Frenzied Daddy

I’ve never done this sort of thing before. I think I’m going to start a “book club” specifically for parents reading “young adult” books. I’m already reading the books, it’ll be good to talk about them as well. And I was moved by an article Grandma P brought over about how eighth graders tend to stop reading so much. So my fifth grader who is reading hundreds of books a year (yes, really ) will probably be reading much fewer when she leaves middle school.

Middle school, by the way, is next year.

The Oregonian article reminded me how much better readers do in school; reading and writing skills are much improved in kids who read for fun. And one of the best ways to help kids read for fun is to help match kids to books they might like.

So, thinking about the flames in the discussion around The Golden Compass, I think I’m going to use that as a springboard. So, I’ll be looking for some sort of “reading guide” that’s not totally pro-or-anti Pullman, and I’ll be putting a… schedule(?) for lack of a better word.

I’m using the Portland Parents site for it, aiming it at other parents who are concerned about the same things. Let’s see how far I can take it. Wonder what we’ll read for March.

I’m getting mildly crotchety in my old age. I spend way too much time on the internet reading insightful blog posts and other forums. I tell ya, it’s wearing me out. I’ve had it up to -here- though with blatant apostrophe abuse. People, an apostrophe does not mean “hang on there’s an s coming!”

So when I read this post about the author wearing an “Arrest Bush” t-shirt to his local Outback restaurant and being confronted by a little old lady, I was dumbfounded. On one hand, he had a salient point about what happens after we arrest Bush; that the little old lady wanted to make sure he knew about the Nuremburg war crimes, and that Bush needed to be tried against those standards, and the little old lady was agreeing with him. On the other, he used an apostophe in a possessive “its” ( … as it’s guiding power… )

Damn, damn damn. Whatever shall I do?

I have fond recollections of my brother being the more adventurous of the two of us, growing up. I always thought he was cool- he was braver and more willing, for instance, to jump out of the swings at the apex of his swing, or leap from concrete tube to concrete tube ( the playground of our trailer park had these 4 foot diameter concrete tubes that we played in… couldn’t do that today, they’d be rubberized. But at least when you licked them in winter your tongue didn’t stick to them ). Sure, he had a few mishaps; he got his scar on his chin that matches mine when he went down a hill on his bike and over a bike jump. I thought he was laughing when he got up, but he wasn’t. Whoops. But overall, I was proud to be his brother and always tried to live up to what he was capable of.

I never was able to, though; which made it more surprising when my mother tried to tell me, when I was a teenager, how much he looked up to me. I thought it was the other way around. I was more of a sissy boy and he was the macho one. Aah well, this photo always reminds me of him.

( oh, this picture isn’t really my brother– I stole it from a fark thread and cropped off the lolcaption. )

Who is the genius who, when given a demitasse of delicious, pungent espresso with a sweet fluffy crema, passed over the steamed milk, passed over the cream, passed over the chocolate, passed over the lemon zest and decided to dump tap water into it?

And call it “American,” ok, Americano.

Great; a watery espresso…the only kind of person who would drink a watery espresso would be an American? I hate americanoes. Give me either the drip coffee or the straight espresso. If you must dilute the espresso, use ice; it’s the same thing, but cold, and so easier for me to wrap my brain around.

And to add injury to insult, most places, including Starbucks, screw up the ratio and make truly watery coffee. It’s pathetic. Although I will admit that a large coffee at Dutch Brothers is almost palatable; four shots of espresso in a 24 oz cup, filled with water. It almost takes like coffee. But still. Bleah.

Don’t insult me with an Americano. I’d rather drink coffee from seven-eleven.

I could have used this refresher course a few years ago. When I took the Tiny Tyrant out and hosed her down after feeding her chocolate Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream. Darn.

Well at least I used a towel to dry the screaming kid off.

When I first caught wind of this, I thought it was a sick version of some “viral buzz” for the new Batman movie ( The Dark Knight ) which looks ( looked ? ) awesome.

But, no, now that I find the story on the New York Times, it sounds like he’s dead. The police said they did not suspect foul play and said they found pills near body.

source

In fricking conceivable.

Here’s the link for a trailer for The Dark Knight. I don’t know what they’ll do now; if filming is done ( doubt it ) or what.

Trailer

Damn, who’s laughing now?

Fourth edition Dungeons and Dragons is coming. I’m not following it as closely as I’d like to- because I’m not playing it as much as I’d like. Since DnD was bought by Wizards of the Coast, I’ve been concerned about what they’re doing with the “franchise.”

I have some excellent memories of DnD. One of my least favorite, ok I’ll admit it, player races was the Gnome. It was really only set up for one class- my least favorite “illusionist.” Dammit when I throw a spell, it’s real, ok? Geez. Anyway, apparently I’m not the only one disillusioned with gnomes, because in the fourth edition they’re removing Gnomes from the Player Handbook and replacing it with a Tiefling. In the words of a pal, “the gnomes have been demoted from player race to wandering monster check.”

Poor guys.

Anyway, this is a (funny) (short) video that gives a little more insight as to the change. I guess the gnomes are pretty happy about it. This one called his mom! Anyway, check out the video. It’s the first one on the page.

Flash!

upstairs. I guess she got tired of asking people to color with her. She loves to color with people and will tell you what to color and what color to use. But we’ve been telling her she had to color by herself for a while. The screaming and crying wasn’t any clue as to how tired she was.

There is one word in this house that turns every smile into a frown. It turns every hope of a happy fun evening into one filled with boredom and drudgery. It turns every decision about dinner into a depressed death watch as we march into the kitchen.

Leftovers.

Witness:

Monday night I made tunafish casserole. Because I know that the Bs ( the DQ and Ms B ) like it, I also made a batch of home made mac and cheese. You see, I already was cooking the noodles, and it just means I dump in the whole bag instead of reserving the last quarter of a bag. I’ve done it a few times and each time it gets rave reviews. The only person who likes the tuna casserole more than the mac and cheese is the TT. But that’s to be expected, I expect. This time it was extra special; Grandma P had dropped off about a quarter of a pound of Co-Jack cheese, so it was half cheddar, a quarter colby and a quarter jack.

The DQ announced it was my best mac and cheese ever. Ms B argued that while it was indeed delicious, she needed the tillamook white cheddar one made again, just for comparison’s sake. There was about half of the mac and cheese left after dinner. I put it in the fridge.

Tuesday the DQ asked, she frequently does, as we went from school to home in the evening; “What’s for dinner?” When I told her it was leftovers, I could hear her face fall from the back seat into her lap, and then it tried to crawl up the door and out the window. So much for “the best Mac and Cheese ever.”

I’m just now finishing up the “italian chicken” that wasn’t what everyone else hoped for. It’s ok though, and I’m enjoying it. I guess Friday I’ll be eating that Mac and Cheese. Here’s to leftovers.