Just about every day my wife or I will hear a name we like, and we’ll play the baby name game. We’ve pretty much considered every name, and I can’t really blame her for never giving serious consideration to Barack, Tupac, Dwight or Michael Corelone. The thing is, we’re pretty much sure we’ve decided against having a baby. It isn’t that we don’t want to, and there are days that both of us are head over heels in love with the idea of a little one.
But we also have plenty of reasons, and good ones, why we don’t want to. While I assume most prospective parents have a plethora of unknowns, we have more answers than questions. I know she’s a great mom, and she knows what kind of parent I am. We know we don’t make nearly enough money, not that anyone really makes enough money to be a parent, and we know we really don’t want to be that tired all the time. We know how expensive raising a child is, and we know how rewarding it is. We also know how hard it is, even though she knows better than I.
Maybe we know too much, and if we knew a little less, we’d be more likely to have a little Hirp. Maybe we still will. The Kyd loves the idea, not that we’ve asked her, but she’s volunteered the fact numerous times. She’s also suggested we adopt Porqchop’s daughter. We’re smart enough too understand that it isn’t just having a baby, it’s having a 7 year old and a teenager (eventually) and as great as those ages can be, you can’t just focus on the idea of a cute little baby. That baby is going to learn to walk, talk back to us, drive, stay out late, get zits, get sick, have sex and want money for college. He or she would also make us very proud, have a great sense of humor, take first steps, lose a first tooth, greet us with big hugs, get a first job, care about the world around him/herself, tell us we’re not cool enough and serve as another great reminder for how I married the most perfect woman for me. And hey, having a baby would probably make for some great blogging.
So I really don’t know how most couples come to a decision on this. I understand more than I used to though, as I never understood that just loving someone would make you want to have a baby with them. That really never computed for me. Love made sense, but how that love could lead to you doing something that you know would make it more difficult to spend time with that person, would exhaust you and keep you awake at night worrying about everything and nothing. That’s a little clearer now.
January 29, 2009
January 27, 2009
Trust Me
So yesterday the company I work for, I don’t want to name names so I’ll just call it Shashmint, announced they were laying off 8,000 employees. (funny, Word gave me the green squiggly line under “laying” and offered “lying” as its corrective action) So my day consisted of multiple conference calls to go over the upcoming layoffs. While I understand that delivering that sort of news is probably the worst part of their job, and I in no way want any piece of that responsibility, I couldn’t help but notice how no one would really say anything.
Here’s what I learned:
8,000 people are losing their job, but the company isn’t in any eminent danger.
The severance package will have the same structure as it did last year at this time, although I still don’t know what it is.
The layoffs are to be completed by the end of March, and my team will know within a month, wait no, the middle of March.
The company will no longer match their contribution to 401k or offer tuition reimbursements.
My group won’t be impacted as harshly as others, only 20% (although 8,000 out of 56,000 is 14%, so I don’t understand how 20% is supposed to make me feel any better, except that 20% is lower than 40%, which is how deeply some groups will be hit.
So I have that going for me, which is nice.
***
Checked out the new TNT show, “Trust Me” I heard that they know drama. The premise was good enough, a couple of friends going up the corporate ladder at a Chicago advertising agency. And the two leads are good enough, Tom Cavanaugh and Eric McCormick. But I’d have to say, even though it’s just one episode, it’s a miss. This is a show that should have Sorkin-esque dialogue, and instead feels more like it was written by just another Joe.
I’ll give it another shot, but my 8ball says, “Outlook not good.” Trust me.
Here’s what I learned:
8,000 people are losing their job, but the company isn’t in any eminent danger.
The severance package will have the same structure as it did last year at this time, although I still don’t know what it is.
The layoffs are to be completed by the end of March, and my team will know within a month, wait no, the middle of March.
The company will no longer match their contribution to 401k or offer tuition reimbursements.
