It can not matter how you start your day, how you conducted yourself or your affairs during the course of the day, how overwhelmed you may have felt as the day ran on, if, and this is a big if, if you finish strong. For some, that may mean pushing through the pain at the end of a run. That would not be me, that person.

No, yesterday was a day of quiet. Not solitude, not happy quiet, not peaceful reflection. It was a day of feeling the desperate quiet, the stillness that comes from paralysis, not meditation. The frozen feeling of not wanting to take another step because you don't know what's going to reach out, grab your ankle, and send you sprawling all over the mess you are trying to avoid. One of those days. We all have them. I had it almost all day. I left the office to go home a beaten and downtrodden man. I went to bed a happy and rejuvenated guy. How come? Strong finish.

First, I reconnected with someone on the train ride home who is coming in to my office tonight after work to make a presentation to me and another one or two lawyers about a new case. I love, just flat out love, new cases. They are all shiny and fresh and smell like opportunity. I can't yet see all the hard work involved or if I do, I discount it a little in my excitement. She's decided to come in and talk to us because I am the only lawyer who has understood what she was talking about and she has tried to describe this to six or seven others. She's a lawyer too, for that matter. So, that put a spring in my step on the way home.

Then, home to a quick happy summer dinner. The temperature was in the 90's yesterday (and will be even hotter today). It was a day for a cold dinner. I had made, the day before, a salad of white beans, Italian tuna packed in olive oil, fresh pepper, and chopped roasted red peppers. A very simple thing. And then I applied some wine therapy -- the Vino Verde. Instant mood elevation. Vino Verde is from Portugal. It is a young wine, described as a"crisp fruity white, with lemon and green peach flavors". It is also slightly effervescent. A slight but happy fizz. It is a bit dry but very fruity. Not sweet. It is, at around $6 a bottle, the greatest thing to happen to summer wine since beer was sold at baseball parks. It is that good. It is particularly good with things piscine. Or with nothing at all. It is a young wine and meant to be drunk young. Go buy some. You will come back and thank me for it, I guarantee (channeling a little Justin Wilson there, remember him?).

Then, I tumbled on the floor with my children. The kids were like a litter of puppies. It was of no moment that I took a knee to the chin or my son's thumb somehow ended up in my nose. Didn't hurt a bit. They growled and climbed all over me and it was lovely, sublime even. Then stories were read, cuddles and kisses were given, and they were deposited in their beds a good 40 minutes later than usual.

To cap it off, what do I find on the idiot box? Grosse Pointe Blank. I really like this movie. First, I like John Cusack and like just about every movie of his I've ever seen. Second, it's the 1986 high school reunion! That was my graduation year. Third, the music. Finally, what can I say? I like a nice satire now and again. Besides, it has some other great actors in it. I couldn't stay up to watch the whole thing, but what I saw of it made me happy.

Yes indeed, it isn't where you start, it's where you finish.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:10 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
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She was terribly piteous in her pain. She moaned and she cried out loud and loudly, without the apparent ability to contain her cries. She was very old as was her husband. She, in a wheel chair, he, mobile and in what looked to be good health. They sat together, bound by what -- duty? love? habit? vows? no other choice? -- and alone, separated by her illness and his health, an unbridgeable vastness. Divided by physical condition. It is an immutable law of nature, I think, that while joy can be shared, pain cannot and it cleaves those formerly joined by love and shared experience. They ate from trays provided by the nursing facility at a round table in a sort of sitting room next to the door to her room. After the meal, he will leave and she will return, alone, to her room. I don't know their names. He called her Bee. He was very patient, almost infinitely patient, caring and tender. He explained to me, helplessly, that it's her back, that she needed an operation but, for some reason he did not explain, the doctors could not perform it. I was there because I had to retrieve the cup my daughter let in my grandfather's room. I was there to help this man, how could I not offer? I gently pulled her back upright in her chair. She had slipped down and he couldn't lift her and I am strong, certainly strong enough to lift a frail old woman and to do so gently so as not to hurt her more than that which I could not avoid. He was grateful and offered to me the back problem as an explanation, as an attempt, I think, to share his burden. Her feet slipped off the leg of the table and he knelt and placed them back on, without complaint, with all the patience in the world. I left them there, eating their dinner, joined by love and divided by pain -- is that melodramatic, that phrase? I hope not. It's how I saw them. Two gray heads together at the table. In truth, while I was saddened terribly, I was humbled by his love for her. I was saddened by the terrible indignity of aging, the thought that the golden years are not golden at all, but. . .

But what, really. I'm not sure. I left them there to go be with my little family. My golden haired smiling children. This reality is not yet mine. I can't share their experience but I could help just a little bit by lending my physical strength and my sympathetic smile to his explanation. Indeed, no one can share their experience. Pain cannot be shared. I watched my children play and thought, I'm glad that's not me in there. Not yet, at least.

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This barely qualifies as a post, just a collection of random thoughts this morning. Welcome to the pit that is my brain:

*Are thongs over? I have made a careful study of young, attractive, young, fit, and young women in tight summer pants and I am gravely concerned that I see panty lines all over the backside area. Have these women stopped wearing thongs? This is deeply disturbing. Can't somebody do something about this? For the love of God? Please?

*Where does the phrase "so long" come from? So long from what? To what? What's so long? How did this come to mean goodbye.

*Pecans must be the most expensive nut known to packers of mixed nuts. Why else do you only find around six of them in a can of mixed nuts? And why can't you buy them all by themselves, salted? In a way, this concerns me more than the thong question because I like to have mixed nuts in the drawer of my desk and really there isn't that much time during the day that I can devote to looking for thongs. I bet Howard, if he stops by today, will disagree and that's ok. It's a free . . .uh. . . something.

*It's nice to be a regular at your local whatever. It means that you find yourself paying for your breakfast and leaving the tiny joint before the two people in front of you have even been asked for their order yet. Yes, I am the breakfast king this morning. All must bow down before me. Ok, I'm getting a little carried away here, but still, perhaps a small kernel of truth?

*Do you think it's true that it takes at least a year to fully mourn a parent? An editorial I read this morning said that. It said you need a year to go by to fully experience at least one round of holidays without that parent and that each holiday tears it all open anew.

*I attended a reception last night that had, afterwards, a Lilly Pulitzer themed party. I was there at the reception for work, sort of. But the party, let me ask you, would you actually wear a tie that looked like one of these? I declined. It was either that or surrender the last vestige of any self respect I still possess. I had a nice time anyway, catching up with some old acquaintances.

*Picking up the new nanny today at the airport. The current nanny leaves us next Friday. The kids are going to be devastated. Still, they're young, they'll bounce back. But the stress is going to get seriously ratcheted up a notch now. Now, it feels as if the slope is significantly more inclined as we gather speed and move faster and faster towards having to have the house packed for the move. Stress always tastes so good. Well, to be thankful for the little things, at least with this move my wife isn't pregnant. Right, honey? Right?

*I heart the comments most of of you leave. The ones who leave the occasional nasty note, I do not heart. Them I pity. I can't always answer every comment, as much as I would like to, but I read them and I just adore getting them. So, my gracious thanks for the remarks y'all are moved to leave.

