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Ecomony of Scale

Moustache May Be Bigger Than Appears

Last year I participated in Movember, a fundraiser for Prostate Cancer research and awareness.

Some friends from work and I raised a bit of scratch for the cause, and our company kicked in some dollars for the charity as well. Due to a communication glitch, they kicked in the dollars into my net, thus crediting me with the extra moolah; due to this I was rocketed to platinum status on the Movember site.

While I didn’t use my own name for the certificate and credit online, I did get a prize sent to me: A tankard. Now, I don’t know about you, but due to reading a lot of sci-fi/fantasy novels, my idea of a tankard was something big….



A massive tankard?
Click to Enlarge…


Of course, to my surprise, the box was quite small, and the following is a reference photo…



No. Not really massive.
Click to Enlarge…


I’m not complaining. This thing is pretty awesome and I’m very proud to have won it. It just goes to show that sometimes the associations with certain words in your mind can lead to hilarious expectations.

We will be doing this event again this year. Hopefully y’all will sponsor us!


Sound Off

Can You Hear Me Now?

Public transit is a wonderful and scary place. It contains a wacky cross-section of the population; however it is also a confined area and will drive you batty if you are stuck with the wrong people.

Case in point: the loud talker.

Now, I have seen (heard) some interesting conversations on public transit, but the other day this one gal decided to get into a yelling match with whomever she was talking to on her cellphone. The subject was about how her conversation partner should not be yelling at her.

The best part is that she was screaming at the top of her lungs by the end and was holding the phone in front of her as if directing her yelling at the phone itself would help her win her argument. I didn’t feel sorry for her in the slightest when we entered a tunnel and the connection was severed.

I did, though, feel sorry for humanity as she stomped off the subway, announcing to everyone that she was going to go outside and call back whomever it was to give that person a piece of her mind.

It looks to be the only piece of a large whole, so it shouldn’t take too long.


Fantastic

Abutt Face

So, not too long ago I was bemoaning the fact that potty training our kiddo wasn’t going very well. Granted, the reflection that I gained from counting to ten so many times allowed me to grow as a person.

We thought about reward scenarios, which also involves the flip side: punishment. Nothing horrible, mind you; putting television on temporary hiatus seemed a good way to get our point across, as it is something she likes but can live without.

A wise person told us not to bother with that. In the past, our little Squiggles has always managed to do what was right. The only condition was that it was on her terms. This is perfectly reasonable when you take a step back and look at it with with an objective eye; however, being in the trenches in World War III: The Battle of Gas Pass doesn’t make it very easy to have patience.

The other morning, before daycare, my wife and I agreed to telling the munchkin that we were going to do away with the whole system for toilet training. So, when Squiggles woke up, I gave her a big hug and told her that we were going to stop our little game and leave the potty-goings to her. I said that we would be there to help her out if she needed it, but that we believed in her.

Later that day, she told her daycare provider that she needed to go to the toilet, which was met with much amusement (our daughter is a bit of a trickster, you see). Lo and behold: she was telling the truth; pee was dispensed in the proper manner; there was much rejoicing.

Twice that day at daycare she went. At home she made us smile by going again and again. It has been a few days now – awesome days – and this exceptional behaviour seems to be the norm.

You can lead a horse to water, I suppose, but sometimes the horse is really stubborn and doesn’t want you to tell where the water is. Hell, the horse would probably remember the location better if it found the water on its own, and most likely doesn’t mind you keeping an eye on the situation from a nearby hillock.



And That Leads To…

I’m only writing this because I’ve received a few veiled complaints about “not enough updates” in the life of Squiggly Squiggles McGee.

I know a good number of people – some of them dearest friends – who write about their children frequently. In fact, some of them (a la Dooce) will write directly to their children on their blogs, which I find really sweet. In contrast, I must seem like a horrible father, as I don’t detail the awesome goings-on of my progeny here on this space.

Besides the misgivings of Mrs. Jorge for posting too many details on here, I suppose I don’t really like doing it because I don’t like to share. Call me selfish, but I think that I would like my daughter to make a name for herself instead of me setting the expectations for what she can do. Nor do I want to write her something personal for all the world to see.

Besides the urgings of others to post more about her, the issue also crossed my mind today as I marveled at how she plays so well with others and on her own. She asked me earlier today to play with her in her room. She demanded that I sit down on the floor as she made dinner. Between frying up some lemon chicken, using her play kitchen’s oven as a combination washing machine/dryer to clean her oven mitts after she spilled imaginary orange juice on them, and serving me play doughnuts and french fries, I had to smile in amusement and pride at her Julia Child-like ways. So adventurous and funny; personable and reserved when the need arises; the cliche about children being little grown-ups is very fitting here. How can one not write about this all the time?

I would most likely get carpal tunnel syndrome from all of the typing I would be doing.

To set the record straight (and every sensible parent will say this): I am really very proud of our daughter, and can’t possibly imagine life without her. She’s all kinds of awesome – and you have no idea how awesome – and I’m very sure that she will surpass her parents by a long shot.

If she happens to read this one day, this should come as no surprise. And really, it shouldn’t be a surprise for anyone else either.


Persistence

Late to the Potty

Teaching is a two-way street.

Mind you, the signage isn’t very clear, and sometimes visibility is low because that one inconsiderate neighbour at the corner doesn’t like to trim his hedges, but it’s a two-way street all the same.

We’re entrenched in the battle for toilet supremacy, with us on one side of the battlefield and our daughter on the other. She’s attending an understanding daycare facility that seems to be very tolerant of the pull-up situation – that’s something at least. But our little one has decided that this potty thing may not be the best course of action, as there is no benefit in her mind other than the fact that we seem to throw parties every time she takes a tinkle on the porcelain throne.

I can understand her point of view. We encourage her to be unique; to think for herself, and that’s precisely what she is doing. The down side of this, of course, is that using arguments like “your friend so-and-so is using the toilet” will not really work.

It is a procrastination ploy – one that she may very well employing far better than most adults that I know – and it is driving me batty.

That is, until I thought about it this morning.

I do the same thing. Not in the sense of waste expulsion, of course. No, in my case I have been meaning to do so many things around the house and for myself and instead end up throwing up my hands and pursuing everything in a half-assed manner.

This blog, for instance, used to be updated much more frequently. I have been pushing out creating a DVD of my kid’s second year (with the third year looming). There are stacks of things I need to review for this site and a number of entries that need to go up here (although, I’ve been better at that lately).

I wonder if my little wonder picks up on the fact that her parents are expert procrastinators as well?

Either way, I am going to be trying to turn my own situation around and combat the stagnation of all of my hobbies. Even if it doesn’t help her use the toilet faster, it will definitely rule out that my own laziness is contagious.

Plus, I will get more things done.


I Am Cast Iron Man

Heavy Metal

I spent my lunch pulling these out of the wall of my basement. The previous owners installed a fireplace and built a nice wall to enclose the fireplace.

They cut off these Rads from the water supply because they were leaking and somewhat redundant after the fireplace was installed. However, their contractors simply left these in place, giving access via a particleboard sheet screwed into the wall and painted to match the rest of the room.

I want to use these areas as storage space, so I decided to pull them out…




They were heavy. Check out the pipe I had to cut. I’m all ready for prison breaks now.
Click to enlarge…


It was tricky because when the contractors had cut off the water supply, they didn’t think about removing them. The pipes were sticking out on each side wider than the opening would allow, so straight extraction wasn’t an option.

It was not bad for the first, but the second one required a hacksaw to “help out” the situation.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is my workout for the day.