Entry 709: A Week In Oz

It was the kids' spring break this past week, so we went to S's parents for a visit. S's sister was there too, so it was a full bungalow. They live in a gated, quasi-retirement community near Tampa, and it's a culture shock every time we go down there. The area surrounding the community is your typical, suburban American sprawl -- miles of intersecting arterial roads lined with pockets of shopping centers, filled with chain stores. There's a Walmart nearby, a Publix, a McDonalds, a Chick-Fil-A. But if you want to sit in a coffeehouse and work for a few hours (as my sister-in-law did), the Panera down the road is your best bet.* If want to grab a drink, you can probably find a bowling alley or a Buffalo Wild Wings within driving distance. If want anything more interesting than that, you will have to drive the half-hour to Tampa (which does have some really cool neighborhoods).

*They are soon opening a Starbucks not too far away, and we all got way too excited about it.

There are not even any parks or public greens spaces in the area, and the only way to get around is by car. Basically, everything is designed for old people, who live in gated, quasi-retirement communities and only go out when they need something. It's not for parents with school-age children, or anybody who wants to enjoy what a city has to offer. Your gated enclave is your city. And as far as that goes, S's parents' "city" is quite nice. It's on a little man-made lake with a geyser in the center, palm trees line the streets, and everybody you pass smiles and says hi, even if they're total strangers. My sister-in-law and I were joking that when you drive through the gates its like entering Oz. Everything goes from black-and-white to color.

But like Oz, so much of it is superficial. There's not a lot of there there. After a few days, once you've gone to the pool a few times, you realize there's really nothing to do here. My in-laws like it, and so that's cool,* but I just can't imagine ever wanting to live in a place like that, even when I'm in my eighties. Also, it's way too hot, and there is almost no shade anywhere. You're on sizzling concrete the instant you step outside. No solar panels either. Every time I'm there I get so annoyed by the fact that people live in one of the best possible places in the country to get cheap renewable power, and they just don't take advantage of it. Maybe things would be different if they had a governor who was more interested in energy policy than fighting stupid culture wars.

*They have a lot of friends in the community, which is big reason why they moved, and I totally get that. 

I don't mind visiting though. Actually, I like it. I'm good at doing nothing, and S's parents are so good to us. (Her mom's cooking is amazing!) I usually bring my computer and work, since we have so much downtime -- save my vacation days for other times. This time, however, I did take one day off, Tuesday, so that we could go to Sarasota beach. It was quite nice. We rented some beach chairs and an umbrella and just laid on the beach. Lil' S1 did not come because he had an earache, so we had three-on-one adults-to-kids with Lil' S2, and we all took turns going into the water with him, which was the perfect amount of in-water time.

Whenever I go to the beach, I just sit there and watch the water and the people and maybe doze a bit. I don't read or look at my phone or anything like that. It's one of the few places where I prefer to do nothing other than absorb the environment. There was this old guy -- an obvious local with his telltale bleached white hair and leathery, bronze skin -- sitting not too far from us, blasting yacht rock from a bucket speaker. So, at one point I took a weird psuedo-nap, in which I was half-asleep, half-groving to Steely Dan. There are worse ways to pass the time.

The next day, I worked, and S, bless her heart, spent 14 hours taking people to the doctor. Her dad has some sort of vascular ailment that is causing his ankles and feet to blister and swell. It had gotten to be quite bad, so he had to see a specialist about an hour away, so S drove him there at 7:00 in the morning. Then, when she got back, she immediately took Lil' S1 to urgent care, because of his earache. They didn't get back until about 5:00 pm. Both my father-in-law and my son got some medicine and seem to be on the mend, so that's good. It sucks for Lil' S1 because he couldn't go in the water the entire time we were there, and we had to fly back with his ear still bothering him a bit, but so it goes.

S nearly had to make a third trip to the doctor for me, because I strained my hamstring, but it wasn't quite that bad. It's been a little sore the past few weeks, but seemingly nothing major. I mean, I'm nearing 50, so just about every body part is a little sore all the time. But it started really nagging me while I was running on the treadmill, so I stopped and tried to stretch it out, and as I was doing so, I felt a pop. It was a little pop, but it was a pop nonetheless. I just thought, Great, that's me laid up the next few weeks. 

I've had the full-on hamstring blowout, where you are in constant pain and can barely move, and this ain't that, but I certainly won't be running anytime soon. And that sucks because vigorous exercise is my main form of stress relief. Without it, my mental health and mood really are adversely affected. I can still do pushups and upper body weightlifting, so that's good, but I need something cardiovascular to get that good sweat going. Maybe I'll dust off the road bike and take it for a spin. I don't think I've used it since the lockdown. I don't really enjoy cycling as a form of exercise -- I much prefer running -- but it is much easier on the hamstring, and it's better than nothing.   