*[big sigh] I just figured out that seasons are not capitalized. I have been capitalizing them all along. I wonder where I picked that up from. I don't think French. My wife confirms not in Norwegian either.

*Speaking of summer (note correct capitalization), may I say that I need more fried summer foods. Specifically, fried belly clams. Them's fine eating. Seriously, there are certain things I feel one has to eat in the summer time, when the living is easy, catfish jumping *whap*. Down boy, down. Back to my thought, things one has to eat during the summer include, but are not limited to: fried clams; lobster (I actually like mine broiled over boiled or steamed); steamers; raw clams; watermelon; ripe local tomatoes mixed with raw onion and blue cheese (my four year old loves this, go figure); an ear of corn picked no more than an hour before; berries and cream; grilled burgers (Jim's look good, I'll take two, Jim!); and, surely, a peach so gloriously ripe that the juice runs down your chin and stains your shirt. Leave anything out?

*There. That just about concludes this brain dump instead of a post. Please feel free to either move about the cabin or go back to your regularly scheduled day.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:48 AM | Comments (24) | Add Comment
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1 There will most assuredly be Jimmy Burgers™ involved when we finally hook up. ;-)

Posted by: Jim at June 10, 2005 09:57 AM (tyQ8y)

2 Did someone say "thong"? And, I'll have you know, thongs are not dead, they are just resting. If you ever wear that tie, you shall be excommunicated from the Dumbass Thong Watchers Club. We may be dumb, but we ain't tacky. And finally, if you want some pecans, let me know...I live in the pecan capital of the world...I think. PS - The kids aren't the only ones who are going to miss the nanny. *sigh*.

Posted by: Howard at June 10, 2005 10:20 AM (vYCZY)

3 I would wear those ties, but I am a woman. I wonder if Lilly Pulitzer makes thongs? I'm with you on the summer food, just don't order clams in New England now as we're all shut down from red tide. But feel free to drip peach juice on your tie. So long... till I stop by again!

Posted by: Amy at June 10, 2005 11:00 AM (nUCsP)

4 I'm all for invisible panty lines, but I won't weep for the loss of thongs. Not that I wear them fashionable or not, since I think that underwear should be one area where comfort is encouraged. Comfort doesn't require granny panties, but as far as I'm concerned, it does exclude thongs. Plus, I will also be happy not to see thongs popping out over the tops of other mom's jeans at library story times and other places where thongs are really unnecessary. And as for those ties -- gah! My eyes are burning. I'm all for a nice conservative flowered summer tie with my husband's seersucker suit (we're in the South) but those are appalling. Of course, my husband generally thinks if it isn't a very conservative regimental stripe that a tie is too wild, so perhaps I'm just used to what I see. Nope. Those ties are just awful.

Posted by: Jordana at June 10, 2005 11:57 AM (xOTsn)

5 The ties are indeed, as a dear old (now sadly departed) Cajun lawyer friend once said: the height of the epitamy. I'm not sure, Jordana, and I know Howard's got my back on this, that I can think of a single place where a thong is unnecessary. It's an asthetic thing, really. As for comfort, well, what is art if it isn't suffered for? You with me on this, Howard? Jim -- fire up the grill, my good man! Amy -- the dresses looked really cute on the very cute young women (who, as I told my wife, all made me feel really old) who were in attendance at the party.

Posted by: RP at June 10, 2005 12:37 PM (LlPKh)

6 It was early this morning.. Mr ears perked up, my eyes brightened. Somewhwere, somebody mentioned "thongs".. I could feel it in my.. Well- You know.. I searched the web, following my super thong sense, and viola! I read your post and had to concur, stroking my chin in deep thought. Thongs may indeed be on the way out, but I am willing to found a Pennsylvania branch of the Thong Watcher's Society. I will track the data, form a statistical analysis and report my findings periodically. Much research is required, I fear- But I am equal to the task. Oh. There was a bunch of other stuff in that post wasn't there? I got sidetracked on "Thong". The "Thong Song" is now stuck in my head...

Posted by: Rob at June 10, 2005 12:48 PM (i3q83)

7 Ties- ugly. A year- really, it depends on the person and how expected or unexpected the death was. One can grieve for an expected loss. Thongs-eh. Vine ripe, home grown tomatos- mmm.

Posted by: owlish at June 10, 2005 01:20 PM (sBj9U)

8 Other summer foods: fresh tomatoes sliced on crusty fresh bread with a little bit of mayo. YUUUUM. And ice cream.

Posted by: GrammarQueen at June 10, 2005 01:28 PM (XzHwx)

9 A good tomato can go a long way, friends. As for thongs, Rob, you need to chat with Owlish and see if you can get him to agree at least in theory. I think you might be just the man to do it, too. Owlish, thanks for answering one of the really hard questions.

Posted by: RP at June 10, 2005 02:40 PM (LlPKh)

10 thongs went the way of the Dodo when everyone started putting out low cut pants. Let me tell you that when you buy that first pair of boot cut jeans that ride on your hips instead of your waist, you have to also purchase an entirely new set of low riding underwear to accompany the pants, otherwise it'll peep out on the backside. Not attractive. Thongs, by their very design, do not work with low cut pants, and if you do want to wear them with low cut pants, they do have low cut thongs, but really---the only reason to wear them is so that you don't have lines. You really and truly don't have lines with the low cut panties (at least I don't) because they go down that much further and they don't ride. Too much information, I'm sure, but that's my story and I'm sticking with it

Posted by: Kathy at June 10, 2005 02:54 PM (cgZvM)

11 I probably shouldn't say this, since it will tarnish the Upstanding Citizen and Respectable Female thing I've got going on *snort* but: I wear thongs. I have when my backside was a lot smaller and I continue to do so, now. This is something that one cannot, without being too graphic, explain but: The difference between granny panties and thongs is about a half yard of fabric that gets. . .erm. . .caught. Nothing more attractive than digging your undies out of your crack. I'd rather see thongs peeking out of the tops of jeans than THAT. Furthermore: I have always held the firm belief that hip-hugger pants are for the very young and the pencil thin and boyishly endowed (no real hips to speak of). . .of which I am none. So. Yeah. Anyway. Hey! If you wear one of those ties, nobody will see the peach juice!

Posted by: Margi at June 10, 2005 03:31 PM (nwEQH)

12 According to my mother, this "One Year" rule is about right. At least the overweening grief part seems to pass after a year and the "anniversaries" portion of things (i.e., the first Christmas without, the first birthday without, etc.) is done. Truly, though -- grief never really leaves you, it just mellows and after a while, you only think fondly of the good times. xoxo

Posted by: Margi at June 10, 2005 03:35 PM (nwEQH)

13 RP, thongs are very uncomfortable! (Although I have heard friends of mine say "once you go thong, you'll never go back." Definitely not true for me.) I think it does take a full year to mourn a parent, or a child or a spouse. In French we don't capitalize days of the week, forget about seasons. Good luck with the new nanny. I hope it goes as smoothly as possible!

Posted by: chandra at June 10, 2005 03:53 PM (fPPZH)

14 Long live the King!!!!! ( as I bow down, while wearing my thong)

Posted by: Wicked H at June 10, 2005 05:14 PM (BQhBn)

15 This barely qualifies as a post, just a collection of random thoughts this morning. It's not called Random Pensées for nothing. ;-) And the thongs are still prevalent, they just migrated south for the summer.