My group won’t be impacted as harshly as others, only 20% (although 8,000 out of 56,000 is 14%, so I don’t understand how 20% is supposed to make me feel any better, except that 20% is lower than 40%, which is how deeply some groups will be hit.
So I have that going for me, which is nice.
***
Checked out the new TNT show, “Trust Me” I heard that they know drama. The premise was good enough, a couple of friends going up the corporate ladder at a Chicago advertising agency. And the two leads are good enough, Tom Cavanaugh and Eric McCormick. But I’d have to say, even though it’s just one episode, it’s a miss. This is a show that should have Sorkin-esque dialogue, and instead feels more like it was written by just another Joe.
I’ll give it another shot, but my 8ball says, “Outlook not good.” Trust me.
January 23, 2009
Hirpped Off
It was 1991, and three days after I turned 15, I became an uncle for the first time. For me this was the absolute coolest thing in the world. We had moved to KC just two years before, and my sister was still living in Connecticut. So I didn’t get to see baby Courtney till I went back east for Christmas break. Till then, I had always enjoyed the rare occasions where I was the “big” kid, although it really meant just being the older kid. But I still had never really been around babies.
I remember the first time I saw her and got the chance to hold her. Such a little thing with these big blue eyes, and she kept smiling at me. It’s not like that moment totally changed everything I was doing, because I wasn’t “that” 15 year old. But I knew from that moment on, that everything I did had more meaning. I could be a cool uncle, I could be a good role model, I could be a good example. Now, chances are I wasn’t going to drink or do that stupid shit in high school, having grown up with a sister with a substance abuse problem, but holding Courtney made it a certainty.
The age difference was pretty much perfect, I was young enough that she’d find me cool, but old enough that I didn’t just think she’d help me pick up girls. In the future, she tried to help me, but that was her own doing. But she gave everything in my life a purpose, the one thing every 15 year old really wants. When I got back from Connecticut, I bragged about her to my friends, who had no interest in hearing about a baby. A year and a half later her brother was born, and then my sister married their father.
Yadda, yadda, yadda. I’m 17 and my sister is moving to Kansas with her two kids, and they’re going to live with us. The next best thing to happen during my teenage years.(after their births, of course) The first night they stayed with us, I slept on the floor in their room. I didn’t have to wait till I was all grown up, married with a new baby to learn; there’s no better nap, than a nap with a baby on your chest. You couldn’t learn that in school. Rather than coming home from school and calling friends, I was coming home to play with the kids. Soon, every morning I woke up in my twin bed I had one, or sometimes both, of the kids crammed in there with me.
When my niece and nephew were a little older, and had moved out, I would alternate taking one of them out every week. It was as much for me as it was for them, as it was always a great way to keep things in perspective. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have a degree, or how much money I had, or what kind of car I drove, my grades didn’t disappoint them. All I had to do was play with them, or just spend time with them. And often tell them, “No, we can’t listen to that CD because there are some not so nice words. No, not that CD either, okay, let’s listen to the radio.”
Yadda, yadda, yadda, I am in my late 20’s. Things have changed. My sister now has four kids, and none of them live with her. Things will never be the same. I made an effort at first, tried to maintain contact, but then life caught up to us. Court was a teenager, even though I think she hit 16 on her 6th birthday, now all her friends had caught up to her. The kids were (rightfully) angry, angry at my sister, my parents and at me. I think I was as angry at myself, if not more so, because I wasn’t able to come to the rescue like I had always promised them. I was immature, living in a small apartment and barely responsible enough to pay all my bills.
Now I’m 32, I’m married with a kyd and my niece is moving to Phoenix in less than a month. She’s 17 now, and I’ve missed out on her entire high school career. I haven’t been able to get to know her boyfriends, and let them know how difficult I can make their lives if they hurt her. I wasn’t able to be there for her Sweet 16, and I didn’t get to tell her I was getting married. The Kyd hasn’t been able to spend time with her, other than meeting her once, and she’d be nuts about her big cousin. She won’t get to ask her big cousin about makeup, or (I’m throwing up in my mouth as I type it) boys. It’s cool that she has other cousins, and she won’t miss out completely on those moments. But she won’t get to hear stories about me from the cousins she won’t get to know. And when she’s pissed at me, they won’t tell her that I’m really not that bad.
