Edward or Jacob?
Jack or Locke?
Packers or Favre?
The thousands of Orcs who were just doing their job or those pesky Hobbits who were literally hell-bent on destroying a nice-looking piece of jewelry?
Once in awhile, life forces people to choose sides, even if making such a decision isn’t easy or clear.
The most obvious example in which people have to choose sides is the whole Team Edward or Team Jacob debate stirred up by the “Twilight” films and books. I’ll proclaim I’m above reading those books, as I can’t imagine devoting any of my schedule to doing so, but when it comes to films I’ll admit that taking two hours out of my schedule for a good laugh isn’t below me
The first two films in the “Twilight” series are great entertainment in that they can suck a person in quickly, just by watching a minute or so. My wife, Jenny, fell victim this way when I noticed the first film was on Showtime and I teased her that she wanted to watch it. When I tried to change the channel, she wouldn’t allow me, forcing me to watch it a second time. (The first time I did so was to review it for The Gazette. For the record, I gave it passing marks, but barely).
Since the second film was available to rent, she tricked me into renting it, simply by asking me if I were for Team Edward or Team Jacob. Jacob only had a minor role in the first film, so I chose Edward. She was all about Jacob, and this clash of opinions, which I’m always a fan of when it occurs, caused me to pick it up at the video store.
It was just as cheesy as the first film, with special effects so bad they made the ones in the 1970s television show “Buck Rogers in the 25th Century” look like “Avatar” by comparison. But the story, much like the shows on Telemundo and some of the dying soap operas on American television, is told in such a way people not only want to see what’s next, they develop a need to see the next development.
The same applies to the other examples I provided at the top of this column. Fans of “Lost,” many who have probably been lost for the last four years while watching this show, are now learning they have to choose between Jack Shepherd, the man of science, and John Locke, the man of faith. The show, in its final season, has made it seem as though Shepherd is the correct choice, but a big part of me believes the writers are going to turn it around at the end to show the man of faith is the right one.
The Packers or Brett Favre debate is one of loyalty vs. fandom. Does one commit to the team he or she has been loyal to since birth, or does one stick with the person he or she has followed fervently since 1992? I went with Favre in the debate, because the Packers will be there the rest of my life while Favre’s football playing years are probably limited (I say probably because, well, you never know with him).
With my “Lord of the Rings” example, people assume the Orcs are evil and don’t even deserve consideration, but they only did what they were created to do, which was to be evil. I guess the Hobbits had a right to fight back, but they probably could have lived the rest of their lives in the corner of their world without much disruption from the Orcs. Then again, the Orcs may have murdered them in their sleep, played football with their carcasses and then eaten them for breakfast.
People who make wrong choices are sometimes unwilling to admit it. No one likes to admit he or she is wrong, and when there is no definite answer, people don’t necessarily have to, even if others make more convincing arguments for an opposing side. That’s why I’ll never like a Hobbit again.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Stomach flu bites at family gathering
My wife’s family needs a catchy name for the aftermath of Easter festivities this past weekend.
The family, including my wife Jenny’s grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins – all on her mother’s side – as well as her parents and sisters, gathered in Richland Center, where her grandparents have a barnhouse – it’s called that because it was made to look like a barn. They gathered not just for Easter, but also for Grandpa Farrell’s 80th birthday, and since the entire family was there the opportunity was also used for a family picture.
The gathering was a success, as members of the clan were able to visit with each other, eat a lot of food and pose for many awesome family photos, courtesy of Jenny’s younger sister Raechel, a budding amateur photographer.
The aftermath occurred over the next two days when a large percentage of the people in attendance developed a nasty stomach flu. I don’t need to provide specifics, as anyone who has ever had this bug knows what it entails. At least one person in nearly all of the families at the gathering came down with it, and in some cases almost everyone.
Raechel and her guyfriend (I’m not calling him boyfriend for the very fact neither of them have defined their relationship), as well as Jenny’s father got it, along with two uncles, an aunt and two cousins.
The only family unaffected – and I’m knocking on wood right now – was our family. Jenny, our son Braden and I all came home unscathed.
Although it’s probably impossible to pinpoint how this stomach flu may have spread, our guess lies with some food that was available at the gathering, possibly a large ham or some roast beef. It’s possible someone there may have had it, too, and then spread it to others through the typical contact that occurs when families get together. Whatever the reason doesn’t really matter, because takebacks can’t occur.