Posted by: Jim at June 10, 2005 09:41 PM (oqu5j)

16 About the thong thing. i am not sure where I read it, I think the BBC news website, but apparently thongs can cause infections in women. i think it has to do with the rubbing in the fault line. As for pecans, you gotta look around. Shelled or unshelled. I think Macadamien are the most expensive nuts though Capitalization: mom and dad aren't capitalized either. Unless it's used in place of a name. Did you know that squirrels can't carry rabies? My dog chased and got bit by one. I called the vet, they said not to worry.. squirrels aren't carriers. I love visiting your site man!

Posted by: dr pants at June 11, 2005 06:09 AM (BJK/H)

17 I with you, RP. There is not a single situation I can think of where a thong would not enhance said situation. Rob, RP and I hereby grant your charter for a Pennsylvania chapter of the Dumbass Thong Watcher's Society. Our recording secretary, Wicked H, will provide you with the necessary documents of charterization. Welcome, fellow Thongian. I think we need to make it a 'society' instead of 'club'. Sounds less tacky. :-)

Posted by: Howard at June 11, 2005 10:01 AM (MYoMi)

18 Rob, the appropriate documents are on the way to you. Welcome to the Society!

Posted by: Wicked H at June 11, 2005 07:46 PM (BQhBn)

19 Y'all need to make sure Rob gets his "I'm with Stupid" t-shirt and his Simpson's beer bottle opener, you know the one, it makes Homer's laugh sound every time you use it.

Posted by: RP at June 12, 2005 08:24 AM (X3Lfs)

20 'I will also be happy not to see thongs popping out over the tops of other mom's jeans at library story times" I gotta hang out at the library more often.

Posted by: Mark at June 12, 2005 11:16 AM (2YWNU)

21 * Thongs are definitely not dead. Being a long time thong wearer I know this because I can now purhcase them anywhere that sells women's underwear. Used to be only Victoria's Secret. * I love being a regular. Breakfast place, neighborhood bar, whatever. Not sure why. Just like it. * I thought the seasons were capitalized too. Sigh.

Posted by: C at June 13, 2005 05:40 AM (5jfVj)

22 Thongs - so so not over!

Posted by: Mia at June 13, 2005 09:39 AM (fGK2H)

23 Ok, I can do a survey of recent trends in underwear in Galveston. However, it seems to me a guy wearing a thong is making a much different statement than a gal wearing a thong. On the more serious question, the biggest grieving period is usually for a spouse, and I wouldn't think about intervening in normal grief of a spouse before 2 years had passed. Those lengths of time depend on one's culture and upbringing too.

Posted by: owlish at June 13, 2005 05:38 PM (sBj9U)

24 I still love my thongs but am also a coveter and closet lover of the satin boy pants. Nothing makes a girl feel saucier. But I am still in love with the phrasing of dr. pants: "i think it has to do with the rubbing in the fault line." Well phrased, my dear. Well phrased.

Posted by: Helen at June 13, 2005 05:43 PM (Smwda)

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Today, I would like to write about work, sort of as an outlet for the frustrations creeping up over the edge of desk and jumping into my coffee while I'm not looking.

But I can't.

I cannot write about how annoying it is to have two different sets of lawyers between me and my client, both sets thinking it's ok to modify my firm's retainer agreement. It isn't. Neither of you idiots understand the intricacies of my firm's retainer. You may be good bankruptcy and corporate lawyers, respectively, but you aren't litigators. Your suggestions contravene the rules of ethics, the disciplinary rules, and the Rules of the Appellate Division, First Department, of the Supreme Court of the State of New York. This is a big ass case these idiots are potentially pissing all over. I wish I could write about it.

I cannot write about how much fun it is to be caught, with my cousin, between my father and my uncles and attorneys in two other states as the family attempts to put together a shareholder agreement for a family concern. This is way too annoying. Let me content myself with this, because I actually feel myself physically getting angry, a buy out provision in a shareholder agreement that calls for an accountant to value the interest being bought out at generally accepted accounting principles (mostly meaningless, by the way) but lacks a requirement that the corporation's books and records be kept in accordance with GAAP is downright dangerous. I think that this is going to make people very unhappy.

Getting into a business with your family presents issues that don't exist in most negotiations. There are sensitivities and sometimes grudges that have to be taken into account. The agreement will be less than perfect and all will have to trust to the good faith of everyone else. That shouldn't be a problem, but you never know. Ultimately, as I tell my corporate clients, a corporate agreement or contract is only as good as the people signing it, no matter what any lawyer tells you about how iron clad the protections are.

Trust, my friends. Without that, you're already f*cked even before you sign the contract. With it, you may not be f*cked until later.

Sure is ugly here in my office today. I'm going to throw away the rest of my coffee and see if I can get rid of some of my frustrations with it.

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1 A Virtual Hug for you my friend. {{{{HUG}}}}} Hope that helped!

Posted by: Wicked H at June 09, 2005 11:38 AM (iqFar)

2 Did you have to go and use the "T" word, RP? Did you? Damn, son, now my head's all messed up again and I thought I'd had it figured out. Not your fault...just PMSing...

Posted by: Howard at June 09, 2005 02:20 PM (vYCZY)

3 I was only trying to HELP. Honest!!!!!

Posted by: Wicked H at June 09, 2005 03:58 PM (BQhBn)

4 I have come to believe that trust and contracts were mutually exclusive. I once worked as a temp for an "Estate Specialist" attorney that was the creepiest man on the f'n planet. And you know, that image has stuck with me. I can't help it. So I sympathise. Why is it that everyone is COMPELLED to re-write EVERYTHING? This I loathe about the legal field. More sympathy: Get everything in writing. And I'm saying this from my own perspective -- because I'm particularly pissed off at the car dealership that sold us our new Beetle. Reneging bastids. I'm hoping that the coffee replacement and the semi-rant helped. This one sure helped me. Love, m

Posted by: Margi at June 09, 2005 05:28 PM (nwEQH)

5 Lordy, Legalese makes my brain hurt.. Doing it for a living would no doubt have me contemplating a gainer with a half-twist straight off the tenth floor. I feel your pain..

Posted by: Rob at June 09, 2005 08:26 PM (Gkhif)

6 Not only did I understand completely what you wrote, I empathize. Especially with the second situation, where I refused to sign until several issues, (one being similar to the example you pointed out) made me weary enough to be assertive. Having worked with lawyers a better part of my life (since I'm related to so many), helped me stand my ground. One of the lessons I learned from them was that trust gets you to the bargaining table and can be a basis for a good agreement, but not even the contract can protect you if you or the other party don't act in good faith. I now how tedious the back and forth can be. Good luck with it all!!!

Posted by: Michele at June 10, 2005 12:39 AM (ht2RK)

7 We try to anticipate every possible scenario in our contracts to ensure that they are fair to both parties and cover every eventuality we can think of. We tailor each contract to each job depending on conditions. But the bottom line is, I ALWAYS trust my gut to tell me whether I,m entering into a relatively painless agreement or whether I'm going to get screwed. My instincts have yet to fail me. So yeah, trust is a HUGE part of contractual agreements no mat6ter how careful you are. Have a better afternoon!!!!!

