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October 31, 2006: Trick Or Treat
October 28, 2006: If the Shoe Fits: A True Halloween Tale by Donutbabe After some mighty fine dining out this evening (and by “mighty fine,” of course, I mean I didn’t have to cook), we headed to the car. Lydia announced that her diaper was, er, full, so I sat in the driver’s seat and laid her down on the passenger seat while Hoyt buckled Seth in and then waited patiently outside in the cold. The diaper change did not go smoothly. Lydia found the slanted passenger seat not to her liking, and she cried and flailed and kicked, causing the diaper’s contents to roll and scatter about the car. I called for assistance, but Hoyt apparently couldn’t hear me, so I struggled with Lydia while juggling putrescent orbs. And did I mention I was out of wipes? It was an ugly job, and when I realized that not every orb was accounted for -- namely the, shall we say, hushpuppy among raisins was missing -- I began to rant and rave and mutter to myself. A little louder than I meant to, maybe. Eventually, I gave up on the hushpuppy, vowing to find it at dawn’s first light, and got Lydia’s pants back on. I was far too annoyed and contaminated to bother with her socks and shoes, so I just plopped her down in the backseat and told her to get into her carseat while I doused myself with Purell. Hoyt then opened the door to buckle her in. Seth greeted him with, “Daddy, why were you standing out there like a jerk?” I tried to look all casual, but Hoyt said, “What did Mommy say?” Seth gladly repeated it all. Great. Once I apologized and explained about the hushpuppy and the raisins, he didn’t seem too mad. A quick examination of the car led him to pronounce the pieces all collected. As I said, he seemed reasonably okay with having been called a jerk, but still, I felt guilty, and the drive home was a bit awkward. I was already in the diaper changer’s -- er, driver’s -- seat, so I started the car and just concentrated on the road. Hoyt popped in his favorite Hall and Oats CD and turned up “Private Eyes,” eventually using Lydia’s shoes as percussion instruments. Private eyes (clomp clomp) are watching you (clomp clomp) They see your every move (clomp clomp). We were just pulling into the driveway when Hoyt said, “Oh, no.” “Where?” I asked. He handed me Lydia’s shoe. The one his right hand had been in for the clomp clomps. I turned on the dome light in the car and peered inside the shoe. Sure enough. Hushpuppy! When I got out of the car, I found another one smashed onto the side of the driver’s seat. I turned to tell Hoyt the news, but he had already run into the house to wash the, uh, residue (or shall I say residoo?) from his right index finger. So anyway, I have to run to Charleston next week. Anyone want a ride?
October 28, 2006: Rainy Day Morning My sore throat’s gone, our basement’s flooded again, and it’s another nasty, rainy day. Here’s my list of things I need to do before noon: 1. 2. Eat breakfast. I haven’t decided what I’ll eat, but we have several bags of Reese’s cups for Halloween, and I think I’ve convinced myself that we won’t have many little trick-or-treat visitors on Tuesday here in Huntington, West Virginia. 3. Shop vac the basement. I dig using the shop vac. It sucks. 4. Make pumpkin cookies. I use the pre-packaged mix. I suck. 5. Carve the pumpkins. I haven’t decided on the designs. Last year, my wife and I made traditional ones. 6. Eat something again. Did I mention we have lots of Reese’s cups here? 7. Research how to make a donut costume. It feels great to feel well!
October 27, 2006: Talkin’ Baseball (Incredibly Delayed Edition) I hate being sick. When I’m sick, I can’t enjoy anything. I first noticed it on Tuesday night at home as I was typing. I wasn’t blogging. I was actually working on a personal matter. By 10:30, when I got into bed, I felt an incredible chill. The house’s temperature was 70 degrees, which is quite warm for me considering that I enjoy cooler temperatures. But after I turned the heat up a few more degrees and bundled under several layers of covers next to my wife, I still felt like I was an extra in the March of the Penguins. I was so sick on Tuesday night that I couldn’t imagine being a penguin or much of anything. I thought I was going to die. By 1:30 a.m., I mustered the strength to get out of bed. I still felt chilly, but I was able to get to the kitchen and find a couple Little Debbie snack cakes to eat. Don’t get me wrong: Tylenol is great. But, for me, eating a few Little Debbies with them usually works wonders. This is a major reason why I could never survive as a penguin. I dig penguins. I dig their look. They also seem genuinely sincere and genial, too. But I don’t swim well, and I don’t work well with my feet. I’m more of a thumbs and hands guy, which, of course, reminds me of someone that I wanted to write about earlier this week: Kenny Rogers. The ballplayer. Not the singer whom many men claim they resemble. I didn’t see the game that Kenny Rogers pitched in the World Series. But I did see the pictures of his pitching hand. And I’m convinced he was using a foreign substance on his hand when he was pitching. Rogers, of course, later washed his hand, and the game continued without protest or objection by the Cardinals or Tony LaRussa, the team’s manager. But the media continued to generate commentary and stories about the incident. Anyway, here’s my take: If LaRussa and the Cardinals didn’t want to protest the matter, then the media shouldn’t make an issue of it. And I also think that Kenny Rogers would make a lousy penguin.