And my niece won’t get to know my wife, or (most depressingly) see how a man who loves his wife, is supposed to treat her. They won’t make fun of a shirt I’m wearing, or roll their eyes together at my lame jokes. We won’t get to sit in the stands when she graduates high school, or stop by her dorm room to take her to dinner (and threaten her boyfriend some more). So my hearts a tad bit shattered today. She won’t have anything to do with me.
I have friends in Phoenix, who have two young kids, I could arrange for some babysitting gigs. If this was “normal” and it was just some family moving to another city, she’d already have a way to earn some extra cash and get out of the house, away from her nagging parents. She’d be just a drive away from her grandparents, who could take her shopping and bore her to death with classical music.
And of course, I’m upset about not having any kind of relationship with the other three kids. But they aren’t moving to Phoenix, so there’s a better chance that with time, we can reconnect. And frankly, they weren’t first. Although I love them with all my heart, they weren’t the first kids to call me “uncle” or learn how much of a pushover I am.
I remember the first time I saw her and got the chance to hold her. Such a little thing with these big blue eyes, and she kept smiling at me. It’s not like that moment totally changed everything I was doing, because I wasn’t “that” 15 year old. But I knew from that moment on, that everything I did had more meaning. I could be a cool uncle, I could be a good role model, I could be a good example. Now, chances are I wasn’t going to drink or do that stupid shit in high school, having grown up with a sister with a substance abuse problem, but holding Courtney made it a certainty.
The age difference was pretty much perfect, I was young enough that she’d find me cool, but old enough that I didn’t just think she’d help me pick up girls. In the future, she tried to help me, but that was her own doing. But she gave everything in my life a purpose, the one thing every 15 year old really wants. When I got back from Connecticut, I bragged about her to my friends, who had no interest in hearing about a baby. A year and a half later her brother was born, and then my sister married their father.
Yadda, yadda, yadda. I’m 17 and my sister is moving to Kansas with her two kids, and they’re going to live with us. The next best thing to happen during my teenage years.(after their births, of course) The first night they stayed with us, I slept on the floor in their room. I didn’t have to wait till I was all grown up, married with a new baby to learn; there’s no better nap, than a nap with a baby on your chest. You couldn’t learn that in school. Rather than coming home from school and calling friends, I was coming home to play with the kids. Soon, every morning I woke up in my twin bed I had one, or sometimes both, of the kids crammed in there with me.
When my niece and nephew were a little older, and had moved out, I would alternate taking one of them out every week. It was as much for me as it was for them, as it was always a great way to keep things in perspective. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have a degree, or how much money I had, or what kind of car I drove, my grades didn’t disappoint them. All I had to do was play with them, or just spend time with them. And often tell them, “No, we can’t listen to that CD because there are some not so nice words. No, not that CD either, okay, let’s listen to the radio.”
Yadda, yadda, yadda, I am in my late 20’s. Things have changed. My sister now has four kids, and none of them live with her. Things will never be the same. I made an effort at first, tried to maintain contact, but then life caught up to us. Court was a teenager, even though I think she hit 16 on her 6th birthday, now all her friends had caught up to her. The kids were (rightfully) angry, angry at my sister, my parents and at me. I think I was as angry at myself, if not more so, because I wasn’t able to come to the rescue like I had always promised them. I was immature, living in a small apartment and barely responsible enough to pay all my bills.
