• H2O

    If you have a child, chances are you are familiar with the fresh water phenomenon. As it happens, we have a child, two of them in fact. Since our oldest child has had the ability to communicate – whether it be by speech or wild gestures with her extremities – she has wanted fresh water at her bedside at night. Yes, I fondly remember the day Beth learned to use “dehydrated” in a sentence,.

    It turns out that Beth rarely actually drinks her water; but none the less, she seems to have a sixth sense as to whether it is “fresh” or not. Now that she is tall enough to service some of her own needs at the tap, we’ve encouraged her independence.

    Oh, there’s no telling what mischief looms when a child first learns to play with the faucet.

    The other night I was feeling weak in the will department, and I acquiesced to Beth’s watered down request. I was at the sink holding her bottle of stale water, and I unscrewed the top (similar to the top of a squeeze bottle – one that you drink from a nozzle at the top). As the top comes off water begins to pour out of the bottle. This may sound unsurprising, until you realize that I was holding the bottle upright. That’s right friends, it seems that Beth is not satisfied with the bottle being filled to the top. She’s been filling the bottle, screwing on the cap, and then holding the open nozzle under the running water to fill that extra bit of capacity under the cap.

    That’s one determined little kid.


  • Pet peeves

    Does it bother you when someone tells you your question is a “good question?” Does it feel a little condescending? Personally, I’m not usually looking for an ego massage when I ask question. Call me crazy, I just want an answer.

    Of course, that doesn’t prevent me from using the phrase all the time. “Golden rule?” What’s that?


  • Trying times

    Addiction. Hunger. Desperation. I had looked all over, in all the usual places: my desk drawer, my briefcase, the nooks and crannies around my office, nothing. I was damn near close to loosing that which distinguishes us from animals: my ability to reason. Yet it was at this most desperate hour that a single hope shown through the mist of dire circumstance: “my car, maybe I’ll find it in my car! RELEASE THE HOUNDS!”

    Fifteen minutes later I triumphantly shook a full, jingling fist of change.

    DAMN THEE TO THE FIREY PITS OF MY STOMACH, VILE KIT KAT BAR!