On Thursday, we went to a matinee showing of Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire and were literally the only people in the theater. It was fine. It's not going to win any Oscars, but it was a decent enough way to pass a few hours. I put it third on my Ghostbusters film ranking. It goes the original Ghostbusters, followed by a big drop to Ghostbusters: Afterlife and Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire (they are about the same), then another big drop to the girl Ghostbusters, and then a final big drop to Ghostbusters II, the worst of the bunch by far. S could not convince everybody to watch Dune: Part Two in the theater with her, but she was able to stream it and watch it on my in-laws' big screen TV, while I occupied the kids, so that worked out okay.

We did a new thing this time and flew into and out of Sarasota airport, instead of Tampa, and it was like, Why didn't we do this before?! It's much easier to get to and navigate. We just didn't know about it, but now we do, and I suspect we will use it every time from now on. There is chatter about sending Lil' S1 back during the summer by himself, and the fact that he could arrive at a smaller airport like Sarasota (and one my in-laws could drive to without going on a major interstate*) is a big reason why we might be okay with it. We will see though. The thought of him taking a flight by himself understandably makes me nervous. Although he is pretty good about being independent and handling himself in those types of situations. In many ways, he's still very much a little kid, but in other ways he's quite precocious.

*At one point Lil' S2 and my mother-in-law had the following conversation, after she asked him if he wanted to go to the store with her.

Him: Wait, Avva, you still drive?
Her: Yes, I do, Bujji.
Him: Oh, you just aren't very good now? 

On the flight home, I watched The Greatest Night In Pop, a documentary about the making of the song "We Are the World." It's really good, especially if you are a child of the '80s and want to take a trip down memory lane. I never really liked the song -- I always thought it was saccharine and corny -- but I have a newfound appreciation for it. If anything, it's worth listening to just for the vocal arrangements. It's probably the greatest collection of voices on a single song in music history. If you're into pop music at all, I highly recommend the doc.

Okay, that's all for now.

Until next time...

Entry 708: ACPT and NPR

It's been a few weeks since I posted something here because I've been pretty busy. Last weekend was ACPT, and if you click the link and scroll down to the "Judges and referees" section, you can find my name listed among many others in small print. It was awesome. As I describe to you what I did for pretty much the entire weekend -- scanning thousands of puzzles into a computer and checking that they are scored correctly -- it probably doesn't sound awesome (I literally did not leave the hotel for even a millisecond from the moment I checked-in Friday evening to the morning I checked-out Sunday afternoon), but it was. It's the people and the energy -- so many brilliant, fun, weird people to talk to; such a interesting, stimulating, festive atmosphere.

Will Shortz was there, which was wonderful. As you might know (I mentioned it in a previous entry), he had a stroke about two months ago, so there was some question about whether or not he would be able to attend the tournament. But he made it, and he seems to be doing well--or at least as well as possible for somebody who recently had a stroke. He's in a wheelchair, and there is no life in the left side of his body, but he can speak clearly enough, and most importantly he's still with it upstairs. The intellect is still there. That's the part I worry about as I slowly (and yet much too rapidly) ascend into old age. As far as I'm concerned, the body can go, as long as I can still think straight. I'd rather be like Stephen Hawking, only able to speak through a computer by twitching my cheek muscle, than get dementia and die not knowing who I am or who my loved ones are.

Of course, I'd rather maintain both my mental and physical faculties right up to the very end. That's the goal. It's possible. William Shatner is 93, and he was on Real Time with Bill Maher the other day. He's a little slower than he used to be, naturally, but he's still doing his thing -- performing, interviewing, adventuring. He said he's going to Antarctica soon. I doubt I would have much desire to go to such a place in my mid-nineties, but that's largely because I have little desire to go there now. But I hope, when I'm closing in on the century mark, to be in good enough condition and spirits that I could go there in theory.

Shortly after I got back from the tournament, S had to leave on a business trip. It was just two days this time, but Lil' S1 happened to get sick the night before she left. So, I had two kids on my own, one of whom was quite ill. He was hacking and wheezing and snotting it up all the while. It wasn't Covid -- I tested him -- but I treated it like it was Covid. I kept him home from school for two days and quarantined him in his room (he didn't have the energy to get out of bed much, anyway), and I wore a mask every time I went in there. S makes fun of me for this -- for being so worried about getting sick whenever the kids get sick -- but it's like, why shouldn't I worry, and why shouldn't I take precautions? Getting sick sucks, so if I can avoid it by keeping my distance and/or wearing a mask for a few days, mild inconveniences, it seems worth it to me. It's not like Lil' S1 cares. He didn't want to hang out with me, anyway. He just wanted lie in bed and watch, read, or sleep.

And anyway, I should be the one making fun of S, for always insisting that we give the kids "medicine" when they're sick -- Children's Dimetapp or what have you -- even though that stuff is total bunk. The only reason I give the kids that stuff or take it myself is so that I can say to S that I did so. Actually, this gets at a philosophical parenting difference between S and I. When our kids have a problem, often her first instinct is to do something -- anything is better than nothing, as far as she is concerned. Whereas my first instinct is often to do nothing -- sometimes things just need to work themselves out on their own. 

