Overcompensation

This is my new alarm clock. Some people might get the impression I'm overcompensating for something...

During my recuperation following the kidney transplant, the Missus broke a sacred oath and allowed me to have food and drinks in the bedroom for the first time.

I promptly spilled crab apple juice all over my old alarm clock.

Since then, the clock's health has slowly dwindled. First the CD player stopped working. Next, the buttons to set the time could only be pressed after vigorous stretching and weight training. Alarm 2 stopped working altogether. The final straw was the death of the Snooze button (which sucked to begin with, only allowing six minutes of snoozing as opposed to the more lenient nine) - I had to put the old gal out to pasture and buy a new alarm clock.

Shameless plug for Best Buy (who hardly needs it): First stop for clock shopping was Circuit City, where this clock was $79. Snazzy, but there was no way in Hell I was paying that kind of money for a clock. Humped over to Best Buy where I found the same clock for $39.

Brought it home, plugged it in, and immediately became afraid of it. The Missus and I stared at it.

"Your clock frightens me."

"It feels like the Monolith from 2001, but with soothing blue lights."

"I'm still frightened."

Now there is no sleep...

Back

Yesterday I was in South Jersey helping my Great Aunt Helen celebrate her 80th birthday. So, no entry. I got back around 11:30 PM, and probably could have posted a missive about the events of the day but to be honest, after driving for hours with a belly filled with food and drink with my wife sleeping in the passenger seat the last thing on my when I walked through the front door was writing a post merely to fulfil an obligation.

Ever have one of those days you wish you could bottle for when the drudge of everyday life has got your hackles up? For the past few weeks, I've been feeling run down: tired, out of shape, basically a giant bear that has no energy or desire to do much of anything including working at the office, in the house, or anywhere for that matter. Attempts to get back on the diet and exercise regimen have been hard with the wife's food cravings and my own lack of self control.

Today felt entirely different. I got up early, threw on some old clothes and finished sanding down and priming the ceiling, which was repaired last weekend from the Boiler Escapade of last month. After that my father-in-law arrived, and we installed new light fixtures in the hallway and at the top of the stairs. I took down the hideous fabric vertical blinds from the living room and dining room and replaced them with aluminum blinds. I patched all the holes in the walls with Plaster of Paris and painted both the ceiling in the living/dining rooms and the downstairs bathroom (touch-ups in the corners where the grout was a little heavy). Thursday the living/dining room gets painted, and then downstairs is done, excepting the rug which is due the beginning of April and the window treatments/pictures which stil need to be decided upon by Her Majesy the Missus.

When it was done I starting getting that feeling back - the feeling that says I can get out of the slump I've been in and do what I want to do with my life and my surrounding - shape it to my will, mold it to my desires.

Damn that is such a kick ass feeling!

Hell

I thought this was kind of amusing. I don't know where the joke originated from, and I suppose anyone could figure out where it's leading, but I enjoyed the set-up, being the geek I am.

From C.B., who not only worked with me in my old job back Up North, but opened me up to the beauty of taking two-hour lunch breaks swatting golf balls and eating ice cream at the old driving range in East Greenbush, NY:

The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington engineering mid-term. The answer was so "profound" that the Professor shared it with colleagues, and the sharing obviously hasn't ceased...

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or Endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote Proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law, (gas cools off when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:

"First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate that souls are moving into Hell and the rate they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let us look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there are more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.

Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand as souls are added. This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. Of course, if Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa Banyan during my Freshman year, "...that it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you.", and take into account the fact that I still have not succeeded in having sexual relations with her, then, #2 cannot be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and will not freeze."

This student received the only A.

Orientation

Tonight the Missus and I went to our hospital's Maternity Orientation. The hospital's only about 4 miles from the house, so we're all set if things come to a head (pun most definitely intended) quickly.

It was an odd assortment of people attending the orientation. It started in a lecture-style conference room, with one the staff pediatricians walking us through the role they play and the things to thing about during the birthing process. I was fascinated, and could feel a grin wider than my face the entire time. I looked over at the Missus, and wasn't surprised to see that she was choking back tears - but also extremely happy.

No, the surprise came as we surveyed the rest of our fellow parents-to-be. None of them were holding hands, or touching each other in any way at all. One couple was buts text messaging on their cell phones. Another couple was arguing in the back. Were we the only couple there who seemed genuinely happy to be having a baby? It seemed like it.

After another series of slides detailing our entire birthing process - from driving up to the front door to leaving with New Baby, we were led upstairs to view the actual facilities. Just as we arrived, as if on cue, a new father was rolling his son into the nursery. The room was suddenly filled with the oohs and aahs of 30 expectant parents. He was only an hour old, but he was already looking around, yawning, and grabbing the sleeve of the nurse taking his temperature. He seemed perfectly content to take in his surroundings, maybe sneak a nap later.

I will admit to maybe a stray tear falling. I won't swear in a court of law, but between us...okay, there was one.

Next was the Recovery Room (they were too busy delivering babies to show us the actual delivery rooms), where they take the mother an hour or so after the birth to recuperate and bond with their new baby until it's time to leave the hospital. A sample room:

You don't see it, but there's flat screen TV's and plenty of room for friends and everything else you might need. There's also a crib and warmer if the mother chooses to keep the baby with them in the room the whole time. The best thing we liked about the hospital is that everyone, from the delivery to the recuperation, gets a private room with their own bathroom. Visiting hours are very flexible, the fathers have carte blanche to come and go as they please, and each mother has a personal nurse who attends only to them while they're there.

When we left about an hour or so later, both of us couldn't stop smiling, or touching, or thinking about what would be coming in just a few short months now.

Mind blowing.

Malls

I was walking through the mall a few weeks ago and got stopped by a beautiful young woman working the Magic Touch booth. This is the kiosk where they try to sell you this "magic" file that incredibly files AND buffs your nails. I think they also sell some nail hardener or something. The woman stopped me and said in her most playful (yet seductive) voice, "Excuse me. Can I see your hands?"

I declined with my usual response. "No. I don't like to be touched."

Yesterday I noticed a young, attractive man was doing the same shtick to the MLFs walking the mall with their kids in the strollers. Now, I know that the insidious Magic Touch hires generically beautiful people to do their selling because, let's face it - if some 4'9" troll with body odor and warts was to come up and ask to see your hands, you'd probably run screaming for the nearest torch. But I never before thought about the fact that the bias ran the other way, too. I sat down on a bench and watched for a few minutes (I was taking a lunch break). Yup, the guy was only targeting the young, attractive women. I imagine that the same would be the case for the females salesperson.

My ego properly boosted, I went back to work.