"Natural" Disasters

Bob and I have been guilty of many things -- financial ignorance, laziness, do-it-yourself-opathy, and now eco-egocentrism -- the belief that we can disturb the cosmic balance of chaos by our mere presence in a given location. This realization came after our most recent trip to the Southwest to visit the Grand Canyon and Sedona (otherwise known as Red Rock country). While we were south of Sedona in Oak Creek the wild fires started, quite a spectacular vision at night (click on my cool pic!), and now, a few weeks later, the fires continue to burn and decimate vast areas requiring evacuation of Sedona. Similar disaster had struck shortly after Bob and I enjoyed the Big Easy together, when New Orleans was washed away by Katrina. This is not to mention the numerous medical emergencies that have stricken those around us on planes, trains, buses, and restaurants (i.e. "Is there a doctor here?!") over the years.

If any of you follow the "Lost" series on TV, and have seen the "Numbers" episode where Hurley believes that he was ultimately cursed by the numbers that won him the mega millions jackpot (i.e. because of his curse, the plane went down in the first place, and ill befalls all those around him), it's possible that Bob and I share the same sort of fate. As an eerie footnote, one of the cursed numbers on that Lost episode, 23, is in my birthdate -- coincidence? I think not!

We might have inherited this gift of destruction and chaos from a husband and wife team at work who had travelled to Alaska shortly before the infamous Exxon Valdez Oil Spill, to Israel immediately prior to the start of the Intifada that sparked a wave of unrest engulfing the region, to Kasmir directly ahead of the violent labor strikes, and to Kauai which was buffeted by a massive hurricane after their vacation there.

Which leads me to conclude that you should not recommend your favorite vacation spot to us unless you're willing to lose it.

Z is for Zombie

As a refreshing change to our usual evening routine of vegging-out in front of the TV or laptop, we gave into one of Connor's whims to "go camping" in our backyard. Father and son pitched the 5-person tent under the shade of the largest of our piddly backyard trees and Connor took special care to spread out a blanket in the tent and set up some beach chairs inside. By the time darkness fell and the little ones were in bed, we were ready with food tray and flashlights in hand to camp-out with our Camper's smorgasborg of s'mores, chips, fruit chews, cheezits and lemonade.

But the fun really got started when we zipped ourselves in the tent's darkness for ghost storytime. Having no actual ghost stories prepared, we decided to make-up a game based on a favorite morbid children's alphabet book called Z is for Zombie (one of the most highly circulated media center books in Connor's kindergarten class). The rules of the game were simple -- we passed the flashlight from person to person as each recipient named a scary monster starting with the next letter of the alphabet. I must say that Connor and I were the most creative while Bob had to be repeatedly reprimanded to offer another monster because his were so NOT scary! Here are some of the highlights from our creepy monster game...

A is for Alien, who uses mind control to turn you into an alien!
D is for Dung-beetle who rolls pieces of poop into your tent to sink it up!
G is for Giant Godzilla that poops all over the city and stinks it up!
S is for Smelly Slime monster who slides into your socks and stinks up your shoes!
X marks the grave of the X men who poke your eyes out!
Y is for Yogurt Yo-yo which bounces around your stinky lunchbox! (Ok, I got the big thumbs-down on this which was admittedly a stretch.)

Oh, the Shame

Bringing Home the Bacon

One of our church group friends recently shared a cute story about their 6-year-old daughter. Caroline was immensely proud of her Daddy who worked long hours as a lawyer in D.C. to support the family. On his return home one evening, Caroline caught her father emptying his pocket-change from the workday, and exclaimed enthusiastically, "Good job, Daddy!" Apparently, he was literally working for pennies.


Connor's 6-year-old's concept of money is not too far from Caroline's. While unwrapping numerous toys from his birthday party last year, he barely blinked twice at some of the gifts that were likely worth well over $10. But when he opened a birthday card and 6 dollar bills fell out onto his lap he jumped and danced for joy, singing, "Look, Mommy! Lunch money!!!!"
We certainly know the way to Connor's heart now.

A Daddy Moment

In the spirit of Father's Day, I just wanted to share a sweet moment between Connor and his daddy. I love that daddys everywhere get to have these moments that may have been less common in earlier times when fathers were not as involved with their kids.