The best remedy, besides time, is coming up with a funny name to assign to it, as humor can cure almost anything.
Stomach Bugapalooza is a good one, as younger members of the family used the now common “apalooza” suffix to describe the reunion while it was taking place.
Another suffix, “gate,” could be used to come up with Hamgate, although both suffixes are overused.
A potentially decent name is Farrell Family Flu Fun, mainly for the alliteration. But the ones who got it probably wouldn’t consider it fun.
Maybe the Great Easter Flu Massacre, but that sounds way more lethal than it was. Although I’m sure many toilets may agree with the name.
How about Grandpa’s 80th Birthday Surprise? That puts too much blame on him, though, and he didn’t get infected.
My favorite, which I’ll vote for, is the Barnhouse Plague of 2010. It’s simple, and effectively describes it.
I’m just hoping when I return there it doesn’t attack me for coming up with such stupidity.
The family, including my wife Jenny’s grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins – all on her mother’s side – as well as her parents and sisters, gathered in Richland Center, where her grandparents have a barnhouse – it’s called that because it was made to look like a barn. They gathered not just for Easter, but also for Grandpa Farrell’s 80th birthday, and since the entire family was there the opportunity was also used for a family picture.
The gathering was a success, as members of the clan were able to visit with each other, eat a lot of food and pose for many awesome family photos, courtesy of Jenny’s younger sister Raechel, a budding amateur photographer.
The aftermath occurred over the next two days when a large percentage of the people in attendance developed a nasty stomach flu. I don’t need to provide specifics, as anyone who has ever had this bug knows what it entails. At least one person in nearly all of the families at the gathering came down with it, and in some cases almost everyone.
Raechel and her guyfriend (I’m not calling him boyfriend for the very fact neither of them have defined their relationship), as well as Jenny’s father got it, along with two uncles, an aunt and two cousins.
The only family unaffected – and I’m knocking on wood right now – was our family. Jenny, our son Braden and I all came home unscathed.
Although it’s probably impossible to pinpoint how this stomach flu may have spread, our guess lies with some food that was available at the gathering, possibly a large ham or some roast beef. It’s possible someone there may have had it, too, and then spread it to others through the typical contact that occurs when families get together. Whatever the reason doesn’t really matter, because takebacks can’t occur.
The best remedy, besides time, is coming up with a funny name to assign to it, as humor can cure almost anything.
Stomach Bugapalooza is a good one, as younger members of the family used the now common “apalooza” suffix to describe the reunion while it was taking place.
Another suffix, “gate,” could be used to come up with Hamgate, although both suffixes are overused.
A potentially decent name is Farrell Family Flu Fun, mainly for the alliteration. But the ones who got it probably wouldn’t consider it fun.
Maybe the Great Easter Flu Massacre, but that sounds way more lethal than it was. Although I’m sure many toilets may agree with the name.
How about Grandpa’s 80th Birthday Surprise? That puts too much blame on him, though, and he didn’t get infected.
My favorite, which I’ll vote for, is the Barnhouse Plague of 2010. It’s simple, and effectively describes it.
I’m just hoping when I return there it doesn’t attack me for coming up with such stupidity.
New band releases first great album of 2010
This is a love letter to my favorite album of 2010, so far.
That album, Titus Andronicus’ “The Monitor,” may also be the craziest one of the year, as it’s a punk-rock concept album about the Civil War featuring a song called “Theme from ‘Cheers.’” The “Cheers” in that title is indeed the bar from the famous television show.
Titus Andronicus hasn’t made a big name for itself, yet. Its debut album, “The Airing of Grievances,” was released on an independent label in 2009, and other then a small cult following, most music fans probably never heard of it.
The band would have been off my radar, too, except once in awhile record companies will send me free CDs, in hopes I’ll write about them. Most of these CDs are worthless except for the jewel packages they often don’t come in anymore, but every now and then something catches my ear.
“The Airing of Grievances” caught my ear, mainly because I had read a few reviews about the band comparing it to The Replacements, one of my all-time favorite bands. Plus, Titus Andronicus is from New Jersey, home to Bruce Springsteen, who is my favorite rocker.
