In a Toddler's Eyes...

...they are responsible for everything.

DaGirl has A LOT of hair and when riding in the car with the windows open it flies all over, which she hates. She will start screaming "window up, Window Up, WINDOW UP" with excessive hand gestures, like levitating the window, until the windows go up.

Today driving back to work from lunch was one such occasion.
DaGirl: window up, Window Up, WINDOW UP
DaGoof: OK OK, hold on.
DaGirl: window up, Window Up, WINDOW UP (gesturing to the window to rise)
Windows go up
DaGirl: I did it! I did it! By my self!
DaGoof: Yes, you made the windows go up. *sigh*
DaMom: What?
DaGoof: (quietly) She thinks she made the windows go up on her own.
DaGoof/DaMom: *Laughter*

Oh, the power of modern electronics. I see lots of "magical" things happening in the coming years.

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The Fall Guy

New Evolutionary Theory - Forget the Nature versus Nurture crap, young boys dreams are stored in DNA and passed along to their children, 10 fold.

When I was a kid there were several shows (movies and TV) about Hollywood stuntmen or movies showcasing their talent. Some of my favorites included Hooper, The Fall Guy, and of course Smokey and the Bandit and Cannonball Run for the sheer quantity of stunts and destruction they caused. Between the ages of 5 and 12 it was stuff like this that made me want to be a stuntman. I could watch these over and over and not get bored.

According to Wikipedia DNA is:
Deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) is a nucleic acid that contains the genetic instructions used in the development and functioning of all known living organisms and some viruses. The main role of DNA molecules is the long-term storage of information.

There it is... the last half of the last sentence "long-term storage of information." That phrase holds the proof of my theory. Forget all of the chemical, double helix, mumbo jumbo, my long lost desires are stored in my DNA. My son's personality is blossoming and The Fall Guy of my youth is emerging in him.

I've joked with people that DaGirl is the stunt woman while DaBoy is the crash test dummy. However, the daredevil is really popping out of him. DaGirl has very little fear and apparently feels little pain. She's gotten bumps and bruises before but they don't usually stop her and you can see her calculating what it will take to perform a dangerous action. She'll then perform the action and move on to the next thing.

DaBoy's methods are different. He'll charge right into a task, if he doesn't make it, OK he'll try it until he does, and when he gets it he'll take it to the next level. He may fall and cry a lot but he still tries to accomplish his task. Case in point: My parents got them a kid sized table and folding chairs for xmas (Don't worry, the chairs are pinned and won't fold) and DaBoy had been trying to climb into them but couldn't quite get it. He tumbled out of them a few times but mastered getting on the seat fairly quickly. Next he'd stand up on the seat and hold the back rest. AND THEN ROCK THE CHAIR ON THE BACK TWO LEGS... The chairs have gone on a little vacation.

We have two mini rocking chairs (one was a gift when DaGirl was born and the other DaBoy just got for his birthday) and they are identical in structure with the only difference being the upholstery. If either of these chairs is under something he likes (window, TV, desk top, etc.) he will climb onto the seat, stand up and rock the chair while reaching for the contraband he can't reach from the floor.

"Laser like focus" DaGirl's speech therapist has remarked about DaBoy's attention level.

More cases to make the point:
How many one year olds...
...race their 2.5 year old big sister up a flight of stairs? and almost win?
...climb on top of storage bins and stand to beat on the TV screen.
...hang onto the dog's fur to dog surf around the house.
...can climb up a step stool and stand in less than 3 seconds and start grabbing things off the counter.

Yes, we could (and do) put more stuff away but his partner in crime takes it out again. They really are Bonnie and Clyde, only she's the strong one. She'll drag a bin full of toys around the house and then he'll climb it. Or she'll pull out the step stool, open it, and he'll climb it.

I'm told I was never like this.
I'm told DaMom was never like this.
Aren't we lucky to have such daredevils!

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My Helpful Co-Workers

When my calculator went missing I put out the company wide call:

If anyone sees a lost, cold and lonely, TI-86 graphing calculator (black), please return it to me. He has been missing for a couple of days now and is probably very scared and might be hiding.

Thanks,
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In less than one hour these are the responses that came back:

#1

Great, now I'll have to keep an eye on my TI-85, so that it doesn't run off to cavort with your calculator.  Can't you keep that thing on a leash?  I don't want it meddling with my innocent, shall I say chaste, number cruncher.

#2

My calculator really enjoys jazz saxophone. I would recommend wandering around busting out some soulful sax licks... I'm sure that would get him out of hiding.

#3

I saw him hanging out with my slide rule who says she has no idea where he went.

#4

I'm sure he's safe; probably hanging out with my needle nose pliers, dikes, and USB cable.

It is so wonderful working with such kind, thoughtful, and helpful people. NOT!!!

*EDIT*
And a former Co-Worker has chimed in with his comment...
"I'd be careful. The government has probably confiscated your calculator as a weapon of math instruction..."