It's like, when the ship gets rocky for your child, do you help steady it, or do you just provide them moral support until they reach calmer waters? S is more the former; I'm more the latter. But we are able to co-parent pretty well together, because neither of us is too militant about it. Ultimately, we both just want what's best for our children, even if that means that things aren't done our "way." In parenting as in baseball, the only rule is it has to work. Unfortunately, in parenting, unlike in baseball, there is nobody keeping score, and most the time you have absolutely no idea if what you did worked or not.

In other news, if you run in the same political/cultural circles as I do, you probably came across this piece by NPR editor Uri Berliner about how NPR has "lost America's trust," by becoming too ideologically-driven, too focused on identity-based restorative justice, too homogeneous in perspective. And this, in turn, has led to a dwindling audience. It's impossible to say for sure if he's right or not, on the whole -- there are myriad reasons a huge content creator like NPR might struggle to maintain its massive consumer-ship in today's media landscape -- but I can say for sure that he is right for me, personally. I used to love NPR, and now I only listen to one of their podcasts, It's All Politics, and that's mainly because it's so short, I can burn through it on 1.5-speed in under ten minutes. The reasons I mostly stopped consuming NPR content are exactly the reasons Berliner gives in the article.

Basically, over the past ten years or so, NPR has transformed itself from a media organization with a reasonably broad (perhaps left-of-center) appeal, into one that only serves a niche demographic -- highly educated, upper class individuals, who put "In this house, we believe..." signs on their lawns. And if your content is designed for a niche demographic, you are going to end up with a niche audience and the revenue numbers to go with it.

The thing is, if NPR loses its broad appeal, it's not that big a deal, but, as I've written about before, I fear this same sort of thing is going on with the Democratic party, and this is that big a deal. It's not even so much the party itself, as it is institutions that are associated with the party by being left-coded -- like universities and certain media companies (like NPR) -- but in an election, what people think a party stands for matters more than what a party actually does stand for. Biden has a lot of liabilities as the first Tuesday after the first Monday of November approaches -- his age, inflation, the border, the war in Gaza -- and I think this perceived "nichefication" of the Democrats is just one more.

 And on that fun thought... until next time...

 

Entry 707: Shuffling The Deck

I heard something the other day that really blew my mind.

Imagine a deck of cards that has been fully shuffled so that its order is totally random. Now suppose you record its ordering from the top card to the bottom card. It'd be something like king of spades, two of hearts, seven of hearts, nine of clubs, queen of diamonds, so and so forth. Now suppose you do this every time a deck of cards is shuffled at a casino. How many times throughout a typical day do you think that you would hit upon the exact same ordering more than once? The answer is almost certainly never. Every ordering would be different.

Now suppose you extend that not to a single casino but to all casinos in the world, and you extended the time period from a day to a year. How many times now do you think you would record the same ordering? The answer again is almost certainly never. That's pretty crazy, huh? Even considering every shuffle at every casino in the world for a year, you are very unlikely to find two exact same orderings.

But here's the truly mind-blowing part: If you extend this experiment not just to casinos, but to any shuffle* anywhere in the world, and you extended the timeline to all of human history in both directions, past and future, you are still almost certainly never going to record two orderings that are the same. Every shuffle that has ever been and ever will be almost certainly has a unique ordering -- no two shuffles have ever or will ever produce the exact same ordering. 🤯

*For this to be valid, we only consider shuffles that are actually in random order. Obviously, if you manipulate the order or don't mix them up very well, they could be the same.

Somebody said this at a conference, and I found it unbelievable at first, but I did a smell test, and it totally passes.* The reason is because there are 52! (52 factorial) distinct orderings of a deck of cards, and 52! is 52 times 51 times 50 times 49 times every integer all the way down to 1, and that is an unfathomably large number. Doing some back of the envelope math, I calculated that 52! is larger than 2^203, which is larger than 10^60. So, 52! is larger than the number 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000, and this is more than the estimated number of atoms in solar system.

*When I get a bit more free time, I'll calculate the actual percentage of hitting upon the same ordering at some point in human history, given some reasonable assumptions.  

So, if, instead of shuffling cards, we imagine we are randomly picking atoms in the solar system (there are roughly 5,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 atoms in a droplet of water, by the way), then, yeah, it's completely believable -- obvious even -- that we could basically never pick the exact same same atom, even if every human who has ever existed and will ever exist did nothing put pick atoms all day for their entire life.

Here's another absurd example of how big 52! is. If you counted 10 billion numbers a second, and starting counting the moment the big bang happened, you would not even be one third of the way to 52! as of today. Like I said above, it is unfathomably large, and I mean that literally -- I don't think we as humans are capable of completely fathoming a number that big. Anything beyond a certain value just qualifies as nutty large. For example, I don't think we have any deep intuition about the difference between 10^15 and 10^21 even though one is a million times the other.