Now I’m 32, I’m married with a kyd and my niece is moving to Phoenix in less than a month. She’s 17 now, and I’ve missed out on her entire high school career. I haven’t been able to get to know her boyfriends, and let them know how difficult I can make their lives if they hurt her. I wasn’t able to be there for her Sweet 16, and I didn’t get to tell her I was getting married. The Kyd hasn’t been able to spend time with her, other than meeting her once, and she’d be nuts about her big cousin. She won’t get to ask her big cousin about makeup, or (I’m throwing up in my mouth as I type it) boys. It’s cool that she has other cousins, and she won’t miss out completely on those moments. But she won’t get to hear stories about me from the cousins she won’t get to know. And when she’s pissed at me, they won’t tell her that I’m really not that bad.
And my niece won’t get to know my wife, or (most depressingly) see how a man who loves his wife, is supposed to treat her. They won’t make fun of a shirt I’m wearing, or roll their eyes together at my lame jokes. We won’t get to sit in the stands when she graduates high school, or stop by her dorm room to take her to dinner (and threaten her boyfriend some more). So my hearts a tad bit shattered today. She won’t have anything to do with me.
I have friends in Phoenix, who have two young kids, I could arrange for some babysitting gigs. If this was “normal” and it was just some family moving to another city, she’d already have a way to earn some extra cash and get out of the house, away from her nagging parents. She’d be just a drive away from her grandparents, who could take her shopping and bore her to death with classical music.
And of course, I’m upset about not having any kind of relationship with the other three kids. But they aren’t moving to Phoenix, so there’s a better chance that with time, we can reconnect. And frankly, they weren’t first. Although I love them with all my heart, they weren’t the first kids to call me “uncle” or learn how much of a pushover I am.
January 22, 2009
Hirpped
It’s not that I’ve always done a great job preparing myself for difficult times, but I like to think I do more than most. At the very least, I will almost always play out any number of undesirable outcomes in my head. Often the scenarios I play out in my noggin are morbid, but the OCD and general pessimistic outlook force me to consider my options. This marks the first time I’ve actually gone to looking fairly closely at my family’s financial situation.
See, the company I work for, I’ve mentioned how familiar it is with the layoff process in the past, and the rumor mill is spinning again. The number I’m hearing is around 40% of the company may be let go in the near future. So, by my math, that gives me a 40% chance of being out of a job. 40% in baseball makes you an all-time great, in the operating room it probably keeps a doctor from ever getting insured and that same number may belong to the worst lawyer in the Public Defenders life. That same number, in my situation, is scarier than an un-opened letter from the IRS.
See, the company I work for, I’ve mentioned how familiar it is with the layoff process in the past, and the rumor mill is spinning again. The number I’m hearing is around 40% of the company may be let go in the near future. So, by my math, that gives me a 40% chance of being out of a job. 40% in baseball makes you an all-time great, in the operating room it probably keeps a doctor from ever getting insured and that same number may belong to the worst lawyer in the Public Defenders life. That same number, in my situation, is scarier than an un-opened letter from the IRS.
January 14, 2009
Hirp on Coutler
I’ve often heard how “hate” is a strong word, and now that I’m a parent, I strongly urge the Kyd to pick a different word to express her feelings. But yesterday I saw a clip of Ann Cuntler, and that four letter word just feels like the truest description for how I feel about her. I saw a clip of her on “the View” getting into it with Whoopi Goldberg, about the actions of half white, half black celebrities. So I went to my good friend, Youtube, to watch her appearance on the show.
She has issue with President-elect Barrack Obama writing his book, “Dreams From My Father” and it’s some how wrong that “he identifies with the father who abandoned him.” She tells Barbara Walters that she read a segment from her book like she was reading Mein Kampf. And she says the whole point of her book is how the liberals are always playing the victim. But poor Ann, the host of one of the most popular day time shows is reading from her book, but she doesn’t like the tone, of course it should be compared to the work of Adolf Hitler, doing so makes total sense. Bitch.
