Uncharacteristic Introspection

I've never been one to make New Year's resolutions. I sort of take life like a constant opportunity for self-improvement. Whether any of us take the opportunity is another matter, but the opportunity is always present.

But, I suppose that the passing into a new year does inevitably lead to some self-examination. I've been doing a bit of that over the last couple of days, and I think I have found some things that I need to work on.

It may surprise some of you (particularly those of you who have met me), but when I was a child, I was very shy. PAINFULLY, extremely shy. I grew up relatively isolated, and the adjustment to a more social atmosphere was difficult for me. For the most part, I became able to approach people by the time I was 16 or 17. Before that, it was nearly impossible.

While I will never be a particularly gregarious person, I am now able to meet new people, have conversations without stammering, and I don't live in constant fear of judgement. However, I think that one of the last vestiges of that shyness is that I often find myself unable to ask for things that I really want, or even things that I am due. It happens in both professional and in personal situations. I tell myself that it would be a bother for the other person, that I should probably just do it myself, that it would be too selfish of me to ask, etc., etc.

It's not that I want to make extravagant selfish demands, but I think I might be a bit happier if I could occasionally just go ahead and ask. Or delegate. Or command, if need be.

Too Tired to Think in a Linear Fashion

Well, we survived it. There were three visits with the in-laws during the last 2 weeks, and we made it through with no casualties. Christmas was the usual amount of kidchaos, but I think they had a good time.
I finally convinced my parents to spring for broadband internet. I didn't think it would ever happen.
I think I slept roughly an hour and 45 minutes last night. I don't know why. The father-in-law brought a huge prime rib roast yesterday. Perhaps it's beef poisoning.
I am wiped the heck out today.
Go toss Mitchell a few bucks, would ya? He's just that good. I checked into it. Artists using the MyMusicBlaster service that he has linked on his myspace site get 65% of the dough for the tunes purchased through the service. Unbeatable, as far as I'm concerned. Whether they think so or not, major labels really don't need the megabucks they're raking in. These unsigned artists are where it's at, and services like this WILL revolutionize the way music is marketed.

The radio outside my office is playing a Captain and Tennille song...I think I will go be sick now.

Today's Freecycle Fun

Miniture Pinchers
I
have two 4 yr old Mini Pins, one mail (fixed) and one femail (fixed)

Whoo. Mail pinchers.

Weekend Redux

My wife's parents came to town Saturday and took us to see the Moscow Ballet's performance of The Nutcracker. Now, I'm not a big fan of ballet. I suppose it's sort of wasted on me. I can appreciate the fact that it was very well done, and that the dancers were very talented, but I can't say that I really enjoyed it. I sat there for over two hours thinking things like:

-"*prance* *prance* *prance*"
-"I haven't watched Top Secret in a long time."
-"Whoa, that was pretty cool!"
-"Hey, that old lady has nachos. They sell nachos at the ballet?"
-"*flounce*"
-"I want some nachos."
-"Wow, I bet she could really..."
-"Heh. Sugarplum fairies."

But the kids enjoyed it, and the music was cool, so it wasn't a complete waste.

This was the second visit from the in-laws in just a couple of weeks, and I nearly reached the breaking point with her mother yesterday. She can be very critical, and it does get old. We sat through digs at my wife's cooking (my wife is an excellent cook, her mother absolutely does not cook at all), the snow tires I have stacked next to our back patio (I'm saving them to give back to my dad and don't have room in the garage), our house (not big enough, the basement windows are too small, etc., etc.), and our van (hard to get in and out of the back seat). I can put up quite a bit of these, because frankly I don't care much about her many opinions. But when she started in on the kids, I almost lost it.

One of my mother-in-law's more baffling (and infuriating) beliefs is that we can somehow "train" our youngest daughter to not be left-handed. When we were at a restaurant yesterday, the waitress set a bowl of applesauce to A's right side, and she used her right hand to hold the spoon and start eating. Because she usually makes a HUGE mess if she uses her right hand to eat, I asked her to switch hands and eat with her left. The MIL took issue with the fact that I wasn't letting her "choose" which hand to use, and that if we'd give her the opportunity to, she could learn to use her right hand just fine. I bit my tongue and let her spout off, but one of these days...

Outsider

I find that with each passing year, I seem to get farther and farther away from what seems to be the U.S. societal norm.