While getting ready for bed, Connor got to talking about the movie Back to the Future. He asked Bob if it was real, because he wanted to drive to the future just like in the movie. "Daddy," he said, "I want you to go with me."

When Bob told him it was only make-believe, Connor was sadly disappointed, and in the infamous words of Swiper from Dora the Explorer exclaimed, "Oh, M-a-a-a-n!"

For Grownups Only

Against my better judgement and at the bidding of one of our blog team members (ahem!) I am posting this somewhat risque material because it had me slapping my desk and laughing out loud. So censor yourselves now or forever hold your sides laughing...

In Pharmacology, all drugs have two names, a trade
name and generic name. For example, the trade name
of Tylenol also has a generic name of acetaminophen.
Aleve is also called naproxen. Advil is also called ibuprofen.

The FDA has been looking for a generic name for
Viagra. After careful consideration by a team of
government experts, it recently announced that it
has settled on the generic name of mycoxafloppin.
Also considered were mycoxafailin, mydixadrupin,
mydixarizin, dixafix, and of course, ibepokin.

Pfizer Corp. announced today that Viagra will soon
be available in liquid form, and will be marketed by
Pepsi Cola as a power beverage suitable for use as a
mixer. It will now be possible for a man to
literally pour himself a stiff one. Obviously we can
no longer call this a soft drink, and it gives new
meaning to the names of "cocktails" and "highballs".
Pepsi will market the new concoction by the name of:
MOUNT & DO.

Thought for the day: There is more money being
spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on
Alzheimer's research. This means that by 2040, there
should be a large elderly population with perky
boobs and hard XXXXs but absolutely no
recollection of what to do with them.

Deep Thoughts by Connor Shin

"Why do they call this PEPPER-mint if it is not spicy?"

Wild Ting

I never understood the appeal of the Wild West until I attended the 6-year-old birthday party of Connor's buddy, Lawson, this weekend. The party theme was Bionicle, not at all Western mind you, and it took place in a cool, modern warehouse that incorporated a jungle gym, mini golf, and rock wall. The real gem for parents, though, was the arcade. Tucked away behind the Skeeball and coin rides was a treasure hidden behind dark curtains -- a Jurassic Park shooter game for two. The passivist-Anti-NRA-lobbyist in me screamed to run away. But my boys had already climbed into the dark womb of the machine, and I had to get them out, but not before I swiped the gaming credit card and had a go at it first.

The raptors and rexes came roaring forward and before long, my half-hearted attempt to simply appease the kiddees transformed into a single-minded effort to slaughter the meat-eating beasts. That was until "Uncle Larry" swiped-in with his card taking over the other gun, at which point it became a partnership in gun-slinging destruction.

"Out of my way Benjamin!" Mommy screeched like a Dilophosaurus, caring little for the nightmares that were bound to invade the dreams of her children that night.

Shoot-reload, shoot-reload. It was addictive and so very satisfying. Images of weapons-savvy movie heroines (a la Mr and Mrs. Smith, Aeon Flux, and MI3) came to my mind as we covered each other with gunfire and ran up the score. When one of us died, the other would carry-on, buying time until the other could swipe back in. It was all fun and games until the brachiosaurus raised her enormous tail above us and POOPED right on our heads. No amount of ammo would get us through that fecal matter.

And then the fun was over. All too soon reality called us back to our normal roles in safe, normal lives. Nevertheless, there is something to be said for the dangerous thrill of shooting to kill, even if it is just in a electronic land of fantasy in a kiddee arcade.

I'm B-A-A-A-C-K

I have finally returned to haunt the blogger, like Damian from the Omen. All I can say is that it's been a crazy month, so bad that I barely had time to check my email, let alone do decent blogging. But it's good to see that my fellow bloggers out there are still going strong. One lesson I have learned since returning from a relatively short vacation is that emails don't just go away if you ignore them, however much you would like that to be the case. I have, over time, convinced myself that if I don't read a message asking me to do or commit to something, then I am somehow absolved of the responsibility altogether. It's the passive-aggressive beast in me trying to hold back the flood of obligations. The beast has much to thank for my recent discovery of the 'out-of-office' email bounce-back option on my server, what a revelation! A perfect way to exculpate my guilt from leaving my email unread, at least temporarily. All I have to do now is send an annoying email out to all our blog friends, begging them to sign-on again. They wouldn't dare ignore my message, would they?