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Here's something fathomable, but still weird. I was telling the family about this gorilla who lived at the B&I shopping center in Tacoma, when I was a kid, named Ivan, and Lil' S1 told me he knew of that gorilla because he read a book inspired by his story: The One and Only Ivan. I did not even know that such a book existed, let alone that he had read it, but the coincidence isn't the part that's weird. The weird part is that a gorilla lived in a shopping center in Tacoma, Washington throughout my childhood. Lil' S2 asked me if I would go see him, and I was like, yeah, because you would just go to the mall, and he'd be there. I would be tagging along with my dad to get some sleeping bags,* or what have you, and we would stop and look at the gorilla in the cage for a few minutes.

*We didn't go to the B&I often, but I specifically remember going there once with my dad once to buy camping equipment. They also had a sports card kiosk there that was a really treat for me. I think they held a big swap meet there every so often too.

That would never fly today. It didn't really fly back then either, to be honest. Ivan was near the end of his time in the Tacoma when I last saw him, as animal rights activists eventually facilitated his move to a more suitable environment in the early '90s. Still, it's weird to think back on it today.

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Speaking of gorillas, we saw Godzilla x Kong today. I went in expecting it to be terrible, and my expectations were met. It's just a stream of violent CGI pap. Poor S, all she wants is to see Dune: Part Two, and nobody wants to see it with her. Actually, I would have today, but we had the kids with us, and neither of them was very keen on seeing it, but they did want to watch Godzilla x Kong. We probably could've cajoled them to see Dune instead, but cajoling preteens to see a nearly three hour movie is likely not the wisest thing to do, if you want to enjoy yourself. Godzilla was an hour shorter, and Lil' S2 still started getting antsy toward the end. 

The worst part about the whole thing is that it cost $85. When I was buying the tickets, I selected 3-D I-Max, thinking, If the movie is terrible, at least we'll be getting a cool theater experience. I mean, why not? And then I saw the price, and was like, Right, that's why. The 3-D didn't even do much for me because I had trouble keeping my eyes open for large stretches of the film. I kept dozing off, which is crazy considering the volume was seemingly set to 200 decibels. Next time I'll bring a pair of earplugs. 

The best part about the movie is that it had a few good old songs in it -- not like good good, but campy good -- that Loverboy song* that goes I gotta do it my w-a-a-a-ay or no at a-l-l-l-l and that Badfinger song that starts I remember finding out about you.

*This video looks like it was made today to parody a rock video from 1981.  

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Speaking of old, campy rock songs, I went in to Dick's Sporting Goods during my lunch break the other day to buy some boxer briefs, and then when I went to Krav Maga that night, the (old) black shorts I was wearing got a big hole in them, so I had to go back to Dick's a day later to get some new black shorts,* and when I went in the, the same song was playing that was playing the first time I went in: "Surrender" by Cheap Trick. Mommy's alright, daddy's alright, they just seem a little w-e-e-e-i-r-d...

*Black shorts are the only color that goes with my black tights, which I wear to wrestling class to alleviate mat burn. I only had one pair -- much to S's bewilderment ("Why do you only have one of things?! Why don't you have a backup?!") -- so it was imperative I get a new set. This time I listened to my wife and bought two pairs.

I went in at the same time of the day, so I'm sure they just have one of those prepackaged playlists that they turn on at opening and just let run. Those things suck for the employees. We had one when I worked at The Sports Authority back in aught-zero, and I grew to mark the time of the day by how annoyed I was at hearing the same song I heard yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that... It was mostly filled with the same type of inoffensive arena rock from the late '70s and early '80s, but, for some reason, it had that David Bowie/Trent Reznor song "I'm Afraid of Americans." It was such an outlier both in genre and lyrical messaging. I always wondered how it got on there.

That's all for today.

Until next time...   

Entry 706: Anniversary Olio

Today is my and S's 14th wedding anniversary -- our legal one, per the state of Virginia.* We have another anniversary in August of our Indian ceremony, which some of S's family members think is our real wedding date, but we don't celebrate that one, and I can't even remember the exact date. It's August, 2011, maybe the 6th? We also have a third anniversary date that we used to cite in certain company -- sometime in late summer 2010 -- because, since we got married so fast (for visa purposes when we went to Australia for a year), there were some political/familial considerations about whom we told and when, and so it was easier at that moment to announce to some people that we were getting married, not that we already were married. I figured it was an okay lie to tell because soon enough nobody would care and everybody would forget all about it. And so, verily, here we are, whereby even I've forgotten the date, and it was my fake anniversary.

*We picked Virginia instead of DC because, at the time, you had to get an STD test in order to obtain a marriage license in DC. It sounds weird, but it's true. Even weirder, I believe it was just the woman who had to get tested when we were looking into it. Virginia had no such restrictions. (Sexist, I know.) Also, when S and I first met we both worked near the Courthouse Metro stop in Arlington (she had a real job; I was doing a summer internship), and would sometimes meet for lunch, so we had a connection to the area. 