Posted by: Mark at June 10, 2005 07:52 AM (otuY5)

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I have been meme smacked again. I am answering both of them below.

Meme I: Five Things I Miss From My Childhood, from Kathy

Thanks, Kathy, for tagging me with this one. I am a bit of a nostalgia hound and this one was fun.

1. I miss being brown. I miss living before people cared about sun screen. I spent every Summer toasted a golden brown. I gleamed with health. I ran everywhere and all of my clothes had holes in them because I was that kind of a kid. We didn't have car seats for kids. I remember being allowed to stick my head out of the window of my parents' huge Oldsmobile and the wind sucking my breath away.

2. I miss sprinting down the street after the Good Humor truck as it spewed forth its horrible jingle. I would clutch, in my grubby little hand, enough money to buy ice cream sandwiches for my sister and me. My feet were always bare and I remember that the pavement on the street was always hot and I would try to run on the front of our neighbors' lawns so not to burn my feet. I was barefoot a lot. I wear socks and shoes now. I miss the hard little leather feet I had.

3. I miss my dad being young. I miss my grandmother, my maternal grandmother. I don't feel like elaborating. Do I need to?

4. I miss my sister being so gullible that she would hold her breath, on my instructions, as we drove past the local cemetery. I told her that if she breathed, the dead souls could come into your body and haunt you and that the only way to get rid of them was to eat liver. My mother would actually slow down and drive past the cemetery as often as possible because she said it was the only time we were quiet in the car.

5. I miss or maybe am just nostalgic for a time when we were allowed to be kids, when we weren't over scheduled with dance class and martial arts and gymnastics. When we could have the luxury of wasting time in play, in digging in the backyard looking for dinosaur bones, in feeling like our lives stretched out in front of us like an endless Summer punctuated by trips to the pool and bike rides to get ice cream at the end of the day. I miss that sense of wonder and of the time given to us to develop our imaginations, to realize and believe that anything was possible because we had the time to dream it. Seems like a paradox, but we as children then were better able to take advantage of our time by wasting it than by squeezing it and manipulating it in order to fit in as many different activities as our parents think the Harvard Admissions Office will look favorably upon. I miss being allowed to be a kid. I miss that on behalf of all the kids I see around me. My kids, I think, are going to have that. I hope. *fingers crossed*

The rules:

Remove the #1 item from the following list, bump everyone up one place and add your blog's name in the #5 spot. You need to link to actually link to each of the blogs for the link-whorage aspect of this fiendish meme to kick in.

Villainous Company
Pirate's Cove
Fistful of Fortnights
Cake Eater Chronicles
Random Pensees

Next, select four unsuspecting victims, list and link to them. Get the plank ready.

Nope. I rarely do that. If you'd like to play, jump on in. This one was a lot of fun.

Meme II: The DVD Collection, from Margi

Margi asked me to do this and I always try to do whatever Margi asks.

1. Total number of films I own on DVD/video:
Like Margi, I'm not sure how many we own. Probably somewhere between 30 and 100. I doubt we own more than that, but I have been surprised in the past by little things like this.

2. The last film I bought:
“Danger UXB”, I think. My wife gave it to me as a present. I heart Danger UXB and I recommend it every chance I get. It is about 14 hours long and it chronicles the adventures of the British Army in defusing UneXploded Bombs (UXB, get it?) which fell in London during the Battle of Britain and were in too senstive a location to be allowed to explode.

3. The last film I watched:

Umm, I'm not really sure. I don't get time to watch a lot of movies. We don't really let the kids watch television too much so it would have to be when they are sleeping. If they are napping, I'm doing errand stuff -- cleaning or cooking or napping myself if I can get away with it. If they are sleeping, I'm usually too tired to focus on a movie. Maybe the last one I watched in full was the Lion King in Norwegian. That was interesting.

4. Five films that I watch a lot or that mean a lot to me (in no particular order):

Auntie Mame, with Rosalind Russell

Animal House, which I watched like 30 times in order to prepare for going away to college

Blazing Saddles

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (Zero Mostel)

Saving Private Ryan, which I saw in a theater in Oslo and it was only with the greatest self-control that I stopped myself from standing up at the end and shouting at the whole theater -- "Did you see that? Those boys died for your freedom!" I can't tell you how close I came to doing that. And yes, I cried at the end.

5. Tag 5 people and have them put this in their journal/blog:

Nope. I rarely ever do that. If you'd like to play, jump on in and self select.

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The practice of law has been light the last few days. So has blogging. The two are related. The server at the office has a backdoor worm. I'm told that the whole server may have to be taken down and "cleaned".

I, techno-god that I am, immediately had a vision of the Worm Squad, intrepid souls in hazmat suits venturing into the server with explosive tipped probes to kill and/or chase the worm out. They would have voices burred from too much bad whiskey and cigarettes. They would have a devil may care and, at the same time, world weary attitude. They would save our infected machine. Some might die, but they would do so bravely and with an excellent last speech.

Now that sounds kind of cool. Probably much cooler than what they will actually have to do to the machine. What that may be, I still have no idea.

I'm going back to the Worm Squad idea. Go get 'em, guys!

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There I was, sweating away on some instrument of torture or other this morning, distracting my mind by looking at the t.v., when some commercial for some silly looking movie came on. As part of the trailer, they showed a rope bridge used to connect two sides of a steep ravine. I'm guessing it was supposed to be in South America but I don't really know. Anyway, it caused me to think of film cliches and here is a partial list:

*Rope bridges between ravines will break when you and only you are at the midpoint.

*Don't be a best friend in a war movie. You will die.

*Never, ever, go into the cellar in a horror movie. Again, death.

*A boy and his dog are soon parted.

*Preachers' kids are wild and dance better than you do.

*Hookers are not crack addicts and have a deep wellspring of sympathy and empathy.

*Many animals can and will talk if you only listen.

*Bad guys often can't shoot straight and if they hit anyone at all, it's the best friend.

*The geeky shy girl? Don't be mean to her. You're going to want to take her to the prom and she's going to be the hottest girl there. And she's going to be smart, too.

This is just a partial list to get people started, if anyone is inclined to play this game with me. Well, are you, punk? (Gratuitous Clint Eastwood reference).

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:51 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
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I am in a quandary about this post. I'm not at all sure how to write it, maybe because I'm not quite at all sure what I think about it. Maybe I will write this post as if I were musing aloud to myself. You want to come along on a disorganized musing?

We used to live on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, in a beautiful pre-war cooperative. We loved this apartment and we loved the building and we knew our neighbors and even socialized with them. It was a lovely building in a desirable part of town. Parts of the building were pretty Social, too, with a couple of people in the Social Register and some captains of industry and a federal judge. It was a high powered little place. I have no idea how we passed the co-op board or why, for that matter, I was elected to serve on that board. But that's another story.

We made friends with a very high powered couple in the building who had a child shortly (six months?) after we had our first. The two little girls became very close buddies. They played together probably every day. It was sweet to watch them. Even after we moved, the girls stayed friendly and we continued to see the parents, irregularly, but we did stay in touch. The girls attend each other's birthday parties. That's why I was in my car, stuck in nasty traffic, on Sunday.

