White Lightning Axiom: Redux

Adult karate has been good to me over the last couple of days. It's nice to get back to the sweat, the pummeling and the evening aches. Honestly though, I need to keep on top of this or my natural state of slackerdom and inaction will take over and the 'plumping' will begin. Since I have a full physical (reccomended by my medical team ... it's been a while) scheduled for April, it would be nice to not hear the sharp inhales as they review my blood pressure, weight and chemical breakdowns of the various samples. Yeah, I'm coming in on 40 and we all know what that means for men. PSA. < shudder >

On the way home the other night, I found that they had closed a road (Maple) at that one particularly dangerous spot. Just at the south end of the Naval Air Base where the Elementary school is and all the accidents happen. The local STS surveyors and a small cadre of 'dirt grunts' were milling about, generally making a hazard of themselves. In the end, if they do put a light it it will be a boon for my commute, but a curse for everyone else. I suppose it's for the best, people do stupid things when they have not had their morning coffee. There have been a series of rather horrific accidents in the area and many of them are of the 'T-Bone' variety ... never a good thing. There is a lot of school bus activity between the bus depot at the elementary school and the High-School on the other side of the base ... people tend to make assumptions about that and the are correct 9 times out of ten. The other 10% is where we have issues. Traffic Light:Good, Personal Responsibility to make Rational Assesments:Bad.

Hmmm, other stuff. The 'snow' we had here last week was followed up by more 'snow' [read: crappy sleet and freezing rain] with more forecasted for later in the week. Bletch. On the upside, the kids are happy to be swimming and are doing ok in karate. Alexis is back-sliding a bit, but Master Smith recognizes this as a typical behavior pattern and is going to 'deal' with it. With burgeoning population of lilliputian TSD students, he is considering a special test to bump them up to Yellow belt. They probably would not survive the normal test. Since he is just recovering from a similar run-in with the virus patrol (he teaches children, thusly, is exposed to the same onslaught of daily viral and bacterial attacks), he is still trying to get his legs under him. This will be interesting to watch. Jake will certainly get pumped about the 'board-break'. The weeks of him trying to break everything in sight afterwards will be challenging. I'll have to head off to the Home Depot Temple and pick up some thin pine slats to give him a harmless outlet.

Had a work related class to attend last Friday. It was not particularly revolutionary in it's concepts. I've been doing similar stuff for Requirements Traceability and Leveling for quite some time. The interesting aspects were the ancillary data. Things like the instructor (Dr BeetleButt) going to the wrong site thinking the class was in NJ instead of Pennsyltucky. That resulted in the class starting 2 hours late. That, and the class was scheduled to be 4 hours but should have been 6 hours. So now, we are running up against my departure time of 1600 hours. Not good. The Prof was one of those standard academic types. In fact, he as an epitome of the stereotype you are probably envisioning in your mind's eye. Leather elbow patches on a tweed jacket, the cumbersomely thick glasses, beard and matching chrome-dome, loafers and dark turtle neck stretched to it's limit over an obtrusive pot belly. If he had a pipe to periodically chomp on while gazing off into the horizon while deeply contemplating the underlying basis for a student's question. So, I completed the class, took the test and got one question wrong. Which one? Dunno. Gotta keep the students from writing all the questions down and distributing them. Sheesh, we are all adults here and this type of Frat-House behavior ... aw, never mind.

Oh, and could you all wish the Ever Beautiful Mrs a happy BD? She is going to be ... ummm, young ... yes, very young again at the end of this month. Happy Birth Day Honey, and here is to you sharing another 100 or so with me.

Back at the Manor, the Ever Vigilant Mrs was fretting over the hounds. Apparently, they decided to share a Volkswagen for lunch. She was rather concerned about intestinal blockage that could result from an improperly masticated engine block. Sooo, she left a message on the Vet's answering service and was hoping for an appointment the next morning. She got it, at the ass-crack-of-dawn. That pretty much 'masticated' most of Saturday morning for her. I spend my time feeding the kids a well rounded breakfast (scrambled eggs with mozzarella cheese, cinnamon toast and cereal and a side of $$$OJ$$$) followed by a hearty lunch of pasta, Sweet Italian Sausage and Wegmans Olive Pasta Sauce w/ Hearty Tomato Chunks. I tossed in a few cloves of garlic just to give it a bit of zing. They ate it. While they were fighting tooth and nail for the last scrap of meat, I tended the fire, swept out the Hound Detention Center, did the laundry, the dishes and started bringing in the firewood for the week. I'm saving the dog dip duty date for when the Mrs returns to the Manor. You know, I need to share the love.

