Imagine that you are a very active person.. You are constantly in motion, exploring the wondrous world around you. You find wonder in what most would consider mundane, and delight in the slightest physical achievement. Then imagine that you are suddenly robbed of that freedom of movement. You are confined to whatever you can reach with your arms, unable to even roll over in bed. Then imagine that you have no language to express you needs and frustrations to those around you. IF you can do this, you will be CLOSE to what it must be like for my sixteen month old son to be confined to his body cast for the next six weeks..-----------------
posted by Larry Anderson 9/16/2001 07:40:30 PM
What an amazingly crappy day. Erik had to go back to get his temporary surgical splints removed, and replaced with casts. He screamed for three hours. He made himself hoarse from it all, and finally just passed out about 2 PM. He’s not sleeping much, and will eat even less. Not sure how we are going to last another five or more weeks of this.As for the events in New York and Washington, what can I say that many others haven’t? There will be much blood to pay for this act of war. I have been flying the Stars and Stripes since the attack. Today I took it down and replaced it with my “Don’t Tread On Me” Gadsden Flag.. Time for some payback..
---------
posted by Larry Anderson 9/13/2001 01:15:05 PM
So Erik can come home tomorrow. He is doing well now, and only needs Tylenol 3 about once every four to six hours. Had to do a nasty though.. I had to hold his head down as the assisting surgeon snipped the sutures holding his intra-jugular I.V. in place. Ouch.Then, I get a break.. The one and only Parents Sleep room is free this evening! Instead of sleeping on the bench in my son’s hospital room, I can sleep in a REAL bed! I move my clothes and shaving kit to the room, and set the alarm clock. I am just about to turn the sheets down, when there is a knock at the door. I answer the door, and there is a Nurse with a family of six in tow. “Oh..” She says. “I didn’t know that the room had been assigned yet.” I look over the troop.. Mom, Dad, two little kids, and the apparent patient. What is a tired guy to do? I gave them the room. There was NO way that bunch was going to get any rest in that little patient room. So, here I am, working on my laptop on the floor of Erik’s room, and listening to him breath. I guess I belong here anyway.
-----
posted by Larry Anderson 9/8/2001 08:45:21 PM
Erik had a bad night. Vomiting, pain, etc. Nobody has rested much, least of all him. The operation went very well according to his surgeon. Better than expected even. But now he is hurting a lot from the waist down. I just have to keep telling myself that this is all so he can walk. But that pained cry, and the look of absolute betrayal is hard to take…-
posted by Larry Anderson 9/6/2001 09:15:23 AM
Erik is in surgery. We brought him in at 6:30 AM, and he was finally entering the O.R. at 10:30 AM. They are rebuilding his hip and feet in the hope that he will be able to walk. They tell us the expected duration is 6 to 8 hours. A very long time for a 16 month old kid to be under general anesthetic. I guess we are lucky though.. We have one of the best Orthopedic Surgeons in the country working on him. Not much else to say. I've had little sleep, and am running on autopilot today.
posted by Larry Anderson 9/5/2001 09:53:19 AM
Dangerous Things You Learn from Daytime TV While Home Sick From Work:Martha Stewart can fold a fitted bed sheet. Perfectly. A further sign she is inhuman.
She may be the Anti Christ. Only time will tell....
--
posted by Larry Anderson 8/28/2001 04:13:52 PM
Well, call me cranky. Ever try to do something nice, and get yelled at for it? Today is my birthday. I have the day off, and instead of running the hills on my Sabre, I am emptying our storage shed. We rented it to store a bunch of our “non-essential” stuff while we moved. I realized that I really could live without much of it, and decided to donate two old but functional computer monitors to Goodwill. I have seen various electronics on the floor of the Goodwill store, so I didn’t foresee any problems. When I pulled up tot he donation area, and offered them to the lady there, I was berated for trying to “dump” these things on her, Goodwill doesn’t take computer equipment, and I should know better. Stunned, I left. Geez, try to do a nice thing, and get reamed. I guess no good deed goes unpunished.---------------
posted by Larry Anderson 8/16/2001 10:08:56 AM
Things that plauge my dreams, first in a series:That new Suzuki Bandit.. The blue one..
--
posted by Larry Anderson 8/13/2001 01:22:38 PM
Hehe.. Found a kindred spirit on the web.. If you have several HOURS to kill, stop by and read the opinion pages:http://www.goingfaster.com/
Go ahead.. I'll wait.
Dang! I wish I could write that well..
-----------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 8/13/2001 01:01:36 PM
I should get a friggen MEDAL! There I was.. Weather outside is 70 degrees and sunny. My motorcycle just had a tune-up, and new tires put on. I have a brand new armored jacket the wife bought me for my birthday. And yet I STILL managed to turn into the company parking ramp, rather than make a moring run of the twisties of Highway 16! The sacrifices I make for my career...---
posted by Larry Anderson 8/13/2001 12:59:43 PM
So my Daughter asks me the question kids have asked their parents for centuries. She looks up at me and asks,“Daddy, where do babies come from?”
I knew this day would come. I had given great thought to this question. I had prepared for this.
I pick her up, and set her on my knee. I look deep into her beautiful blue eyes. Take a deep breath, and give her the answer that fathers have given their children since time immemorial,
“Ask your mother.”
----------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 8/2/2001 06:35:43 PM
According to the American Medical Association, it IS possible to die from sleep deprivation. However, long before that, there are increasing periods of euphoria, followed by dementia. So at least I have something to look forward to…-------------
posted by Larry Anderson 8/2/2001 06:28:17 PM
SCARY THOUGHT
Can you imagine working for a company that has alittle more than 500 employees and has the following statistics:
* 29 have been accused of spousal abuse
* 7 have been arrested for fraud
* 19 have been accused of writing bad checks
*117 have directly or indirectly bankrupted at least 2 businesses
* 3 have done time for assault
* 71 cannot get a credit card due to bad credit
* 14 have been arrested on drug-related charges
* 8 have been arrested for shoplifting
* 21 are currently defendants in lawsuits
* 84 have been arrested for drunk driving in the last year
Can you guess which organization this is?
Give up yet?
It's the 535 members of the United States Congress.
The same group of idiots that crank out hundreds of new
laws each year designed to keep the rest of us in line.
We've come a long way baby!!
Think about it!
----------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 8/1/2001 11:16:06 AM
I'm going to have the following engraved onto a plaque and mounted by the entrance to our home:A Father's Note to Prospective Suitors:
10 Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter
RULE ONE:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be deliveringa package, because you're sure not picking anything up.RULE TWO:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keeps your eyes or hands off my daughter's body, I will remove them.RULE THREE:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loose that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair
and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise:
You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.RULE FOUR:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me
elaborate: when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.RULE FIVE:
You may think that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the
day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early".RULE SIX:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay
with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she
is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.RULE SEVEN:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, if more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget.
If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car or mowing my lawn?RULE EIGHT:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or
happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff
T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her throat. Movies with strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided. Movies which
feature chainsaws or anything else to scare my daughter on to you are also to be avoided. Movies by Disney are okay. Hockey
games are okay. Old folks homes are better.RULE NINE:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dim-witted has been. But on issues relating to my
daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one
chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.RULE TEN:
Be Afraid. Be very afraid. The voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safey and early, then return to your car, there is no need for you to come inside.
The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
posted by Larry Anderson 7/17/2001 02:24:22 PM
Mental Note: To avoind inducing nightmares in children, stop reading Green Eggs and Ham in the "Christopher Walken" voice.--
posted by Larry Anderson 7/5/2001 09:52:48 AM
A while back a Doctor, who looked remarkably like Doogie Howser, tried to psychoanalyze me. This might not have been too bad, save for the fact that it is my belief that much of psychology is bunk, and that this kid was a wet-behind-the-ears General Practitioner, NOT a physiatrist. I’m over weight. He knows it. I know it. I have struggled with it for years, with varying degrees of success. Genetics not withstanding, the reason is basically I eat too much, and exercise too little. But I am working on it. On hearing that my father died of a heart attack, Doogie decides that I am subconsciously emulating my father, and have a death wish. Nope. Gasping for that last breath, while wishing the invisible elephant would get off your chest, and leaving your kids Dadless has precisely zero appeal to me. Psychology doesn’t even enter into it. I like good food, and my job is sedentary. No murky mental tapestry here. Doogie, however, needs to see wheels within wheels.. I’m not fat, I must have a Disorder!Doogie is apparently not alone in this vision.. According to the American Psychiatric Association, damn near EVERYONE in America has a Disorder of one sort or another. The book says so. The book in question is the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual published by the AMA. This is the official list of recognized mental disorders, hereafter refered to as the Loon Book. When the Loon Book was first compiled in 1952 it was a measly 100 pages long. The last tome issued registered over 900 pages of mental problems you might have. Seems virtually any behavior is pathological on some level. Don’t like crowds? Social Anxiety Disorder. Long winter months in Minnesota get you down? Seasonal Affect Disorder. So many disorders diagnosed, that they are having to reuse their three letter acronyms.. Sheesh. Has society REALLY gotten crazier in the last fifty years? I don’t think so. Back then Bob was mean, and liked to hit people.. Now he has Anger Management Disorder. What’s the difference? Well in order for the insurance companies to pay for treatment in perpetuity, there has to be an identifiable malady.
Ah HA!
Being known as a cranky S.O.B. isn’t covered. Anger Management classes ARE. Follow the money. Insurance companies expand. Therapists get paid. But Bob is now in treatment for the rest of his life. Think about it.. When was the last time you heard of anyone be CURED by a therapist? Never. Perfect job security. These people just get paid to listen to other people whine about their lives once a week until either the patient dies, or the therapist accumulates enough in fees to buy that condo on Grand Cayman they’ve had their eye on. Nice work, if you can get it. But then I am probably just suffering from Therapist Antagonism Disorder. Could be. I’ll have to look it up in the next three-volume edition of the Loon Book….
