Frenzied Daddy

I’ve almost gotten inured to the ants. We’ve been fighting an ant problem for a few months now. It’s made more difficult because dirty dishes get left out overnight or a wrapper or something finds its way into the trash. But we saw a mouse this past weekend.

Well, first, I was cleaning out the filing cabinet and discovered many papers that had mouse pee and mouse poo on them, and some chewed envelopes. Then we put out traps and finally spotted the little sucker running up and down the comcast cable ( isn’t it always the comcast cable company’s fault? ). Every time it was spotted, the girls shrieked. Almost comical. Almost.

Finally, today, Ms B was home with the TT and they spotted the little mouse. I was told to get gloves and get rid of it, so I dutifully got my yardwork gloves and an old coffee can. Reluctantly, I pulled out the filing cabinet ( it’s on wheels ) and saw … nothing. I got on my hands and knees, looking around and under the desk… nothing. Then Alice jumped in front of me, shot his front arm out, bent down with his head, and streaked off with the mouse in his mouth.

He actually looked competent.

I had to chase him out of the house though. The TT was way too interested in watching Alice play with his new toy. I didn’t want her getting scratched or anything. I was also worried about her introduction to the circle of life; she’s still only three! I have a hard enough time when I refer to bacon and ham as “pig” and hamburgers as “cow.”

I shouldn’t have worried though. The TT announced with a relieved smile “Alice ate the mousie for lunch!”

What do you folks think about the Peacock Attacking story from yesterday?

I love the free range peacocks. I’m not sure how I’d feel if the TT or the DQ had been mauled by one of the birds, though. On one hand, two years ago, I sort of empathize with the kid who was attacked for going after the same piece of candy as another peacock. But this most recent attack was allegedly unprovoked.

I can understand the parents wanting better warnings about the “wild” peacocks, but it’s not like the four year olds are going to read them. I spend a lot of my attention at the zoo watching the TT. I can trust the DQ not to try to pet the tigers. The TT, not so much. So I’d be pretty surprised if the peacock was able to scratch her up like this poor kid was.

I don’t want the peacocks locked up. I like what they bring to the ambiance of the zoo. I don’t mind if they get a “one attack” rule, and when they do attack they’re retired to a quiet house in the country. That’s what happened with the last one; this one’s still locked in purgatory.

I think most people would agree that last week was hot. We went from the sixties, zooming up into the high eighties and even the nineties. It was exhausting.

I got fed up with the cranky kids and the heat, and decided to do something about it. I made them get into the car and we went for a hike in the woods.

Now, most people would go to the bottom of a wet crevasse, like Lower Macleay Park, which is a great hike. But instead of going down, we went up.

We went up Germantown road and to the intersection with Wildwood Trail. We went down along the trail trail to the north, and walked under the old growth trees. We heard lots of birds that I couldn’t recognize. The dogs wore themselves out, and the kids were tired too. The look on the TT’s face here, the precious little pout, was because here at Bruno’s bench we were turning around.

She was worn out by the end of the walk though. And, unfortunately, I couldn’t really threaten her with sending her back to the car if she ran off, so the walk back was a little more fast-paced than the walk out.

I like my superheroes to have issues, which is one of the things I hate about Superman. However, I’ m worried about “Hancock.” It’s a Will Smith movie about a violent, alcoholic superhero. I mean, sure, he’s troubled. But flying while intoxicated is no way to get to a crime scene, pal.

It’s funny. I sit at Fantastic Four and wonder who pays for the damage they do to the city. Again, with Spiderman 2 and 3. Ironman, I know Tony Stark can ppay for the damages. But here we have a superhero, flying under the influence, smashing into street signs and causing asphalt damage to the streets when he lands.

I guess somehow he saves some publicity wonk, who wants to repay by improving Hancock’s image. The movie looks pretty dark, and Mrs B probably won’t like it ( she prefers her heroes to be more heroic; more batmanny / spidermanny than hancocky ).

I was looking over the search queries that brought people to Frenzied Daddy and discovered something new, and fascinating.

Because the “simple test” of “is a number divisable by 3″ entails totalling the digits ( 105 is 1+0+5=6, 6 is divisible by 3 so 105 is divisible by 3 ), and it doesn’t matter what order you add digits in, it’s always the same number ( 1+5 = 5+1 ), you can rearrange the digits in a number divisible by three to get another number divisible by three. So, because 156 is divisible by 3, so is 651, 615 and 165.

Ok maybe it’s only fascinating to some of us. Carry the one.

Not an original name in the bunch, know what I mean? But here’s the TT with Perrin.

