I was struck down on the train home on Friday night with a nasty flu like bug. I still feel poorly but nothing like as badly as I did on Saturday and Friday night where I alternated between fever wracked dreams and spasms that turned my whole body into one large muscle cramp. It was not fun.

I did manage to install myself on the coach and watch most of the Yankees-Red Sox game on Saturday. I sat there, zoning in and out, with chills and hot flash spells, with a brain rendered completely defenseless to the blandishments of those seeking to improve my life through the judicious exercise of consumer power, and I observed. And I came to some tentative conclusions about either (1) who watches afternoon big league baseball on a Saturday; (2) who the advertisers think is watching big league ball; (3) what is of the most serious moment to those viewers; or, (4) what the advertisers would like the viewers to feel is of the most serious moment.

First, these are men (I think) who drive trucks. Not your silly imports, but American made trucks. They take these trucks into the wilderness or they use them in furtherance of important agricultural or major construction jobs. Or, perhaps, that is what they'd like to be associated with. No matter. Trucks are important.

They watch NASCAR or are simply being urged to do so. Lots of commercials for NASCAR. I cannot square it with the truck thing, but that may be because I am more of the effete Eastern elite than anything else.

They drink beer, but primarily light beer. This means they are either concerned about their weight or are getting older. I think maybe it could be both.

They also may like golf. More on that later.

They probably own their own houses. Another clue that they are older. Why? Because there are grave concerns about lawn care, if you believe the advertisers, that is. Concern about grass and weeds.

They are also being pitched things like power tools (another clue to home ownership) and auto parts (another gender clue, I feel).

They have penis problems. Either in achieving and maintaining acceptable erections and thus feeling fulfilled in life or problems in passing water through said instrument. Another good clue as to the perceived age of the viewer. There are prostate problems and ED problems and plenty of drugs out there that will allow you intimate post coital moments with happy, satisfied mates and also allow you to get out there for long kayak trips, far from the urinal, with your best adventure seeking baby boomer pals. These people also play golf since there each potential drug consumer is also directed to see the advertisements in Golf Digest. I think that I will not play golf as it is not clear to me whether the penile dysfunctions existed in men prior to playing golf or were brought about by prolonged exposure to gold clubs, ugly clothes, and mass quantities of pesticides used in maintaining those emerald greens. Either way, I value my own penis too much to take the risk that appears to be endemic to playing golf.

So, watching the game is not for me or people like me, I gather. It is a wonder that I enjoyed it all.

Now, we interrupt this blogging break to return to bed. I feel another nap coming on.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:04 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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It really is the first step. Of course, what they fail to mention is that your first step of admitting you have a problem may well be the last, final and terminal step, too. After all, you can admit you have a problem, acknowledge the scope of the problem, and decide, screw it, I am going to find a way to co-exist in peace, or some semblance thereof, with your problem.

For me, the problem is that I am a squash glutton. If given the chance, I will gorge myself on the game. I will play until the sweat is dripping off the racquet grip and I have to wipe my hand on the wall. I will play until no wants to play anymore or until I run out of time. This probably does not come across as a problem, does it?

But, you see, I am turning 40 this year, not 30.

The normal amount of time for a squash match is around 30 minutes. Today, I played 90.

My elbow hurts, my knee hurts, my back is tight, my hip is iffy, my shoulder is questionable, and my feet are not speaking to me anymore. I have conclusively established that playing for 90 minutes straight is too much.

And yet, I was seriously thinking about playing with this nice fellow of Indian descent (warning: generalization here -- Indians and Pakistanis are often very good squash players) this evening when he asked me if I knew how he could get a game up tonight. That would have been folly.

Playing for 90 minutes is a problem. Considering playing for more is more of a problem.

I admit (and my joints are forcing me to admit) that I have a problem.

That said, I think I will decline to do anything about it. Because, viewed from a different angle, the problem is that I am less happy off of the squash court than on it. So, perhaps, the impediment to true happiness is work and the time demanded by work. Maybe I should be thinking about ways to spend more time on the court and not less time.