--------------
posted by Larry Anderson 6/28/2001 12:25:51 PM
So I'm sitting there in the dark at 3AM, rocking a sick kid, hoping he will go to sleep SOMETIME before I have to go to work, and I think to myself.. I could have had a Goldfish...----
posted by Larry Anderson 6/26/2001 10:23:39 AM
After a long day at work, I went to pick my four year old daughter from day care, and get some shopping in on the way home. It seems in daycare, the kids have been playing a fishing game, and my daughter is quite taken by it. In typical kid fashion, she asks me if I ever went fishing as a kid, and would I teacher how to fish. Sure, I tell her. But I don’t have all of the right equipment any more. “Oh,” she says, “I know all about that.. You need a pole, and bobbers and stuff.” “Right” I tell her. Soon, we pass by the crowded sporting goods section of the store, and she turns to me and asks at top four year old volume, “Daddy, is this where we pick up the hookers?” Everyone stops and looks at me. Red faced, I manage to blurt out, FISH hooks dear, fish hooks!”-----------
posted by Larry Anderson 6/7/2001 01:24:10 PM
We are in! There are boxes everywhere, and it took the help of just about everyone we know, but we are in the new house. It is already growing on me.. I like my office area, though it is MUCH smaller than my old one. The kids are in bed in their new rooms, and they seem to be adapting quite well. Rebecca even met some new friends already. I have to say, thus far I am very impressed with our new neighbors. We lived in Stewartville for two years, and we never really met our neighbors. We were here less than an hour, and three different families introduced themselves, and offered any help the were able to give. Hope this is a good omen. Haven't seen any motorcycles areound here, so I hope they won't be upset when I get mine back from the mechanic. Kids and wife are in bed. I'm going to have a well earned beer, watch the History Channel, and get some sleep.---
posted by Larry Anderson 6/2/2001 05:42:59 PM
We are down to just a few days now until we close on the new house, and move off of the family farm. Everyone tells me I am doing the right thing. For myself, for my kids, for my family. Certainly our sanity will be largely restored not living so far from our careers. Our daily commute will go from 60+ minutes to about 6 min. Gotta be a good thing, especially with gas prices high, no? No more smelly basement. No more 70 year old house to keep repairing. No more 2 day marathon lawn mowing adventures. And I get my beloved cable modem back as well.Yep. All good things.
So why do I feel like I am betraying my Grandfather?
------
posted by Larry Anderson 5/22/2001 11:04:56 AM
The Cult of the White BuickThey are everywhere. Every farmer has one. Even the retired ones living in town. Their wives and widows drive them oh-so slowly to the market, or to Church Circle, or to get their hair done on Fridays. Rural Minnesota is awash in White Buicks. And I just don’t get it. This must be what it is like going to Harvard or Yale and knowing that there are these secret societies that are the movers and shakers on campus, but YOU are not among them. Living in or around Houston is like being in Stepford, only instead of a perfect wife with a plastic smile, you are issued a Skylark with red leather interior.
They seem to have no plan for world domination. They don’t openly try to recruit others into their bizarre cult. They just look at me, with my minivan, and motorcycle, and give me that knowing stare that says, “It will happen. You will become one with the Buick. It may not happen tomorrow, or even next year. But you will join us. We are patient.”
Since our decision to leave the farm, and move back to the city, the CoWB seem to be paying more attention to us. Everywhere I turn, there is a Buick, it’s owner watching me. Observing me, like a cat eyes a mouse that is just out of reach. They know I am escaping. I’m the one that got away. They almost had me. A while back, my Grandmother asked me to drive her to her insurance agent. I slipped behind the wheel of her Buick Century Limited Edition. The soft hum of the motor, and the sun reflecting off of the pearly white paint was hypnotic. Such a comfy car. So well appointed, and luxurious, without being ostentatious. It took nearly four hours of bone jarring motorcycle riding to return me to my senses. If you move to rural S.E. Minnesota, watch out for them..
Beware the White Buick!
-------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 5/21/2001 08:50:43 AM
New Product Idea:Children's Tylenol PM.
We could market it as a Parental Sleep Aid...
----------------
posted by Larry Anderson 5/5/2001 04:57:46 PM
RickyIts 1985, and I am walking uptown after school. I did that a lot, as I was a smart fat kid with not a lot of friends. This day was different however. As I was walking past the town park, complete with its WWII Stuart Tank Memorial, a car pulled up next to me. The window was rolled down, and a guy asks me if I needed a lift. His name was Rick. I was in need of a friend, and he apparently could see that. Over the next two years, he drew me out of my shell. I had never been to a party, even those thrown by my own classmates. Rick showed me that I could interact with my peers on a social basis. Under his tutelage I became a whole person. He was as much a brother to me as my own blood.
1987: I am sitting with my father at breakfast at the local diner prior to his taking me to the bus stop. I am going off to college in another state. Rick joins us for breakfast. He is working at the local grocery store after graduation. He wishes me well, but I can tell he is jealous of my leaving. There is little left for him in this town, and he feels like he deserves more than what is available. When I come home for Thanksgiving, he tells me he has a plan. He wants to join the Navy. I had planned on the Navy myself at one point. I had passed all the tests, and was headed for Submarine School after Graduation. Or so I thought. I had injured my knees playing football, and the recruiter had wanted me to wait a year before applying again. Screw that. In a year I would be well on my way to being a sophomore in college with my CLEP credits. No deal. I guess this gave Rick the idea. His parents were not happy with his decision, but he went anyway. I got regular letters from him the whole time. When he finished basic training at Great Lakes Naval Academy, he wrote me telling me about his first assignment. He was being posted to the USS IOWA. Flagship of the Atlantic Fleet, and one of the last surviving Battleships in the world. Very prestigious assignment. He was thrilled. And very proud. He sent me postcards from Cuba. In the midst of a cold Midwestern winter, they made me envious.
April 19, 1989: I had Spring Fever is the WORST way. I was in the Student Union, skipping class and enjoying the warm weather. I am perusing some book in preparation for a class I will never go to. The huge projection screen TV in the Union cuts suddenly to CNN. The outline of a Battleship fills the screen. I walk up to the TV an turn the volume up. The announcer was talking about some sort of accident. The ship suffered an explosion. An unknown number of U.S. Sailors were dead. I ran back to my dorm room and was glued to the TV for the rest of the day. When the call came, I already knew what was going to be said. I informed my Professors that I would be out the week of finals to be a pallbearer for my best friend.
This is now May. Last month, a movie was made about the explosion aboard the USS Iowa. I watched the film in spite of my instincts. It confirmed my worst fears about the causes of the accident, and the Navy’s response to them. Why was Rick in the turret? He wasn’t trained for that job. His last letter to me said that he was going to go to Dental School in a few weeks. What would a Dental Hygienist be doing loading 16 Inch guns?
Every April 19, I stop what I am doing and remember that terrible day. I miss him. I wanted him to meet my wife, and my kids. I wanted to see him settle down a raise a family of his own. There are times when I will be telling a story to my wife that starts like, “There was this time that Rick and I… “ And I will have a hard time finishing the sentence. I owe him much of what I am today. And I have no way to repay the debt.
In memoriam of Rick Ronald Peterson, and the other 46 who never came home from the sea.
---
posted by Larry Anderson 5/1/2001 08:01:28 PM
5PM and I'm walking the three blocks back to my car after another long day at work. A short guy in a bad suit walks up to me and says:"Excuse me sir, I'd like to talk to you about your personal relationship with God."
Great. Jehova's Witness Missionary.
Before he can start in on me I ask him,
"Doesn't your religion state that on the Day of Judgement only 144,000 people will be saved?"
He looks startled.
"Um, yes it does."
I continue:
"And aren't that about 700,000 Jehova's Winesses?"
Um, Yeah, I think so.."
"Then why are you still recruiting?"
The deer in healights look lets me know our conversation is over. I turn and head back to the car. Damn, I KNEW that Discovery Channel documentary on religious sects would come in handy some day...
--------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 4/27/2001 12:15:09 PM
I’m walking past my Boss’ door this morning, and taped to it is a magazine article with the headline:“Wanted: Hot Industry Supergeeks.”
Images of socially inept nerds perusing this article as if it were the new “Personals” section of PC Week fill my head. Perhaps this is for the new centerfold section of Computer World? I try to shake them. Nope, I’m going to have to live with that image.
Turns out it was referring to Bioinformatics recruitment. But then that’s kind of creepy too…
-----------------------------
Quitting time, and I head over to my wife’s office to pick her up. She is chit chatting with one of the Very Important People she supports. He introduces himself to me. His name is David Lynch. I can’t resist.
Me:
“Gee, I am a real fan of your older work.. I just loved Eraserhead.”
Without missing a beat, he says:
“Thanks, that was a favorite project. I’m still upset over what the studio did to Dune, though.”
Heh. I like this guy.. Quick on his feet, and knows his movies. Much better than MY boss.. His name is John Carpenter. Every time I see him, the song “Mr. Sandman” runs through my head..
-------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 4/27/2001 10:15:55 AM
There is a whole raft of new stores going up by the Interstate. I KNEW I shouldn't get my hopes up for anything useful, but I did. Rats. No CompUSA. No Lowes. What did we get? Payless Shoes. Bed, Bath, And Beyond. Etc. Snooze.I’d like to open a store. I’d fill it with electronics, computers, software, hunting and fishing stuff, motorcycles, movies (no chick flicks here), and sports car accessories. It would have a full bar. NO dance floor. One side of the bar would have ESPN 1 & 2 and Speed vision on at all times. The other side would run Clint Eastwood, John Wayne, and Steven Segal movies, etc, on the big screen. Over the bar would be a sign that read:
“Visa/MC and Personal Checks accepted. Time Travelers STRICTLY CASH.”
Women would, of course be more than welcome to shop and drink there, provided they don’t mind the conversation limited to valve jobs, hunting stories, or arguments over first round draft picks. The kitchen would only serve pizza, cheeseburgers and buffalo wings.
It would be heaven.
I’d call it “Corsair’s House of Guy Stuff.”
Where are the Venture Capitalists when you need them?
---
posted by Larry Anderson 4/23/2001 12:51:51 PM
Proof that my kids are smarter than me:So there I am trying to impress my daughter with my massive accumulation of wisdom gleaned from watching endless episodes of _Kung Fu_. I look into her eyes, and in my best "Old Wise One" voice say,
"What is the sound of one hand clapping?"