I liked it a lot because it sounded as though The Replacements and Springsteen had a child, and that child grew up listening to nothing but The Clash, Rage Against the Machine and his parents’ music.
When I heard the band had a new album out, and I realized the record company wasn’t going to send me a free copy, I made a trip to Radio KAOS to purchase it, and fortunately owner Randy Wagner had it in stock, like he usually always does with those obscure titles other stores don’t carry.
From the first listen it was clear “The Monitor” was a bold artistic statement and a huge leap forward for this band, one that in a perfect world would propel them into stardom.
“No, I never wanted to change the world, but I’m looking for a new New Jersey/Because tramps like us, baby, we were born to die,” belts lead singer and guitarist Patrick Stickles in the opening track, “A More Perfect Union.” He quotes and then dismisses Springsteen in one line, and by the end of the track he’s sarcastically calling for people to “rally around the flag.”
Throughout the album the band makes references to the Civil War. It doesn’t make much sense, but truly, what concept album has ever made sense? The plotlines of The Who’s “Tommy” and of Green Day’s “American Idiot” are probably some of the most comprehensible ones, but even those are sometimes non-sensible.
A good concept album, like those examples and like “The Monitor,” will have one or two main themes, with songs built around them, and those themes are often vague enough to apply to other things in life other than what they seem to be about.
So while Titus Andronicus is often referencing the Civil War – it even includes Stickles’ high school history teacher reading excerpts from Abraham Lincoln speeches throughout it – that war could also be the war people often wage internally with their own selves.
For example, in “Theme from ‘Cheers,’” Stickles sings: “But while we’re young, boys, everybody raise your glasses high,/Singing, ‘Here’s to the good times, here’s to the home team./Kiss the good times goodbye, oh yeah,/Kiss the good times goodbye.’”
Throughout the song, which is the standout track on “The Monitor,” the narrator is clearly aware he’s not doing a service to himself by drinking, but as long as he’s young he may as well have fun. By the end of the song he’s begging for someone to give him a whiskey.
The song reeks of booze and cigarettes, but that’s what makes it so fun. Especially for old geezers like myself whose days of hanging out in taverns are long behind us.
By the end of the album, the band returns to New Jersey in a 12-minute epic titled “The Battle of Hampton Roads.” It’s a journey I’m glad I took, and one I highly recommend others to take.
That album, Titus Andronicus’ “The Monitor,” may also be the craziest one of the year, as it’s a punk-rock concept album about the Civil War featuring a song called “Theme from ‘Cheers.’” The “Cheers” in that title is indeed the bar from the famous television show.
Titus Andronicus hasn’t made a big name for itself, yet. Its debut album, “The Airing of Grievances,” was released on an independent label in 2009, and other then a small cult following, most music fans probably never heard of it.
The band would have been off my radar, too, except once in awhile record companies will send me free CDs, in hopes I’ll write about them. Most of these CDs are worthless except for the jewel packages they often don’t come in anymore, but every now and then something catches my ear.
“The Airing of Grievances” caught my ear, mainly because I had read a few reviews about the band comparing it to The Replacements, one of my all-time favorite bands. Plus, Titus Andronicus is from New Jersey, home to Bruce Springsteen, who is my favorite rocker.
I liked it a lot because it sounded as though The Replacements and Springsteen had a child, and that child grew up listening to nothing but The Clash, Rage Against the Machine and his parents’ music.
When I heard the band had a new album out, and I realized the record company wasn’t going to send me a free copy, I made a trip to Radio KAOS to purchase it, and fortunately owner Randy Wagner had it in stock, like he usually always does with those obscure titles other stores don’t carry.
From the first listen it was clear “The Monitor” was a bold artistic statement and a huge leap forward for this band, one that in a perfect world would propel them into stardom.
“No, I never wanted to change the world, but I’m looking for a new New Jersey/Because tramps like us, baby, we were born to die,” belts lead singer and guitarist Patrick Stickles in the opening track, “A More Perfect Union.” He quotes and then dismisses Springsteen in one line, and by the end of the track he’s sarcastically calling for people to “rally around the flag.”
Throughout the album the band makes references to the Civil War. It doesn’t make much sense, but truly, what concept album has ever made sense? The plotlines of The Who’s “Tommy” and of Green Day’s “American Idiot” are probably some of the most comprehensible ones, but even those are sometimes non-sensible.