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A Toddler, A Dog, and The F-Bomb

Yesterday while playing with a toy that wasn't cooperating with her desires, DaGirl dropped the F-Bomb.

She even used it properly. Not that that was the best word to start the whole word/action recognition thing but at least she started with an easy, universal word. The F-Bomb has so many uses and opens up worlds of creativity in language. Enough of that, this is a serious issue (if only I could stop chuckling).

When DaMom asked her where she heard that word before, DaGirl answered with "Scrappy". Now I'll admit our dog gets blamed for a lot of things but that's because he does a lot of bad things but I don't think cursing is one of his more prevalent faults.

This morning when DaGirl got up she started chanting "F**k F**k F**k F**k"
DaMom: Are you quacking like a duck (a favorite pastime) ?
DaGirl: no
DaMom: Then, what are you saying?
DaGirl: F**K
DaMom: Where did you learn that word?
DaGirl: Scrappy

So there you have it, my dog cusses like a sailor, my daughter is adamant that he taught her how to use it, and we're trying to let the whole thing slide and be forgotten.

Miss Manners she is not.

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Bedtime Snacks

For some time we've been giving DaKids snacks before bed. These snacks usually include crackers, pretzels, or O's.

lately DaGirl has been asking for one of the strangest "snacks" possible: croutons.

Italian seasoned croutons

Makes one not want to kiss her before bed.

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Cat Outside!!!

"Cat out! Cat outside!" DaGirl says in her rapid toddler speak.

DaMom: Who let the cat out?
DaGirl: Hmmm
DaMom/DaGoof (simultaneously): Did you let the cat out?
DaGirl: NOOOO!
DaMom: Then who let the cat out?
DaGirl: (pauses) SCRAPPY!!!
DaGoof: The dog let the cat out?
DaGirl: YUP!!!
DaMom/DaGoof: oh.
DaMom: Scrappy opened the door and let Pumpkin out?
DaGirl: yeah.

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Flight of the White Guy

I can't jump. I've never had that talent. As kid I couldn't even do basketball layup in gym class. What on earth was I thinking when I dove off the foot of the bed Sunday Morning?

Picture this if you will; It's 5:00am. The birds are up but no one else. I'm cozy under the covers in the middle of a wonderful dream (not sure about what), so wonderful a puddle of drool has formed on the sheet under my mouth. Now, I'm a pretty light sleeper, normally I hear the (Dog, cat, kids) before DaMom does. I felt the dog jump up on our bed at ~3:30.

So naturally when I was woken up by the dog having a seizure and DaMom yelling SCRAPPY!, my thought process wasn't entirely coherent. I heard the Dog thrashing about on the floor but my last memory was of him on our bed so I thought he might have just fallen over the foot board or he was hitting the foot board. I sprung up to the sitting position to find him but kept going when I didn't see him on the bed.

It must have been a sight that would have made Superman cringe. Me springing up, diving head first over the head board, sliding down the junk (storage bin, clothes basket, etc.) at the foot of the bed and face planting on the floor in front of the dog.

Why did I fly? The importance of getting to the dog quickly is twofold; First, he'll pee, a lot. It's best to make sure the floor is clear for easier clean up. Second, he can break stuff including himself. It's best to slide him away from hard objects and hold his head up so he doesn't hurt his head on the floor. The vet gets enough of our money with him, ER visits for broken bones caused by seizures are not required to keep them in business.

So how is everyone? He's fine, always is. Twenty minutes later he's a new dog ready to run. Me? I have some scratches on my arm and a couple of bruised ribs, can't imagine from what.

Like I said, I can't jump.
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The Case of the Missing Shear

At work we utilize a couple of cool local machinists: One, T.S. gets most of our one-off, little stuff since he's a one man shop. J.B. gets the more complicated (CNC) and higher quantity parts. The cool part about both is, if I need something quick or for a personal project (govt. job) I can use some of their equipment (band saw, bending brake etc.).

J.B.'s shop is literally 200 yards from work so it's very convenient to walk over when I need to see him. He is a former drag racer who at one time did a lot of work on a top fuel dragster. He has a small bending brake and a sheet metal shear left over from those days that I have been using sporadically over the years when I need to make quick covers or duct work at work.

Several years ago he had a fire at his shop and what wasn't destroyed in the blaze was placed into storage in the barn next door. The barn is owned by the local sawmill/lumberyard/home center that is between us. As payment for letting him use the space, J.B. gave the owner one of his old Bridgeport milling machines. Once the shop was rebuilt most of the equipment brought back in and only a couple of items remained in the barn. One of these items left behind was the shear.

Tennsmith Model 52 Foot-Squaring Shear

The shear is in working order, it needs a little TLC but serviceable, in its location in the barn. The barn is never used for much more than storage and the shear is located in the back behind the usual pile of over stock lumber. The bending brake resides upstairs in the stock area of the shop. J.B. recently made room for the shear to join the brake up there.