To which she responds by holding out her hand, and making a very credible "clapping" sound by rapidly opening and closing her hand.
Damn.
Wish I'd have thought of that.
----------
posted by Larry Anderson 4/23/2001 11:30:22 AM
I’d have to say that the decision to get back on a motorcycle has been one of the best things I have done in a long time. I can’t imagine a more effective mood altering experience you could have, and remain legal, than throwing a bike around the twisty roads of South Eastern Minnesota. Long while back one of the big Japanese motorcycle manufactures had an add campaign that featured a guy on a bike ripping up the road. The caption said something like, “By third gear, I couldn’t remember a thing she said.” Yeah. I agree. No wait. My wife reads this sometimes, so I’d best elaborate. Those that know me, or have followed our adventures online know that this has been a most traumatic year or two for us. By last summer, the stress and tension had me wound so tight, that had I held a nine iron, I’d have made a pretty good electromagnet. My blood pressure was WAY up. When my birthday hit, I was ripe for the whole mid-life thing. Screw Thoreau.. There was nothing quiet about MY desperation.. I was driving to work one morning (62.5 miles ONE WAY) and suddenly thought, “This would be a lot more fun on a motorcycle.” About a week later, I paid cash for a very used 1982 Honda Sabre. For a bike now old enough to vote, it is a most powerful machine. Probably NOT the bike I should have chosen for my first one, but I love it anyway. Once I passed my test, and learned to ride with SOME skill and confidence, I found that I returned from each ride feeling a little bit better about being me. Now I have another hobby. My wife has noticed that my hobbies tend to be rather more expensive than say, stamp collecting or needlepoint, but on the whole has been rather supportive. She never does let me get too full of myself though. The first day I rode home on the bike my wife now calls, “The Other Woman” all she asked me was, “Is your insurance paid up?” Sigh. Behind every great man of action, is a woman making sure he remembers to take out the trash..-----------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 4/23/2001 11:04:33 AM
Easter Results are in:1 cut on scalp, forming into nice scar.
1 nearly broken nose.
1 slightly dislocated jaw.And that's just on me.. Gosh, it sure is nice visiting the In-Laws for a holiday...
------
posted by Larry Anderson 4/16/2001 06:30:38 AM
My Stepfather woke up this morning. What a bizzare weekend this is. From fine, to deaths door, to recovering again in less than 24 hours. It seems that he had a severe athsma attack, and it nearly killed him. Odd, since he never had athsma before. Saw him this afternoon after he was moved from ICU to a regular room. He was sitting up and giving the nurses a hard time. A sure sign he is feeling better.---------
posted by Larry Anderson 4/14/2001 06:19:31 PM
Been a long day. My stepfather is in a coma, and on life support in ICU. He seemed fine yesterday. This morning he wanted to go to the Emergency Room. Very unlike him. A few hours later, and he is paralyzed, with machines breathing for him. At first they thought it was pneumonia, but his lungs are clear. At this point, they think maybe a virus has attacked his pulmonary system. My Mom is scared. Just how much is one family expected to take?----------
posted by Larry Anderson 4/13/2001 08:20:58 PM
“. . . but the waters rose, like a beast from hell,
Now my house is gone, and the town as well.”The Call, “In The River”
Yes, it’s that time of year again. I have spent the last couple of days watching the water level rise steadily all along the banks of the river that runs through our farm. The sump pumps that are SUPPOSED to keep our well pit free of water failed, and there was almost four feet of water in there. I got the pump back online yesterday, and most relieved when it began to run again. The damn thing is probably 20 years old, and NOT a submersible type.. I was very much afraid that it wouldn’t run after being underwater. I hope we are out of it by now, but the Mississippi is supposed to crest at over 17 feet this week.. That means the in-laws will be underwater as well. In near by Hokah. MN the Root River is expected to crest at 50 feet. Much of that small town will disappear, I think…
-------------
posted by Larry Anderson 4/13/2001 05:21:29 AM
So I get the bike out of the shop for the first ride of the season. I am running around town warming up the tires, and basically loving being back on my motorcycle. I end up near the local Harley-Davidson shop, and I come up on a guy riding what looks like a brand new HD Road King. On the shoulder of the road. At 10 miles per hour. I think maybe he has a problem, so I come up on him close. He has no helmet, no boots, no eye protection. But he had one of those $500 HD Jackets Brand New. And a look of absolute terror on his face. His ungloved hands were WHITE with the fierce grip he had on the bars. And I think to myself, “So.. That’s what a mid-life crisis looks like..”-----------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/30/2001 09:04:53 PM
Things to Do While Waiting for 86 Gig of Data to Move From One Server to Another After Hours:1.) Play MP3 Files VERY LOUD.
2.) Dance in your office.
3.) Watch “The Man With No Name” movies on your Boss’ DVD player.
4.) Pretend the security camera is filming your own personal variety show.
5.) Make inane entries to your website.
6.) Play “Name that Bacterium” with the leftovers in the company refrigerator.
7.) Change all the name plates on the office doors.
8.) Set up binders at end of long hallway. Grab globe from accountant’s office. Bowl.
9.) Use company OC3 connection to the Internet to search for old College girlfriends.
10.) Organize corkboard pushpins according to color preference.
11.) Download FBI file on your Boss. Redact all words except “The,” “And.” Or “But.” Leave in conspicuous location.
12.) Search users home spaces for embarrassing personal files and porn. Burn CD.-----------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/23/2001 05:45:17 PM
This crap just never seems to end.. If you haven’t heard from me, NO, I have not been “taken out” by a MOSSAD hit squad over my dislike for Barbara Striesand (See below for details). I have been quite busy keeping my son breathing. Yeah, he got his casts off, and his legs and feet look GREAT. He now has plastic braces he just has to wear during the day, and he deals with them just fine, thanks for asking. BUT he also managed to get his sister’s cold. Next thing we know, he has pneumonia, and I am racing through the Minnesota night to get him to ER because he is pale, and struggling to breathe. He is doing better now, on massive amounts of antibiotics and has nasty things coming out of every part of his body.I could use a vacation. Anyone have a time share near Lake Tahoe I could borrow? Cheap?
-------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/21/2001 11:36:39 AM
Alright. After a setback due to inclement weather, our son gets his casts off tomorrow. It will be great to see him be able to use his legs for the first time.. Although, I think he will be hell on wheels.. We are having a hard time keeping up with him now, even with the casts slowing him down. Without them, he will be uncatchable. Pray for us!------------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/13/2001 06:17:46 PM
Damn.My wife’s best friend from High School called this evening from Colorado. She had her son on Sunday last. There had been some, complications to the pregnancy. Her son was born premature at 4 pounds. Cleft pallet. Urinary problems. Calcium deposits in the brain. Downs Syndrome. Their worst nightmare has come to pass. I feel sick for them. I feel terrible for that little boy, struggling for life in a Denver hospital. I feel…
I feel..
I feel..
Those that know us, know that we too, had a rough pregnancy with my son Erik. We were told of “irregularities” in his development. We were told all of these terrible things it could be. Termination was mentioned to us by a doctor. When Erik was born, with his twisted legs, and turned in arm, I wept to see him. If you saw him now, you wouldn’t think it was the same kid. He is so smart, and active, and happy.. His (hopefully) last casts come off on Monday. I am so grateful that he has done so well, and I feel…
I feel..
I feel guilty. I am overwhelmed with a sense of guilt because I am lucky that my son is smart and healthy, and responding to treatment. I want to rage at nature, or God, or the Universe that lets bad things happen to good people. I thank God that Erik is ok. Then I remember that little boy in Colorado, and I start it all over again. Sadness. Anger, Rage, Joy, Guilt. Dammit it is not fair.
I go into my son’s room ,and pick him up and give him a long hug. I rock him from side to side and let him sleep on my shoulder. I’m lucky. I’m glad I’m lucky. And I feel guilty for it.
Damn
---------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/9/2001 06:46:59 PM
Return of Hate MailWell, here is round two with this guy..
*****
TO: corsair09@bigfoot.com
FROM:@hotmail.com
SUBJECT: WebsiteYou did NOT have my permission to post my personal email on your website. This is a violation of my privacy, and I demand that you remove it. Your '‘apology" regarding your anti-Semitic comments is unacceptable. I can see now from the rest of your site that you are one of those right-wing gun freaks. What normal person would post links to the manufacturers of nuclear weapons? You are sick. I should report you to your ISP and see if they are aware of the kind of hate sites they are hosting. Perhaps a note to the Anti Defamation League is in order too. Then others could be warned of the sick things you are posting.
*****
Whoa boy.. Where do I start?
1.) Ok. As for posting your note, well, this is MY website. You send mail to a person regarding their webpage, and you MIGHT assume that it would be posted. No deal. It stays up.
2.) I did NOT apologize for the Striesand thing, because the comment was not anti-Semitic. I don’t like HER. To reiterate, she could be any religion she chose. I still would not like her.
3.) “Gun Freak?” Now who is calling names. If by that you mean that I believe the Bill of Rights means just exactly what it says, then I am guilty as charged. Right Wing? Bzzzt. Wrong answer. Try Libertarian, and you would be closer.
4.) What is wrong with the nuclear resources? I starting collecting info on them back in Grad School. Don’t like the info? Don’t read it.
5.) You want to report me to my web hostess? Feel free. Her email is: tam@deco-rations.com. Good luck though.. She has some pretty strong beliefs in freedom of expression.
6.) The ADL? Again, feel free. If they have nothing better to do than to peruse my website, they are welcome to do so.
7.) I’m sick? Dude, you need help. You seem to have a paranoid fixation on finding anti-Semitism wherever you look. A little lithium and or Prozac, and you might be able to join the rest of us in society..
----------------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/9/2001 06:58:03 AM
ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US!Too Cool.. As a recovering victim of bad Mid-1980's Japanese videogames with horrid translations, this gave me flashbacks!