Gee, sounds like I solved my initial problem, didn't I? I admitted I had a problem and then I found a solution to it.

Of course, I suppose the next entry should probably deal with how denial is not a river in Egypt.

Anyone free for a game?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:49 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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As the internet has grown, as sources and pages and material has continued to proliferate, the quality level of the output as dropped (and I don't spare myself with this evaluation, either) and websites that can qualify as being time sucks of the day have become fewer and fewer. In fact, I cannot recall the last time I found a really compelling choice. But now, I give you the word derivation index created by the nice people at Random House and I encourage you to go forth and waste some wonderful time there:

The Maven's Word of the Day Index

My favorites so far: Shiftless and Slob.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 07:57 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I am tickled by the thought that if you search the internet from Norway, using a Norwegian search engine, for "Sarah Jackman Lyrics" (link is to the Norwegian search), I come up as the number two result.

All hail Allan Sherman! Even in Norway!

Must have been an American. Seriously, can you imagine a Norwegian searching for this?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:18 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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The Boy Child, aged 4, discovered today that not all plans, no matter how splendidly conceived, reach glorious fruition. The children were brought into the City today, under the Viking Bride's watchful eye, to visit the Norwegian consulate today in order to renew their Norwegian passports. They have to visit in person for these kinds of things, which is actually quite annoying. The group stopped by my office afterwards and the kids told me about their train ride in.

The Girl Child said that they shared the window seat. Their plan, she explained, was to switch seats at every stop so that they each got turns at the window. I was holding their hands and walking them back to Grand Central when she told me this and so I turned to the Boy Child on my other side and asked him whether this was his plan, too.

"No", he told me, "that wasn't my plan". "My plan was that whoever got there first got the window".

Not a bad plan but it did not survive contact with his sister.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:15 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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The after effects of taking the racket off of the left cheekbone have been minimal. I love ice. Just a small knot that was a bit sensitive to the touch. No visible bruising. Just a bit tender to the touch, still. Honestly, I cannot emphasize enough the importance of applying ice to an injury.

The vodka at lunch didn't hurt any either, I'll tell you.

Thank you for your kind remarks and good wishes!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:30 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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*Squash* is not the sound that a racket makes when the edge of it, on a backswing, smacks into your cheekbone just below the eye socket. It makes more a sound between a crack and a dull thud. I know this from personal experience. I gained this personal experience, followed by application of ice to said cheekbone for 40 minutes, this morning while playing someone with a big tennis backswing. I tried a rail shot (scooting the ball down the wall) when I should have gone cross court because when you play a tennis player, the best thing to do is to hit the ball so he has to move away from you in order to make his swing. This was sage advice given to me by an old and wily squash player. I had followed it to great effect and safety up to the point that it seemed a rail shot was called for and then *WHACK* I get slammed in the face with the edge of his backswing.

I am going out for lunch and I am going to apply, internally, a great big extra spicy Bloody Mary. Or maybe even two. I am certain that after ice, vodka, applied internally, is the best thing for me.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:40 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 Owwwwie. I'm cringing now just thinking of it. You're going to have a heck of a shiner. Hope the vodka worked. You can have one for me while you're at it. That ought to really help with the pain.

Posted by: Kathy at April 13, 2007 11:21 PM (bvIgY)

2 And now.. have you any after-effect of your "Squash"?

Posted by: Artiom at April 17, 2007 09:25 AM (OmPxo)

3 Were you playing doubles? I've seen so many people get whacked playing with four. That's why I was always too scared to do it. Not that I've been playing recently. We left the club that had the courts a couple of years ago and believe it or not, NOBODY else anywhere near our little city has courts except them! And they are a little too far away from where we live now for us to go there anymore. Today we are touring a club not far from us, with a much larger pool and pool service, something the old gym didn't have. Dan says unless we see something we don't like, we are joining there. But they only have tennis courts, not racquetball courts. And I love love LOVE racquetball (squash to you). Sorry you got hurt. Hope it's all healed now. But damn it, I'm envious too! Racquetball is the most fun I've ever had playing a sport. And I'm good at it, too.