A good concept album, like those examples and like “The Monitor,” will have one or two main themes, with songs built around them, and those themes are often vague enough to apply to other things in life other than what they seem to be about.
So while Titus Andronicus is often referencing the Civil War – it even includes Stickles’ high school history teacher reading excerpts from Abraham Lincoln speeches throughout it – that war could also be the war people often wage internally with their own selves.
For example, in “Theme from ‘Cheers,’” Stickles sings: “But while we’re young, boys, everybody raise your glasses high,/Singing, ‘Here’s to the good times, here’s to the home team./Kiss the good times goodbye, oh yeah,/Kiss the good times goodbye.’”
Throughout the song, which is the standout track on “The Monitor,” the narrator is clearly aware he’s not doing a service to himself by drinking, but as long as he’s young he may as well have fun. By the end of the song he’s begging for someone to give him a whiskey.
The song reeks of booze and cigarettes, but that’s what makes it so fun. Especially for old geezers like myself whose days of hanging out in taverns are long behind us.
By the end of the album, the band returns to New Jersey in a 12-minute epic titled “The Battle of Hampton Roads.” It’s a journey I’m glad I took, and one I highly recommend others to take.
At what age should kids get more freedom?
At what age should parents start giving more independence to their children?
It’s a serious question I’m posing, as the parent of a 5-year-old, because I don’t have a clue as to what the correct answer is.
My son, Braden, as an only child, has been constantly under the watchful eye of my wife, Jenny, me, both of us, or a grandparent, aunt or babysitter. We have never allowed him to play outside by himself, and we certainly wouldn’t let him wander off alone at places like stores we go to on a regular basis.
The option to play outside is only available when someone is available to watch him while he’s out there. Jenny and I try our best to oblige, because we know he’s a much better behaved boy when he’s worn out from playing; however, sometimes our schedules, household work and energy levels don’t allow us to do so.
He’s also restricted to following us at any stores we go to, and visiting the toy aisle only happens if one of us is in the mood to go there.
Often, I feel bad he’s prohibited from experiencing many of the freedoms I had as a kid.
I remember having free reign outside in our neighborhood. I went with the neighbor kids to the school on our block and played with the playground equipment. I rode my Hot Wheels tricycle around the block, and I came home with plenty of cuts and bruises from playing too hard.
The only true negative experience I can recall occurred when I had to walk home by myself once from preschool. My younger sister was really sick and my mother didn’t want to risk taking her outside to get me. I was told by my teachers I should walk the four blocks back to my home.
I probably wouldn’t have had a problem with it if it hadn’t been for the busy intersection I had to cross. Afraid of it, I stood on the corner and cried for 10 minutes until some kind gentleman stopped and asked what was wrong. When I told him I couldn’t cross the road – I know, it sounds like a bad “Why did the chicken cross the road” joke – he offered to take me home. I kindly took him up on his offer, and fortunately for me, he did take me safely home.
I also remember bolting from my mother’s side the minute we walked into a store for the toy aisle. There, I played with every toy I could get my hands on, even if it meant opening the packaging to get to it. Back then, toy packaging didn’t come with a level of security equal to the security at Fort Knox, so I was able to try nearly every toy before I ever got it. I’m convinced I’m probably the reason parents need a master’s degree in engineering now to get toys out of their packages.
I had freedom to do all of these things as a youngster because it was the late 1970s and early 1980s, a time when people didn’t fear kidnappers, molesters, murderers, gangs and drugs as much as we do now. Sure, all these bad things were definitely around then, probably as much as they are now, but they weren’t on people’s minds as often because the media, including the fictional television programs and films we watch, didn’t talk about them all the time.
It’s good they do, because these are legitimate concerns, but the focus on them has made us a much more cynical nation, and as a result my wife and I worry about allowing Braden to play outside by himself or visiting the toy aisle alone.
In fairness, we live in an apartment in a highly residential area in Plover, with quite a bit of traffic that we also fear, especially with the high amount of bad drivers on the road who might be too distracted talking on their cell phones to see a kid playing on his bike. We purchased land in a much quieter neighborhood where we plan on constructing a house within the next year. We already have plans to give him more freedom when we move there.