It took us 55 minutes to go from 86th and Columbus to 84th and Third. That's just too damn long. Although the Girl Child was the model of good behavior in the back seat and was only slightly concerned that we were going to be missing fun things at the party. She was looking forward to the party. She helped pick out the gift and she even wrote her name on the card all by herself. And she drew a picture for her friend.

So we get to the party, and here, my patient readers, here is where I begin the musing part of the post.

The party was held in a big hall, a sort of multipurpose assembly room, at one of the very fancy UES preschools.

A word about the preschool in Manhattan. Parents sweat blood to get their kids into these schools. They procure letters of recommendation from top CEO's for their 3 year old child. They drag their children from interview to interview. They attend open house tours, they are interviewed themselves, they demonstrate to the school how they could be useful to the school. It is a competitive sport. There are limited spots and the schools are hierarchically grouped according to educational role fulfillment and social status. Some schools are better able to place children at desirable private schools than others are. These schools are highly sought after and the parents are, for the most part, well off and have sharp elbows. I have no doubt that they also want the best for their children, but I question whether they happen to weight equally the prestige of the pre-school in the calculus of dinner conversation with their peers.

My wife and I rejected this dance when we moved to the suburbs. When we got to the suburbs, they way we found our kids’ preschool was by my calling a prep school class mate and saying, “we live here now, where should we send our daughter, we figure you probably have a good handle on it” and that was that. We got a recommendation, made a phone call, wrote a check and that was that. No interviews, no tests, no nothing. Simple as pie and my daughter has loved her little school.

Back to the party.

The kids were all adorable, as healthy little kids are wont to be. They played nicely together, following the soccer coach/party leader and his crew. The Girl Child jumped right in and participated, to my infinite pleasure. Watching her run around and kick at the ball was sublime.

The parents. The parents were more interesting. This was the oddest for me. I guess there were class issues and money issues and geographical issues. I looked around the room at these people who are supposed to be my peers, who I would have been living in tandem with if my daughter had attended this school or any other similar school and I felt out of place.

The women, and they were mostly women there, were mostly non-working women with personal trainer hardened and pilates lengthened bodies. They dressed in the latest of fashions. They wore clothes by, I suspect, people IÂ’ve never heard of. The conversations were vapid. They were, on the whole, waaay better looking than the suburban moms in my daughterÂ’s class. They were fun to look at.

The conversations dealt with preoccupations and money issues I donÂ’t usually hear about in the burbs. How many preschools one should apply to, the houses people were renting that Summer in the Hamptons, the rental of vacation houses in Italy (and bringing nannyÂ’s with you), the stress of managing the nanny staff while being a stay at home mom, etc.

These are issues of class and of money. Class and money are not the same thing. DonÂ’t make that mistake. If we had stayed in the City, this would have been my world. IÂ’m not sure we would have been able to play in this world as comfortably as others at the party suggested they could. One family was met on the way out by a privately chauffeured Escalade. On a Sunday. They had the chauffeur working on a Sunday. That takes a lot of scratch. The Girl Child and I were parked on the street some four blocks away. We had fun walking back to the car and looking in the windows together. We do not have a chauffeur.

So where am I going with all this?

I feel like I dodged a bullet when I got out of Manhattan. ItÂ’s a big city, New York, but intensely small in places. These people who we would have been part of. . . Let me say this, IÂ’m glad we moved, IÂ’m glad we chose not to subject our kids to that. We didnÂ’t want our kids to feel like the poorest kids on the block with everyone else jetting down to St. Barts on the private plane. I think that in the suburbs they are going to have a chance at a more normal life. Maybe. Maybe not, of course, but still, thatÂ’s the choice weÂ’ve made.

And that choice feels good after that party. DonÂ’t misunderstand me, I like the couple we stayed friends with, they just have made choices weÂ’d never make.

Did this make any sense at all? Or was it just another failed post? Beats me. It was hard enough to struggle through writing it, I am not going to torture myself by re-reading it!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:14 AM | Comments (16) | Add Comment
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The Girl Child did not nap. Instead, she came downstairs and decided to color. That's fine. I kept her company. In the middle of her coloring, she looked up at me and pronounced:

Pappa, when I walk in my Summer it tastes like pear.

I decided that statement was profound and decided to probe no further into it than that.

I hope my Summer tastes like pear this year. And yours!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:08 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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1 Mmmmmmmmmm, but I think I go for more of a cherry flavor. She's something else, your daughter. A good something else. Glad I got to meet her througgh your blog.

Posted by: Rachel Ann at June 05, 2005 04:14 AM (Jgwqx)

2 Write down everything Girl Child says. She's a gold mine of humor and observations. She sound like a scream to be around. BTW. When I wlked my dogs in the summer it always seemed to smell like pooh.

Posted by: dr pants at June 05, 2005 02:40 PM (PHXL1)

3 I hope your summer tastes like pear, too. What a jewel you have in GC. xoxo

Posted by: Margi at June 05, 2005 03:16 PM (nwEQH)

4 I think she's got a good point there.

Posted by: Hannah at June 06, 2005 07:51 AM (UdFzX)

5 Bright girl. There's nothing quite so refreshing on a hot summer day as slices of chilled pear. Mmmm...

Posted by: Jim at June 06, 2005 11:25 AM (tyQ8y)

6 I hear the makings of a writer in her voice. Are you *sure* she's only four?

Posted by: Jennifer at June 06, 2005 08:12 PM (MbhV6)

7 Write her a song! "When I walk in my Summer it tastes like pear. I am the Girl Child. Goo goo goojoob."

Posted by: Tuning Spork at June 06, 2005 10:53 PM (0th/L)

8 Sounds like the GC has never walked in the summer in the City...

Posted by: GrammarQueen at June 07, 2005 09:37 AM (glf8i)

9 Sweet. Could be the start of a meme. What do you want your summer to taste like?

Posted by: Amy at June 08, 2005 08:51 PM (nUCsP)

10 Summer, in the city, a bite of my pear tastes so gritty......

Posted by: Mark at June 08, 2005 09:47 PM (otuY5)

11 Lovely. She's got the soul of a poet...and, I suspect, a bit of a limerick-et in there, too.

Posted by: Victor at June 10, 2005 09:52 AM (L3qPK)

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Overheard in the house:

Boy Child: Arrh-arrh.

Mamma: Girl Child, what does "arrh-arrh" mean?

Girl Child: I don't know, Mamma. Usually, I understand everything he says, but on this point, I am not clear.

It just seems like way too grownup a sentence structure. She's only 4.5.

And by the way, after that, just to preserve the exchange, we agreed that we were going to go to Costco and she said:

GC: If we're going to Costco, I'm going Commando*!

BC: Mando [nodding his head for emphasis and in approval]

These kids are clearly spending too much time together.

*I have told her that Commando means going out without underwear on. Just in case you were not aware of the expression.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:40 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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I was kicking this question around with my wife last night. The conversation started because she asked me what I get out of this blog, now that I've been doing it for awhile. I told her that, inter alia, I've made some friends and that took us to the question at the heart of this post: can you be friends with someone only through virtual reality? I told her yes but I want to expand upon my thoughts here.