Posted by: Amber at April 17, 2007 10:14 AM (zQE5D)

4 LOL.......Friday the 13th!!!!!! Oh man.....hope you are doing alright.Bloody Mary will do the trick tho!Or as we say in the South "Git'r Done!".

Posted by: LW of Snoozebutton Dreams Jim at April 24, 2007 09:50 PM (oqu5j)

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It was one year ago yesterday that I was in a hospital room. The Viking Bride was confined to bed with all sorts of pregnancy related complications and had been for well over a week at that point. But on April 5 (04/05/06) she managed to give birth successfully to the little boy I am calling for the purposes of this blog, Le Fils Cadet (the second son, as it were). Yesterday, the little guy turned one. It has been quite a year.

I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:44 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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1 Many, many, many happy retuns of the day!!

Posted by: Christina at April 06, 2007 03:53 PM (gFrA0)

2 Wow, a year already? Unbelievable. Happy Birthday li'l Cadet!

Posted by: Tuning Spork at April 07, 2007 10:53 PM (UlHJb)

3 It's been a whole *year*? Unbelievable! Happy Birthday Cadet!

Posted by: Amber at April 08, 2007 10:40 AM (zQE5D)

4 Already? No way. Wasn't it just a couple of months ago that the VB was in the hospital? Happy birthday to the LFC!

Posted by: Jocelyn at April 10, 2007 09:45 PM (yhl0g)

5 Oh I am late as always...........HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Posted by: LW of Snoozebutton Dreams Jim at April 11, 2007 12:24 PM (oqu5j)

6 Happy Birthday Lil' Guy! Love, Auntie Margi P.S. Time do fly, don't it?

Posted by: Margi at April 12, 2007 11:34 PM (QzQAa)

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A part of any Seder is the search for the afikomen, a broken piece of matzah wrapped in a cloth. There is an interesting piece about the afikomen here, although I do not know how accurate it is. Anyway, during the Seder, I got up to hide the afikomen and, during dessert, the Girl Child and the Boy Child got up in search of it so they could redeem it for a reward. They returned with nothing; they couldn't find it. They asked for a hint. I said, did you try the dining room? The Girl Child looked at me, thought for a moment, turned to her brother and said: "Boy Child, you go check the sun room!"

Guess who found the afikomen?

I declined to allow my dad to give her more money than her brother received. I sort of felt like she wasn't playing fair. Although I was secretly pretty amused by her sleight of hand.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:01 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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1 RP, there's a comical ad on TV where three office employees are seriously puzzled over how to ship a package to an international destination. After humming, and hahhing, they conclude that the only way to find a solution is to "break into groups". I laughed when I read your post. Wondered if girl child saw the commercial and likewise thought the solution to finding the afikomen might be to 'break into groups'.

Posted by: Roberta S at April 06, 2007 10:42 AM (M9Nfn)

2 Wow...reading this brought back so many memories. I'd watch my Uncle Izzy like a hawk, but I never caught him in the act of hiding. It'd just be gone and he'd say, "Find it.

Posted by: Howard at April 06, 2007 01:39 PM (u2JaN)

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Today begins the celebration of Passover. There are a lot of different themes and images and stories bound up in the celebration of this holiday. One is a theme of remembrance as you commemorate the time spent as slaves in the land of Egypt. Remembrance, for a Jew, for anyone really, is critical. If you do not remember the key events in your shared/collective past, than your current shared identity morphs in ways that cannot be controlled, as it should be, by a reference to the anchor of history. History is critical.

This is why, on the eve of Passover, this story out of England is so troubling:

Teachers are dropping controversial subjects such as the Holocaust and the Crusades from history lessons because they do not want to offend children from certain races or religions, a report claims.