After the Mrs returns, we all head out to the Local Home Depot Temple and the Lowes Heretic Central to look at tankless natural gas water heaters. On the way, the Mrs suddenly becomes faint and wilts like an molasses sculpture in August. There was projectile repercussions ... the Tyrants issued a citation for 'barking' in the car while the driver was driving. Indeed, it is a well established rule that there should be no talking to the driver unless the 'watchers' so deem it. Once the Mrs pulls her head out of the digestive fluid retention receptacle, there shall be admonitions. On the second leg of our outing, we found out why daddy does not spend much time at Lowes. I need a new laundry faucet since the old one in the mud room is on longer responding to requests to be shut off. A slow drip continues and no manner of washer mangling is helping. Time for the big-guns. So, after trolling the aisles and finding nothing but the fru-fru fixtures, I queue up to ask the solitary customer service rep about the super-secret location for the common faucet. Well, there are 4 people there before me. Two women and two men. The men took about a total of 10 minutes for their request to be fulfilled. The women, they needed a dissertation of how the Romans utilized plumbing and what looks better with the window treatments: brushed bronze or anodized platinum. After several discussions with the children about the pro's and con's of won-ton and brutal homicide, the hour was up and I got to ask my question. Yes, I could have interjected and probably should have, but I follow the rules. No matter how inane. So, when it came to be my turn, the poor fellow was reaching for the box cutter so as to open his veins to let the built up vitriol seep out. Alas, it was to no avail. The kids keen laser beam eyesight evaporated the blade before it sought the soft and pliable tissue of his withering limbs. I asked my question directly and succinctly: "I need a Delta Laundry Faucet.". Tears welled up in his eyes as the realization that the hellish nightmare was over. No colors, not styles, no nonsense. The only way it could have been more direct is if I gave him the stock number. We walked over as he shed is 'May I be of service to your abusive questions.' vest and pulled a box from behind an obscure shelf. He gave me a look that screamed 'I want to have your children.' and we gave each other a simple nod. Transaction over; 7 minutes, 40 seconds. On the way out, I grabbed a SOG utility tool, paid and headed back to the manor. The Mrs languishing in her co-pilot's seat and the Tyrants weary from their use of the ocular high-energy vaporization weapons.

Sunday: Religious indoctrination where I was asked to read the Homily between mop-up operations after the crafts session and before dispensing Valentine day's cards to the 12 or so children. Upon returning to the Manor, the Mrs was still in her steel-rebar reinforced insulated sleep-wear. I can take a hint. I instructed the Manor Environmental Agent (EVA) to raise the ambient room temperature from .01K to 68F. And all was good. The wood burning stove was maintaining the set temperature, it just was not bringing it up rapidly enough. No matter, I think our budget can survive ONE month of using the MegaFurnace as it was designed. Besides, I can survive just fine with one kidney after selling the other one, no? Speaking of digestive/filtering organs, the Tyrants have shown the Mrs and I that they are more than capable of fending for themselves. Over the weekend, they have surreptitiously absconded with three bananas, two bags of fruit snacks and an apple. I'm fairly certain they have stashed other 'famine supplies' about the property in caches that I have yet to uncover. I had better watch out for booby traps and trip-wires. They don't like their buried treasures being looted.

Karate is going well for me. Joints are hurting, but not failing. Soooo, either healing is taking place or irrevocable scarring. On top of that, I was sent into combat (sparring) last night and was quickly disabused of any feelings of grandeur from my short-lived glory of earning my orange belt. Of course, I've got the next form down and just need to tidy it up for the next test. After the sound 'schooling' I got last night, I think I'll need to dedicate a bit more energy towards paying attention to what some of the more seasoned members are doing. Either to mimic their tactics or at least learn a bit about them so as to formulate a workable solution to my habit of providing them with a target rich environment.

Finally, this:

Trans fats banned in Philadelphia
By Patrick Kerkstra - INQUIRER STAFF WRITER

Some bad habits, it seems, are easier to kick than others.

It took five years for Philadelphia City Council to agree on a smoking ban, but today - mere weeks after the idea was first proposed - council unanimously approved a bill banning trans fats from most dishes served by city restaurants.
<...>
Philadelphia's ban on the use of such products begins to take effect on Sept. 1, when restaurateurs will no longer be permitted to fry foods in trans fats or serve trans fat-based spreads. By Sept. 1, 2008, trans fats will be banned in all other types of food prepared in Philadelphia eateries. The ban will not apply to pre-packaged foods - such as a Tastykake Krimpet - sold in city stores and eateries.[ed. and scrapple, spam, etc...]
<...>
New York City has already outlawed use of trans fats in restaurants, and 19 states are considering banning or restricting use of trans fats. Many restaurant chains and institutions - such as universities and school systems - have already done away with trans fats or sharply reduced their use.