In the meantime, though, when can we allow him to look at toys by himself or do things without our presence? People with answers should e-mail me at countyfare@pcgazette.com, or post an answer at my blog site at scottsteucklightofday.blogspot.com. Your answers may be featured in an upcoming column.
It’s a serious question I’m posing, as the parent of a 5-year-old, because I don’t have a clue as to what the correct answer is.
My son, Braden, as an only child, has been constantly under the watchful eye of my wife, Jenny, me, both of us, or a grandparent, aunt or babysitter. We have never allowed him to play outside by himself, and we certainly wouldn’t let him wander off alone at places like stores we go to on a regular basis.
The option to play outside is only available when someone is available to watch him while he’s out there. Jenny and I try our best to oblige, because we know he’s a much better behaved boy when he’s worn out from playing; however, sometimes our schedules, household work and energy levels don’t allow us to do so.
He’s also restricted to following us at any stores we go to, and visiting the toy aisle only happens if one of us is in the mood to go there.
Often, I feel bad he’s prohibited from experiencing many of the freedoms I had as a kid.
I remember having free reign outside in our neighborhood. I went with the neighbor kids to the school on our block and played with the playground equipment. I rode my Hot Wheels tricycle around the block, and I came home with plenty of cuts and bruises from playing too hard.
The only true negative experience I can recall occurred when I had to walk home by myself once from preschool. My younger sister was really sick and my mother didn’t want to risk taking her outside to get me. I was told by my teachers I should walk the four blocks back to my home.
I probably wouldn’t have had a problem with it if it hadn’t been for the busy intersection I had to cross. Afraid of it, I stood on the corner and cried for 10 minutes until some kind gentleman stopped and asked what was wrong. When I told him I couldn’t cross the road – I know, it sounds like a bad “Why did the chicken cross the road” joke – he offered to take me home. I kindly took him up on his offer, and fortunately for me, he did take me safely home.
I also remember bolting from my mother’s side the minute we walked into a store for the toy aisle. There, I played with every toy I could get my hands on, even if it meant opening the packaging to get to it. Back then, toy packaging didn’t come with a level of security equal to the security at Fort Knox, so I was able to try nearly every toy before I ever got it. I’m convinced I’m probably the reason parents need a master’s degree in engineering now to get toys out of their packages.
I had freedom to do all of these things as a youngster because it was the late 1970s and early 1980s, a time when people didn’t fear kidnappers, molesters, murderers, gangs and drugs as much as we do now. Sure, all these bad things were definitely around then, probably as much as they are now, but they weren’t on people’s minds as often because the media, including the fictional television programs and films we watch, didn’t talk about them all the time.
It’s good they do, because these are legitimate concerns, but the focus on them has made us a much more cynical nation, and as a result my wife and I worry about allowing Braden to play outside by himself or visiting the toy aisle alone.
In fairness, we live in an apartment in a highly residential area in Plover, with quite a bit of traffic that we also fear, especially with the high amount of bad drivers on the road who might be too distracted talking on their cell phones to see a kid playing on his bike. We purchased land in a much quieter neighborhood where we plan on constructing a house within the next year. We already have plans to give him more freedom when we move there.
In the meantime, though, when can we allow him to look at toys by himself or do things without our presence? People with answers should e-mail me at countyfare@pcgazette.com, or post an answer at my blog site at scottsteucklightofday.blogspot.com. Your answers may be featured in an upcoming column.
Bowling offers great way to celebrate kid's birthday
My little guy, Braden, turned 5 on St. Patrick’s Day, and to celebrate my wife, Jenny, and I held a party with kids from his 4K class and family members at 5 Star Lanes in Plover Saturday, March 13. Time never flies any faster than it does when bowling with 10 5-year-olds.
Preparation for the party was minimal, especially when compared to other parties we’ve thrown for him. We didn’t have to clean our house, because people weren’t going there, and we didn’t have to do much at the bowling lanes, because 5 Star took care of almost everything.
The majority of our preparation was to take Braden bowling there about a month ago, just to make sure it was something that could work. We knew from his first roll of the bowling ball down the lane it was something that would be fun, because he was celebrating and cheering before the ball even hit the pins.
Braden, Jenny and I posted scores some basketball teams could beat on good days, but we didn’t care because it was a blast and different from the usual things we do as a family.