A lack of factual knowledge among some teachers, particularly in primary schools, is also leading to “shallow” lessons on emotive and difficult subjects, according to the study by the Historical Association.

The report, produced with funding from the Department for Education, said that where teachers and staff avoided emotive and controversial history, their motives were generally well intentioned.

“Staff may wish to avoid causing offence or appearing insensitive to individuals or groups in their classes. In particular settings, teachers of history are unwilling to challenge highly contentious or charged versions of history in which pupils are steeped at home, in their community or in a place of worship,” it concluded.[an error occurred while processing this directive]

However, it was concerned that this could lead to divisions within school, and that it might also put pupils off history.

Link to story.

I gather it is offensive to Muslim children to learn about the Holocaust. It is easier, I suppose, to close your eyes to a truth than it is to be forced to confront it.

This Passover, I choose to remember. I choose to remember that Jews were once slaves in the land of Egypt. I choose, moreover, to remember that on the first night of Passover in 2002, a Palestinian homicide bomber walked into a Seder and killed 30 people, many of them survivors of the same Holocaust that has now become too sensitive a subject to teach to the children of that bomber's co-religionists.

I remember.

Tonight, I will tell the story of Passover again to my children so that they too will remember and they too will be part of an unbroken chain of recollection stretching back 5000 years.

I will also spare a thought, a grateful and hopeful thought, that those men and women who stand ready to protect us and all the other Passover Seders taking place tonight are bored out of their minds.

Peace, my friends.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:38 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 Wasn't that always a huge part of history lessons? To tell children of the bad things that happened so they remember and don't let it happen again? History will teach us nothing unless we listen and remember the lessons learned from the past. Cultures sheltered from other cultures history leads to ignorance of the world and hostility to things they don't understand. I remember the lessons of the holocaust from school, I remember the pictures, I am not Jewish but I am human and I will never forget.

Posted by: Oorgo at April 02, 2007 11:29 AM (ZUQGo)

2 They too will remember and they too will be part of an unbroken chain of recollection stretching back 5000 years. Well said, RP, and an important and noble cause. Best wishes to you and your family on this holiday.

Posted by: MCNS at April 02, 2007 12:54 PM (+h70W)

3 It's just...so scary. Dan is continually sending me links to this kind of thing. Happening all over the world, but especially mind-boggling is it's happening in countries like ours. "George Orwell was an optimist". Indeed. Happy Passover, RP.

Posted by: Amber at April 03, 2007 10:44 AM (zQE5D)

4 We remember too. Happy Passover.

Posted by: Mrs. Peperium at April 03, 2007 06:35 PM (SBevd)

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I was having this chat with my dad the other day. He and I agreed that having children changes a person. Not a very controversial position, frankly, but it was nice to kick around a not too difficult topic for a change.

This morning, walking to work after my morning squash match (lost, but it was close and who cares since it was so much fun anyway) and weight lifting, I cut across another guy's path to cross the street. I tend to walk very quickly and I easily passed in front of him without him even having to break step. Just the same, he spit out: "F*!k you". Maybe that's just normal behavior in his neighborhood, beats me. So, the post-three children guy that I have become responded, without thinking about it, not that way I would have 6 years ago "("Oh yeah? Suck my ****, you asshole!), but:

HEY!! That wasn't very nice!!!

Any street cred that I ever might have plausibly laid any potential claim to is now officially dead, kaput, gone, history, finished.

I am now officially rated G, even when angry.

That G rating does not apply when I am behind the wheel, however. Just saying.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:21 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Getting retained on a $100 million piece of business creates, without question, an observable halo effect -- it makes you, the guy who got retained, look beautiful to other potential clients. No question about it.

I told one father at a birthday party I took the Boy Child to on Sunday that I got retained on Friday on a $100 million dollar deal gone bad and the next thing I knew, I was being quizzed about my experience defending sexual harassment cases in the financial products industry (the answer was not only yes but I was able to talk intelligently about a Court of Appeals -- NY's highest Court -- decision that came down on Friday right on topic). We're having lunch soon.