Coulter picks on Halle Berry’s Oscar acceptance speech for saying she was “doing it for the Blacks” and she’s identifying only with her black father, and not her mother. Well, maybe Ann missed the movie, but Halle won her Oscar for playing a black woman who falls in love with a racist prison guard. It’s such a mystery, that she’d identify with her “black” side. This is an actress whose first major role came in Jungle Fever, directed by that black director, Spike Lee. Not that I’m a fan of Berry, but she hasn’t really shied away from movies dealing with race, specifically race and relationships. Bulworth, Boomerang, Things We Lost in the Fire, Losing Isaiah and even Die Another Day when she was the first black Bond-girl.
Whenever I’ve filled out an application for a job, there’s been that page at the end that asks male or female, and then gives options for which race I belong to. I’ve never seen “half white, half black” as an option. Society likes to tell us, that if someone isn’t entirely white, then they default to the minority. And she has an issue with Halle Berry and Barack Obama identifying with African-Americans? All of this crap is coming from a woman who often likes to use Obama’s middle name, Hussein, when she speaks about him. I’m sure she’s not doing that to identify with his white mother from Kansas.
Coutler also took on single mothers:
“If you take single motherhood out of the equation, the black and white crime rates are exactly the same. SO if you take everything else out, single motherhood is not good for children,” which seems perfectly valid to me. But she’s attacking the single mothers, her beef is they’re claiming to be victims and we glorify single mothers with movies, and books, and give them un-do credit. Someone should revoke her vagina, it’s that simple. The single mothers aren’t to blame for this, it’s the absent fathers. It takes two to tango, sure, but at least put half the blame on the sperm donors. Only a woman attacking dead beat dads wouldn’t create a stir, and that’s all Coutler does. Logic, facts, tact and common sense aren’t part of her very lucrative equation.
She has issue with President-elect Barrack Obama writing his book, “Dreams From My Father” and it’s some how wrong that “he identifies with the father who abandoned him.” She tells Barbara Walters that she read a segment from her book like she was reading Mein Kampf. And she says the whole point of her book is how the liberals are always playing the victim. But poor Ann, the host of one of the most popular day time shows is reading from her book, but she doesn’t like the tone, of course it should be compared to the work of Adolf Hitler, doing so makes total sense. Bitch.
Coulter picks on Halle Berry’s Oscar acceptance speech for saying she was “doing it for the Blacks” and she’s identifying only with her black father, and not her mother. Well, maybe Ann missed the movie, but Halle won her Oscar for playing a black woman who falls in love with a racist prison guard. It’s such a mystery, that she’d identify with her “black” side. This is an actress whose first major role came in Jungle Fever, directed by that black director, Spike Lee. Not that I’m a fan of Berry, but she hasn’t really shied away from movies dealing with race, specifically race and relationships. Bulworth, Boomerang, Things We Lost in the Fire, Losing Isaiah and even Die Another Day when she was the first black Bond-girl.
Whenever I’ve filled out an application for a job, there’s been that page at the end that asks male or female, and then gives options for which race I belong to. I’ve never seen “half white, half black” as an option. Society likes to tell us, that if someone isn’t entirely white, then they default to the minority. And she has an issue with Halle Berry and Barack Obama identifying with African-Americans? All of this crap is coming from a woman who often likes to use Obama’s middle name, Hussein, when she speaks about him. I’m sure she’s not doing that to identify with his white mother from Kansas.
Coutler also took on single mothers:
“If you take single motherhood out of the equation, the black and white crime rates are exactly the same. SO if you take everything else out, single motherhood is not good for children,” which seems perfectly valid to me. But she’s attacking the single mothers, her beef is they’re claiming to be victims and we glorify single mothers with movies, and books, and give them un-do credit. Someone should revoke her vagina, it’s that simple. The single mothers aren’t to blame for this, it’s the absent fathers. It takes two to tango, sure, but at least put half the blame on the sperm donors. Only a woman attacking dead beat dads wouldn’t create a stir, and that’s all Coutler does. Logic, facts, tact and common sense aren’t part of her very lucrative equation.
