I’ve been too lazy to post about stupid crap I find on the net (J-Walk tends to grab most of it anyway), and not motivated to post about personal occurrences, although here’s a summary of recent events:
- Wally has diarrhea, which he’s been letting us know about by the mess he leaves every morning on the living room carpet the past few nights.
- My wife and I started Tai Chi Chaun classes.
- Someone with the “Kelsey” last name from Newfoundland contacted me about the Kelsey painting I posted about – another artist!
- I recently used about 1300 Air Miles.
- My motorcycle doesn’t work again. Some electrical problem I can’t figure out, so it’s stuck in my garage collecting dust.
- I used a GPS for the first time recently. Nice gimic but not practical for me.
- My wife quit her baking job at Tim Hortons after working there for a year, getting up 3:30am every morning to work a couple hours everyday.
- Caitlyn, my seven year old daughter, is taking piano lessons, which she finds boring.
- I’m THIS close to buying an original painting, preferably from a local artist, but some of Jean’s tempt me.
- Iain (my three year old son) didn’t want to go to pre-school today because he doesn’t like timeout. This is the first we heard about it.
- I started playing chess a lot more, which I was once very good at in my teenage years. I posted about this, though.
- Gratz to Sedition.com on its 10th year aniversary! Too lazy to comment on his site about it even.
Besides Tommyboy, anyone interested in me posting like a diary? Which reminds me: Oh Me Nerves! posted about that topic recently, reminding me how it’s interesting to look at past personal posts.
Our Newfoundland dog, Wally, is five months old and weighs 60 pounds, which is average for the breed. He’s not fat nor skinny. We feed him about six cups of dry food (Canidae) a day, which is mixed with a little water and canned food. He’s forever hungry.
His jowls are developing now, such that he drools occasionally. His eyes are beginning to have that bagged look, too; more fluid is beginning to collect around them, but nothing excessive or gross.
He still stumbles at times, still getting used to his fast growth. He’s loosing his baby teeth with some adult teeth coming in.
He doesn’t shed, but we brush him a few times every week. His coat is soft – he gets complimented on it a lot.
He’s sociable around people and dogs – very friendly.
He shits about 10 shovel-fulls a day.
We might be getting a Newfoundland puppy soon; maybe this one, which is actually from Newfoundland.
My 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.
Many of you may not realize that Jody and I are twins and that we both turned 78 a couple weeks ago, give or take a decade or two. Jody’s son, Iain, left a birthday message for me on my answering machine.
I also got a bottle of single-malt scotch for my birthday, an MP3 player to replace one that broke awhile back, and a DVD player that plays Divx files — and the package from Tom. I can’t decide what I like the most, though I’m leaning more towards Iain’s message.