I told another guy about this retention in the gym this morning and I was asked about my experience doing employment law. I have a lot. I am about to get retained to handle a problem for him at his shop and he wants to pass my information along to a buddy of his.

There appears to be a lot of reflected light an attorney can bask in as shed by $100 million. A lot of light indeed. I just didn't realize it. Now, honestly, that I am alert to it, I will be trying to work it into conversation wherever I can do it without looking like I'm pushing. Well worth giving up my Saturday, now that I think about it.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:30 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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1 It seems your few hours on Saturday have been a profitable investment indeed. BTW, finessing that $100M case into a conversation is an art you have obviously mastered.

Posted by: Michele at April 02, 2007 11:40 PM (xerWZ)

2 OK, so now maybe the mail position doesn't look so good.

Posted by: Monica C. at April 05, 2007 05:42 PM (PaLQU)

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Well, it is Saturday morning and here I am at my desk. Taking a quick second between emails with a client. He retained us (me) yesterday after receiving a notice from his lender that things were not going well with his $100 million loan. He (my client) also signed, I am so sorry to say, a personal guaranty on that $100 million loan. The collateral securing the loan may be, shall we say, impaired in terms of value. I don't want to say that the loan is upside down. Yet. But I spent the entire day yesterday plowing through several 100 plus page loan agreements. There is nothing more byzantine, and deliberately so, than a commercial loan agreement. Also, probably, nothing as restrictive and cumbersome and burdensome and odious. Scary stuff, really.

I printed out all of the documents (as far as I know) associated with the loan transaction. They have covered the surface of a conference table that can seat about 18 people.

I am alone in the office today trying to determine, under some pressure, what wiggle room my client has, if any.

Yup, days like this, when I have a client with a huge problem, a conference room table full of 100 plus page documents, a headache, and I cannot find an out for him, are days I dislike my job. I would be happier if I could find just a little out. A teeny little mistake made by the drafter of the loan documents. It don't look good. For him or for me today.

Hasta.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:26 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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I guess I have always had some kind of faith in the medical advice doctors have dispensed to me over the years. I have assumed that the advice I have been given has been truthful, that it is the distillation of years of rigorous study, of carefully monitored tests, of repeatedly observed phenomena, that it has all the indicia of truth gleaned from years of practice. I have thought that medicine is truth and that it is derived from good science.

I forgot that medicine, while it may be applied truth, is applied by human beings. Medical professionals bring to the scientific process of dispensing medical advice all of their own biases and preconceptions, all of their own political and social world views, all of their own narrow prisms. These people are just as imprisoned by their tunnel vision as the rest of us.

Scary, isn't it?

What do I mean, you may be wondering at this point?

I have just finished a very short, very compelling, terribly frightening book: Unprotected: A Campus Psychiatrist Reveals How Political Correctness in Her Profession Endangers Every Student .

Go forth, buy it, read it, and give it to your daughters. I am completely serious.

But back to my topic. The book brought me to this realization because it makes terribly clear how ideology guides and informs mental health treatment and risk education for college age, and younger, women.

The bias is this: women are just the same as men. The translation of the bias into action is social activism and is praised by mental health counselors who are hoping to help break gender constructs in an effort to achieve a more just and equitable society. How? By telling girls that having any kind of sexual relationship they want, no matter how casual, is just fine. It is risk free and without consequence, so long as "safer sex" is practiced.

The author of the book makes clear that is ideologically driven and contradicted by medical fact. How? First, venereal disease is not so easily cured by a one day treatment of some wonder drug, as the ideologues would have you believe. There can be grave physical consequences to a woman's ability to conceive later in life. Second, there are serious mental health consequences which appear to be neurologically driven. Oxytocin is a chemical released during breast feeding to promote the bonding between woman and child. It also is released during sex. It means, to boil it down very much, a woman is more likely to bond with a man during sex and thus, when the man blows her off because they were just hooking up for a no strings attached thing, she is more prone to become depressed. These consequences are not shared with women because they might blow away the political agenda -- female equality. Women, as a result of the agenda applied, are not being told that maybe it would be better to wait until they have fallen in love to have sex and then to have sex within a monogamous relationship. It conflicts with the agenda.