January 07, 2009
2008 reHirpped
Most years I put together my own Top 10 Movies list, but this year I don’t I can do that. I’m not even sure if I went to the movies 10 times, and I know I didn’t see enough quality to compile a list. Although in 2009, I may be able to work on my 2008 list as movies hit Blockbuster. But since 2008 had so many personal highlights, I figure I’ll pull a page from Porqchop’s book, and post my very own Top 10, with no help from Hollywood.
Separating them out won’t be easy, as it was such a great year for me. It’s like breaking down the Godfather to 10 great moments. As great as any one scene may be, you can never do the entire movie justice. Each entry has a solid 5 or 6 great “moments” in their own right:
10. Barack Obama. I really never thought I’d see a politician in my lifetime that could actually inspire people. Smooth talkers who can win a room like Bill Clinton, sure, but a man that actually seems honest, sincere and the smartest guy in the room? Yes We Can.
9. Arizona Trip. Always nice to get away, and drama aside, it was a great trip; with beautiful vistas, great weather and my two girls.
8. Chicago Trip. A staple in my annual travel plans, but it was nice to mix it up and stay at a nice hotel downtown. Love the city and the friends that live there.
7. My year in sports. Giants win the Super Bowl, I won my fantasy football title, KU wins the National Championship, I won my fantasy baseball title and I ended the year with two good poker games.
6. Writing. Although my blog hasn’t been updated as much as I’d like, I actually started a book and a screenplay. Hopefully I’ll finish them both in 2009. Or have a good reason for deleting the files.
5. Saw my sister. It hasn’t lead to any thing else, but it was a pretty big step I’m proud of.
4. Riley dog. Great dog and fine addition to the family, I just hope she stops scaring the Kyd’s friends in 2009.
3. All the “dad” moments. There was the first day of school, picking her up from school, building forts, watching ‘toons, laughing, reading, and watching.
2. Getting our house. There’s no one living above, below or next to us, a garage for our cars and a basement for our “stuff”, a yard for the dog and room for mom and dad. You won’t see it on Cribs, but you won’t see it on any of those makeover shows either. It’s truly a happy home.
1. Getting married. The act it self, was mind blowing. The ceremony/reception/and the location was all off the charts. It was absolutely perfect in every way, even with the drama we experienced just getting down to Mexico. I know plenty of people who really enjoyed their wedding, some who wish they had just eloped and some who wish they had a mulligan. I wouldn’t change a thing about ours, and I highly suggest getting married on a beach, and even more strongly suggest marrying the kind of girl I did.
Separating them out won’t be easy, as it was such a great year for me. It’s like breaking down the Godfather to 10 great moments. As great as any one scene may be, you can never do the entire movie justice. Each entry has a solid 5 or 6 great “moments” in their own right:
10. Barack Obama. I really never thought I’d see a politician in my lifetime that could actually inspire people. Smooth talkers who can win a room like Bill Clinton, sure, but a man that actually seems honest, sincere and the smartest guy in the room? Yes We Can.
9. Arizona Trip. Always nice to get away, and drama aside, it was a great trip; with beautiful vistas, great weather and my two girls.
8. Chicago Trip. A staple in my annual travel plans, but it was nice to mix it up and stay at a nice hotel downtown. Love the city and the friends that live there.
7. My year in sports. Giants win the Super Bowl, I won my fantasy football title, KU wins the National Championship, I won my fantasy baseball title and I ended the year with two good poker games.
6. Writing. Although my blog hasn’t been updated as much as I’d like, I actually started a book and a screenplay. Hopefully I’ll finish them both in 2009. Or have a good reason for deleting the files.
5. Saw my sister. It hasn’t lead to any thing else, but it was a pretty big step I’m proud of.
4. Riley dog. Great dog and fine addition to the family, I just hope she stops scaring the Kyd’s friends in 2009.
3. All the “dad” moments. There was the first day of school, picking her up from school, building forts, watching ‘toons, laughing, reading, and watching.
2. Getting our house. There’s no one living above, below or next to us, a garage for our cars and a basement for our “stuff”, a yard for the dog and room for mom and dad. You won’t see it on Cribs, but you won’t see it on any of those makeover shows either. It’s truly a happy home.