------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/7/2001 06:48:23 AM
Ok, change of plans. Things just went from bad to worse over this house deal. First, they accepted our offer, then wanted to wait until June to move. Ok, we wanted to go sooner, but we would wait a bit for the right house. Then they said June 15th. Sigh. OK, we will work with you. Then they decided that we were a bad risk or something, and their agent demanded a verbal guarantee that we were good for the financing. Sure. Fine. Whatever. Or Mortgage guy told them we were good to go. Sunday comes, and we get a call saying they now wanted double the earnest money.Fine. Went to write them a bigger check, and find my agent in a lather. Seems they rewrote the contract to read that if the deal falls through FOR ANY REASON, they get to keep all the earnest money. No. Wait, let me think about it…. HELL NO. I would be damned if I was going to let them suddenly decide not to follow through on the sale AND keep $1000 of my money. Told our agent we would agree only to the standard sales contract regarding earnest money. In the mean time, she kept looking for a different house. Two hours later, she calls me and tells me to drop everything, and come see another home. We do, and the wife falls for it bigtime. Same space, newer house, new roof, and better kitchen and bedrooms. Oh, and it costs less too. SOLD. We flew back to the other agents office, and seized the old contract and my check before the jerks could cash it. If you are looking fort a home in the Rochester area, I would avoid Re-Max LIKE THE PLAGUE! -----------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/6/2001 09:00:57 AM
Strange Things You’re Children Say: A Continuing Series..The wife and I are overheard discussing the very aggressive coyotes in the neighborhood by my daughter. She asks me,
“Daddy, what do coyotes eat?”
“Um, well Hon, they eat rabbits, squirrels, mice, and (since we had already lost one) cats.”
She looks thoughtful fore a moment, then pronounces,
“And Road Runneners, if they can catch them…”
Damn You Chuck Jones, you have corrupted ANOTHER generation..
-----------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/4/2001 06:16:36 PM
Good News! Sorta.. We think. Our offer to buy the house was "verbally accepted” by the seller. Strange though. It is almost like they were shocked that we want to buy the house, and now are having second thoughts. First, they don’t want to move until June. Ok, so we write June 1st as the close date. Longer than we wanted to wait, but we are willing to work with them on this home, as it so perfectly suits our needs. Then they say maybe not until June 15th. Um, well, MAYBE. We can try and be flexible. Then this afternoon our realtor calls and says that they are “concerned” about our financing. WTF? We are pre-approved for the whole cost. Our Mortgage agent calms their fears. Waiting to see what is next on the nervous nert parade..Wish us luck...
--------------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/4/2001 06:04:34 PM
Whew. What a whirlwind. We stayed over in Rochester to look at houses. We found a LOT of bad homes, and a few nice ones. We put a bid in on one that was PERFECT. It was more than I wanted to spend, but the home is litterally everything we wanted in a house. If we don't get this one, Tracey will be heartbroken. And yeah, I will be dissapointed too. A lot. Here's hoping. Guess I will be sleeping with one hand on the phone tonight..---------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/3/2001 11:39:47 AM
At long last, I have finally found someone who was crazier than ME as a child!http://www.trebuchet.com/articles/ron/trebuchet.html
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/2/2001 02:18:20 PM
Found, agreed with, and lightly modified to fit ME:Am I a bad American?
I like big cars, big boats, big houses, and naturally - Great Legs
I believe the money I make belongs to me and my family, not some middle-aged
governmental functionary with a bad comb-over who wants to give it away to
crack addicts squirting out babies.I don't care about appearing compassionate.
I think playing with toy guns doesn't make you a killer.
I believe it's called the Boy Scouts for a reason.
I think I'm doing better than the homeless.I don't think being a minority makes you noble or victimized.
I have the right not to be tolerant of others because they are different,
weird or piss me off.I know what SEX is and there are not varying degrees of it. Hell just ask my
wife.I believe that if you are selling me a Dairy queen shake, pack of
cigarettes, or hotel room you do it in English.
As a matter of fact, if you are an American citizen you should speak
English. My father and grandfather shouldn't have to die in vain so you can
leave the countries you were born in to come disrespect ours.I don't use the excuse "it's for the children" as a shield for unpopular
opinions or actions.
I know what the definition of lying is.I don't think just because you were not born in this country, you qualify
for any special loan programs, govm't sponsored bank loans, etc., so you can
open a hotel, c-store, trinket shop, or any damn thing else.
I didn't take the initiative in inventing the Internet.
I want them to bring back safe and sane fireworks.I believe no one ever died because of something Ozzy Osbourne, Ice-T or
Marilyn Manson sang, but that doesn't mean I want to listen to that crap
from someone else's car when I'm stopped at a red light. But I respect your
right to.I think that being a student doesn't give you any more enlightenment than
working at Blockbuster or Jack In The Box.I don't want to eat or drink anything with the words light, lite or fat-free
on the package.
We did not go to some foreign country and risk lives in vain to defend our
constitution so that decades later you can tell us it's a living document
ever changing and is open to interpretation.I don't hate the rich.
I don't pity the poor.
I know wrestling is fake.I've never owned or was a slave, and a large percentage of our forefathers
weren't wealthy enough to own one either.I believe a self-righteous liberal with a cause is more dangerous than a
Hell's Angel with an attitude.I own a gun, you can own a gun, and any red blooded American should be
allowed to own a gun, but if you use it in a crime then you will serve the
time. A rubber band and a paper clip is a dangerous weapon in the hands of
someone with malicious intent.
I worry about dying before I get even.I think Bill Gates has every right to keep every penny he made and continue
to make more. If it pisses you off, invent the next operating system that's
better and put your name on the building. Ask your buddy that invented the
Internet to help you.We don't need more laws! Let's enforce the ones we already have.
I believe that it doesn't take a village to raise a child, it takes a parent
with the balls to stand up to the kid and spank his butt and say "NO."I think tattoos and piercing are fine if you want them, but please don't
pretend they are a political statement.I didn't realize Dr. Seuss was a genius until I had a kid.
I will not be frowned upon or be looked down upon or be made to keep silent
because I have these beliefs and opinions.
I thought this country allowed me that right. I will not conform or
compromise just to keep from hurting somebody's feelings.
I am sick to death of "Political Correctness".In the immortal words of St. John of Wayne:
"I won't be lied to, cheated, or stole from. I don't do these things to other
people, and I won't stand for them being done to me."I'm neither angry nor disenfranchised, no matter how desperately the
mainstream media would like the world to believe otherwise.
Yes, I guess by their definition, I'm a bad American.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 3/2/2001 12:37:12 PM
I must have truly arrived! I have received my first piece of HATE MAIL related to this website. I won't post the whole message, as it got fairly vulger, but here is the highlights:*******************************
From: *****@Hotmail.com
To: Corsair09@bigfoot.com
Subject: Your WebsiteHey a**hole, How DARE you compare Barbara Streisand and GENOCIDE? Have you no sense of decency?
You should be ASHAMED of yourself, posting that sort of anti-Semitic crap on what is purported to be a FAMILY oriented web page.
******************************
Wow. So now I am an anti-Semite? That's a first.Well pal, I never knocked Ms. Striesand on the basis of her religion. I knock her entirely on her overhyped celebrity, and the fact that I find her to be a no-talent primadona. She could be presbyterian, druid or pagan for all I care. I would STILL think she was the worst singer, and least talented actress I had ever seen. As for useing her name in vain, or putting her in the same sentence as genocide, well, it was a list of things I don't like after all. Tell me.. If I had put her in the same sentence as bad chili, which I also find abhorrent, would I still be an anti-Semite??
---------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 2/21/2001 05:26:40 PM
Well it is final. We are moving. Again. Dammit. It HATE to move. It REALLY is one of my least favorite things, right up there with genocide and Barbara Streisand. But here we go again, non-the-less. The wife got a full time gig in Rochester, and has been doing the commute with me. That lasted about a week before the pressure to move became overwhelming. Told Grandmother this weekend. She cried some, but said she understands. A shame we can't get the money we put into the old farm house back to use as a downpayment. Looks like I am starting over again, and at the ripe old age of 31. Yay.-------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 2/19/2001 08:13:25 AM
Ok, Whoever I pissed off in a previous life, I'M SORRY! Can I stop paying karma now? What a Friday. First, we have to take my son back to the surgeon, because he has pulled ANOTHER pin out of his foot. Man, how does he manage to DO that? Anyway, on the way home, the van dies on the side of the freeway. Blown transmission. My 4 year old panicks, and I have to calm her down while trying to reach AAA on the cell phone. Lady on the phone tells me a tow truck is onthe way, but they can only let 2 people ride in the truck. "Great" I tell her.. "Which kid should I leave on the side of the freeway?" Fortunately, the tow guy was cool, and all was well. He towed us to the dealership where we had an appointment to have the van looked at on Monday. Damn thing just couldn't wait three more days. Estimated repair cost? $2000. Where the hell THAT is going to come from, I am not sure...---------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 1/20/2001 04:57:59 PM
Ever have everything you know or believed turned on it's head? Welcome to the club. Life is a Hoover. Looks like it is time to look for an new life...-------------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 1/12/2001 09:04:51 PM
Strange Things Your Children Say, Third in a Series:So I have my daughter with me as I stand in line to buy tickets to the “Emperor’s New Groove.” Yeah, I know, but she REALLY wanted to see it. The thought of a whole movie of David Spade voiceovers make me wish I had gone for that second beer at lunch, but we press on. While in the line, the woman in front of us turns to see Rebecca with me. “My!” She says, “Don’t you look lovely with your red dress.” Becky pipes up, “Yeah, and I have tea cups on my underwear too..”
Only those who have little kids know just how fast Daddy had to act to keep the child in question from proving this statement for the whole world to see…
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 1/9/2001 08:06:05 AM
My son, Erik is doing fine now.. He got through his surgery ok, then maganed to PULL OUT one of the pins in his foot. Ouch. Tough Kid. So, back to the Docs he went. New casts to go with the repair job. Then for an encore, he gets pneumonia. Sigh. Over it now. I am SO tired of winter. I am going through HUGE motorcycle withdrawl. Spring better come soon.. Even the Harleys' are starting to look good to me.....----------------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 1/9/2001 07:56:23 AM
-----OFFICIAL MINNESOTA TEMPERATURE CONVERSION CHART
60 above
- New Jerseyites try to turn on the heat.
- People in Minnesota plant gardens.50 above
- Californians shiver uncontrollably.