We booked the party following our bowling excursion, and then spent a little time since then making invites, putting together goodie bags for the kids and purchasing a cake at Trig’s right before the event. On the day of the party we showed up about a half hour before it started, just to make sure we were there before the invitees arrived.
Once they were all there, with both sets of grandparents and some of Braden’s aunts and uncles in tow to help, the names of the 10 bowlers were entered into the computer and all the kids were fitted with shoes. The kids thought it was weird they had to take their perfectly fine shoes off, only to put some less-fine shoes on in their place, but none argued, as they couldn’t wait to throw the balls down the aisle.
Only a few kids had bowled before, but it seemed all were familiar with the sport, either through Nintendo Wii bowling at home or because their fathers spent a lot of time watching “The Big Lebowski,” which is not just the greatest film featuring bowling ever but one of the greatest films of all time, as I have attested to many times in this column before.
For whatever reason the kids were familiar with the sport, we didn’t have to spend much time helping them with it, as all were eager to get the ball to the pin in some sort of way, whether it was a granny bowl between the legs or a throw-the-ball-down-lane throw. And oftentimes the kids tried a different approach every time, copying what some of their friends did, usually to equally bad results.
Because the bumper lanes were up, and thankfully because the bumper lanes were up, the kids all scored between 50 and 100. I’d hate to imagine what those scores would have been without the bumper lanes, even though I’m sure the kids could have cared less about those scores as they haven’t reached an age where things like scores mattered. In fact, as long as the ball hit a pin, each kid thought he or she was a winner. It’s kind of sad that attitude doesn’t always carry over to adulthood.
All the adults at the party had a specific role, and as much as I wanted to bowl, I was no exception. My role was to videotape the proceedings, using a digital camcorder we purchased prior to going to Disney World in Florida in January. I didn’t have much experience prior to using it at Disney World, so the majority of the video I shot was like a roller coaster ride in that I was constantly moving the camera, to jarring and mostly unwatchable results. The end video contained 40 minutes of somewhat passable footage, which was a shame because I shot more than three hours worth of our trip.
This time I tried my best to keep the camera still, and I would like to say I did so, but I haven’t watched it yet. I’ll know when I get a few hours of free time to work on the video project, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed in the meantime.
By the time the kids got to the seventh frame, we realized we needed to get the bowlers who weren’t bowling at the moment started on eating the pizza and cake, as parents were soon due to pick their kids up from the party. The kids were hungry by then, so once again our job was easy.
And getting Braden to open his presents, well, that’s not difficult either, as anyone who has ever seen a kid open presents before will know.
Somehow, and I haven’t figured out how, the kids managed to bowl all 10 frames right before the party ended. The two kids with the highest scores were two of the three girls at the party. One of those girls rolled a strike on her first attempt, and she followed it up with a spare on the next frame. She finished with a 91, one pin ahead of the other girl’s 90. If I were bowling, even with bumper lanes, I would have been happy with a 91.
I wasn’t bowling, but I was still happy because it’s the first party we’ve thrown for him that didn’t seem like it took that much effort. And our bill at the end was less expensive than the bills for those other parties. That made me very happy.
Preparation for the party was minimal, especially when compared to other parties we’ve thrown for him. We didn’t have to clean our house, because people weren’t going there, and we didn’t have to do much at the bowling lanes, because 5 Star took care of almost everything.
The majority of our preparation was to take Braden bowling there about a month ago, just to make sure it was something that could work. We knew from his first roll of the bowling ball down the lane it was something that would be fun, because he was celebrating and cheering before the ball even hit the pins.
Braden, Jenny and I posted scores some basketball teams could beat on good days, but we didn’t care because it was a blast and different from the usual things we do as a family.
We booked the party following our bowling excursion, and then spent a little time since then making invites, putting together goodie bags for the kids and purchasing a cake at Trig’s right before the event. On the day of the party we showed up about a half hour before it started, just to make sure we were there before the invitees arrived.
Once they were all there, with both sets of grandparents and some of Braden’s aunts and uncles in tow to help, the names of the 10 bowlers were entered into the computer and all the kids were fitted with shoes. The kids thought it was weird they had to take their perfectly fine shoes off, only to put some less-fine shoes on in their place, but none argued, as they couldn’t wait to throw the balls down the aisle.