1. Getting married. The act it self, was mind blowing. The ceremony/reception/and the location was all off the charts. It was absolutely perfect in every way, even with the drama we experienced just getting down to Mexico. I know plenty of people who really enjoyed their wedding, some who wish they had just eloped and some who wish they had a mulligan. I wouldn’t change a thing about ours, and I highly suggest getting married on a beach, and even more strongly suggest marrying the kind of girl I did.
January 05, 2009
JstPosting
So of course, I ended up falling asleep for a bit. I finally crashed at around 5:45am, only to have my alarm go off at 6. Turned that annoying peace of technology off and went back to sleep till 7. At which point I was both exhausted and feeling rushed, as I usually get to work at that time. And the bed that fought with me all night, and kicked my ass, was finally welcoming me, damn near taunting me.
I made my way to the kitchen to make my wife’s coffee, that’s one of my morning responsibilities. It isn’t really a chore, and although it may not make much sense, I really love getting up before her to make her coffee. This morning I wish I drank coffee, I almost stopped at Starbucks and asked them to just pour espresso down my throat. But I did the next best thing, took my Ritalin. Usually that gets me going pretty good in the morning. It’s not like a shot of adrenalin, it just makes me function. By the time I get to work, I’m pretty alert and ready to do a few minutes of actual work. That wasn’t the case today. So I took another one, something I’ve never done before. Not 30 minutes apart, maybe 4 or 6 hours, but certainly not twice in one morning.
It wasn’t long till I felt nauseas. And going home at 8:30 the first day back after being off for 12 days, and being employed by company that lays off people as often as they issue paychecks, well that just doesn’t sound like a smart move. Certainly would not be a good start to the New Year. The second Ritalin finally set in, and I feel halfway decent, just hoping this day moves quickly.
Random Hirpasms:
I don’t like ESPN.com’s new look. Personally, I prefer the layout from 1995.
Will Facebook make it acceptable to start speaking in the third person? Hirp hopes so.
The Kyd is the absolute best traveler. Not just for her age, but for any age. If only she could always behave as well as she does on vacation or in transit.
Marley & Me was very good, but don’t take a kid to see it. And bring Kleenex, you know, for your wife.
First, I have to admit, I’m not a John Travolta fan. Second, that’s horrible news for he and his family, truly horrible. Third, maybe the Bahamas aren’t the best place for nut job celebs to visit. I’m just saying…
I made my way to the kitchen to make my wife’s coffee, that’s one of my morning responsibilities. It isn’t really a chore, and although it may not make much sense, I really love getting up before her to make her coffee. This morning I wish I drank coffee, I almost stopped at Starbucks and asked them to just pour espresso down my throat. But I did the next best thing, took my Ritalin. Usually that gets me going pretty good in the morning. It’s not like a shot of adrenalin, it just makes me function. By the time I get to work, I’m pretty alert and ready to do a few minutes of actual work. That wasn’t the case today. So I took another one, something I’ve never done before. Not 30 minutes apart, maybe 4 or 6 hours, but certainly not twice in one morning.
It wasn’t long till I felt nauseas. And going home at 8:30 the first day back after being off for 12 days, and being employed by company that lays off people as often as they issue paychecks, well that just doesn’t sound like a smart move. Certainly would not be a good start to the New Year. The second Ritalin finally set in, and I feel halfway decent, just hoping this day moves quickly.
Random Hirpasms:
I don’t like ESPN.com’s new look. Personally, I prefer the layout from 1995.
Will Facebook make it acceptable to start speaking in the third person? Hirp hopes so.
The Kyd is the absolute best traveler. Not just for her age, but for any age. If only she could always behave as well as she does on vacation or in transit.
Marley & Me was very good, but don’t take a kid to see it. And bring Kleenex, you know, for your wife.
