Thursday, January 19, 2006
Bright, sun-shiny day
No question, the weather fooled me. Gaia sensed my disdain and she went to work on discrediting me. The wind, clouds and the neigh insanity invoking freezing rain ... just cleared up. The sun came out and the pessimistic outlook of sleet melted away. No ice, no absurd commute time, not a single disastrous accident. Well, near me anyways. Apparently there were two tanker truck accidents near by. I'm sure they were scheduled too. Someone out there has a monopoly on cleanup chemicals and is intending on making a massive killing this year. In any case, my prognostication skills have fallen short. Somewhere, the withered ghost of Nostradamus is shaking his head in shame. On top of that, not a flicker of a single light occurred at the Manor. The power was as strong as ever. I'm still sending an email to the solar guys to see what I need should I finally snap.
Swimming went well with an interesting twist. Getting off to complete the S&R mission for the Twin Tyrants was delayed due to Thor. For some reason, the hound decided he was not interested in pooping at the moment. It was too wet or too cold or not sunny enough or the grass was not matted down properly. It took him an extra 10 minutes of cajoling and prompting for him to get down to business. Nice. That cuts into my commute and prep time at the club. Once there, the kids were eager to get right in and start with their hydraulic propulsion activities. Here is the surprise, they wanted to take off the float vests. I was apprehensive at first, but they do need to shed that security blanket so Daddy can have the security of knowing that they could get out of trouble should they find themselves in 'hot water'. The Mrs was a bit edgy about this when she arrived, but is on the same page. Swimming, to me, is one of the most important skills a child should learn ... after crawling/walking. It's not like 2/3rds of the friggen planet is covered with the stuff. Damn tricky Dihydrogen Monoxide. Could kill ya! Someone should make a law.
Out to Mt. Fuji for dinner afterwards. It goes quite well all things considered. I wedge myself full of sushi while the children occupy themselves with the udon noodles. We don't try to pack them full to the back of the throat as we do at home so the meal is considerably less contentious. That, or the two 'Fuji Iced Tea' drinks that I swilled down made me oblivious to their mis-deeds. The drinks were quite potent ... they know me. The light green fluid slipped quickly away. Jake dipped his finger in the stout glass to retrieve a particularly desirable chunk of ice only to find it's slippery coating to be less than tasty, in his opinion. He must believe that daddy only drinks poison.
In my semi-stupor state of 'enhanced' consciousness, we shuffle the kids to bed after an hour of play-time and the requisite bath. Then I retired to SubBasement level 5-H where the ambient temperature hovers somewhere around 13 Kelvin. It's where we keep the super-computer that I've installed Civilization IV upon. The hardware requirements for these 'frivolities' now are beyond the wildest imagination of designers back in the '80s. Oh, for the simplicity of Zork, Pong and NetHack. No, now you need a supercomputer with a singularity power source and a space vacuum cooling system and the memory capacity of God's Hippocampus.
In short, I got to bed at about 0030 when I lost feeling in my fingers. Tossed some wood in the fire and nearly dropped off to sleep just before I heard the evening wails of Jake insisting that he needs to go pee. Of course, he does not NEED to go, it's just a ploy so that he might get the opportunity to slide into bed between the besieged parental units. Not tonight, but he bides his time and assaults our senses, and slothful slumber, at 0530. I cave and plop him among the quilts and pillows so that I may continue my quest for 'just a few more minutes'. Of course, since he woke I know that his cacophonous contention has woken his sister. She, however, will not want to leave her cocoon for anything short of French Toast. Mmmm, French toast. That is the breakfast for today, but if we do not act soon her fortification will soon be drenched in last nights drinks. You see, she is much like her mother and then some. Not only is she resistant to leaving the bed of eternal slumber, she would rather pee herself than to walk 7 meters to the toilet. The act of actually dragging her to the bathroom usually earns you the 'Mark' and you are designated as EEEVILLLL for the duration of the morning. Or at least, till you are out of sight and the complaints of not having the opportunity to get a good-bye kiss/hug/nose-rub begin. Damn, my offspring are quirky already. Let's hope that they will evolve to be eclectic, enigmatic and eccentric. Just plain crazy does not have the same social status, you see.
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