October 23, 2006: In Case You Were Wondering I don’t have any instructions for a do-it-yourself donut costume. I don’t have any photographs or information on “50 inch butts.” (Sorry). “The hungry man blog home is where the Heinz is,” but the “hungry man” doesn’t blog here. And Judge Wapner is alive and well. By the way, if anyone reading this knows where someone can find a “do-it-yourself donut costume” for someone with a “50 inch butt,” please let me know. I’m sure that within the next day or so that somebody who uses Google who reads this will really appreciate it. Thanks.
October 21, 2006: Sweet Talker When I started posting here in January, 2004, our son was only eight months old and our daughter was not yet born. Lydia arrived on November 13, 2004. Unlike our son’s birth, which went without any complications for either mother or child, Lydia’s arrival was accompanied by my wife’s thirteen-day stay in the hospital. As joyful as I was about Lydia, I worried about my wife, and I often wondered when--if at all--she would come home from the hospital. In three weeks, we’ll celebrate Lydia’s second birthday. She can do so many things. We’ve watched her learn to walk, and when I play my disco tunes, she loves to dance. She runs around the floor and hops occasionally with a big grin. Her giggles make me happy. And when I start to change her diaper or dress her, she pushes away my hands and tells me “Do it myself.” She possesses a fierce independence. And Lydia talks. She’s now at the stage when she’s asking us many questions. Last month, however, my wife noticed that she was having problems with her speech. I hadn’t noticed anything remarkable. But then a couple weeks ago, I also noticed my daughter speaking differently. When she opened her mouth, she would make a gurgling sound. Sometimes, she would repeat the same sound ten times or more. Our Lydia stutters. On some days, Lydia has great difficulty saying things. When she gets stuck, she presses the back of her hand to her mouth and tries again and again. She doesn’t understand why her speech--which flowed so naturally and effortlessly before--now causes her problems. It’s true, she’s only two now. But when she attends pre-school, she’ll have to speak her name. And do show and tell. When she’s a little older, she’ll also have to read aloud. Some day, she’ll have to give presentations. And talk to her friends on the phone. Most of us perform these speaking tasks without any effort. Imagine having to struggle with your speech every day. Then imagine how a child learning to speak must feel when the word she wants to say won’t flow out of her mouth. How do you explain that to your two-year- old? Today at Target, while checking out, the cashier remarked on the new toothbrushes we were buying for our children. “Did you get the toothbrush with the car?” she asked our son. “Yes,” he replied. “I didn’t think you wanted Dora,” said the cashier. And then Lydia spoke: “I got Dora.” “Wow,” said the cashier, “How old is she? I didn’t expect her to be able to talk so well!” I almost cried. When you have children, their struggles are your struggles. With most things, however, if my son or daughter needs help, my wife or I can provide it. Stuttering is different. My wife knows this because she, too, stutters. And she knows that if, indeed, Lydia continues to stutter, we’re not going to have the power to prevent her frustrations when they occur. We can offer and arrange for support. But if our daughter’s going to make this journey to overcome her difficulty with speech, she must blaze the trail herself. And I know she will because she’s always saying that she’s going to “do it myself.” October 22nd is International Stuttering Awareness Day. Following are some links with good information about stuttering.
October 21, 2006: Your Unofficial Guide To Animated Music Video Villains
Name: Unknown Nickname: Wrench Guy (a.k.a. “Wrenchy”) Occupation: Motorcycle racer Where found: Somewhere in the pages of a crumpled A-Ha Comic in a diner’s trash basket. Henchman: “Number 13” Nemesis: Morten Harket Hobbies: Sidecar racing, using a wrench to chase folks who get pulled into his comic book. How to defeat in battle: Don’t get pulled into an A-ha Comic; Bang your shoulders from side-to-side against opposite walls to escape (works only for lead singer of A-Ha).