The late summer or early fall was the last time I used the shear in the barn. I made three of five air deflectors for a air conditioners needed for a project. I'm not happy with the way said project turned out but that's a story to be told over a beer and a campfire. Now we need the last two air deflectors and I went over to the barn to cut the stock into strips prior to bending and the shear is gone.

Nothing is where it once sat except for some cut offs. The tool is 900+ pounds where did it go? Surely it didn't just sprout legs, crawl over the lumber pile and out the door, did it?

I go over to the shop and J.B. is surprised to hear it's missing as well (since he just made room for it).

We go over to the sawmill and ask around. No one knows anything about it. They don't even know what it is. They say they haven't scrapped any metal, which is readily apparent by the crap strewn around the barns.

So where did it go? Time to call Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys in on this one.
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What my Commute feels like...

Yehuda Moon & the Kickstand Cyclery.

It's getting more and more like this every day.

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MWR Facing the Beast

Goshen County Wy.

Photo by our "Man In the Field", Chad Baldi

Vortex 2 Got One...

A beautiful yet frightening sight!

Tornado Caught

Congrats guys, hope you got some good data!!!
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Razzzberries

My kids love razzberries, you know, blowing on their bellies and making that farting sound. They love getting them. They love giving them!

Last night during story time in DaGirls room, DaMom was on the floor with DaBoy and DaGirl was in my lap in the chair as I read. DaBoy was crawling all over the room not staying in one place for more than 30 seconds until....he got behind DaMom.

DaMom was on her side and he climbed up her back, lifted her shirt and started blowing on her belly. The kid is a natural at it. He sounds just like a whoopy cushion. DaMom is pretty ticklish and he started her on a laughing fit.

How do one get an 11.5 month old off if one can't reach him since he's mounted a rear attack?

Naturally I did what any good parent would do to help another parent in need, I sent DaGirl in to help DaBoy mount a frontal assault!!! After a couple of minutes of fart sounds and gasp inducing laughter they grew tired of molesting mommy and stopped. Man it was funny to watch!

DaMom: Why didn't you help me?
DaGoof: It was fun. Besides you needed the laugh.
DaMom: Yeah, well I wish they would do it to you instead of me!
DaGoof: But they know they can get away with it, with you!

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Quote of the night

"I'M NOT A POW, I'M A MOMMY!!"

DaMom to DaBoy after he started torturing her after his last feeding before bed.

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Driving Impresssions

When people go to a car show it's not a full body experience. Not that everyone is tripping because of the fumes that may be present but they aren't soaking up all the cars have to offer. To do that one must drive the vintage machinery.

While at a car show people enjoy:

• The colors and shapes of the cars with their eyes.
• The sounds of the engines with their ears.
• The smell of non-emission controlled exhaust (with possibly the sweet smell of race gas) with their nose, and of course old cars just smell different.
  
• The vibration of an open exhaust rumbling past is a whole body sense of touch.
• The unfortunate taste of some old coots cigar you walked to close to when he exhaled.
  

That's all five senses, so how can a car show not be a full body experience? Mix all of that up and roll it into one fear filled ride!

The important thing is to drive the vehicle. Getting a ride in an old coupe from the guy who has owned it for 50 years doesn't count. He's so used to it that it's an extension of himself. The passenger would not notice the subtleties in how the car is reacting to driver input. Sure, they may be bouncing all over the seat and clutching the door since it sounds like a bucket of loose bolts but something is still missing from the experience.

The oldest vehicle I can remember driving was from the late seventies and it had power brakes and power steering. Am I dating myself, yup. Even with all of the playing around with racecars I did in my twenties I never drove an "old car". I've admired cars from the twenties through the sixties since birth and have even ridden in some but never driven such beasts.

What am I getting at? My truck is finally registered and I have actually driven it someplace at a measurable speed, not just around the yard. I've had it now for over 5 1/2 years and the odometer had read less than 8 miles different than when I bought it. I've hauled wood, leaves, rocks, flower pots and even pulled my barn down with it. None of that prepared me for the "thrill" of driving it on the open road.

1966 F-100, I-6 300ci, w/factory 4x4

It's a beast.

Things I've learned about driving it:

• Never start in first gear on pavement, in downtown. You will be hearing the echo of your smokey burnout bouncing of the buildings.
• Once warmed up the smell of leaked oil burning off of the manifold is rather pungent.
• The smell of gas in the closed cab creates headaches.
• The approximation of the steering is a riot. Old steering was never as precise as modern machines, I always wondered why my mother's 1970 Dart needed so much steering input on a straight road, now I know.
• Braking with manual brakes, stops must be planned well in advance.
• Depressing the pedal hard enough will lock up the brakes, put you into a four wheel drift, and stop you in a cloud of smoke.
• At 30mph it's looking for 4th gear.
• The engine will pull and pull and pull.
• The steering wheel is 17 inches in diameter for a reason.
• Downshifting takes patience.
• All of my senses are over loaded when driving it.
  

The truck is 90% stock and a time capsule from another era. The pace of life was obviously slower then and this thing doesn't like to be rushed.

It is primitive but a blast to drive.

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