Only a few kids had bowled before, but it seemed all were familiar with the sport, either through Nintendo Wii bowling at home or because their fathers spent a lot of time watching “The Big Lebowski,” which is not just the greatest film featuring bowling ever but one of the greatest films of all time, as I have attested to many times in this column before.
For whatever reason the kids were familiar with the sport, we didn’t have to spend much time helping them with it, as all were eager to get the ball to the pin in some sort of way, whether it was a granny bowl between the legs or a throw-the-ball-down-lane throw. And oftentimes the kids tried a different approach every time, copying what some of their friends did, usually to equally bad results.
Because the bumper lanes were up, and thankfully because the bumper lanes were up, the kids all scored between 50 and 100. I’d hate to imagine what those scores would have been without the bumper lanes, even though I’m sure the kids could have cared less about those scores as they haven’t reached an age where things like scores mattered. In fact, as long as the ball hit a pin, each kid thought he or she was a winner. It’s kind of sad that attitude doesn’t always carry over to adulthood.
All the adults at the party had a specific role, and as much as I wanted to bowl, I was no exception. My role was to videotape the proceedings, using a digital camcorder we purchased prior to going to Disney World in Florida in January. I didn’t have much experience prior to using it at Disney World, so the majority of the video I shot was like a roller coaster ride in that I was constantly moving the camera, to jarring and mostly unwatchable results. The end video contained 40 minutes of somewhat passable footage, which was a shame because I shot more than three hours worth of our trip.
This time I tried my best to keep the camera still, and I would like to say I did so, but I haven’t watched it yet. I’ll know when I get a few hours of free time to work on the video project, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed in the meantime.
By the time the kids got to the seventh frame, we realized we needed to get the bowlers who weren’t bowling at the moment started on eating the pizza and cake, as parents were soon due to pick their kids up from the party. The kids were hungry by then, so once again our job was easy.
And getting Braden to open his presents, well, that’s not difficult either, as anyone who has ever seen a kid open presents before will know.
Somehow, and I haven’t figured out how, the kids managed to bowl all 10 frames right before the party ended. The two kids with the highest scores were two of the three girls at the party. One of those girls rolled a strike on her first attempt, and she followed it up with a spare on the next frame. She finished with a 91, one pin ahead of the other girl’s 90. If I were bowling, even with bumper lanes, I would have been happy with a 91.
I wasn’t bowling, but I was still happy because it’s the first party we’ve thrown for him that didn’t seem like it took that much effort. And our bill at the end was less expensive than the bills for those other parties. That made me very happy.
Blinker use down, driver frustration way up
Blinkers: Every vehicle has them, but a lot of drivers don’t seem to use them.
That’s a new catchphrase I’d like to copyright because it’s one I’m sure some people – the ones who do use their blinkers being the some – find to be completely true.
While driving the 20 or so miles I put on a day, from home to work twice a day, I usually encounter about six drivers who do not use their blinkers. Most of the time, these non-blinker-using, too-good-to-tell-others-where-they-are-going drivers, as well as a few other adjectives I’m thinking but can’t put in a family-friendly newspaper, are simply in front of me, at a stop sign, turning either left or right. And most of the time it’s obvious which way he or she is turning, because the vehicle is practically turned enough to make it clear the direction he or she is heading.
It irks me, though, the driver can’t take the millisecond it takes to actually signal the blinker in the correct direction he or she is going, even if it is obvious. It’s called courtesy, and I’m one that gets offended by people who aren’t courteous.
Courtesy applies in many situations – holding the door open for someone who might be using the same door at the same time as you, not talking on a cell phone during a public event or movie, chewing with your mouth closed – and most of the time people are courteous.
But once in awhile you might come across a person who hasn’t learned the most basic rules of our society, and when you meet that person, he or she is memorable for a reason he or she shouldn’t want to be remembered for: being rude.
And the number of rude drivers who don’t know how to use their blinkers seems to be on the increase, according to my completely unscientific method of measuring this phenomenon through just my observations.
Left turn onto Okray Avenue. Who needs a blinker because who cares if the person behind me needs to know which way I am going? Turning right onto Water Street. What good will a blinker be when it’s clear by the way I have brilliantly angled my car that I’m going right? Stopped at the intersection of Maple Drive and Forest Avenue? Why bother letting this sap behind me know if I’m going left or right because those are the only two options?