October 19, 2006: Bringing Up The Rear (Sort Of) by Guest Blogger Donutbabe Last week Seth came up to me, lifted up my t-shirt, and looked at my big belly bulging through my jeans. “Why you have two butts?” he asked. I made the mistake of laughing. So over the past week, he has repeated ad nauseum his charge that I am double-butted. Tonight, perhaps because it has been a long evening full of screaming, perhaps because just yesterday I was bitten quite fiercely on my second butt, I was tired of the joke. “You have two butts!” Seth said again, just an hour ago. “I don’t want to hear any more about two butts or we’re going to skip your bath tonight,” I said, knowing full well how much he was looking forward to playing with his daddy’s new Lego boat in the tub. Seth climbed onto my lap, looked me in the eye, and said with all the sincerity he could muster, “I’m sorry, Mommy. I won’t talk about two butts. I promise. No more two butts.” And we almost had it. Except, out of the corner of my eye, I could see my husband’s shoulders shaking. Like Lot’s wife, or like Orpheus, or like a fat, tired mom who never learns, I made eye contact. He snorted, and we both lost it. I shall be the woman of two butts for a very long time to come.
October 18, 2006: The (Un)Blogiversary Today marks one year since I resumed posting. I stopped blogging in late August, 2005, by which time I had posted over 350 entries since January, 2004. When I stopped blogging, I didn’t have any plan to continue. I took down all my pages and links. I didn’t spend much time reading other weblogs. After a couple months, though, I found that I missed the fun of sharing my experiences and opinions with others. Last year, I posted a list of things “I dig.” Nothing on that list has changed (I dig Lost more than ever). But if you’re reading this or have taken the time to comment and/or link here, you can add yourself to the list. Thanks!
October 17, 2006: Shop Guy I hate shopping for groceries on an empty stomach. When I shop for groceries on an empty stomach, I make bad choices. I had my list as my guide, but it didn’t help. After I picked up the apples (golden, not red delicious), my hunger overwhelmed me. Every pre-packaged food I encountered taunted me. “Buy me,” the Bush’s Chili said, “You know you want to eat me.” I’ve never tried Bush’s brand of chili. But it had seduced my stomach, and my only decision left was which variety I would place in the cart. That was also an easy decision: Hot. I pushed the shopping cart down the aisles. I always have trouble with the frozen food aisle--even when I’m not hungry. This is the result of years of shopping as a single guy. It took me years to withdraw from the frozen waffles. But on this night, there was no stopping me as I pulled by the section with the White Castle burgers. Those burgers didn’t need to say anything. They didn’t need to. . . . I placed the White Castles next to the Bush’s Chili in the cart, and rolled onward. I was now in the condiment section. I looked at my list. Then I looked at the Heinz 57 bottles. One of them spoke to me: “Hey,” shouted one of the larger bottles, “Why aren’t we on the list? You don’t have any of us in your fridge, do you?” No, I thought. We just threw out our last bottle. We need some more sauce. “Better buy me, too” said the giant Heinz 57 bottle. “And don’t forget to get a giant size of the parmesan cheese.” I didn’t forget. When I returned home, I ate all the White Castle burgers. They taste great with Heinz 57 sauce.