We don't have cable or satellite television at our house. Other than football games, we very rarely watch broadcast television. We watch a lot of movies, but tend to stick to older sci-fi and horror flicks. My coworkers often converse about TV shows, and I give a lot of blank looks when they ask me about them.

This year, I've read an awful lot of the usual griping about Christmas letters. My wife compiles one each year and sends them to 10 or 15 of our friends and relatives. We genuinely enjoy receiving them from others, too. Yesterday, we got one letter from a family friend of my wife's, who got married about six months ago. She enclosed a photo of her new family. We also got one from a lady who went to high school with me who is expecting her first child in April. I don't hear from these people often, so I really like to get these updates. Where's the harm in that?

Last week, I saw an ad in the paper for someone hosting a Botox party. Kee-ripes, people. That's beyond the pale as far as I'm concerned.

And then, this morning, I read Mist1's guest post for MaidenNewYork. I. Am. Speechless.

Both Joyful AND Triumphant

Okay, I'll readily admit that I can be extremely juvenile and petty. Just keep that in mind.

I occasionally satisfy my inner 14 year old by flipping the bird to any missionary walking down the street who waves at me when I drive by. It just annoys me when they wave like that. I know damned good and well it's a requirement for them, so it's inherently insincere. Last week, I indulged myself in a rude gesture at a pair walking up the street a couple of blocks from my house.

My wife stated from the passenger seat: "You're certainly full of the Christmas spirit."

Yes. Yes I am. I am SO full of it.

Oh, It Blows Alright

It's almost alive. It whistles and howls, clatters, smashes, thuds, shrieks and slaps. It is always there. You step out of the house and it's the first thing you sense. You can't sleep at night because it's crashing into the house. No matter how tightly you batten down the hatches, it sneaks into the house and you can feel its chill seeping through the windows, doors, even electrical outlets.

Garbage cans roll around the streets, sometimes traveling blocks at a time nearly as fast as the cars. A few trees have remnants of plastic grocery bags hanging high in the branches, whipping like ribbons.

Everyone you see leans against it.

You must be careful when you open your car doors. Aim the front of the car into it. NEVER open more than one door at a time.

When it does snow, it will drift quickly, leaving bare patches of dirt. The bare dirt will be picked up and thrown on top of the snowdrifts, leaving them crusty and brown.

It will be here until April or May.

My Brain is on Vacation or Something

It's not as though I haven't had ideas for blogging, you know. I've had plenty of ideas. I've started posting on why I choose to run for exercise/recreation (recxercise?), the time I got to meet James McMurtry, the funny game C and Lucinda the pug have been playing, the impending holiday season and my wife's inevitable freakout due to it, how I seem to have stopped doing all of my former hobbies, how my boss seems to have forgotten that I exist, the anticipation of possibly receiving cheese as a Christmas gift, weekend plans... Heck, I'd even thought about a post regarding how seemingly harmless childhood or adolescent remarks have caused us all trauma (in reference to a post Alithinks had a bit ago).

But I can't seem to formulate a coherent post. I mean, not even up to MY usual standards, which is sad.

So I'll just sit here and drool on my keyboard for a while, I guess.


Have a good weekend!

nollij is powr

Actual conversation:

- "Cute shar-pei. What's his name?"
- "His name is Wrinkles, but we call him Wrinkie-Joe for short."

I Swear, Some Days...

Today started like any other. I went downstairs to our little exercise area and set out to lift weights. I was about halfway through my workout, about to finish doing some lat presses, when the bar came crashing into the back of my head. After standing up, swearing, touching the growing bump on my noggin and swearing again, I looked at the machine to see what had happened. The bolt that secures the weight plates to the cable system had somehow worked its way loose. I swore at it, then tried to fix it, but the cable had wound around one of the pulleys in such a way that couldn't free it without a wrench. So I swore at it. Then I decided to skip the weights and do some situps. Every time my head touched the floor, it hit right on the spot where the bar had whacked me. Every time this happened, I swore.

I finished those and went back upstairs to make some coffee. I switched on the light in the range hood like I do every day, and the bulb popped and burned out. I swore at it, then went to find a light bulb. We were out. I swore at their absence.

I managed to get through making coffee, showering, and eating breakfast without incident.

I spilled coffee in my lap on the way to work. As you might imagine, I swore.

I'd ask for a do-over, but I'm not sure I want that either.

Stick This in Your Ear

Oh sure, I know my free music recommendations have gone over like a lead balloon here, but I'm not going to let that stop me.

Rexway invites you to download every song they ever recorded. For free.

So there.