Entries in Life

This old report on Clark’s acceptance of the Abenaki Nation’s endorsement rings a bell. During the campaign, Jeff Hauser sat right behind me and one of his major accomplishments was this endorsement.

A Harvard graduate, Jeff was especially easy to tease — he took himself very seriously and seemed oblivious to many of our jibes. He was turning 30 and, as his way of recognising the onset of age, he lamented “I can’t believe I’m in such a junior position at my age!”

Beyond that, we teased him specifically about the Abenaki endorsement since they aren’t even a “real” tribe (as in “recognised by the U.S. govement”).

Never-the-less, I identified with Hauser to some degree. I’m sure that my own credulity lets others have fun at my expense sometimes and this same credulousness is what made Jeff so adorable.

My last post offering up gmail accounts resulted in requests within a few hours of posting. I posted at about 2AM and requests started arriving at 4AM — via searches on Feedster and other search engines. I’ve learned my lesson.

While grepping my logs to see where all these people were coming from, I noticed that this wacky cyclist picture of me was being passed around various forums. Usually with comments like “What a Dork!” or stuck with a bunch of other nerdy pictures.

I suppose I could get upset and all, perhaps even block people from grabbing the picture if they come from certain sites, but I kind of enjoy being the top hit on Google Images for “mad haircut“.

UPDATE: Go Here

I’ve got some invitations to give out for Gmail accounts. Since I know people are interested in this whole gmail thing, I thought I’d post here. Since they seem to be worth just under four bucks at the moment, I’m not really interested in going through the hassle of selling them. Email me for an account. (Yes, email me at my @everybody.org account. I don’t really use the gmail account.)

Since moving to small town PA, we’ve been deprived of some of the cultural experiences we were privy to in New Orleans. True, there are lots of Amish here, but they don’t have the great food that the Cajun culture in Louisiana and the Creole cultures in New Orleans created.

To make up for what the area lacks in food, we’ve begun renting Bollywood flicks from the Indian grocery down the street. First Kal Ho Naa Ho, then Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham, now Hum Tum. Since every Bollywood flick is a musical, my kids are now singing the English parts of the songs around the house. And a lot of it is catchy. The films also provide insight into Indian Culture: arranged marriages, the caste system, etc. (And, perhaps, some idea what happened at Rohit’s wedding beyond a few photos.)

To further the cultural experience, we’ve been going to the local Greek Orthodox church. Remember “Greek School” from My Big Fat Greek Wedding? Well, the church has Greek School, something we’re considering sending our children to.

So, we’ve got culture. Our children will be some strange Vietnamese-American-Greek-Cajun-Indian-Amish mix.

mjd (an excellent speaker, by the way) hosts the Perl Quiz of The Week. One of the recent quizes was to emulate the “random alphabetic” sort that California uses on their ballots. He included a link to a list of words sorted this way. This week, he posted google queries that were ending up on the list. I took one of them, dropped a couple of the terms, and ended up with an excellent example of bringing joy through engineering.

First, let’s get this out of the way: Chuck E. Cheese is not going to be the place where any adult wants to go. Any place that features noise, bad pizza and animatronics dancing to kid’s music is not the place to be.

Having said that, I, like many other working parents, had an extra long weekend with Monday off this week. And I, like some of those other parents, ended up at Chuck E. Cheese. Basil has kept his “lucky token” ready since we moved here. He’s been asking when we’re going to go. Ginger and Violet were excited enough by the prospect of a trip that they pitched in and washed the floor over the weekend.

So, having run out of excuses and wanting to give their mother a badly needed break from child-care, I loaded the kids into the mini-van and headed out.

A fun time was had by all for relatively little money ($10 for 50 tokens split four ways [Hey, I get to play, too!]) and a refillable drink. There is enough there for kids of every age although they certainly cater to those under 13.

So while there, I noticed that there are three different kinds of parents who take their children there. When I got home, I let Alexis know (although, being a veteran Chuck-E-Cheeser [We celebrated her 22nd birthday there] she already knew the types].

1. The Kid — This parent takes their child and then forgets about them while they spend hours playing video games. I suppose they aren’t too worried since Chuck E. Cheese goes through this ritual of checking that children are paired with adults leaving the establishment who are stamped with the same black-lighted number stamped on their arm.
2. The Sitter — Usually obese or older, this adult brings their child, buys a pizza, and spends the time chatting up their friends. Only occasionally do they glance at the play area to check up on junior. The rest of the time they spend wishing they could buy beer and cigarettes. (Come to think of it, I’m sure you could make a fortune by copying Chuck E. Cheese’s format and introducing a full-service bar.)
3. The Parent — Someone who actually interacts with his child once they pass through the turnstile. The kid is having fun, and sometimes a little whack-a-mole can offer stress-relief. Hey, maybe that fire-fighting game would be okay, too. Mostly, though these people seem to understand that Chuck E. Cheese provides something more than just an opportunity to forget your kids for a while.

So, I told all this to Alexis and she asked me “So, which are you?” To which I responded with an incredulous look. She should know by now that I’m a great parent!

Not satisfied, she turned to Basil. “Where was Daddy while you were at Chuck E. Cheese?”

Seeing his chance to air his complaint, he turned on the “pity me” dramatics. “Mama, I looked for him, but I couldn’t find him!”

Alexis grew alarmed: “Did you tell any store people?”

“No, but I called out for him and he didn’t answer.”

“Where was he?” Since, obviously, we had found each other.

“Oh”, he said, turning sheepish. “He was right behind me.”