Read the book. I could go on. Instead, I am putting it on the shelf until my daughter just about hits puberty, and then I am going to make her read it and discuss it with her. Just so that she can make informed decisions about her own life in the context of knowing that all the facts and further knowing that the advice she may be getting about a healthy lifestyle is coming from a place more concerned about the end result of a political agenda than about keeping her safe.

By the way, the author originally wrote this as "anonymous" out of the fear she had for the consequences for her own career. She has since come out: Miriam Grossman, M.D., psychiatrist in the UCLA health services.

Here's an interesting piece about her and the book.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:49 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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1 Very interesting, RP, thank you so much for posting about this. I'm not surprised, though. Sad, but not surprised. This explains why so many young women come out of college so confused and conflicted about their romantic feelings. Like they are embarrassed by them, like they are not supposed to have them, like it's anti-feminism. They think something is wrong with *them* when they want to be "in love". Like they've failed in some way. It makes me so sad. And yes, I'm not surprised they are not making it clearer about the medical risks, which are greater for us than for men. It's harder to get rid of VD and the consequences for us are far more serious, too. This used to be taught to women in college as a matter of course 50, 40 years ago; to be MORE careful than men are, not to try and copy men, not be more promiscuous, but that's been swept away in this new rush for absolute "equality". I am an ardent feminist, despite my own sexual preferences; Dan and I both are. I think women have just as much potential as men have and women should have equal freedom to men. But teaching women they should be promiscuous "just like men are" is an insult to women AND men. We are still different, biologically, physically and we still need to stop and recognize that fact and act accordingly. Besides, men shouldn't be running around fucking everything they get their hands on like rabbits either. Just because some men might do so doesn't mean we women should *copy* that behavior. I know SO MANY WOMEN who are completely militant feminists, just ANGRY feminists in college, no room at all for anything other than what they've been taught. Then they reach their late 20's/early 30's and they start to re-think the type of feminism they were taught in college. They get knocked around in life emotionally, things didn't work out quite the way they were told it was going to be when they were in college, and maybe they've had to raise a baby alone and slowly they start to realize they've been *had*. It's become almost a cliche for a LOT of women I've talked to. I'm glad to see them finally wake up but damn! It's hard watching them suffer before then. Thank you again for the thoughtful piece! Hope everything is marvelous with you and your family! {{hugs to all of you}}}

Posted by: Amber at March 30, 2007 07:53 PM (zQE5D)

2 Sometimes I hate that you literally have to take everything with a grain of salt. Even from people you should be able to trust. I think the Girl Child is going to be one very smart, snappy, down to earth, brave young woman. I also thing she'll grasp these concepts well, which I'm afraid not every woman can.

Posted by: Hannah at April 23, 2007 08:48 AM (5w+E2)

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The Girl Child had a math day at school yesterday where the students took the parents through various math stations and showed them how they were learning addition, comparison (greater than, less than, and equal), geometry (how to manipulate shapes), patterns (which she told me is a design that is repeated), and a little bit about probability. It was great fun, although it was scheduled at 12:00 to 1:00. GC really enjoyed being my teacher as she explained each activity to me. The Viking Bride had an obligation at the Boy Child's school so I got to go to the GC's program.

After school, I took her away with me for lunch, just the two of us. Well, I had lunch and I let her just have dessert since she had eaten lunch earlier at school. Over lunch, we had a wide ranging conversation and I told her that I was having difficulties with her definition of pattern since I thought that the word design implied a conscious decision to create something and that seemed to me that it would leave out the patterns created in nature. She thought for a second and told me that wasn't right. First, she said, the patters in nature were created by God. She pulled a leaf off of her sprig of mint and held it up to show me the tracing of lines that constituted a pattern. She reminded me that the world and everything in it was created by God and therefore it was all a conscious design. Or, didn't I believe that God created the world? I decided simply to assure her that I did and enjoy her reasoning, complete with visual aid.

