Don't make me repeat myself

I've posted my thoughts on last night's Oscar ceremonies over at my Get on With Your Nightlife blog. Go read them — they're nothing short of brilliant. Or, you might say they're pretty much the same thing everyone else has said. At least here, you can leave comments.

Just asking to be smote

At our daily editorial meeting, we plan what to feature as our web site's top story for the morning, midday, and evening updates. Today we had strong options for the first two, but we were hedging on the evening update.

Am I going to Hell for saying: "Maybe we'll get lucky and the Pope will die around 3:30?"

Oh, crap

Emily has finally begun to say "Mama" on a regular basis, thus freeing me from the evil glares Misty aimed in my direction each time she tried to coax a "Mama" out of Emily only to hear a defiant reply of "Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad..." instead.

I'm worried, though, about what Emily thinks about when she says my name.

"Mama" is repeated most often during meals. I think this is because Misty feeds Emily more frequently, and she uses that time to try to teach Emily the most coveted of words.

"Dad," on the other hand, is repeated most often during diaper changes. In the same vein as Misty, I reinforced the word "Dad" over and over again as Emily lay as a captive audience on the changing table.

So while "Mama" has become associated with food, "Dad" has become associated with poop.

Thirty

I turned 30 yesterday. So far, it doesn't feel any different than 29.

Emily gave me the cutest birthday card. It read: "Daddy, it's your birthday, so you can do anything you want. Wanna play?" So that's just what we did. Misty and I were both off work for President's Day, so we took Emily to the zoo.

On the way there, we stopped for lunch at Chick-fil-A. Emily was thrilled to partake of tiny bites of chicken nuggets and waffle fries and to drink sips of lemonade dripped from a straw. It was her first kid's meal (even though Misty and I ate most of it).

At the zoo, I was surprised at some of the things that did or didn't catch Emily's attention. She was fascinated by the flamingos, for instance, but she didn't show much interest in the more colorful macaws. We enjoyed watching the spider monkeys and the gorillas. We met Mona the Elephant and read the sympathy cards mourning her friend Susie's death earlier in the month. We got to see a tiger up close as he paced back and forth in front of the window and even put his paws up against the glass.

Later in the evening Misty took me out to eat at P.F. Chang's, where we'd tried to go last year. This time our luck was better (since we had reservations), and I finally got to see what all the hype over lettuce wraps was about.

So far, it's shaping up to be a good decade for me.

Soap

I predict that I will get lucky tonight.

Mother isn't quite herself today

Last July Misty bought a bunch of fish for her tank. As always, the fish killed each other within a couple of weeks.

The sole survivor of the fray was a large snail which she'd also purchased against her better judgement. It continued to live in the tank, oozing its way up the glass and poking its disgusting apendages out of the water.

A few months ago, the snail met its end, and Misty rejoiced that she would no longer have to suffer its irrepressible grossness.

All of sudden last week, a new snail appeared in the tank. Or, at least, it seemed all of a sudden. The new snall is so small that it could have oozed around for quite a while, undetected. In fact, it's difficult to spot it in the tank now, even knowing that it's in there.

The pet store clerk who sold Misty the fish told her that snails were asexual and would reproduce on their own. We didn't expect it to happen months after our snail had died, though.

Since we never bothered to fish the carcass of the old snail out of the tank, its offspring has essentially been living with its dead parent. I wonder what sort of psychological damage this has done to the new snail.

Weird phrases

I've never understood the phrase: "You're comparing apples to oranges." It's supposed to mean that you're trying to compare two uncomparible things. But they're both fruits — of course you can compare them!

I've also always had a hard time with: "You've got your work cut out for you." Supposedly that means that your upcoming work will be very difficult. To me, though, it sounds like the work is mostly done already. If something has been cut out for me, that means that I don't have to cut it out myself.

Resumé time

My wife needs a new job. One that won't, out of the blue, start docking her for sick days after 5 years of being salaried.

Anybody have any suggestions? Is your company hiring?

I am not drinking any fuckin' merlot!

There's an ad in the paper today featuring wine at World Market. It reads: "Whole Lotta' Love. For Less."

I think they could have also gone with: "Drown Your Sorrows. For Less."

Filthy language?

Whenever there are stories that appear in the newspaper that we didn't get for al.com, we e-mail one of the editors at the paper in question to request what's missing.

Just now, I wrote a note to The Huntsville Times asking for a couple articles, one of which was titled "'Honky Tonk Angels' offers country music, great story." Eudora gave me a level three chili pepper mood warning before I sent the message. Apparently, the word 'honky' is still considered offensive.

That Willie Nelson had better watch his mouth.

I'm a big kid now

The doorbell rang a few minutes ago while I was taking a nap. The dogs went insane, of course, so there was no chance of me dozing back off. I headed downstairs to see who was here.

But Misty hadn't opened the door. Instead, she was peering out the blinds to investigate.

"Oh, come on. Don't just make them stand there," I said to her. "The garage door is open — they can see that we're home."

The bell rang again. Certain that opening the door would only lead to a sales pitch, though, Misty scooped up Emily and retreated to the kitchen.

I opened the door to see a guy in his mid-20s at the curb, climbing into his truck. Seeing me, he turned around.

"Hey, man!" he shouted. "Are your parents home?"

"My parents?" I asked incredulously. "They live in Atlanta." Then I shut the door before he could reply.

I turn 30 in less than two weeks.

The things you hear when you're only half paying attention

During a report on Fox 6 News this morning, I thought I heard a woman say something about ordering this beautiful toupee from std.com.

I don't think that would go over well for Valentine's Day.

Hanging out with the dream king

I had a strange dream last night...

I woke in the middle of the night to hear Emily fussing through the baby monitor. I went downstairs to her room to check on her. Usually all she wants is a pacifier. We keep two in her room — one in her crib so she can get it when she needs it, and a spare on her dresser so we can hand it to her quickly without having to search the floor in the dark for the one she probably dropped. Haste is the key, because if her cries escalate or continue too long, she'll wake herself up, and it will take 30 minutes or longer to get her back to sleep.

As I entered Emily's room, I noticed that her crib was out of place. Apparently, she'd stuck her feet through the bars and pushed off of the wall so that the crib was now next to her dresser. I reached for where the spare pacifer is usually kept only to find Emily's mouth already around it. She was standing up in her crib and arching herself backward over the bars to reach her beloved prize (nevermind that this defies laws of physics and anatomy).

"Well, at least that solves that problem," I thought, so while I was up I went outside to check the mail. Looking up at the house from the mailbox, I saw Emily was now sitting in the sill of one of the upstairs windows (nevermind that the upstairs front windows are 15 feet off the floor, since we have a loft). She began banging her hands against the screen, and I was afraid that it would pop out and she would fall. I hurried upstairs to catch her before a disaster occurred.

Then I wore up — for real, this time.

A few weeks ago I had a similar dream...

The family was on vacation, and we were staying at some fancy hotel. I went out on the balcony to find Emily crawling on the guard railing (which was about a foot wide and made of concrete). As she made her way along the ledge toward an animal (I can't recall now what it was. It could have been a turtle or a hedgehog or a weiner dog — I don't know. All I remember is that it was small), her footing became more and more narrow until it came to a point. By the time Emily grabbed the animal, she no longer had room to maneuver on the ledge, and she toppled over the side. She landed on concrete a few feet below at a pool/garden area. I jumped over the balcony to reach her, and she cried for only a moment until I picked her up and held her. I remember thinking that I'd better find Misty and bring Emily to the doctor to get her checked out.

This dream makes a little more sense to me, because the same sort of thing actually happened back in November.