- People in Minnesota sunbathe.40 above
- Italian and English cars won't start.
- People in Minnesota drive with the windows down.32 above
- Distilled water freezes.
- Lake Mendota's water gets thicker.20 above
- Floridians don coats, thermal underwear, gloves
and woolly hats.
- People in Minnesota throw on a flannel shirt.15 above
- Philadelphia landlords finally turn up the heat.
- People in Minnesota have the last cookout
before it gets cold.0
- People in Miami all die ...
- Minnesotans lick the flagpole.20 below
- Californians fly away to Mexico.
- People in Minnesota get out their winter coats.40 below
- Hollywood disintegrates.
- The Girl Scouts in Minnesota are selling
cookies door to door.60 below
- Polar bears begin to evacuate the Arctic.
- Minnesota Boy Scouts postpone Winter
Survival classes until it gets cold enough.80 below
- Mt. St. Helen's freezes.
- People in Minnesota rent some videos.100 below
- Santa Claus abandons the North Pole.
- Minnesotans get frustrated because they can't thaw the keg.297 below
- Microbial life no longer survives on dairy products.
- Cows in Minnesota complain about farmers with cold hands.460 below
- ALL atomic motion stops (absolute zero on the Kelvin scale).
- People in Minnesota start saying, Cold nuff for ya?500 below
- Hell freezes over.
- The Vikings win the Super Bowl!------------------------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 1/9/2001 07:53:58 AM
Strange Things Your Children Say: Second in a SeriesHere in Minnesota, we have been innundated with an invasion of Ladybugs. Now that it is cold outside, they try to get in the house for the winter. My 4 Year old daughter, thiks it's funny to get Dad to come running to her room weilding kleenex, ready to do battle with the harmless, but irritating beetles. The call of "LAYDEEBUUUG!" Rings out at all hours. Often accompanied by a "Just kidding.." When I get there. Following the wisdom of the ages, I tell my daughter the story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf to impress apon her the value of honesty. She listens carefully, and at the end of the story asks me,
"Daddy, were his parents mad at him for lying?"
"Yep."
"Were they pirates?"
"Um, no.. There are no pirates in this story."
"Oh." She says. "The story would have been better with some pirates.."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 12/16/2000 08:33:36 AM
Strange Things Your Children Say: First in a SeriesSo my 4 year old daughter, after DESTROYING the CDROM on her Mom's computer, decides to suck up to me by reminding me that she knows all the safety rules (execpt don't jam a CD into the drive when it is operating):
"Hey Daddy!"
"Yes Peanut?"
"Don't talk to strangers. Daddy."
"Very good honey, what else?"
"Don't take a ride with strangers."
"That's right. Anything else?"
"Um.. Don't pay the ferryman?"
"Err, yeah, Don't even fix a price.."
Mental note: 4 year old kids forget NOTHING they are exposed to...
-----------------------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 12/11/2000 02:36:04 PM
Thank God.My son Erik is out of surgery. The ordeal lasted 6 hours. They accidentaly cut the artery to his foot, and had to call in a microsurgeron to repair it. He is finally in his room with his Mom, and with the application of some morophine, resting comfortably. It just killed me to hear his cries after he came out of the anesthetic. He is such a happy kid, and the sounds he made were unlike any I had heard from him before. I just keep telling myself all of this will be worth it when i see him toddling around the house. Some day.
_____________________________________________
posted by Larry Anderson 12/8/2000 05:59:52 PM
Ok, the time is at hand. My son undergoes the first of his series of operations this week. We are a bit scared. He is such a happy kid.. It is a shame to see him hurting. We tell ourselves that this is for his own good, and at 7 months old, he will never remember the pain. It helps us a little...______________________________________
posted by Larry Anderson 12/5/2000 11:41:20 AM
Here is the link to the map, if you have not seen it:
http://www.sierratimes.com/images/e2000map.jpg
On November 17, Paul Begala, one of Bill Clinton’s closest advisors had this to say about the attached map of how the individual counties in the US voted on November 7th:
"…if you look closely at that map you see a more complex picture. You see the state where James Byrd was lynch-dragged behind a pickup truck until his body came apart - it's red. You see the state where Matthew Shepard was crucified on a split-rail fence for the crime of being gay - it's red. You see the state where right-wing extremists blew up a federal office building and murdered scores of federal employees - it's red. The state where an Army private who was thought to be gay was bludgeoned to death with a baseball bat, and the state where neo-Nazi skinheads murdered two African-Americans because of their skin color, and the state where Bob Jones University spews its anti-Catholic bigotry: they're all red too…"
- Paul Begala MSNBC November 17, 2000I am angered beyond words by the arrogance and ignorance of this statement. Indeed the situation is complex. Lets look at the map again. The city where a black man, Amadou Diallo, was shot 41 times for the high crime of being a black man in a darkened doorway, that’s a blue area. The city where Rhodney King was nearly beaten to death, and the police department is so corrupt the Feds have to step in after the Rampart scandal, the place where violent images are bought, sold and pushed on our children like drugs, that is a blue region. The city of Chicago, whose history of corruption and political fraud is so entrenched it is a national joke, that is a blue area. The nation’s capitol, the center for the most corrupt administration in memory, the city on a swamp where ever increasing portions of our paychecks go for ever expanding pork and programs and wealth redistribution, the place known off and on as the murder capitol of the U.S., THAT is a blue area. These are the people that voted for Gore.
On the other hand, the places that produce all of the food to feed these ignorant, arrogant limousine liberals, they are red. The places where people work hard, love their families, and look after their neighbors, those places are red. The places that generate the patriotic men and women that are sent of to serve in the military in and unending parade of stupid, interventionist globo-cop missions, those places are red. The over regulated, overtaxed, maligned, masses of Americans that are fed up with the lies, the scandals, the blue dresses, the idiotic foreign policy, and the continual erosion of our civil rights, WE LIVE IN THOSE RED AREAS. Really, Mr. Begala, how long do you think we will continue to take the unending stream of invective and hate that you and your privileged self anointed elite spew at us? If there will be a revolution in this country, it will be because of you and your blue friends. Those of us in the red areas you fear? We are the heart and soul of this country. We will still be here long after you and your socialist friends will be cast on the rubbish heap of history.
Sincerely,
Larry Anderson
Somewhere in fly-over country-------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 11/19/2000 12:16:09 PM
Well, I made it. Finally used the Sabre to commute to work. I have 65 miles of bad roads between me and work, but managed to keep the thing right side up.. Actually, it didn’t get “BAD” until I was in heavy traffic in Rochester. Highway 52 sucks, no question. What have I learned?October mornings in Minnesota are cool. At 65 MPH they are COLD. At long last I understand why the “old timers” like their heated grips so much.
Deer have no sense of road way etiquette, and are far less intimidated by motorcycles than by cars.
Cold cow manure is a road hazard not discussed in ANY book I have read..
Unlike riding the cage on the superslab, taking the bike on back roads to work leaves you with VERY LITTLE chance of falling asleep at the wheel.
Soccer Moms in SUV’s are bad for your health.. Stay clear.
All the known physical laws of the universe are substantially altered by wet pavement.Now, to make it back HOME in one piece!
-------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 10/30/2000 10:47:19 AM
Well, it has been a week now, and my wife's orange longhair cat Tobie has not come home. I have a feeling the coyotes got him. They have been SO agressive lately. I shot one near my mailbox the other day. Last time that mangey old thing will growl at me on my own property. At night, they come right up to the house. I think it freaks out the wife some.. She being a "city girl" and all. You would think that if I have coyotes in my front yard, the deer would be kept away from my apple trees but apparently those long legged forest rats have plenty of opportunity to eat my precious trees down to nubs. Ah, the relaxing country life...____________________________
posted by Larry Anderson 10/17/2000 11:33:52 AM
The PT BoatIt seems as though there are times when you become acutely aware of the passing of things. I reflected on this as I was working in the barnyard this last week, burning off old scraps of rotten wood that had fallen from old barns long past. I wondered how long ago the building was built, and how many generations of kids played and worked in it. I wondered if they would be sad I was burning their memories.
One summer my father went to an auction in La Crosse, WI. La Crosse sits on the Mississippi River, and has had a long meandering history with the “Father of Waters.” At this particular auction, the U.S. Coast Guard and the Army Corps of Engineers were selling old obsolete equipment. My Dad bid on several small lots of tools, but the really big thrill for me was the PT boat he brought home on the back of his flatbed truck.
At this time, I had seen the movies “PT 109” and “They Were Expendable” and “McHale’s Navy” was still popular on cable, so I instantly recognized the old boat for what she was. Dad bought the craft for only one reason: three HUGE Packard engines in the hull. The boat itself was made out of plywood, and had no value to a scrap dealer, but the engines had enough cast iron and parts to be worth the relatively small amount he paid for the little ship. As he planned the eventual destruction of the ship, I was in kid heaven. When word got around town that I had my VERY OWN PT Boat, suddenly I went from “that weird little fat kid” to the coolest dude on the block. I had friends I didn’t even know existed coming up to me, and asking if we could play on the boat after school.
In retrospect, the old Elco boat had been pretty thoroughly stripped by the Coast Guard. The machine gun turrets were still there, but the traverse and elevation rings were gone, all of the radio and navigation equipment were removed, and only the massive motors remained of the machinery. Even the ships wheel was gone. Holes in the deck were the only reminder of where four powerful torpedoes once rested. None of this mattered. Where reality failed, our imaginations took over, and just about every kid in town played on that boat, fighting, and refighting imaginary battles, exploring uncharted islands, and repelling wave after wave of piratical boarders determined to wrest our ship from us. It was a long, hot, wonderful summer.
Fall came, as it always does, and the long summer days of swashbuckling began to ease into cooler shorter days of schoolwork. In due time, my father was laid off of his construction job for the winter, and he then had time to devote to his own projects at “The Shop.” Like a farm boy grown too fond of a prize calf, I begged Dad not to scrap the old PT Boat. To no avail. The mighty Packard engines were removed from the hull, and I cried as I watched him break up the plywood hull with the Caterpillar bulldozer. He was not insensitive to my feelings, but this was an investment, and the proceeds would keep his family in “boots and beans” through the long Minnesota winter. The broken pieces of hull went bit by bit into the potbellied stove and kept the worst of the winter cold out of the workshop. One of the last pieces to go into the fire was the instrument panel. The empty sockets where gauges once rested now like sunken eyes gazing back at me. It seems as though there are times when you become acutely aware of the passing of things. This was one of those times. And while I a long way from growing up, I knew then that this was a piece of my youth, my childhood passing away from me.