Philadelphia's ban will be enforced by the Health Department, but it does not include penalties for violators. Ramos said he does not expect eateries to flout the law, and he said penalties could be created if they were later deemed necessary.

On last Wednesday night, I actually got to do some sparring in the Adult TSD class right up until the point where I nearly twisted my knee again. Then I was shut down like a roaring speak-easy in the clamorous caverns of Chicago's gangland landscape. NO. No blowing your knee out before your orange belt test, oh foolish grasshopper. I was benched from sparring till after the test. Good enough. Later that night, I arrived home to witness white fluffy gobs of snow falling like flakes of dandruff on an undertakers black cloak. It was dark and not particularly cold so the flakes immediately dissipated when striking a surface ... like some peculiar leakage from a cartoon fantasy world.

Thursday; more no-spar karate but earlier in the evening, Jovial Jake was acting out and got an earful of admonishment where upon he was reduced to sobs and tiny traces of tears trickling down his twisted veneer. Beneath, he was considering his options, but he knew that the bell was tolling and he needed to make a policy change if Master Smith was going to let him test for his yellow belt. He is a little boy after all and he will get what he wants by hook, crook or otherwise honest pursuit. Once again, I arrive at the manor closer to 2100 hours to look up and see a peculiar sky laced with glowing contrails framing an oddly full and heavy moon. So bright that it punctures the high, ethereal layer of clouds that blot out all but the brightest star. The weather is winding up for a hay-maker. I can feel it in my aching joints.

Friday. Alexis wanders in and settles between the mrs and I at 0130. The mrs tires of her antics some time around 0430am. I'm up at 0614, out by 0655, drop off kids at 0700, depart for work at 0705 and arrive at 0720. Perfect, flawless execution. Now, to make it a habit. In spite of the minor dusting of snow, there was little to foretell what that damn rat in Punxsutawney would forecast, but since he is forecasting for the entire country, he can be correct somewhere, but certainly not here. The days following his projection of an early spring have been confounded with the local temperatures dropping into the single digits. No snow ... just bitter, ripping cold. A good day to go and get a nice haircut so I can feel the wind scraping the heat from my scalp.

Saturday morning ... time for my Orange Belt TSD test. I'm up and bumming about when the Mrs tries to disabuse me of the notion that I have lots of time before I need to get going. She says the test is at 0900, I'm under the impression it is at 1000. I persist, and end up correct but not without stewing for 30 minutes about what amount of crow I'll have to eat should I be incorrect (as usual). And so it goes. I test, I pass, I spar and break boards. Not as unusually grueling at the first time, but I have a notion of what I'm in for so that knowledge is my weapon against what would seem to be an intolerable trial. And it is my birthday. Nobody dies on their birthday, right? We go out for pizza with some of the Black Belt Examining Board and have a jolly good time. Then, later in the evening, we go out to our favorite Japanese Hibachi restaurant. Not so much for the enjoyment of the Mrs and I, but more so for the children. For they will be occupied and they will eat their dinner without harassment. And this will make us happy. Joy is where you find it.

Sunday: Take kids to Sunday school. Escort them over the various sheets of black ice. They think that slipping and sliding is a treat of unparalleled amusement; I'm petrified of letting one of them fall. So, we make it inside and watch as various late-comers glide over the patches of ice in their AWD/ABS SUVs with abandon, nearly clipping the school building by the hair of a (frozen) gnat. Of course, a handful of people park their behemoths in the fire lane prompting me to scribble out a few notes begging them to not do so while there are children in the building. Nothing like indicting the neer-do-well with oblivious intent to do harm to children. I could have asked why they were so interested in leaving the Sunday mass so quickly to up the guilt ante as well. But then again, I'm just looking for compliance, not intending on influencing their conscience. Later, I did a solo doggie dip extraction and refilled the wood brackets for the wood burning stove (which is going full blast these days). What a splendid activity in the absurdly cold weather! As a capper, we went over the Family-Friends-Pete-n-Patty's house for the Superbowl where the Tyrants occupied themselves for 3 hours and left me to drink port wine and puff cigars in relative peace. Too bad about the Bears. And there you have it. Nothing to advance of great noteworthiness. No?