It was a gorgeous day in Westport. It was 75 degrees (or 24 celsius) and blue skies everywhere. I came back with the GC and collected the BC, changed into shorts, and took them both to the beach playground to run around for an hour or so. The ice cream guy was out and, after playing, I bought them each a popsicle and we sat by the edge of the ocean while they ate their ice cream and we all chatted. It was idyllic.

Hope you are all as great as we were yesterday!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:23 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I have several high placed Google Search Results:

*No. 3 for the Battle of White Plains

*No. 2 for Taking Things for Granted

*No. 2 for stupid celebrity comments

*No. 1 (!!!) for Oggi, Oggi, Oggi, Oggi

*No. 2 on the mighty Ghurkas

*And No. 1, in Argentina, for "matrimonial part" definition

All in all, I have absolutely no idea what to make of all of this.

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1 LOL, fun, isn't it?

Posted by: Hannah at March 27, 2007 08:08 AM (5w+E2)

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Ok, not quite. Still, the Viking Bride was lurking outside the Boy Child's classroom yesterday (or the day before) so she could observe him at play without his knowing it. Her lurking skills require work. The Boy Child spotted her and exclaimed to his little friends:

Yikes! Its my mom!

We have no idea why he said that but I have been amused all day by it.

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Welcome to theKensington post office, Brooklyn. Please take a number and I will be yelling at your sorry ass, shortly. Video shot with a cell phone:

Like watching a slow motion train wreck. Although, I gather that this post office is well known for horrible service.

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I think I may have unplugged a year from my machine. All of a sudden, I find myself rounding up my age. I am telling people that I am 40 when I know darn well that I won't turn 40 until November. I have been doing it since I started playing squash with 26 year olds, I think. But I suspect I have always had a tendency to round up. Just, I never saw myself rounding up my own life.

What am I missing by sliding past 39? What am I going to do when I do actually get to 40? Have I somehow contrived to deny an entire year of my life? I wonder, can you do that? Can you decide that the year doesn't count and thus, by fiat, make it go *poof* and disappear? Truthfully, so far, 39 has been filled with exceptional stresses -- my mother's cancer, the firing of a nanny, the Viking Bride re-inventing herself as a stay at home mother, becoming a partner at my firm, dealing with a huge fall out at an organization I am a member of (I never really wrote about this and am probably not likely to, let's just say it approached the highest levels of suckitude) -- but does that mean I should deny it exists? I suppose I really shouldn't, should I?

Besides, what could the hurry possibly be to get to 40? Sure, I am going to throw a big party (jointly with the Viking Bride) but, truth be told, I don't really like to throw parties that much.

Maybe it is because I feel my body creaking and aching more after the morning workout. Maybe that's why I am rounding up -- because my body feels like it is at least 40 years old, if not a few years more.

Either way, I have to stop this.

I am, after all, only 39 years old and there is a long way to go until I get to 40. I hope.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:41 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I have finally decided on a name for the baby for the blog. I have a Girl Child (who last night, when I essayed one of my witty remarks on her, pranced by me and announced, "I am going to pretend I didn't hear that") and a Boy Child and, as you may know, another baby boy, aged almost one year -- 04/05/06 is his birthdate. And what to call him? I have not worried overly much about this as he has yet to really speak. But now he has begun to call me da-da and to wave good night. Clearly, the time has come to bestow a non-de-blog on him.

As I have two sons, I am leaning towards the French system. The Boy Child, le fils aîné, is the older son. He shall remain the Boy Child. The baby, being the younger son, shall simply be called le fils cadet, meaning, the younger son. Fils cadet or FC, as the spirit moves me.

Anyone got anything better? I'm open to all suggestions.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:36 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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