First, I have to admit, I’m not a John Travolta fan. Second, that’s horrible news for he and his family, truly horrible. Third, maybe the Bahamas aren’t the best place for nut job celebs to visit. I’m just saying…
Insomnia
I finally gave up trying at 4am, which was all of 9 minutes ago. It just wasn’t my night for sleeping. I’ve had nights like this in the past, but when I was much younger and being up till 4am wasn’t even all that unusual then. I tried everything I could think of, I may have even tried counting sheep. I got out of bed a couple times and laid on the couch, because I knew the tossing and turning was disturbing my wifes sleep. She’s the lightest sleeper on the planet, I really feel for her. And that’s on every other night, when I know the dog shifting positions can wake her. Tonight must have been pure torture for her.
So I tried watching “Forensic Files” hoping that it would be almost interesting to pay attention to, but mostly solid background noise so I would stop paying attention to the seeing the minutes pass on the cable box. Tonight, I wish there was no cable tv. No cable TV would mean no digital boxes, displaying the green numbers so brightly in the dark of the room, that they could almost keep me up on their own. That, and the digital clock that sits around 17 inches from my face, made it impossible to ignore the vanishing-prime sleeping hours.
So I’m up, and I’ve given up. It just wasn’t my night. I came out to the living room, wrote my wife an apology, which will do little to help replace her hours of lost sleep and ironically enough, won’t let me sleep any better. ‘Cause you know, I can’t friggin sleep. The upside, as if there is one, is that I have my first blog post of 2009. I really wasn’t sure what I would write about, but I hope this is the last post I ever write about not being able to sleep. What kills me, is how much I sounded like the Kyd when she can’t sleep. She tosses and turns, and gets up and down like the Dow. I tried taking all the advice we’d normally give her. Nothing worked, and the longer I was up, the more I worried. Will I be a zombie at work tomorrow? Did I just start the worst week ever? If I get to sleep right this second, I’ll get a solid three hours, that’s passable, along with an extra Ritalin. How can I make this up to my wife? I probably asked those questions a few hundred times each, never once did I answer myself.
And now it’s 4:20am. There’s another ExtenZe ad on ESPN and I can’t even think of a joke for that. I’m not sure if I even want to fall asleep now, that would just make the waking up portion of my morning that much more difficult. A catnap wouldn’t be the worst thing, but it’s hardly a lock. Not for another hour anyway.
So I tried watching “Forensic Files” hoping that it would be almost interesting to pay attention to, but mostly solid background noise so I would stop paying attention to the seeing the minutes pass on the cable box. Tonight, I wish there was no cable tv. No cable TV would mean no digital boxes, displaying the green numbers so brightly in the dark of the room, that they could almost keep me up on their own. That, and the digital clock that sits around 17 inches from my face, made it impossible to ignore the vanishing-prime sleeping hours.
So I’m up, and I’ve given up. It just wasn’t my night. I came out to the living room, wrote my wife an apology, which will do little to help replace her hours of lost sleep and ironically enough, won’t let me sleep any better. ‘Cause you know, I can’t friggin sleep. The upside, as if there is one, is that I have my first blog post of 2009. I really wasn’t sure what I would write about, but I hope this is the last post I ever write about not being able to sleep. What kills me, is how much I sounded like the Kyd when she can’t sleep. She tosses and turns, and gets up and down like the Dow. I tried taking all the advice we’d normally give her. Nothing worked, and the longer I was up, the more I worried. Will I be a zombie at work tomorrow? Did I just start the worst week ever? If I get to sleep right this second, I’ll get a solid three hours, that’s passable, along with an extra Ritalin. How can I make this up to my wife? I probably asked those questions a few hundred times each, never once did I answer myself.
And now it’s 4:20am. There’s another ExtenZe ad on ESPN and I can’t even think of a joke for that. I’m not sure if I even want to fall asleep now, that would just make the waking up portion of my morning that much more difficult. A catnap wouldn’t be the worst thing, but it’s hardly a lock. Not for another hour anyway.
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