-----------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 10/13/2000 01:00:49 PM
Of Rockets and Cottage CheeseModel rockets are a teenage boy’s delight. They have a major advantage over assembling model airplanes, in that you can actually use them for their intended purpose after completion. Many a hour I spent as a child building, painting, gluing, and dreaming up ways to misuse my rockets. It was in this endeavor that I enlisted the aid of my friend Steve. You may remember Steve from the Zeppelin incident? Anyway, Steve lived on a farm about four miles outside of town. Actually, he lived across the valley from my Grandparents farm, where I now reside.
Steve too, was into building model rockets, so I had a ready-made accomplice yet again. We had quickly tired of the standard things to do with rockets: Launching, recovering and relaunching. Sending up crickets as little insect astronauts, etc. We had determined that there were far more interesting things to be done with our little missiles. And with the fortuitous discovery of an old can of black powder in Steve’s family garage, the range of things we could do broadened immensely.
Learning from the Zeppelin incident, we decided that the farthest pasture on Steve’s family farm was better than the scrap yard for this experiment. We assembled a large “Egg Lofter” model for this series of tests. The Egg Lofter will be recognized instantly by other young racketeers. It is a rocket with a large, bulbous payload compartment for a nose. It is in these “Egg Lofters” that countless crickets and frogs have made the ultimate sacrifice in the cause of science and the occasional merit badge.
Our rocket of choice was a large Egg Lofter of a model no longer made by the Estes Company, although I don’t believe we had anything to do with the decision to remove it from the product line. We did not bother to paint or decal the rocket, as we expected its one and only flight to be short and spectacular. We were right on both accounts.
First, we determined that the parachute was wholly unneeded in this flight, and set it aside for another experiment I had in mind using another rocket and my brother’s G.I. Joe Action Figure. But that is another story.. Anyway, the next step was to load the cargo compartment, henceforth referred to as the “warhead” with the illicitly obtained black powder. Having loaded the “warhead” to its capacity, we mounted the nose onto the body of the rocket with liberal applications of duct tape. We inserted the largest, most powerful engine the rocket body would allow, and wired our missile for launch. With anticipation induced sweaty hands, we held the launch box and did our count-down: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! A mighty “WHOOSH” and our missile was off the pad!
I suppose at this point I could launch into a long discourse about aerodynamics, centers of gravity, and stabilization of bodies in motion. But since I hadn’t paid much attention to those things then, I won’t bother with them now, except to say that a nose heavy rocket is a BAD idea.
The rocket lifted off of our little launch pad, and we were thrilled at the sight of our handiwork reaching for the sky… and watched with horror as the very overbalanced rocket began arcing towards the neighbors cow pasture. The rocket impacted about 20 yards from a small heard of cattle, and began spinning around on the ground. Cattle are NOT the most intelligent of creatures, and they looked with bored expressions at the cavorting rocket and teen age boys running up to the fence. We watched too, as the madly spinning rocket sent gouts of flame and smoke wafting over the heard of cattle. I had just enough time to worry about starting a grass fire, when there was a extremely loud BANG from the midst of the cloud. At this point several things happened at once. I was partially deafened (but not permanently) from the blast, and received minor scratches from flying bits of rocket. Steve, though shielded by ME from the bulk of the blast, yelped, and hit the ground. And the entire heard of dairy cattle STAMPEDED their way back to the neighbor’s barn. I can only imagine the look of confusion on the neighbor’s face when his cows gave curdled milk for the next two days. We quickly stamped out the small fires started by our experiment, and removed all the debris we could find. There was little we could do about the small crater where a hand grenade sized charge of black powder had detonated, but we tried to cover it with leaves and twigs. In all, we decided that the experiment while spectacular was unsuccessful. We tabled future experiments in rocketry for some time after that.
At night I can gaze out my bedroom window towards our little Penemunde. I wonder if Goddard and Von Braun had to contend with crazed cattle in their pioneering days? For years after that event, whenever I smell milk about to go bad, I referred to it as “Rocket Milk” much to the confusion of my mother. I think she asked me to explain it once, but there are some things a mother is better off NOT knowing, don’t you think?
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posted by Larry Anderson 10/3/2000 11:55:23 AM
Me, The Gold Wing and the HarleySo BOTH the kids have colds. The wife tells me that our plans for the day are scrapped, and we will be spending the day taking care of runny noses. Joy. But, she says, we need kids cold meds, and I should go get some. Ah HA! An excuse to ride the Sabre! I don my leathers, grab the helmet, and I am off.
Since our little hunk of Minnesota can’t seem to support its OWN drug store, I’m off to the next town for the meds. Nice day to ride. A few clouds, but nothing more than a few rain drops. Then the WIND hits. Nasty crosswind pushes me all over the road. AS I was leaned over into one corner, a strong gust stood the bike up on me. Yikes. Other than that, the trip was fun. I get the drug store, and it is a small sea of bikes on the street. Seems everyone is out and about on two wheels today. LOTS of Harleys. Nice bikes everywhere. I park my 82 Sabre next to a gorgeous example of a NEW Honda Sabre. Be still my heart. Lust bigtime. Sigh.
A couple of minutes later, and I am out of the store with the meds, and rolling for home. Ahead of me, I see a Gold Wing, and in front of him a Harley. We head back onto Highway 43 back towards Houston, and the Gold Wing tries to pass the Harley. No dice. The HOG rider speeds up just enough as to not let him pass. This guy was classic. NO Helmet. No jacket. No gloves. Long black hair streaming behind him. An an attitude bigger than that Evo engine he is sitting on. Traffic picks up, and me on my Sabre, and the Gold Wing and his passenger sit on the Harley’s tail for the first few miles. He just won’t let us around. Until we get to the hills. We start up the hills, and the Goldy and I have no trouble blowing past him on the first clear uphill stretch. I drop it down a gear, and give him a little wave as I pass. He scowls at me. Or it could be just the bugs hitting him in the forehead that make him mad. Who knows. Anyway it seems that attitude and style are no match for a V4 in the power band….
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posted by Larry Anderson 9/30/2000 01:12:50 PM
Good God! Someone I used to argue with has been injured seriously by a psycho with a sword?? Get better soon, man!Man Shot in Sword Attack at Crystal River Pawn Dies of Wound
The Associated PressCRYSTAL RIVER, Fla. (AP) - A man who attacked a pawn shop owner with a samurai sword during an argument died from a gunshot he received during the confrontation.
Kevin Fitzsimmons, 25, of Lecanto, died at St. Joseph's Hospital Wednesday, a day after he being shot in the head at A-1 Pawn and Jewelry.Owner Dave Phillips, 49, of Crystal River was in fair condition Thursday at St. Joseph's Hospital with a stab wound in the chest.
According to Police Sgt. Mike Klyap, Fitzsimmons went to the store to pick up a handgun he bought last week. Phillips told police that Fitzsimmons was acting strangely and he didn't want to give him the gun, Klyap said Wednesday.
Fitzsimmons got angry, told Phillips he was a "ninja," and walked outside to his car. He returned swinging a samurai sword, Klyap said.
Fitzsimmons stabbed Phillips, who retreated to a back room and shot Fitzsimmons when he followed, Klyap said.
Police found a ninja outfit in Fitzsimmons' car.
AP-ES-09-28-00 1304EDT
posted by Larry Anderson 9/29/2000 08:03:11 AM
They took about 8 inches of my Grandmother’s intestine to get the whole growth out. She is still asleep. My father-in-law will have a QUAD bypass tomorrow morning. The wife is doing better than last night, but is still very worried about her Dad. A very long day. Think I will go to bed.------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 9/25/2000 07:26:42 PM
The Year of Hell – UpdateThe good times just keep on rolling. Tomorrow morning, my Grandmother goes into surgery to have a large “mass” removed from her upper GI tract. This is the third attempt to get the ‘mass” out of her. They are extremely careful not to call it a tumor around her. It has only been a few months since my Grandfather died from cancer. She is scared to death. She has lost so much weight, and looks so fragile. I pray her system can stand this latest assault.
Also, we just heard they took my father-in-law to the Emergency room. Seems he might be having a heart attack. They will keep him there for a few days. At least we can see them both at the same hospital. Quite a time saver that.
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posted by Larry Anderson 9/24/2000 07:27:32 PM
Of Zeppelins and PhysicsI find myself thinking about my Dad a lot these days. He died more than ten years ago, but I still feel his presence in my life. This could very well be due to the fact that my son now sleeps in the room he grew up in on the family farm. Or it could be due to my latent interest in motorcycles and other machinery. But mostly, I feel his watchful gaze on me when I do something really stupid.
You may remember I mentioned in an earlier blog that my father ran a scrap yard. This is a wonderful/terrible place for a kid to spend time. As I relate some of the things I did as a kid to my wife, she is ever more convinced that I should not have survived to adulthood. One such incident was the Zeppelin experiment.
Steve was a friend of mine, and we shared some similar interests. One day, when we were about 10 or 11 years old, we decided to re-enact the crash of the Hindenberg. After school, we went to the local dime store, and purchased one of those SUPER sized balloons that you used to be able to buy. These things were huge.. When fully inflated, they were about six feet long, and perhaps three feet in diameter. They cost a whole dollar, and were worth every penny. We then took the monster balloon to “The Shop” as my Dad’s junkyard was called, and after a careful look around for unwanted witnesses, began to inflate the balloon with propane from the cutting torch. After several minutes, the balloon began to take shape, and was quite a sight to see. We were so exited by the success of this mission, that were had not given much thought to the method of detonating our new blimp. After a brief discussion with my co conspirator, we tied off the now massive balloon, and I went to get one of my precious M-80s and a roll of duct tape.