It's funny how our anniversary works. S kinda treats it more like her birthday than our anniversary. Today, she kept asking me to do things with/for her, and then she would add, "as an anniversary gift." After about the third thing, I was like, "Y'know, it's actually my anniversary too." But I was mostly joking. I hate planning things, so I appreciate she does it, and making my wife happy on our anniversary is a gift of its own.

It is also Holi, the Hindu holiday of color, today (tomorrow, technically), so we went to a Hindu temple to celebrate. I'm not usually down with the religious stuff, but I am down with the notion of community, so I'll tag along sometimes. It's fine. The Hindu ceremonies are way better than a mass or a sermon, if you're an interloper like me, because you don't have to sit there in silent boredom for hours. Everything is out in the open, there's a bunch of people chanting, and you can sit on the floor or just mill around, looking at the displays of the various gods, saying a little prayer (or pretending to) and even offering a piece of fruit, as you pass by. You can come and go as you wish, so you never feel trapped. Also, today they had half-decent dosas, which was nice.

Sometimes I think that I should give religion a try, like a real try, but the thought passes pretty quickly. It's like when I think I should become vegan or take up quantum physics. The thing is, I have this thing about me that I absolutely cannot make myself believe something that I don't believe. That's why I've never found Pascal's wager particularly compelling. Betting that there is a God, even behaving as if there is one, is not the same thing as actually believing in one, and my understanding of most major religions is that it's that belief that gets you into eternal paradise. So, if you can't make myself believe, the entire proposition seems moot to me. Also, you not only have to wager on whether or not there is a God, but what is the right way to worship. After all, as Homer Simpson said, "And what if we've picked the wrong religion? Every week we're just making god madder and madder." So, I think I'll just stick to my pseudo-intellectual skepticism.

Alright, short post this week. It's late, and I need to get some sleep. Monday is an in-office day for me, and I haven't slept well the past few nights. I think it's our flannel sheets. S loves them, and they are really soft, but they are so goddamn hot. It's like there's a trapped pocket of heat under my back at all times. I've woken up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat the past two nights and have had trouble getting back to sleep (in part because there was a mini puddle of perspiration on my side of the bed). We had to wash the sheets, and I convinced S to replace them with non-flannel ones, so I'm hoping tonight will be less moist and more restful.

Until next time... 

Entry 705: Layover From Hell

RIP, Richard Lewis, who died of a heart attack a few weeks ago. He was the comedian who coined (or, more likely, popularized) the saying "____ from Hell." I was never a big fan of his work, to be honest, until his regular appearances on Curb Your Enthusiasm. He was low-key brilliant as an exaggerated version of himself, often playing something of a straight-man to Larry David's over-the-top, petty megalomaniac. Here's a clip of him from a recent episode. He had Parkinson's disease, and you can see that it had really started to take its toll. Years of substance abuse and an eating disorder as a younger man surely didn't help matters either. Lewis' death provides yet another time-marches-on example, as I remember him being something of a heartthrob back in the day. It's just so weird to see hip, hot celebrities from your youth wither away and die.

On the flip-side, however, Larry David, who was born only a few days after Lewis (at the same hospital), seems to be as healthy and spry as ever, so he's a good counterpoint. He has that thing going on, where you start looking old when you're actually still young, and then when you actually are old, you look pretty good for your age. My father-in-law is like this a bit too. He's in decent shape for a soon-to-be 82-year-old, but in pictures from his wedding day, he looks like a middle-age man, and he was only in his early thirties. I guess, there are late bloomers, and then there are late bloomers.

Anyway, I just got back from a work trip to Palm Springs early Saturday morning -- so early that it was more like Friday night. I like Palm Springs -- it's a beautiful city and a cool place to visit -- but it's one of the more annoying places in the continental US to get to from DC. There are no direct flights, which is extremely irritating, especially so when your work is paying the airfare. Also, I never seem to be able to find that Goldilocks hour-and-fifteen layover--they are all either 45 minutes or four and a half hours. This time I was able to get an hour layover both there and back, which is decent, but only by departing from and arriving at different DC airports. This meant I couldn't drive, which, again, is especially irritating when your work will pay for parking.

I also made a mistake by buying an "economy basic" ticket, which meant I couldn't bring a carry-on unless it fit under my seat. I do not remember selecting this option, and I didn't even know that there was a type of ticket below economy,* but apparently select it I did. It turned out to be fine. I actually prefer to not have a big carry-on, as it's a pain to lug it through the airport, and it's nice to not have to worry about overhead space. But I will usually bring one, in lieu of checked luggage, for short trips (especially with layovers), because if a flight gets cancelled, or you miss a layover, or something like that (which has happened to me several times before), it's way way more convenient and way way less stressful to have everything with you.