I don't think that you need to be in the same room with someone to be friends with that person. Sure, having a few too many beers with someone, putting 'em in a headlock, giving him a noogie, all while saying "I luuv you, you little fu*ker" is truly a tangible indication of friendship. But is it necessary? No. How many of you have had penpals before? Would you consider them friends? I would.

No, I 've made friends here, even if I can't stay out let and drink/eat/talk too much with them and even if I've only met two of them in person -- Helen and Amanda -- that doesn't mean I don't value them just the same. That said, I sure would like to have drinks with some of you, and I think you know who you are (said in my very best Billy Crystal voice).

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:10 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
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1 I think the sort of people who are drawn to blogging and reading blogs, and who stick with it, are also the sort of people who can have friendships from afar, with an exchange of thoughts and words. I think some of us combine a desire to observe, wonder, imagine and communicate with a mild introversion and selectivity about friendships. Blogs are a sort of controlled-rate filter of the world and other people.

Posted by: Amy at June 03, 2005 11:37 AM (nUCsP)

2 First of all, I'm jealous as hell that you've met Helen. I never have. But I consider her among my nearest and dearest of friends. Which goes to the second part. "Some of my best friends are bloggers." Yes, I believe friendships can be forged through this little community we all share. Real ones. Meaningful ones. The kind where you look forward every single day to finding out what went on in their world, sharing life experiences, sympathizing, celebrating...all of those things that truly define a connection between people. It's the one thing that keeps me blogging no matter what. The sharing. The caring. The respect and the common ground.

Posted by: Jennifer at June 03, 2005 12:12 PM (jl9h0)

3 I have been online (first with AOHell and Hecklers Online) for more than ten years now. Online is real. I think I said it here.

Posted by: Margi at June 03, 2005 03:19 PM (nwEQH)

4 I guess it's time to tug on Paul's e-mail and ask how to tweak my HTACCESS file again. Heh. Sorry about that. Let's just say that for as long as I've been online (hell, I attended an online WAKE fachrissakes) I have found it very difficult to explain to the uninitiated just how strong the bonds can be. Sure, I think it's important -- if you're looking for love or something that will move into "meatspace" -- to spend time in the person's actual presence to get a feel for whom they really are. . .but by and large, I look upon The IntarwebnetAOL to be just a different form of communication. I mean, I have IM conversations/private chat transcripts between myself and Darling Hubby burned to disk and tied with a ribbon -- they were love letters just as real as if the postal service delivered them. xoxo

Posted by: Margi at June 03, 2005 03:56 PM (nwEQH)

5 i think i will just sit here and nod my head. everyone has expressed it so very well. i do think it is sometimes hard for those that don't experience it to understand. i know i had no idea - before i started it would be this way.

Posted by: sn at June 03, 2005 05:30 PM (6FCAy)

6 I've been thinking alot about this lately. What a nice post as well as beautiful comments. I SO agree with Amy and Jennifer and Margi! "I think some of us combine a desire to observe, wonder, imagine and communicate with a mild introversion and selectivity about friendships." How beautifully said! And so true! (For me) My blogging buddies seem to be the closest thing i have to friends these days. And strangely, it seems so real! What better testimony than the fact that i met and moved in with my partner having previously only known him through blogging. (And later phonecalls.) We didn't let the absence of physical presence get in the way of our connection - and later on, being together physically only added to the already wonderful experience of knowing him. The bond we shared already existed: all through communicating through words on our blogs. Who could have guessed? Can't wait for that drink someday. It's gonna be great. ;0)

Posted by: indigo at June 03, 2005 05:34 PM (5PkrR)

7 Drinks? Drinks? Man, what happened to thong watching at the First Annual Dumbass Conference and Thong Watch? And the "I'm with Stupid --->" t-shirts? Oh well, a drink would still be cool...not as cool as thong watching, but still cool.

Posted by: Howard at June 03, 2005 05:51 PM (vYCZY)

8 Congratulations on 30,000! I look forward to getting to know you better.

Posted by: Elise at June 03, 2005 08:06 PM (WU9V7)

9 Some of my closest friends, people I email and tell things to, people I send gifts to and love, are people I've never met. I never thought that a URL could hide people who know, and understand, and love. I never thought I could make friends anywhere, let alone someone whose bathroom cupboards I've never perused. The connotation that "cyber friends = loser" is a theory that went by the wayside a long time ago, dying the same death as Atari. They may be behind a computer terminal, but they're friends. There are some that even if I walked away from blogging today, I would want to hear from forever. You're one of them. I love the people that not only comment, but email and share. I think of you as the few peple that can help me keep my head on straight PS-I love you too, Jennifer!

Posted by: Helen at June 04, 2005 04:38 AM (tHQwD)

10 Did I forget to hit POST? Oh Well. Congrats RP...May you have a million more.

Posted by: dr pants at June 04, 2005 06:56 AM (PHXL1)

11 I heartily agree with what you, Amy and the others' have commented on. After losing all my friends on 9/11 I really had no interest to form any attachments, let alone friendships. Blogging just coincedently allowed me the space, freedom and time to connect with individuals in a comfortable setting and manner. Slowly but surely, bloggers began to enter my life. I was sort of adopted, much like a mascot I guess, and from there I have developed a few incredible friendships and the circle continues to expand as the commenting/visiting continues. I have also discovered that this is not a medium for all people, only that of a very unique select few. In retrospect, I truly believe this medium saved my life, without me even knowing it. What I discovered in the process of the past 4 years is that the old poem is true: "no man is an island". Thanks for posting this; and I wish you many more visitors in half the time!

Posted by: michele at June 05, 2005 09:09 PM (ht2RK)

12 Abso-freaking-lutely! Heck, I met my wife online. In another country. Friendship and love online are very real.

Posted by: Jim at June 06, 2005 03:07 PM (tyQ8y)

13 Well, now that you're just a stone's throw away we'll have to get together soonly for a brewski. The only blogger I've met in person so far is Stephen Macklin, though I've talked to Jennifer on the phone. Stephen and I will be getting together with Ted for lunch when he comes up this way next month. Too bad you work in NYC. We could've made it a Munuvian Quartet!

Posted by: Tuning Spork at June 06, 2005 11:10 PM (0th/L)

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Yesterday, I reached my 30,000th visitor since moving to MuNu, last year. Wow. I'm kind of stunned by that, to tell the truth. I know that some people come because they are looking for answers to particular questions and Google sends them this way. Some of those questions, by the way, are pretty icky. Others come because they have become friends and they want to check in. I have no idea what brings the rest of you! But, that's ok, too.

One thing that makes it particularly interesting for me to continue is the comments y'all leave. That makes it much more of a conversation and less of a monologue. I am very grateful for the comments. They make it all worthwhile.

So, 30,000 visitors later and maybe, just maybe I can start to think of myself as a writer. Maybe. You see, I find it hard to think of myself like that. Writer. It's such a big word, encompassing multitudes (with thanks to Whitman, there). No, I think I may be more comfortable describing myself with a less pretentious word. Scribbler, maybe. I don't know.

I don't know who my 30,000th visitor was, but he or she was searching for a picture of children holding hands. I think that's rather nice that a request such as that is what brought that person here. I hope you found what you were looking for!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:41 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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1 Congrats RP...and here's to the 100,000th visitor. It shouldn't be long in coming.