At his point in my narrative, I would like to take a moment and say a few words about explosives. The 1970’s were the last, great golden age for fireworks. In those halcyon days, if a kid had connections, he could amass enough firepower to blast a train tunnel through the Rockies. Today, the children of America are reduced to waving ineffectual sparklers, and watching those black carbon “snakes” wiggle their way across driveways of suburbia. This is pitiful. Not to sound like a curmudgeon, but in MY day, there was a certain Darwinian elegance about fireworks. A stupid kid would blow himself up, or at the very least loose some fingers early on in his experimentation with explosives, and that would be that. Future potential mates could then tell simply by looking that this kid would NOT make a good husband and father, because if they can’t get the mechanics of lighting a firecracker down, God help them when it comes time to run a lawn mower or fix a car.
Ok. Got that off my chest. Anyway, there we were affixing the method of destruction to the flank of or makeshift Zeppelin. We had visions of the great beast rising majestically into the air, and then bursting into flame high over our heads, just like in the old newsreel of the real Hindenberg. If fact, we began to worry about just how high the balloon might rise before exploding. We didn’t want the whole town to see our little experiment, for we felt sure that others just would not understand or particular brand of genius, and attempt to stop our efforts to expand science. Therefore, we decided that the fuse of the M-80 should be shortened somewhat to reduce the risk of high altitude detonation.
All was ready. The balloon was filled to maximum capacity with propane. M-80 was attached and waiting. I struck a match and lit the fuse, and told Steve to, “:Let her go!” The great best wallowed in the freshening breeze, and then..
Began to sink to our feet. Up to that point, it had never occurred to us that unlike hydrogen, propane was heavier than air. We looked at each other. The same cold look of realization was etched on our young faces. We ran. We ran like no two kids have ever run before. We must have covered a good 20 feet when a loud “BANG-WHUMP” erupted behind us. I felt the wave of heat race up my back. Hairs on the nap of my neck curled. We threw ourselves into the tall grass of the ditch on the far side of the road, and covered our heads, expecting a massive fireball to engulf us at any moment. For long seconds I lay there think to myself, that I really hadn’t had a bad life, if a bit short, and if I had to die, it was at least in the cause of science. After a time, we realized that we were not bound for the next world, and looked over the edge of the ditch. No trace remained of our ill fated airship. Not even a scorch mark remained to testify to its brief existence. Steve suddenly decided that he was probably needed at home for chores and left the scene as fast as his Schwinn would carry him.
I went to put the torch back in the shop, and saw my Dad leaning against the door. He had been watching for some time, I think. Why he let us carry on with our experiment I have no idea. The look he gave me was one of amusement. “That was kinda dumb, don’t you think?” He said. “Yeah, I guess it was.” It was all I could say. He looked down at me. “Are you gonna do that again?” He asked. “No sir.” Says I. A few moments pass. “Good.” He says, “Put the torch away, and lets get you home for dinner.”
He has been gone for ten years. I still feel his eyes on me when I do something stupid though. “That was dumb. You gonna do that again?” I seem to hear. And when I do, I smile, and whisper to myself, “No Sir.”
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posted by Larry Anderson 9/15/2000 08:27:49 AM
I think I am definitely getting the hang of this.. After a rough day, I needed to take my kid's rented videos back to the gas station (joys of a SMALL town, no REAL video store, just what the local service station has). All of our carefully laid plans fell through this weekend, and after a full day of cranky kids, I was ready to be out of the house for a while. The car was parked right outside the door of the farm house, but the keys and helmet on the wall peg called to me. I gave in. (Fear not my many mentors, I have received not a little remedial motorcycle instruction and traffic was light, so out came the Sabre). The 2 mile trip to the gas station was fun, but short. I gassed up the bike, and decided that a little practicing was called for.Houston County Road 4 runs by my home, and is usually quite empty this time of day on a Sunday. It also has enough twisties to be fun, but not scary. I am starting to see the ZEN in all of this. When I got back home, I was in a FAR better mood than when I left. I realized I had just spent the better part of an hour thinking about NOTHING except the road, the ride, and the machine. I am sure that a more experienced rider would have thought the trip remarkably tame, but for me, well, what a blast!
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posted by Larry Anderson 9/10/2000 04:43:23 PM
Ah frustration.. I now have a cool bike, and the will to learn to ride PROPERLY, and the Motorcycle Safety Foundation class isn’t available until APRIL! Damn. Well, it is probably going to get cold and ugly soon anyway. I will post pictures of the “new” bike soon. Here is a link to the riders group I joined, SABMAG!--------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 9/6/2000 10:22:56 AM
I saw this accident on my way home from work yesterday. Horrible. You just wouldn't think one person had so much blood in them. His poor kids.________________
posted by Larry Anderson 9/1/2000 06:49:57 AM
Wow.Well, I got it home. I paid the insurance today on my lunch, and picked the bike up after work. The clutch is a bit picky, and the bike didn't want to start right away, but was soon rumbling along nicely. I on the other hand, took 7 tries to get out of the parking lot. Clutch, start, throttle, release clutch, stall. Lather, rinse, repeat. Once I got on the road, I kept it pretty tame. In fact, I was passed by a milk truck. How humiliating! ;)
On the highway, the ride was exhilarating/scary/fun/terrifying... An I don't think I ever got it out of third gear. This machine has WAY more power than I expected. I damn near lost control of the thing going into second gear. Wow. I love it. But it is going to take a LOT of practice....
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posted by Larry Anderson 8/30/2000 04:50:56 PM
Well, I went and did it.. I passed my test and got myself a motorcycle. Honda V45 Sabre. Bit on the powerful side for a beginner, but we shall make the best of it. Oh, yeah, the wife is a bit miffed, but the couch is quite comfortable, thank you..___________
posted by Larry Anderson 8/30/2000 11:49:25 AM
Ok, I might have to get one of these for my office!
I am the victim of what can only be a massive international anti-sleep conspiracy, involving my wife and children, the DNC, and I think, the Freemasons.-----
posted by Larry Anderson 8/23/2000 08:20:51 AM
Why didn't anyone tell me that Jim Varney died?? A great loss. Truly a missunderstood genius._____
posted by Larry Anderson 8/22/2000 04:47:56 PM
Claratin. A Miracle Drug. Look into it.._____
posted by Larry Anderson 8/22/2000 04:44:00 PM
Work is hell. It is tough being four people for a couple of weeks. But an Austin Powers DVD and a jigger of bourbon helps....____
posted by Larry Anderson 8/22/2000 04:42:37 PM
My son is teething. If you don't have kids, this means that his teeth are starting to push through his gums. It also means that our darling angel boy is now a howling deamon bent on driving us insane. It is Sunday, and we are exhausted.. I think we are looking forward to going to work so we can get some rest...____
posted by Larry Anderson 8/20/2000 03:34:27 PM
This had me laughing my butt off! But it takes a while to download, so be patient!__
posted by Larry Anderson 8/18/2000 12:55:16 PM
Oooooh, new look!!Dunno if I like it yet though..
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posted by Larry Anderson 8/18/2000 11:23:08 AM
Beware Wimpy! It is always the quiet ones.._____
posted by Larry Anderson 8/17/2000 08:53:02 AM
So I had my 31st Birthday yesterday. How did I spend nearly all of it? Working. I don’t get it. My wife has this knack for finding jobs that allow her to have her birthday off. I ALWAYS have to work on mine. To make matters worse, Wednesday sucked. The system backups for three VIM’s (Very Important Machines) tanked, and I didn’t get home until nearly 8 PM. My birthday dinner was in little Tupperware containers, and my birthday cake was under glass (Side note: Angel food cake with Pink frosting. Who do they think they are dealing with?) I managed to have cake and ice cream with the wife and my three-year-old daughter before bed time. Note to self: DO NOT feed 3 year olds cake and ice cream immediately prior to bed time.Anyway, the whole age thing has me thinking. I am considering having my Mid-Life Crisis early, just to get it out of the way. Actually, considering that my father died at age 49, I might well be beyond mid life.. Yikes. Consequently, I find myself wanting a motorcycle. To tell the truth, I haven’t ridden a cycle in about, oh, 15 years. I do have an actual logical reason for one, beyond the mid-life thing. I have a 62.5 mile one way commute every day to work, and a motorcycle would be excellent for gas mileage. At least in the summer. Anyway, I’m tired of doing the safe thing.
When I was a kid, I was dangerous. Mostly to myself, you understand.. I wasn’t out shoving tooth picks up that cat’s nose, or anything. I did things that to this day, make my mother shudder. Experiments with explosives, scrap iron, arc welders, etc. Sometimes all three at once. My father ran a scrap yard in my home town as a hobby, and something to do in the winter when he was laid off of work. Parents: DO NOT let your kids grow up in a junkyard. There are myriad ways death and/or dismemberment can visit a kid there. I found most of them. From the time I overcharged a bunch of car batteries and caused them to explode (battery acid RUINS blue jeans) to the time I built a small bomb out of a light bulb, gasoline, and ether, I am utterly amazed I survived my childhood. Let us not even get into the “101 Interesting Things to do with Propane” chapter..
Such was the recklessness of my youth. But when I got married and began having children (that is, my wife began having kids. Mostly I stood around saying things like, “How are the contractions Hon?”) I have become acutely aware of my own mortality. I have been getting progressively “safer” as I age. At age 17, I had a Kharman Ghia Mustang with a 302 V-8. Damn that car was fun. And fast. Not the fastest car in town by a long shot. That title went to the guy who collected the Super Bee’s and speeding tickets, but it was WAY too much car for a 17 year old. After that, things started to go downhill. The cars got more normal and family like. I went from sports car, to Chevy Turbo Sprint in about ten years. I would like a LITTLE excitement back..
Maybe I will stop at the Harley Davidson dealership on my way home…
posted by Larry Anderson 8/17/2000 07:56:15 AM
Awesome! The new system is up and online! THe DVD player works and everythingThis system ROCKs.. Which is good, because it is going to take me a year to pay it off.....