*S books all the family flights, because she's some sort of premier United flyer and frequently pays for our tickets using her miles. This is a huge perk of her traveling all the time for work.

On the way there, everything went smoothly. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the return trip. The trouble started Tuesday evening when I got an alert from United telling me they were expecting snowstorms in Denver on Friday afternoon, which would affect my layover, so I should book a new flight through a different city. It seemed a bit hasty to me to make this call three days in advance, but better safe than sorry, I figured, so I arranged a new flight through Houston. It got into DC much later than my original flight (10:30 pm versus 3:00 pm), but it also left at noon, instead of the ungodly 5:30 am, so I didn't mind the later arrival too much. Also, it allowed me to eat a delicious breakfast (something called migas) Friday morning with some colleagues at a quaint, trendy little joint in Palm Springs called Farm. So, that was cool.

When I got to the airport Friday afternoon, I noticed there was a flight leaving to Denver, so apparently they didn't get hit too hard, but, whatever, I had already changed my ticket. It didn't matter much to me one way or the other. That is, until we were about to land in Houston, and the pilot made an announcement that we would be circling for a little while because they were having thunderstorms in Houston and landing would pose a safety risk. What? You gotta be kidding me. Rain on your wedding day is not ironic. Rain at the airport at which you specifically rescheduled a layover, lest your travel be disrupted by inclement weather, is ironic. Immediately I got worried about missing my layover before thinking: Hey, dum-dum, your layover is going to be delayed too. You should be worried about getting out of Houston!

Indeed that proved to be the appropriate worry. Upon landing, I get a *ding* your flight is delayed one hour, and when one ding comes, you know there are more. Those things are like mosquito bites. The issue isn't so much that you got bitten once, it's that you know you're going to feel about a dozen more bites in a few minutes. Sure enough... *Ding* your flight is further delayed by a half hour. *Ding* your flight is delayed 40 more minutes. *Ding*... *ding*... *ding*...

It gets up to a three-hour delay for a flight that is already getting to DC late in the evening. But we finally board, and then the toilet breaks. It starts leaking that weird blue sanitary fluid, so they have to bring out a mechanic to try to fix it. They allow us to deplane in the meantime, which is extremely deflating, but I actually appreciate it because I wanted to get some water and a snack. (I was really counting on getting some pretzel mix and that quinoa chocolate thing with some seltzer water soon.) Nothing is open except for one of those tech-dystopian cashier-less kiosks, so I ring myself up a bottle of water and a small bag of almonds for $15.67.

We reboard and finally take-off, arriving in DC around 2:15 am. I book it through the airport, grab my bag from the carousel, reserve an Uber, and get home at 3:15 am. It's a pretty impressive time, to be honest -- one hour from a cabin door at a gate in Terminal C in Dulles to my front door -- but it's only because the airport and roads were virtually empty. The thing about airport delays, however, is that once they are done, they are done. You don't have to think about them anymore. You can rip up your boarding passes (or delete them from your phone as the case may be), throw away your luggage stickers, and wash your hands of the whole situation. It's kinda nice, in a weird way, to have a problem in your life that is completely solved.

Also, the advent of the iPad makes travel delays much more palatable than they used to be. In all my flights combined, I crossed off five movies from my massive "to watch" list -- American Fiction,* Dune, The Holdovers, 1917, and Born on Third Base (a Gary Gulman comedy special). They were mostly all excellent. I couldn't really get into Dune, though. I wanted to see it so that I could be all caught up to watch Dune: Part II in the theater, but now I'm not super excited about that proposition. I don't know what is was exactly, but the movie just didn't grab me. I think it was too Game of Thrones-y -- too many characters and tribes and magic, not enough explanation for anything. I'm just not a fantasy guy. Although, I did enjoy the 1984 version of Dune, starring Kyle MacLachlan and Sting. I mean, I never actually saw that film, but for many years my family owned a copy of the book -- not the Frank Herbert novel, but a pictorial book based on the movie -- that was autographed by MacLachlan, and I really liked looking through it as a kid. I wonder what happened to that book. It's possible it's still somewhere in my parents' house.

*Technically, I watched this one before I left.

The best of the five movies was probably American Fiction. The performances in it were so good, especially that of Sterling K. Brown. His Oscar nomination was well-deserved. I also quite enjoyed The Holdovers. It made me nostalgic, not for the early '70s when it was set -- I wasn't alive then -- but for the time in my life when people would actually go see something like the The Holdovers in the theater, and it seemed like a mainstream movie, not a little arthouse film. This was right around the time Richard Lewis was at his peak.

And now that I've brought it full circle... until next time...

