught me something, as such experiences do.

Here it is: I am never vacuuming the girls' room again!