Posted by: Rachel Ann at June 03, 2005 10:05 AM (Jgwqx)

2 Wow, that's great RP! And glad to see that you haven't changed your writing a bit even tho you seem to be a blog superstar congrats! (I think I've got about 1/10th your hits in 3 or more years)

Posted by: Oorgo at June 03, 2005 11:34 AM (lM0qs)

3 Thanks for the kind wishes, y'all! Superstar? No way. Very kind of you, but really, no way. Truthfully, I am puzzled by the attention and have no idea why anyone comes to visit my little corner at all. Seriously. Not fishing for compliments here, just don't get it.

Posted by: rp at June 03, 2005 11:36 AM (LlPKh)

4 I like it. You are a hopeless sensitve guy...just face it. I appreciate what you write because you appreciate the things in life that are important to me as well. . Sure you want the great legal battle of the century...but I appreciate your observations of family, life and ... other good stuff. It's something a 'Big" blog could never give. You are the quintessential 'Mom and Pop" blog.. I am glad I met you.

Posted by: Dr Pants at June 03, 2005 05:30 PM (PHXL1)

5 rp...why do you go to ours? that is the answer to why we come here. oh - except me i'm here strictly for the pictures. i never read a word you write. :-)

Posted by: sn at June 03, 2005 05:33 PM (6FCAy)

6 Congrats!

Posted by: Ted at June 03, 2005 09:27 PM (+OVgL)

7 Feh. You're too modest, RP. You write like butter melting. Smoooth, that is.

Posted by: Jim at June 06, 2005 03:08 PM (tyQ8y)

8 Congrats on 30,000! And since we all like comments so much I'll keep going... Jim just remindd me of a some stand-up comedy I saw on David Letterman years and years ago. I don't remember the guys name, but part of his routine went: "So, I decided to try lobster for the first time. The thing comes with tools! They gave a nutcracker and some dentistry picks, I think... I was just waiting for the saw and miter box. But, I said to my friends, 'I dunno, this doesn't really taste like much.' They said 'Oh, you gotta dip it in some melted butter!' Well, hell, shredded cardboard tastes good dipped in melted butter...!" Aah. "You write like butter melting." That's a pretty good compliment!

Posted by: Tuning Spork at June 06, 2005 11:22 PM (0th/L)

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New York City is fun. Lots of people come to NY, sometimes for the City itself and sometimes just to pass through on their way to other places. Tonight, I'm going to go see Roger Kimball speak. I don't know which of these two categories he falls into to but I'm just glad he's here. He wrote a great book called "Rape of the Masters". I'm very excited and I'm bringing my copy with me to see if he'll sign it for me.

Kimball was the inspiration for one of my favorite posts: Art. Rape. Politics. Gender. A Reflection, in which I try to do my own modern analysis of a piece of art. It was great fun and I think you might enjoy reading it if you haven't seen it before.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:20 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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I think that this picture, captured in the raw with my cell phone camera, is street art. Either way, I like it:

This is a test of the cell phone camera. I want to capture more of the raw, less filtered, street life.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:00 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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Lacking energy and inspiration, I took this meme from Jennifer. Thanks for the boost! By the way, go see her answers. They rock.

1. My uncle once: took me for a ride in the hills of Los Angeles in his Porsche 911. I was maybe 12. It was hot.

2. Never in my life: have I been sorry I met, dated, and married my wife.

3. When I was five: I used to have a Great Dane named Claudius. He was my refuge when I was sad. He was so big, I could lie on top of him and cry.

4. High School was: a long time ago, but I can't seem to let it go. In some ways, it was a better educational experience than anything that followed. It was that good. Really.

5. I will never forget: what I was doing when the first plane hit the World Trade Center. Rest in peace, Mary Joe.

6. I once met: Peter Graves. He lived across the street from my aunt and uncle and I went and knocked on his door. He was pretty nice to me, but then, I was just a little kid. I also once met Danny Glover and his wife in Paris. They were lost and I stopped and gave them directions and some recommendations about where to go, all without ever letting them know I knew who they were. I figured that they were on vacation and the last thing they needed was my telling him how much I admired his work in Lethal Weapon.

7. There's this girl I know who: used to piss us all off as a control freak, but then she had kids and, believe it or not, totally relaxed and became very easy to be around. Odd, huh?

8. Once, at a bar: what do you mean, once? Ok, how about my friend almost got beat up by the bartender when he asked said bartender what his background was that facilitated his writing a book on Irish mythology. The bartender took exception. Tips may have been lower than usual that night.

9. By noon, I'm usually: wondering where the day went.

10. Last night: I came up to go to bed and found that the Girl Child was still awake. She came in to keep us company while we brushed our teeth and then she got into my bed with her two stuffed animals. I joined her and we cuddled. It was delicious.

11. If I only had: taken that stupid Chinese language course pass/fail Freshman year, I would have graduated Summa from college. Grrr.

12. Next time I go to church: it will most likely be for a funeral.

13. Terry Shiavo: should be left in peace and not used as a poster woman for anything.

14. What worries me most: is the very real possibility that I may fail to equip my kids with everything they need to get the most out of this great big life. And that the people I love won't know it always, which could be why I'm relentless and obtuse in making the point. [This was Jenn's answer and I have left it pretty much the way she put it -- how can you improve on perfection?]

15. When I turn my head left, I see: File cabinets overflowing with papers and files, representing years or work and tens of thousands of dollars worth of time.

16. When I turn my head right, I see: a wall with some old French legal prints and a print of a clipper ship under full sail. I like maritime art.

17. You know I'm lying when: beats me. Ask my wife. She always seems to know and she won't tell me how.

18. What I miss most about the eighties: the music. And my youth. Lacrosse. That big old Oldsmobile I drove. My buddy, Jeff and the people he and I used to be.

19. If I was a character in Shakespeare, I'd be: wearing a cod-piece and waving a bodkin.

20. By this time next year: I will have hopefully settled into a new house, new community, new life, and be totally and utterly consumed by a piece of litigation so large that it makes everything else I've ever done look like a rounding error.

21. A better name for me would be: something that shortens better.

22. I have a hard time understanding: ketchup on a hot dog (or catsup, for that matter). Also, why people reflexively blame America for everything that is wrong in the world. May be related to the ketchup thing.

23. If I ever go back to school, I'll: take a Ph.D in something I really want to know more about -- like Classical Studies, or Architectural History, or Economics, or Renaissance Studies.

24. You know I like you if: I give you shit. In a nice way. Not in that this is an invitation to step outside kind of way.

25. If I ever won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: my grandfather. Unless my wife was right there. Then I would have to thank her. I love my grandfather like nobody's business, but I have to go home with my wife.

26. Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferraro: Marlin Perkins, Schubert, Johnny Cash & Maggie Thatcher.

27. Take my advice, never: if you want me to get so pissed off after I take the time to give it to you that I will write you off completely as not worth the time. I am only partially kidding.

28. My ideal breakfast is: brunch. I love brunch. And bloody mary's. Seriously, everything about a yummy brunch -- the eggs benedict, the roasted beasts, the salmon, the shrimp, the dessert tables, the sausage. Love brunch.