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posted by Larry Anderson 8/15/2000 07:39:47 PM
Too Cool! My new system arrived via UPS today.. Only 5 more hours till I can play with it! (Work sucks when you have new toys at home..)__
posted by Larry Anderson 8/15/2000 10:55:06 AM
Ok, so I’m a Geek. I have come to accept it. I am a big Geek. Huge even. Really. Be glad I don’t post pictures of myself.. What caused this epiphany? Monday. Just about at the end of the Monday from Hell,. I notice something rubbing my back under my shirt. Now pet owners can sympathize, I think, when my first thought is that my wife’s damn cats gave me a wood tick. Luckily I have an office with a door rather than a cube, so I closed my door, and untucked my shirt to identify the intruder. Turned out to be a burr of some sort. No big deal right? Right. So then I go to tuck my shirt back in and resume my professional demeanor, when I realize I have just managed to firmly snag the tail of my shirt in my zipper. It’s in there good too, as no amount of up and down zipper manipulation will dislodge the fabric. While I am vexed, I silently offer a prayer of thanks that I managed to avoid reenacting the “franks and beans” scene from Something About Mary. Finally I decide that there is nothing for it, but to yank hard on the shirt tail. After four or five stout pulls, the shirt tears free, and HALF A DOZEN teeth from the zipper fly across my desk like shrapnel. Now I’ve done it. There is a gaping hole in the front of my pants where the zipper used to be. Now way to fix it either. I did a real nice job on it.. Thankfully it was near the end of the day.. Now more meetings. Those that saw me walking out with a computer case to hide my shame must have thought either I was taking extra work home, or embezzling company equipment…
posted by Larry Anderson 8/15/2000 10:51:40 AM
This came in my morning email. Sick, but funny. Helps if you have kids and "Little Golden Books" strewn about your domicile...------------------------------------------------------------
"Little Golden Books That Never Made It"
1. You Are Different and That's Bad
2. The Boy Who Died From Eating All His Vegetables
3. Dad's New Wife Robert
4. Fun four-letter Words to Know and Share
5. Hammers, Screwdrivers and Scissors: An I-Can-Do-It Book
6. The Kids' Guide to Hitchhiking
7. Curious George and the High-Voltage Fence
8. Some Kittens Can Fly
9. Garfield Gets Feline Leukemia
10. The Pop-Up Book of Human Anatomy
11. Strangers Have the Best Candy
12. Whining, Kicking and Crying to Get Your Way
13. You Were an Accident
14. Things Rich Kids Have, But You Never Will
15. Pop! Goes The Hamster...And Other Great Microwave Games
16. Eggs, Toilet Paper, and Your School
17. Places Where Mommy and Daddy Hide Neat Things------------------------------------------------------------
posted by Larry Anderson 8/15/2000 06:46:15 AM
Ok, this really irritated me.. I got a call from a pollster (at dinner time, when else) asking questions about my political views. One question was, “Do I see myself as a Democrat, Republican,, or Independent?” I registered as an Independent and told her so. “Oh,” she says, “So you vote for the man?” “No.” I informed her, I vote on the issues..”So basically, there are three kinds of votes out there for her:
1.) Votes blindly the Republican ticket come hell or high water,
2.) Votes Blindly the Democrat ticket come hell,
3.) And those that vote because of what the candidate looks like.I weep for the Republic.
posted by Larry Anderson 8/15/2000 06:45:08 AM
Wait a minute… So the media is doing its usual thing and shilling for the liberals by telling us that Bush/Cheney are bad because they are too tight with the oil industry? Have they forgotten to mention that the single biggest backer of Al Gore is Occidental Petroleum?
posted by Larry Anderson 8/15/2000 06:44:32 AM
The Year of HellThe Year of hell (now in it’s 16th Month Held over due to great reviews) actually began in April of 1999. I was working as a Microsoft Certified Technical Trainer (No, wait, that isn’t the hellish part, really..) for this smallsih company. I had been with them for about 5 years. The hell began when their directory of I.S. pulled an audit of the classroom machines I was responsible for, and found copies of the Distributed.Net client running on them. I had received verbal permission from my manager to do this, so I thought it was no biggie. He differed on the issue, and tried to get me fired. My manager suddenly developed a bad case of Clintonian Memory Syndrome: He had no clear memory of granting me permission to install the software, and really, it all depended on your definition of the word “permission.” My resume was on Monsterboard that night. Next morning I get a call from another employer, and the offer of a really great gig as a Senior Systems Admin, but at less pay. What to do? I hated my current job, but the money was nice. The new job was way cool, with really neat people to work with, but was the money difference going to matter? In the end, I took the offer and after giving 30 days notice (another bad idea, but I digress..) I found myself firmly placed in the new gig.
The job rocks really. I enjoy (most) of the work, and love the crew I work with. They share my sense of humor and general disdain for users, so there is that, even with less money. Besides, my wife’s job was brining in enough scratch to get us over the mortgage payment every month.
First week I work there, I get food poisoning.
Second week I work there, I fracture my ankle walking to my car.
By the end of the first month, my allergies had flared up so bad I couldn’t breath.
Got my doctor to finally treat my allergies, but oops.. Now I have high blood pressure.
Ok, so we manage to get the health issues addressed. I have good insurance, so that is no major deal (this will be important later on, so take notes). In August, my wife tells me that we are going to have another kid. Ok, well we figured this all out before, so we can do it again. Congratulations all around. Then the fun REALLY begins:
First Big Appointment comes and the docs tell us that there is no detectable heart beat from the fetus. Come back in a few weeks and we will know more…
Ultrasound day: Yes there is a heart beat, but there are “sings of abnormality.” Come back in a few weeks and we will look again..
Ultrasound postponed.
Ultrasound postponed AGAIN.
I threaten to get a big jar a Vaseline and a fish finder and do the damn thing myself.
Ultrasound day: Yes the child is moving, but we see what looks like Arthrogriposes. Translation? Club feet. But maybe his arms too. Hey, this could be some really bad genetic disorder..
Emergency amniocentesis. RIGHT THEN.
LOOONG weekend of waiting for genetics to tell us if our kind has messed up genes. Everything comes back clean. This is good right? Not to the Docs.. Now they tell us it is “Probably a neurological disorder. Termination is mentioned.
Meanwhile, about this time my grandparents calls me and my brother back to the old home town for a meeting. Seems since my Grandfather has been fighting Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma for over a year, they want a house in town, and will have to sell the family farm. My father was their only child, and he died in 1990, so there is no one to take over, unless me or my brother agrees to live on the farm. I watch as my stoic Norwegian Grandfather cries quietly as my Grandmother lays out the details. After MUCH soul searching, we decided that since my brother has ZERO interest in living in the country, it falls to me. We make plans to move the first week of January. We begin renovating the 1937 farm house to something a bit less primitive. New flooring, new appliances. New furniture. LOTS of paint. Guess what? The water system must be completely overhauled because the well is contaminated with iron bacteria. Electrical system is a joke.. New wiring and new service. Worst of all: No high speed Internet. I loose my cable modem, and go back to dial-in service. ARRRGH! U-haul truck gets 1 (ONE) mile down the freeway before the engine explodes. Spend rest of moving day at truck repair center, and moving all of out furniture from one truck to the next.
Then, back at the Doctor’s Office: “Gee guys, we know something is wrong with your son, but I guess we will take a wait and see approach.”
Just weeks before my son is born, my Grandfather looses his struggle with cancer and dies.
The farmer who rents the arable land (I am no farmer) clears old pasture land for cultivation, and burns off the weeds and such. A very windy day. A hot ember. Next thing I know, I am fighting a runaway grass fire headed right for the farm buildings. I manage to stop the fire a few yards from the barn. I stumble back the house, wheezing, and realizing that my scorched shoes will never be the same. Very pregnant wife asks if I am “Done playing outside.”
Our Son, Erik William Sherman Anderson decides that Midnight, April 16 is the right time to start coming into the world, and Wife’s water breaks. We drop the 3 year old off at Grandma’s house and drive the hour to the hospital. I check the wife in, and they tell me to go lay down for a while, because nothing is happening yet. 20 minutes later, I get a call back to the room. Wife is gone. Nurse tells me to suit up. Something is wrong. They tell me I can’t go in the delivery room, and they are going to do an emergency caesarian section. Everyone looks tense. I finally get the nurse to tell me that the child is lodged sideways in the pelvis, and they were loosing his vital signs. I am ushered into the receiving room, where they bring in my goop covered son. He looks.. Heartbreaking. His legs are folded up under his butt. The Doc’s were in such a hurry, they nicked his head with the scalpel. They tell me his right hand is curved as well. He doesn’t breath to well, so he spend the first few days in pediatric ICU getting tested. SURPRISE! They still don’t know what is wrong with him, whether he has some dire neurological disease, or if this is just “common” clubfoot. We take him home. He begins weekly casting to straighten out his legs. It works great, but he does NOT like it, and he will still have to have surgery to fix them. He is an alert, happy kid now, with his casts off for a couple of months. I can’t see him having a neuro problem.. He is very strong, and responsive. The docs want to rerun his tests including the very painful EMG (think needles and electric shocks). We tell them to piss off.
Next on the hit parade, the Flood of 2000! Yep, the south fork of the Root River borders our property. The rains came. And came. And then it REALLY rained, and our beautiful valley became one giant river basin. Water up to the yard. Barns under water. I have video tape of deer being swept down river. I send away the wife and kids when the county threatened to close our road. I stay to baby-sit a balky sump pump. At last, the water recedes. Lets see.. Fire, Flood, can famine be far behind?
Oh yeah, and just for grins, TWO of the wife’s friends loose their parents. One of my favorite teachers dies too. We decide we are spending WAY too much time at the funeral home. At the same time, my other Grandmother is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. This scares the crap out of my Mom. Now, every time she forgets where the remote is, thinks she is loosing it.
I think that just about brings us up to date.. Oh, yeah, my Grandmother (the former farmer) announces she might want to sell the farm after all, now that we have moved an hour away from my job, sold out great MODERN house and now are stuck here. Great. May you live in interesting times….
posted by Larry Anderson 8/14/2000 12:50:19 PM
Welcome to the Blog zone.. More to follow!
posted by Larry Anderson 8/14/2000 12:11:04 PM
New website is up and running!
posted by Larry Anderson 8/14/2000 10:27:15 AM