Ultimate Shopping

Son19 and Daughter13 requested some furniture for their rooms as Christmas gifts. Not an entire bedroom set but just a few odds and ends. And they were very clear about what they wanted. They wanted furniture from IKEA.

If you've never had the experience of IKEA, you've missed a rare shopping event. If you get there early enough, they have free coffee and breakfast for 99¢. And that's just to give you the strength for the rest of the day.

The store itself is laid out in a winding maze. You only move in one direction, thus assuring you will pass every item they have for sale. And they have a LOT of items for sale for every room in the house! And many of those items are displayed in 'room' settings so you can see exactly how it will look when you get it home. Assuming you live in very tiny compartments. But it still looks perfect they way they show it off.

And it is all so...modular, clean, ideal. It seems so obvious that this furniture will make your life more organized, less cluttered, better. Suddenly there is the urge for a new coffee table and bookcase. Or a new desk chair. And the kitchen utensils are precisely what I need at home! And look over there at those lamps!

Of course, you can't put this stuff in mere shopping carts. Oh no, only light bulbs and various little baskets go in the cart. Everything else is coded by Aisle Number and Bin Number. You write it down. And as you leave the store you pass through a self-serve warehouse where all the stuff you saw earlier is laid out before you, disassembled and carefully packed in boxes, ready to go home. It is sort of a miracle of marketing combined with self-service on everything from mouse pads to sofas.

And once you've paid, but before you leave the store, they reward you once again with food. Hot dogs, Swedish meatballs, various imported food and drink, all sorts of little treats for the ride home.

And there's the problem. The ride home. Suddenly you realize you've got 900 pounds of boxes that you have to fit into your car. Packing them carefully, watching the tires flatten under the weight, it all gets packed away in every crack and crevice.

Too bad there is just no way to see out the rear view mirror on the drive home!

One Possible Solution?

Some of you will recall the broken tooth right before Thanksgiving. And that was the second one in the past couple of months. Well this fella may have found the perfect solution. Seems he tooled his own set of teeth out of stainless steel! Let's see those suckers break!!


A handsome look, don't ya think???

It's Making A Really Bad Noise

That's what I said when I called the garage to schedule some repairs for my wife's car. And I'm not kidding, it was a very LOUD vibrating/banging/zombie-escaping-from-the-crypt kind of noise! And it needed professional help.

Not as if I would have taken care of things had the noise been a wimpy wheeze instead of the ear-shattering noise that it was. I am not mechanically gifted. Motors are a mystery. Hell, toasters are a mystery! So when the car does something it should not do, I call in the pros.

We dropped it off last night so they would have the entire day to disassemble, diagnose, and repair the vehicle. And we were prepared to lose Son16's college tuition, if necessary, to pay for their work.

We arrived today, clutching our checkbook, to get our car. Before looking at the bill, I inquired as to the nature of the noise. The repairman gave me that look. You know the one. The one from our childhood. The one the grownups gave us when they wanted to communicate the sentiment: "You definitely should know better." And then, in one question, he completed the humiliation...

"When was the last time you checked the oil?"

Gulp. Where was that 'manly Tony' when we needed him?!?!

We paid sheepishly for the oil fill up, drove home, and along the way, stopped to buy the family KFC Mashed Potato Bowls to drown our humiliation.

Blogging can't be bad...can it?

I mentioned recently, after going a week without posting while my mom visited, that I really missed this. In only a few weeks I've found that I really enjoy blogging. I like trying to be a bit creative with my posts. I pay a little more attention to routine events of the day just in case I can find a fun angle for a post. And even though I really am doing this for my own creative outlet, I really have enjoyed getting comments and establishing a bit of communication with several other bloggers.

But in addition to exploring this for my own fun, my job as a technology coordinator for a school has given me the chance to create a couple of blogs for our staff. Those blogs have different areas of focus, providing opportunities to share and collaborate on research and other information. This seemed like a perfect solution for staff members who don't always have time to get together for professional development. But then I read this article with this comment:

Our bias toward groups is counterproductive. And the technology of ubiquitous connectedness is making the problem worse.

Hmmm...technology is making us more reliant on group collaboration...and this is a bad thing? He continues with this comment:

As for the Internet and our newfound ability to tap into the masses, a more subtle form of havoc arises. Simply put, when you make it easy for everyone to put in his two cents, with little filtering or accountability, the scum tends to rise to the top.

