Thursday, April 27, 2006


I pulled into the parking lot at work this morning and started heading toward the building. On my way in, I passed a red Camaro parked in the parking lot. (I'm not that keen on cars, so I don't know what model or year it was. It was shiny though.) I stopped and took a good long look at that car. Then I turned back and looked at my minivan parked about 10 spots away. There it sat. My big old minivan. My three children and a wife haulin' minivan. My "silver" even though it looks just gray now compared to the red Camaro minivan.

Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with being a family guy that has a minivan. I'm one of them. It just got me wondering how I got so old. One day I get married and the next thing I know I'm leaving a house with three kids in it and driving a minivan to work. When did that happen?

Tuesday, April 25, 2006


I recently had to change my time sheet password at work. It's the first time that I've had to change the thing in the two years I've been working here. Every day I enter in my old beloved password, and I get the harsh reply of "Sorry, you have entered an invalid password. Please try again." Every day this happens, and every day I am overwhelmed with hatred as I have to enter my new and not so cool password.

I would go through the trouble of resetting the password to the good old password that I had, but that seems a bit petty. In the grand scheme of things, it is just a password. A gate keeper to the private world of time sheets. But then again, what is someone going to do if my password is cracked? That hack job of a time sheet system would take a while to figure out by yourself. And it's SOP to enter time worked for every day. AND my boss approves my time sheet every week, so if mischevious hacker got into my time sheet and entered incorrect data, it's not like he's going to figure that out. Bunch of dorks that made me change my password.

Since you need a password to get into every system, why don't they just standardize password strength rules. If some website has some funky rule like it has to include numbers and the numbers can't be at the end of the password and they can't be sequential (like Wal-Mart), I really don't like that website. It makes me want to drive to the server location and start a protest. Of course, I probably couldn't get much acheived with that because who would notice. Does any one else care about this besides me? Probably not. Of course, without passwords and codes we wouldn't have the following Seinfeld scene. Everything in life can be associated with a Seinfeld episode.

JERRY: Oh, come on, just tell me your code already. What is it?
GEORGE: I am not giving you my code.
KRAMER: I'll bet I can guess it.
GEORGE: Pssh. Yeah. Right.
KRAMER: Oh, alright. Yeah. Uh, let's see. Um, well, we can throw out birthdays immediately. That's too obvious. And no numbers for you, you're a word man. Alright, let's go deeper. Uh, what kind of man are you? Well, you're weak, spineless, a man of temptations, but what tempts you?
KRAMER: You're a portly fellow, a bit long in the waistband. So what's your pleasure? Is it the salty snacks you crave? No no no no no, yours is a sweet tooth.
GEORGE: Get out of here.
KRAMER: Oh you may stray, but you'll always return to your dark master, the cocoa bean.
GEORGE: I'm leaving.
KRAMER: (building up steam as George bolts for the door) No, and only the purest syrup nectar can satisfy you!
GEORGE: I gotta go.
KRAMER: If you could you'd guzzle it by the gallon! Ovaltine! Hershey's!
GEORGE: Shut up!
KRAMER: Nestlé's Quik!
GEORGE: Shut up!

Monday, April 24, 2006

Three Kids

Peyton was born on April 19th 2006 at 12:26. He weighed 6 lbs and 12 oz, which is smaller than our other kids by a couple of ounces. The labor and delivery went very well, and everyone is healthy and doing well.

I forgot how small babies are at first. I'm afraid that I'm going to smash Peyton by picking him up. And changing diapers is an extra chore, with the belly button, the circumcision, and the screaming. Hopefully those will be clearing up before too long. It takes so long to do all that while changing his diaper that he ends up peeing on himself half the time. It's good fun having a baby. Some day he'll grow up and get a job, and he'll be able to send his parents on a vacation. That may be looking a little too far into the future though.

Monday, April 17, 2006


Easter is a great holiday isn't it? It celebrates the most important thing that has every happened. Too bad most people don't really care about that. And of course it has been commercialized like crazy. You can't walk into any store this time of year without seeing bunnies and candy.

I tried to explain the whole Easter thing to Andi on Saturday night, but she was mad at me at the moment, and just told me "no". Having children is great.

The kids had fun. They got some Easter clothes and they looked really cute. They also got candy, which could have explained their behaviour in the afternoon. Dylan was running around yelling and Andi was laughing at everything. If I had half the energy they have every day, I'd be in good shape. It's no fair that tired, exhausted parents have to watch these over active hyper noise machines.

Next year maybe we'll be able to hide the Easter baskets, so it will delay the sugar intake for a little bit.

Postponed again

Well, Sam got a call this morning from the hospital, and they pushed her induction back a day. She'll now have the baby on Wednesday, unless the idiots screw something else up and push her back yet again. If that happens, well, I'm just going to freak out or something, I tell you. CCCH and Dr. Broderick are now in my book of greivances. I think part of giving your patients the care they need is inducing them on the frrickin' day that you've been telling them for 2 frickin' months. Frickin' idiots!

Friday, April 14, 2006

Not quite yet

Well, at Sam's doctor appointment yesterday, the guy pretty much forgot that he said he'd induce her today if things were looking ok. Well, it sounded like things were looking ok, but he still didn't do it. Jerk. He just sentenced me to 4 more days of searing hatred. And if the moron hadn't said anything about inducing her early last week, there wouldn't be a problem. We'd still be happy that the thing was going to come out on Tuesday. But that's not happening, and it's my fault.

I can understand Sam's dislike for me right now. I think I'd dislike me too. That Dairy Queen commercial is so true. So, I just need to hold tight for the next few days, and the baby will be out. Of course, I have to live through the delivery, which is my fault. Then the after effects of it, and of course the lack of sleep. That's all my fault. And I understand that. That's the way it is. But who's idea was it to have another kid? Sam's? Yes. But it's still my fault.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Down to the Wire

Well, Sam has a Dr. appointment today at 3:15. So, pending the results of that, she'll either be really miserable and in labor at this time tomorrow, or just really miserable. Some days I am really glad I am not a woman. This is one of those days. Actually most days I'm glad I'm not a woman. Ok, the only time I wish that I was a woman is when my wife is mad at me and it would take another woman to figure out what I did.

I don't know if we're really ready for the baby yet. We cleaned some stuff in the house on Saturday, but it's not really done or anything. We are planning on setting up a bassinet in our room, but to do that we have to clear the mounds and mounds of clutter to be able to find the floor in there. I think we should just let the baby sleep in the same bed as Dylan. Of course, the other day when I was trying to take a nap on the couch, Dylan so kindly came over and stuck his finger in my mouth. I wonder what he could do to a little baby. "Welcome to the world baby, this kid 4 times your size is now going to sit on you, jam his finger in your mouth, and pat you on the face while shouting 'BABY!' at you." And this kids thinks it has it hard in the womb.

Some days I wish that I could go back to being a baby. Everyone looks at you and does stupid thigns to try to make you smile, you can sleep whenever you want and not be called lazy, you just have to cry for food, attention, sleep, more blankets, pretty much anything. And you don't even have to get up to go to the bathroom. You just go.

Of course there are drawbacks to being a baby. Like the day of birth. Your head is smashed through someone's pelvis. They smack you around until you cry. They poke and prod you and shine stuff in your eyes that haven't yet seen the light of day. It's got to be dang cold compared to what you're used to. And if you're a boy, "They're gonna cut what off of where?"

To summarize, I'm glad I'm the father and just have to coach.