Entry 704: The State Of The Household

The state of the household is... good, I guess. I mean, it's definitely good on the macro-level, but this week has been a bit rough. There were some parenting things that I won't get into, so as to respect the privacy of my children. (As I mentioned before, the older they get, the weirder I feel writing about them without their knowledge.) And also the closet thing I mentioned in my last post has turned into a colossal headache. What was supposed to be a few hours of inconvenience has turned into a week-long (at least) ordeal. We've certainly gone through worse -- like that time we had giant mounds of dirt in our basement, as workers laid down new pipes to stop shit-water from spewing onto our basement floor -- but that doesn't make this any better now.

What happened is the installation guys came over and started ripping out the old shelving, but they stopped because some of the drywall started to crack, and they got scared about causing damage. They told us we had to get a contractor to finish the demo job, plaster the cracks, and apply a new coat of paint before they would do the installation. Then they packed up and left us with a half-destroyed closet.

I specifically did not even want to get our closet redone -- in fact, I actively argued against it -- so it's safe to say I was pretty irked by this. However, I knew S was also very annoyed, and it's not like she planned for this to happen, so I tried really hard to bite my tongue and not show any rancor towards her for it. I mostly succeeded. I did make one comment, something like, "well, that's on you," when she was lamenting about how this was happening at the worst possible time. She really did not like that but thankfully didn't hold it against me for too long. I mean, look, if you push to do something that your spouse really doesn't want to do, and then that thing goes horribly wrong, they are allowed to make a comment about it. Plus, I wasn't wrong. S had to leave town for work again on Wednesday, so she really tried to thread the needle with this remodeling job and didn't leave much leeway if things went sideways, which, not surprisingly, given things frequently go sideways with these types of home improvement jobs, they did.

S, to her credit, immediately found somebody who could come out the next day to do the work for us. It's this guy she's used since she had a condo before we met. He did a few jobs at our old house, but he does kinda shoddy work sometimes, so we don't trust him for big jobs. But he's actually semi-responsive and reliable, which is a huge rarity for contractors in this area (maybe any area), so he was fine by me. Plus, it was an easy job. It's something even I, a DIY moron, could have managed, had I wanted to spend the weekend doing it, which I did not.

Anyway, the guy came and did the demo on Wednesday and finished the paint job this morning. He was supposed to do it yesterday, and he left me hanging when I texted him (note the "semi" part of the adjective "semi-responsive" above), but he apologized for it, so, whatever... no harm, no foul. The closet installation guys are scheduled to come back on Tuesday, so everything should be done by the time I return from my work trip next Friday. Let's hope.

In the meantime, however, it's a nontrivial disruption. We (well, I, S didn't have time to help before her trip) piled our clothes that were in the closet onto the bed of the guest bedroom in the basement, so I have to go down there and hunt through everything to get dressed. Also, our bedroom reeks of paint at the moment, and it gives me a headache to be in there for too long, so I probably won't sleep there tonight, and since our spare bed is currently buried under clothes, I'll likely be resigned to the not-super-comfortable sofa bed* in our living room. Oh, and there's a giant pile of boards and nails and other debris on our porch that we will have to get rid of somehow. Fun.

*Update: I did in fact sleep on the sofa bed, and it’s actually quite comfortable. The couch part is uncomfortable—the kids have warped the cushions through repeated misuse, so they’re saggy and mushy—but the bed part is great! We will likely get rid of it over the next year or so because we rarely use the bed, but now I’ll be sad to see it go.

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In other news, Biden gave his State of the Union address last night. I didn't want to watch it because I knew I'd just be filled with anxiety, waiting for him to make a major gaffe, but for some reason I turned it on anyway and actually thought it went pretty well. He definitely looks and acts like an octogenarian, but he was cogent and energetic and made a strong case for his reelection. His I'm the only sane option argumentation played just as strongly for me last night as it did four years ago. He upset a few people by referring to an illegal immigrant as "an illegal," but I don't think the bulk of the population actually cares. Probably some people even find it refreshing that Biden doesn't kowtow to the language police. Personally, I find a lot of these new progressive language rules pointless, pretentious, and annoying, but in this case I'm with the scolds. I really dislike the word illegal as a noun. It does sound dehumanizing to me. But I'm willing to let it slide if the term slips out of an 81-year-old man in reference to an alleged murderer. Biden also mispronounced the name of the victim calling her "Lincoln Riley" instead of "Laken Riley," but unless you happen to know that there is an actual semi-famous person named Lincoln Riley, you probably didn't even realize this.  

The big question now is, Will this performance actually help Biden in any meaningful way? And my answer is, I have no idea, but it certainly can't hurt.

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In other other news, New York Times crossword editor Will Shortz recently announced he is recovering from a stroke he had about a month ago. I'm happy to hear that he is alive and on the mend, but this one hit me kinda hard. In part, it's because I know Will personally, not well, but we've met a few times, and I've always found him to be a total mensch. But it's also because I can't help but think of my own parents and in-laws who are roughly Will's age (older, even). They all seem to be in pretty good health at the moment, but, as the saying goes, father time in undefeated.

Anyway, best wishes to Will and his husband (also a great guy). I will hopefully see both of them in good spirits at this year's ACPT.