Scum? Improved communication leads to scum? Blogging won't save the world. It may not solve many problems at work. But can better connection really be a bad thing? I have to disagree with the article. There are a few jobs where you want someone to make a decision without stopping to chat. If I'm on the surgical table, I want a doctor with enough skill and confidence to do the right thing without having to call a meeting. But in many situations, I still believe that collaboration is a good thing. And as our jobs and our lives push us in directions that make face-to-face meetings more difficult, I have to appreciate a technology that makes it this easy to share.

And on a personal level, I really do like this. It may not make me a better person, but I am having fun. And that's a good thing!

The 360 Degree Procedure

It seems the German scientists are on the ball with this one - a condom that fits every man. How so, you ask? What a great question. And the answer...........

(drum roll, please)

It is a SPRAY ON CONDOM. I kid you not. I can't make this stuff up. Go here and see (well, read) for yourself!

Bottom line, the gentleman would insert his penis into the spray can, push the nozzle, and be coated with a with a rubber condom with a procedure described as "once around and from top to bottom a bit like a car wash"

Will it replace the need for an old-fashioned condom? Or just replace the need for a partner?!?

The Nerve Test Thingy

A few days ago I mentioned going to the doctor with some discomfort and ending up scheduled for a round of bloodwork and a nerve conduction test.

You would think the bloodwork would be pretty basic. A quick stick and it's done. But not this time. Apparently this lab tech graduated from the Marquis de Sade College of Bloodletting. It hurt when the needle was going in. It hurt while it was in. And it hurt even worse when he pulled it out. And I still managed to walk out without bitch slapping him across the room.

And then came The Nerve Test Thingy. It was weird! First of all I had to walk around the room on tiptoe and then on my heels. No problem there. Then I had to hold my hands out in front of me, close my eyes, and shake my head. No problem again. Then I had to pat my head while rubbing my tummy. Oh, okay, so I made that one up. Let's move on.

The real core of The Nerve Test Thingy was the zapping, the poking, and the vibrating. The doctor had me lay down on the table while he attached all sorts of little devices to my arms and legs to measure response. Then he proceeded to zap me with a little electrical gadget that looked like those battery operated nose hair trimmers. It varied in intensity from a slight tingle to making me jump around the table like those actors when the yell 'clear' and zap them with the paddles! And then he put away that little gadget and poked me with wires (sort of an accupuncture thingy)...and oh yes, that was pleasant. NOT! Finally he touched me here and here and there (no, not THERE!) with a little vibrator. My job was just to let him know what I felt.

I'll get the results of some of this nonsense tomorrow. At the moment I'm not worried about the outcome. I think I'll be just fine. Unless they want more tests. Those things are worse than my original symptoms!

Stages of Recovery

Well mom has flown home. Back to her home in Georgia. And we have entered the first out of three stages of recovery. They are as follows:

Stage 1 - Decompression
This is the stage where each member of our family puts on their comfort clothing - old sweat pants, pajamas, robe, favorite jeans, etc - and retreats to a quiet spot in the house to do something they find enjoyable and relaxing. At the moment, Son16 is upstairs watching TV in our bedroom, Son19 is watching TV in his room, Daughter13 is watching TV in the family room, my wife is in the office on one computer listening to her favorite podcasts, and I'm hiding out with the laptop writing. This stage allows us to bleed off the anxiety and tension and can last from one evening to as much as three or four evenings, depending on the needs of each individual.

Stage 2 - Debriefing
This stage is most notable for the numerous instances where one member of the family approaches another, looks confused, and then utters the phrase "Did she really say (insert bizarre comment here)? What the hell was that?!?!" This is a real healing stage. During my mom's never ending monologue, so many freakish comments and stories poured forth. But in that particular moment, we were trying so hard to appear interested while really meditating on the dust bunny in the corner, that only now do we begin to comprehend some of what was said. And the healing comes in knowing others heard it too...that it is not a stroke-induced memory caused by the pressure of so many words pounding against our brains.

Stage 3 - Celebrating
My good friend, LD, asked today if we would celebrate now that mom was gone. Eventually. But these things must be done in the proper order. If the family went out to dinner tonight, we would sit and mutter while pushing the food around on the plate with our forks. Not until we've passed the healing of Stage 2 can we really move on to the celebration of having our life back to normal. Well, we may not be normal, but we like what we have. And it will be good to get back to that.