Bang Bang You’re Awake

A gunshot woke me up this morning at 5:30am. At least, it sounded like a gunshot. My bedroom wall faces my neighbor’s driveway, with about 20-25 feet separating our houses.

I got up and had a shower, thinking what I should do:

  • Check the basement under our bedroom: maybe the cat knocked something over.
  • Walk outside by the bedroom wall to see if anything could’ve caused the bang.
  • Check on my neighbor to see if they’re still alive.

The only thing I ended up doing was writing this post about it.

Maybe I dreamt it.

Books I Read Recently

No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy 8 out of 10 stars (8/10)
Engrossing, well-written novel about a sheriff tracking down a killer who’s after someone that stumbled on some drug money in the middle of a desert. I wouldn’t want to see the well-reviewed movie if it portrays the violence in the book.

Rollback by Robert J. Sawyer 7 out of 10 stars (7/10)
A science-fiction novel that won the Hugo and Nebula Awards. As I’ve written before, Sawyer comes up with brilliant ideas, but his mainstream writing style is boring, plus he fills his books with too many popular cultural references; I got tired of coming across them. Still, I couldn’t put the damn thing down.

A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose by Eckhart Tolle 4 out of 10 stars (4/10)
Another Canadian (Sawyer above is one), Oprah popularized this. I couldn’t get past the first 50 pages. Mumbo-jumbo garbage about living one’s potential in society, trying to acheive personal fulfillment. Someone told me to just read Chapter Four, but I haven’t; what I read turned me off completely.

I Almost Crushed My Son’s Fingers

iain-spring-2008My son just climbed out of his car seat and was playing outside. I was picking up old french fries or something from the car floor around his seat. I straighted up and started to close the car door when I felt a slight resistant; that’s when he yelled: my son’s fingers were caught in the door.

Fortunately, I didn’t slam the door shut (Christ, I shudder now thinking about it); I let go of the door and pulled his tiny fingers (he’s three years old) from the crack between the car’s body and door’s edge. He was wailing.

I’m a pretty calm guy; I don’t panic in dire situations and tend to keep a level head when an emergency arises. I point that out because that demeanor helps a LOT around upset children; you not panicking helps calm others down, eventually.

I looked at my son’s finger and saw a slight indentation where the door bent into them. Fuck.

I asked him to wiggle his fingers, which he did while streams of tears dripped on my shoulder.

I told him we’ll get a cold cloth to wrap around his fingers, which would help the pain. He nodded as we calmly walked into the house and methodically did the following, which I gave him a running commentary about as I was doing it:

  • Got a face cloth (“Now where are the face cloths?” I ask. “There, Daddy”)
  • Ran the water until it was ice cold (“Is that cold enough” as I have him touch the water)
  • Soaked the cloth
  • Squeezed the excessive water out (“That good enough?”)
  • Folded the cloth neatly, wrapped it around his fingers showing him how to hold it in place with his thumb.

“How’s it feel now?” I asked him.

“Better, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy.”

Now, I try to not to think about what could’ve happened as I lay in bed trying to get to sleep.

This parent stuff is gonna be the death of me.