October 13, 2006: The People’s Home Building Set* "People are thanking us for bringing the mansion, and the Capitol, back to being places that everyone in the state can be proud to call the people's home," Manchin said. Yes, thank you so much, First Lady Gayle Manchin, for the million dollar renovations on It is our 50-inch plasma television set, isn’t it? *(People Not Included)
October 12, 2006: Ken Berry And The GeNerAtiOn GaP “Is Judge Wapner dead?” asked one of my friends. “Whoah,” I said, “I hope not.” Let’s check. I clicked on the Wikipedia page and typed in “Judge Wapner.” “Nope, he’s still alive,” I responded. “But, man,” I thought to myself, “Why the truncated Wikipedia entry?” Our conversation continued, and the topic of Ken Berry arose. “Who’s Ken Berry?” asked both of my friends. I paused. They don’t know, I thought to myself, who Ken Berry is?!? “You don’t know who Ken Berry is?” Um. No. “Ken Berry was on The Andy Griffith Show and The Brady Bunch!” “He was?” They both seemed especially surprised about his Brady Bunch appearance. “Yes! Don’t you remember The Brady Bunch episode where Ken Berry played the guy with the wife and they wanted to adopt the three kids. . . . HOLD ON. . . .” I then typed in “Ken Berry” and “Brady Bunch” into Google and read the relevant paragraph from the top search result: A short-lived spin-off made it to the air, albeit in concept only. Twice, in fact. A Brady Bunch episode entitled Kelly's Kids aired in January 1974, with Brady neighbours Ken (Ken Berry) and Kathy Kelly (Brooke Bundy) adopting orphaned Matthew (Brady cast member Mike Lookinland's brother Todd). They then adopt his Asian pal Steve (Carey Wong) and black friend Dwayne (William Attmore II). One of my friends recalled the episode. By this time, however, I had mentioned Ken Berry starred in Mama’s Family, which everyone seemed to remember. Yeah,” I continued, “Ken Berry appeared on the Andy Griffith Show toward the end of its run. He was the Ted McGinley of his era.” But as soon as I mentioned Ted McGinley, I knew I shouldn’t have. “Ted McGinley?” said one of my friends. Yeah. Time passes fast. And I fear the day when I will have to explain who Judge Wapner is to my grandchildren.
October 11, 2006: Lost Rocks When I start to think that Lost can’t improve over its previous episode, it dazzles me with something else. I love the writers’ imagination. How they managed to tell a story with Kate in a dress on the chain gang with Sawyer, explore Sun and Jin’s relationship (while using Sayid) and mention Dubya, Christopher Reeve and the Boston Red Sox winning the 2004 World Series reflects further proof why I will continue to plan my Wednesday night around this show. I mean, seriously: The Boston Red Sox winning the World Series and Kate in a dress on the chain gang? Best. Show. Ever.
October 9, 2006: The Next Television Programming Trend
October 9, 2006: Men Of The Year? Jon Stewart dispels rumor of Stewart/Colbert ticket for the White House. What a shame. Truth is often stranger than fiction, isn’t it?
October 8, 2006: Notes From Our Pumpkin Patch
After lunch, all the kids decorated their little pumpkins. They used glitter glue and crayons. I took a pumpkin and started carving. Over the last few years, we’ve bought one of those pumpkin carving kits, which we use for our designs. On Saturday, I didn’t use a design. I drew a couple triangles in crayon for the pumpkin’s eyes, and an oval for the nose on the suggestion from one of the kids. Two of them leaned on my arm as I used the miniature carving tools to saw the pumpkin. Then everyone gathered in our back yard and chatted as the children played. And then it was 2:00 p.m. and everyone left. We rested for a couple hours and then our family headed to the Pumpkin Festival in Milton, West Virginia. Big mistake.
But we did see a 997-pound pumpkin. I wasn’t able to photograph it, however, because I was trying to keep our children from sitting on the pumpkins in violation of the pumpkin festival’s rules. So this picture of the 667-pound “out-of-state” pumpkin will have to suffice.
October 6, 2005: Eight Things I Prefer Not To Discover In My Kids’ Treat-Or-Treat Pumpkins This Halloween 1. Pennies 2. Live centipedes 3. John Raese campaign materials 4. Bagged spinach 5. McDonald’s coupons 6. Glossy 8 x 10 color photograph of Mel Gibson 7. Jawbreakers 8. A broken orange, plastic spider ring
October 5, 2006: Great Episode, But Where’s Locke? I enjoyed last night’s episode of Lost. It raised more questions than it answered, though. I thought the inclusion of the Stephen King book was a nice touch, especially considering that King loves the show and writes about it for Entertainment Weekly. Now if I only had one of those Dharma fish biscuits for breakfast. . . .
October 3, 2006: More Scouts At Marshall. . . . . . oh, wait, were you thinking football?
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Card # 71
I know summer’s over, but I still grilled out yesterday. You can’t celebrate October without a Halloween hot dog party. We invited 
Oh, we enjoyed the festival--after we arrived. If someone had told us that the travel time from our home in Huntington to Milton would require us to spend over an hour and a half in traffic, we might have reconsidered making the trek. Suffice it to say that we had not anticipated a crowd. And I don’t dig crowds. This is why this Jew left New York City to come back home to West Virginia. (The other reason being that the “copywriter thing” didn’t pan out as I planned, which is an absolute shame because I thought my concept of having the Pillsbury Doughboy engage in battle with the Tuna, Chicken and Hamburger Helpers was an inspired marketing concept.)