We’re mowing the back yard and planning on fun things like a new lilac tree and putting the kids’ water hazard back there this year. With the change in the sunshine, we’ve found that Perrin likes to go back in the back yard and just hang out, looking around and smelling the flowers.

Miss K ( the TT, shown ) has learned to work the back door and can let herself out. The kitchen overlooks the back porch ( the grey wood you see ). And I caught them canoodling in the grass. I don’t know what the TT was telling Perrin. She’s been known to read him books and sing him songs.

I wish I was able to get a better shot, but if I had gone into the back yard to get the picture, the tranquility that they were sharing would have been ruined. This shot’s pretty heavily cropped; you don’t need to see the ripped up blackberry bushes and hedges that are in the foreground.

I rode my bike for a long time- it was my only form of travel besides my feet and the bus until shortly before the DQ was born. When I drive, I try to respect the boundaries of bikers. I give them plenty of room, check for bikes behind me when I open my door.

There was a seriously aggravating biker lady on 21st yesterday, headed south, near the overpass over I-84. The first thing I noticed was that she couldn’t bike a straight line, so the cars, and we’re talking morning rush hour traffic, the cars couldn’t depend on her staying out of their lane. They had to pass her gingerly. The second thing I noticed was that her helmet was in the basket over the rear wheel. Not on her head. I guess there was something fragile in the basket that was worth more than her brains– not that she was using those! She swerved into traffic a few cars ahead of me to pass another biker. Yeah, not one much for single file. She didn’t signal for that, or when she swerved back into the “bike lane.”

And she ran red lights.

I didn’t have to pass her- she turned left and went up Stark or Oak or something. And she finally used her signals.

Geez.

One weblog I enjoy is Waiter Rant. His writing voice sounds understated and dry. It’s fun because he scathingly characterizes some of the more colorful people he waits on. His characterizations are really good.

I was a waiter, once. Well, twice. I worked at Red Robin, which is a chain of family-and-college-dining, where their main foodtype is hamburger. I remember starting work there as a busser; one of the waitstaff took me aside and told me a few secrets. Basically, they explained that bussers get tips from the waitstaff and the more tips the waitstaff made, the more the bussers would make. Some of the bussers didn’t work very hard and focussed only on clearing tables that the customers had left from, but whatever I could do to improve the amount of tips the waitstaff were getting would be appreciated. After all, the waitstaff could clean off tables too.

I like to think I was a damn good busboy. Because I focussed on helping the waitstaff- running food, refilling drinks, whatever. Of course, the best help I could do was to clean tables, because a section with no clean tables didn’t get sat and they didn’t get any more customers. And who likes eating around dirty tables? So, if all the tables were clean, I would help with other things.

After a while, I was “promoted” from busboy to waitstaff. It was really the same thing, just with a different focus; my job was to help the customer have the best meal that week. Ok, so Red Robin’s not cafe zinfandel or the bijou; it’s a family restaurant, it’s not high class; some would say I wasn’t a “real waiter.”

It was interesting reading today about how he’s seeing the change in tips. On one hand, the entrees at his place have gone up. So a 20% tip on a $30 meal was once $6, but the meal’s gone to $40 and the tip is $8. Unfortunately, with the economy having changed for the worse, he’s seeing fewer 20% tips because people are saving their money. Most of the non-regulars are tipping at 15% or so, instead of the 20 he was getting last year.

My opinions on tipping aren’t hidden. I firmly believe in tipping well. The difference between a poor tip and a great tip is only a few dollars ( in the price range i usually spend ). My family goes out for a meal and it’s $40? If I bump it from $48 to $50, that’s two bucks out of my pocket but it’s an extra 5 percent on the tip. And the feeling a waiter gets when they get tipped that much extra is more than worth it.

What I hate about tipping is “15% of the total will be added as a gratuity for parties of 6 or more.” If it’s a gratuity, it’s not required. Gratuitous violence? Ring a bell? Hello?

And his reflection on how much his tips dropping affects his groceries sucks. If everyone is tipping less, he can’t buy the food he wants. It’s like swapping rice and beans for tri-tip and potatoes. And I feel his pain.

It’s been a long month. Let’s just close it up and call it done.

We’re off to the in-laws this weekend. Hoping to get the dogs into a kennel at their ( the in-laws’ ) request. It’s my nephew Damien’s first birthday, and all the girls are returning home to visit with him.

I may have to break away with my wife for a few hours for the Ironman movie; we’ll see what’s playing down there. I’m not really a Ironman fan, but then I’m not really a Hulk fan and I enjoyed that movie.

More news soon. Have a good weekend!