29. A song I love, but do not have is: nothing really comes to mind, actually.

30. If you visit my hometown, I suggest: brunch. There really isn't much to do in my hometown *cue Paul Simon -- my hometown. . . * but there is a hotel that does a nice brunch. See #28 above.

31. Tulips, character flaws, microchips & track stars: Honeysuckle, idiosyncracies, chocolate chips & shooting stars.

32. Why won't people: drive better?

33. If you spend the night at my house: you will stay up too late chatting and drinking wine and will fall asleep in our guest room, amidst many, many books.

34. I'd stop my wedding for: a Menthos.

35. The world could do without: cruelty to children. It lacerates my heart.

36. I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: Really? There's an answer to this?

37. My favorite blonde is: my wife, followed by my children.

38. Paper clips are more useful than: most other Norwegian inventions. Did you know that? Yup, a Norwegian invented the darn thing.

39. If I do anything well, it's: listen.

40. And by the way: did you really read everything or did you just skip to the end?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:21 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
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1 Yes, yes I did.

Posted by: Oorgo at May 31, 2005 12:59 PM (lM0qs)

2 You wrote: ...papers and files, representing...tens of thousands of dollars worth of time. In real life, I almost never think about time as having a dollar value. As an economist I do not object, but I never think "I just spent $50 weeding the garden".

Posted by: tex at May 31, 2005 01:02 PM (YtqTh)

3 Yup, sure did read it all. I hope you enjoy pickles in your bloody marys...and a woman always knows when a man is lying. Must be part of the x chromosome.

Posted by: C at May 31, 2005 01:05 PM (0yCni)

4 I read every single word and thought about the thoughts behind them at the same time. Your wife and kids are very lucky to have you in their lives.

Posted by: Azalea at May 31, 2005 02:00 PM (hRxUm)

5 I'm so glad you carried through on your threat of caving to the meme. It's a great one. As are your responses. Very enlightening, on the whole. Except for the Menthos thing. :-) I had a Great Dane named Duke when I was five. Smallish world, isn't it?

Posted by: Jennifer at May 31, 2005 04:32 PM (jl9h0)

6 I read it all too RP. Pretty cool. You sound like you aspire to the same type of Fatherliness that I do. Gotta love the cuddling. And don't forget the cheese cutter. That'sa Norwegian too. I may take this meme up as well. Maybe I'll make a new one.

Posted by: Dr pants at June 01, 2005 03:05 AM (PHXL1)

7 oh.. and ... Didn't they teach your friend in school not to bring up Irish Mythology in a bar? I mean... Isn't it obvious why?! (gets blank look and stares at wall) I had a similar exprience in a bar too, except my friend brought up the bartender's possible small penis size.

Posted by: Dr pants at June 01, 2005 03:15 AM (PHXL1)

8 That was great - When i have time this weekend I think I'll do this one (I don't get to waste work time at a computer like some of you!!! LOL) I am a little concerned, however, that if we hook up in NY, you'll take me out to brunch and make me eat "roasted beasts". P

Posted by: Mark at June 01, 2005 07:45 AM (JQvok)

9 I'm glad you all enjoyed it. It was a fun one to do. Feel free to appropriate it for yourselves. Mark, the nice thing about brunch is that there are so many different things to eat, the roast beasts can be entirely optional. Doc, I think I'd like to hit a bar with you one day, so long as we leave your friend at home! Azalea, thank you for your very kind words. Jen, I heart Great Danes. I still miss mine. C, they always know? That would explain a lot. Interesting observation, Tex. May be a post in it later for me.

Posted by: RP at June 01, 2005 08:54 AM (LlPKh)

10 Seriously, your response to number 36 still has me giggling.

Posted by: Helen at June 01, 2005 09:27 AM (8wm0s)

11 I skipped a bit, but I read the really important stuff. I don't get 'ketchup on a hot-dog' either. Best answer - the description of your Great Dane and I'm guessing if you laid on top of him and cried, he comforted you when no one else could.

Posted by: Roberta S at June 01, 2005 03:57 PM (PB9Ja)

12 funny. i just recieved these same questions in an email. i guess it's going around.

Posted by: SeaKitty at June 04, 2005 03:51 AM (4htW2)

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Here is one image I think particularly haunting from the Korean War Memorial:

From the World War II Memorial:

A flower, placed in the hand of a dying soldier, part of the Vietnam Memorial:

And finally, looking towards Lincoln:

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A photo of the gold stars at the World War II Memorial:

Each gold star represents 1000 war dead.

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This weekend will mark another "Decoration Day", or Memorial Day, as is has come to be called. I kind of prefer Decoration Day, myself. It was a day when people would gather together and decorate the graves of the dead soldiers (and I include sailors, air men, marines and coast guard here whenever I use the word soldier, ok) and remember.

Do we still remember? Do we remember the words on the Korean War Memorial in Washington D.C. that:

FREEDOM IS NOT FREE

Men and women have died for our freedom and die today to ensure freedom for others. For this, if for no other reason, and there are plenty of good other reasons, I will pause this weekend, and I will remember.

May God bless all of our fellow Americans who this day wear our nation's uniforms.

And for those who did not come home, I want to leave you with some of the words from Taps (there are no official words), composed By Major General Daniel Butterfield, Army of the Potomac, Civil War, July 1862:

Day is done, gone the sun,
From the hills, from the lake,
From the sky.
All is well, safely rest,
God is nigh.

For information about Taps.

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Last night, I came home from work early, loaded up the car with the kids, and went over to visit my 90+ year old grandfather who broke his hip recently, in two places, and was now in a rehab facility a couple of towns over from where we live. So, off we went.

My grandfather is someone I cherish, deeply. He has been the man I have always wanted to be -- strong; smart; polite; worthy of respect; religious in a quiet, sincere way; good humored; and full of love. He is our pater familias.

Now, he is diminished in body and in mind. He has lost weight, because he isn't really eating. While I was there, it was clear that the nurses were making him drink Ensure, a nutritional supplement. He asked me 4 or 5 times whether the kids had eaten dinner yet. Each time, of course, I answered the question as if it was the first time I had heard it.

I know that we are all supposed to get older and eventually die. But I'm not ready for him to go yet. I think that having the kids around cheered him up. The kids were adorable and very well behaved and the expression of astonished joy on the Boy Child's face when he figured out how to operate my grandfather's hospital bed seemed to make my grandfather radiate happiness himself. I hope he decides that he ought to be taking care of himself and eating now that he has seen his great grandchildren.

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I'm home alone with the kids last night as my wife was stuck in traffic on I-95. I'm heating up some leftovers for myself for dinner and the kids are keeping me company. I have given them each a cookie, to their mutual delight. At some point, however, the cookies are gone, and this is what follows:

Boy Child: [Happily burbling along at great volume]

Girl Child: Silence!

Boy Child: [Continues to burble]

Girl Child: SILENCE!

Boy Child: [Abruptly ceases burbling and looks at her intently]

Girl Child: [Looks first at Boy Child to make sure he really is going to be quiet and then turns and addresses me] Pappa, we need more cookies!

Boy Child: [Looks at me and nods head while saying his little word for yes in tone of total agreement] Ah-ta.

More cookies were distributed. A happy and joyful noise returned to the kitchen table.

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