Until next time...         

Entry 703: Busy Week, Busy Weeks Ahead

Busy week, this past one, especially so since S was traveling for work. I don't get much of a break either. S is leaving again on Wednesday for two days, and then I'll be traveling for work the following Monday (the one work trip I take each year), and then S will be leaving again for a few days, and then I'll be headed out shortly thereafter to a crossword puzzle tournament (the one non-work trip I take each year), and then soon after that, we will all be going to Florida to visit S's parents. It's too much.

To add to everything, the kids both seem to have a bunch of activities this time of year -- we have five birthday parties over the next three weeks -- and S is having our closet remodeled on Tuesday. It supposedly will only take one day, but still, that's one day of chaos in our house that I don't need right now. A new closet would be like 150th on my list of household improvements, but once S gets something in her head like this, she just wears me down until finally I relent. What she would say, I'm sure, is that she has to do this or else nothing would ever get done, and it's a fair point. Plus, I have to admit, after the things she wants get finished, I almost always find myself thinking: Actually, it is much better this way.

The other thing that is on the horizon for me is Lil' S2's flag football season. I "volunteered" to be the coach, so it's a lot more work for me than last year, when all I had to do was get him to his games on time. What happened is that they split up 2nd and 3rd graders this season. His previous team was composed of 2nd and 3rd graders, and the coach was the dad of a 2nd grader, so when they made us split the team, somebody had to coach the 3rd graders (Lil' S2's team), and I was the obvious candidate.

"Hilariously", however, not enough 2nd graders signed up to fill out the league, and for some reason the powers-that-be still kept the teams segregated by grade, so each 2nd-grade team is playing most their games against 3rd-grade teams. The other coach was legit pissed off about this. They made us break up our team, comprised of a bunch of friends and neighbors, who've all been playing together for two years, and then just mixed the league anyway. That's some bullshit. Plus, from a competitive standpoint, they took away all the 2nd-grade teams' 3rd graders, only to schedule a bunch of their games against all 3rd-grade teams. It makes absolutely no sense. Whatever... I'm definitely annoyed by it, but it's elementary school flag football -- I'm not going to get too worked up over it.

As I mentioned before, football is Lil' S2's only extracurricular activity, and we are struggling to get him to try something -- anything -- else. His school put on a concert for Black History Month about Black musicians, and it was super cute, and he got really into it, even though he only had a bit part. (He was one of the non-Michael members of the Jackson Five.) He told me that it was actually really fun to practice it, and he was super excited about his costume and all that. So, I suggested he take drama classes, and he immediately said no. Like, before I could I could even finish the question, he shot it down. I'm super tempted to just sign him anyway -- I took drama class every summer as a kid and loved it* -- but then if he really doesn't want to do it, we could get into one of those situations where the half-hour before class turns into a regular fight with him refusing to go and us insisting that he does, and there are few things I like less about parenting than that. So, I guess I'll just continue to ask and hope that as he gets older, he'll be more willing to try new things.

*One of my biggest regrets is not ever auditioning for the big play in high school. My senior year, the drama teacher asked me specifically to try out after she had already made first cuts, so I likely would have gotten a decent part. But I said no because I wanted to train for the upcoming wrestling season, which, in retrospect, is such a lame reason. You just don't realize at that age that you will likely never again in your life have the opportunity, the free time, and bandwidth to do cool things like be in a play. But that's the problem with youth: It's wasted on the young. 

When things get busy like this, the first thing to go, sadly, are my workouts. As part of my plan to beat back old age and death for as long as possible, I really try to get adhere to a schedule of daily vigorous exercise. Under normal circumstances, I have my routine down pretty good, but when S leaves or there is some other disruption, everything gets thrown out of whack. Too often it'll be like: I'll go for a run later; well, I'll at least do a yoga video; okay, maybe just a few minutes of weights; wait, how is it 9:30 at night already?

I don't eat great when I get busy either -- too much carryout and frozen pizza, too much snacking, too many sweets at the end of the night. The scale has not been kind to me of late. I don't really care about the number so much, per se -- it's much more about how I look and feel -- but if the number gets too high, it's the indicator that need I really to get after it again (which I probably already know).

On a similar subject, I read a pretty interesting article about plus-size influencers who got shamed by their community for losing weight. I like this article because it's a good example of what I hate about pretty much every movement these days, especially left-coded movements. They have good causes at their cores, but they get coopted by their most extreme adherents, who act more like religious sectarians than advocates, and they cast out or intimidate into silence everybody was does not completely accept their (usually dubious) dogma, often labeling them as traitors or [identity]-phobes in the process. The irony, I think, is that this works directly against a movement because it totally shrinks the tent and paints everybody in it as an unreasonable zealot.

In general, I find the older I get, the more anti-activism I get. I don't know if this is because I'm changing, or activism is changing, or some combination thereof -- probably the latter.

Until next time...