That’s how I interpret the thoughts of those who do not use blinkers. Here’s what I’m thinking: it’s the easiest move a person does while driving, moving your left hand in either an up or down motion to make sure others know the direction you are heading, helping to prevent any possible accidents that could occur if you don’t know the direction someone is going.
Maybe my thinking is too complicated for those who don’t use blinkers. Here’s a simpler version: using blinkers is easy and it can save lives.
That’s another catchphrase I could copyright. I’m full of them when it comes to this topic.
My catchphrases could be used in a government-sponsored campaign to re-educate people on the use of blinkers. They’ve had plenty of campaigns for seat belt use, drinking and driving, and texting while driving, so why not one for a crime – I say crime because it is against the law not to use blinkers – that far more people are committing than any of those other offenses.
I doubt the government would sponsor such a campaign, so it’ll probably be confined to my imagination, or the words I sometimes shout when someone chooses not to use their blinkers in my presence. The words I use when I’m alone in my car are unprintable, too. When my 4-year-old son is present, I keep them G-rated. “Blinkers! Blinkers! Blinkers! You got them, use them.” My son laughs when I say them, thinking it’s some sort of game.
I wish it were. Then driving may be a lot more fun since everyone seems to be playing it.
That’s a new catchphrase I’d like to copyright because it’s one I’m sure some people – the ones who do use their blinkers being the some – find to be completely true.
While driving the 20 or so miles I put on a day, from home to work twice a day, I usually encounter about six drivers who do not use their blinkers. Most of the time, these non-blinker-using, too-good-to-tell-others-where-they-are-going drivers, as well as a few other adjectives I’m thinking but can’t put in a family-friendly newspaper, are simply in front of me, at a stop sign, turning either left or right. And most of the time it’s obvious which way he or she is turning, because the vehicle is practically turned enough to make it clear the direction he or she is heading.
It irks me, though, the driver can’t take the millisecond it takes to actually signal the blinker in the correct direction he or she is going, even if it is obvious. It’s called courtesy, and I’m one that gets offended by people who aren’t courteous.
Courtesy applies in many situations – holding the door open for someone who might be using the same door at the same time as you, not talking on a cell phone during a public event or movie, chewing with your mouth closed – and most of the time people are courteous.
But once in awhile you might come across a person who hasn’t learned the most basic rules of our society, and when you meet that person, he or she is memorable for a reason he or she shouldn’t want to be remembered for: being rude.
And the number of rude drivers who don’t know how to use their blinkers seems to be on the increase, according to my completely unscientific method of measuring this phenomenon through just my observations.
Left turn onto Okray Avenue. Who needs a blinker because who cares if the person behind me needs to know which way I am going? Turning right onto Water Street. What good will a blinker be when it’s clear by the way I have brilliantly angled my car that I’m going right? Stopped at the intersection of Maple Drive and Forest Avenue? Why bother letting this sap behind me know if I’m going left or right because those are the only two options?
That’s how I interpret the thoughts of those who do not use blinkers. Here’s what I’m thinking: it’s the easiest move a person does while driving, moving your left hand in either an up or down motion to make sure others know the direction you are heading, helping to prevent any possible accidents that could occur if you don’t know the direction someone is going.
Maybe my thinking is too complicated for those who don’t use blinkers. Here’s a simpler version: using blinkers is easy and it can save lives.
That’s another catchphrase I could copyright. I’m full of them when it comes to this topic.
My catchphrases could be used in a government-sponsored campaign to re-educate people on the use of blinkers. They’ve had plenty of campaigns for seat belt use, drinking and driving, and texting while driving, so why not one for a crime – I say crime because it is against the law not to use blinkers – that far more people are committing than any of those other offenses.
I doubt the government would sponsor such a campaign, so it’ll probably be confined to my imagination, or the words I sometimes shout when someone chooses not to use their blinkers in my presence. The words I use when I’m alone in my car are unprintable, too. When my 4-year-old son is present, I keep them G-rated. “Blinkers! Blinkers! Blinkers! You got them, use them.” My son laughs when I say them, thinking it’s some sort of game.
I wish it were. Then driving may be a lot more fun since everyone seems to be playing it.
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