Arbeau was doing much better yesterday. He ate some food, he used the kittle litter box, and the showed his belly so he could be rubbed. The doctors were very optimistic. Today, his lab results are continuing to improve (white blood cell counts going back to normal, protein levels better, etc.), but he's not looking as good today as he was yesterday. He is a bit listless, seems a bit depressed, and isn’t eating. This is probably a reaching to the solid food yesterday, but fortunately he isn’t throwing up, and he is still using his box. They have a tube in him so they can get him enough food. He has been mostly sleeping.

Therefore, he won’t be coming home tomorrow, and probably won’t be home for Thanksgiving. No turkey for poor little Arbeau.

The doctors predict that he might be able to come home on Friday, and he’ll still have the tube in him, so we’d have to bring him back to get him removed (a quick easy procedure). We don’t know yet if he will still be on antibiotics at that point. I hope not, because that would just be added trauma.

At least we’ll have some left over turkey for him, and he’ll miss the crown at our place on Thursday. We are having a family baby shower on Saturday, but that shouldn’t be too bad for him. Sunday my family leaves, but I’m only home for half a day before I head out to Florida for business. I won’t be back until Tuesday, and I’m going to miss all three of my kitties.

I do hope he can come home on Friday.

Poor little guy.

Thanksgiving is just around the corner, I thought it would be a great time to give thanks, just like everyone else in the United States does at this time. So, without any further ado, here is my list.

I’m thankful to all those people who speed up in the next lane when I use my turn signal. This teaches me that I shouldn’t even bother with it.

I’m thankful to Adam Sandler and all his movies, because it makes it very easy for me decide which movies I don’t want to see.

I’m thankful for my neighbors (I still don’t know which ones they are) who were kind enough to not bother me by asking why we were building the Cynnabar gate on our property. Instead of wasting my time and finding out that it would be gone in two weeks, they called the city and let them take care of threatening me. (Btw, the city was actually really cool about it.)

I’m thankful to people who, when asked a question they don’t know the answer to, still try to think about it for five minutes and hem and haw, instead of just telling me they don’t know so I can quickly find someone else who does.

I’m thankful to AOL for putting their Free AOL And Unlimited Internet icons on my computer desktop every few weeks. I love being able to practice using my Recycle Bin.

I’m thankful to all the business answering messages out there that tell me to leave a message at the beep, and to hang up when I’m done my message. I keep forgetting I can do that.

I’m thankful to George Washington University law professor John Banzhaf, who is encouraging people to sue fast food restaurants for making them obese. After all, that means I won’t have to take any responsibility for my dietary choices. If this goes through, I’ll think about suing automobile manufacturers for putting dangerous people on the road in high velocity vehicles.

I’m thankful to all the spam messages I get everyday. I am very much interested in enlarging my sexual organs, ordering Norton 2002 a few thousand times, viewing porn sites, reducing my mortgage interest rate to negative eighteen percent, and getting lots of money from my generous friends in Nigeria.

I’m thankful that Christmas decorations went up before Halloween, and that Christmas music is already being played on the radio several weeks before Thanksgiving. I might have missed the holiday season otherwise.

And finally, I’m thankful for the Homeland Security Bill, which will attempt to use mainly technology to solve all our problems, technology that might actually cause more problems when it fails (ex: shutting down an entire airport when there is a security problem with one person), as opposed to implementing systems that aren’t foolproof, but instead are designed to fail smartly and provide greater security for us all.

I think this might very well be my first online rant.

Recently I saw an article about the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show that just aired on Wednesday night on CBS, at 9 PM. My wife and I were watching The West Wing (highly recommended), so I missed it. Not that I really would have gone out of my way to watch it anyway – I get the catalogs, and most of their clothes looks like something Tammy Faye Baker would wear if she were getting fashion tips from Michael Jackson.

Anyway, in the article, one of our highly paid government employees, a Mr. Michael J. Coops, a member of the Federal Communications Commission, is recommending that they re-examine the agency’s definition of indecency because of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.

I agree with him, we should re-examine the FCC’s definition of indecency. However, I think we’d come to completely different conclusions.

He states that he was flooded with email complains. I guess I flood is about 300 emails, so I can officially say that every day I’m flooded with email pornographic spam, but that is beside the point. 300 emails about one show. The early rating numbers show that over 12 million people watched the show, and 300 people emailed with a complaint. 300 out of 12 million – you do the math.

But let’s look at the complaints. Are they valid? Why is it considered immoral to view scantly clad women, or even totally naked people? Why is the human body considered so evil? Why are we ashamed of ourselves?

I find it very hypocritical that a movie rating of PG is given for violence and gore, yet a rating of X is given for nudity and sexual scenes. This means that we are telling our kids that your body is evil, but shooting and killing someone else is okay and entertaining.

Let’s look at what else goes on at 9 PM on television. As an example on from one night of television, on Tuesday’s at 9 PM I watched two excellent television shows: 24 and Smallville. (Yes, I saw both 9 PM shows – I own a VCR.) On 24 I saw someone shoot himself in the mouth to commit suicide, and the hero shoot three people dead. On Smallville I saw a teenager first try to throw to girls off a bridge to kill them, and then we see him fall off the bridge, killing himself. Oh, this same teenager also killed a teacher because of a bad grade.

That was just in one night. Do I even need to bring up Law and Order: SVU or the Sopranos?

By making huge protests against the human body while not making a murmur about television violence, it is my contention that we are telling our children and the world that we think that a violent act is far more desirable than a consensual sexual act. This burns me up, and makes me wonder what is wrong with most of this country because this view is so widely held.

The Puritans must be so proud of us.

Anyway, Mr. Coops, I see you are against violence, but it seems that you are more against showing the human body. And quite frankly, I wish you would butt out of my life and stop trying to save me. If such material offends people, there is an easy solution: DON’T WATCH IT! I guarantee that if the Vicky’s Fashion Show got bad ratings, it would not be on the air again. Let people be responsible for the actions. If you don’t like violence on television, then don’t watch those shows.

(Btw, this is why I am against email spam – I really don’t want to see all the emails about how to increase my penis size or nude pictures of Britney, and with email spam I have no idea how to stop receiving it, and no one else does either, yet.)

It is worth repeating this: be responsible for yourself and your own actions. I don’t like it when others try to dictate my actions for me, telling me what I should like and what I shouldn’t.

I didn’t choose to not watch the Fashion Show because of the scantly clad women. I chose to not watch it because the clothing is stupid and I have better things to do with my time. I’m perfectly capable of making that decision, and frankly, Mr. Coops, I don’t need your help. I know how to change the channel or turn of my television set.

Yesterday Elaine and I attended our first Lamaze class.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Two and half hours of instruction about things I learned after fifteen minutes of reading. We spent a lot of time hearing when people were due and where they were giving birth (which was okay), then seeing lots of pictures of a woman’s reproductive organs, the baby inside said organs, and how it is possible for a huge baby to be squeezed out of a ten-centimeter opening.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m glad I am a guy.

Of course, we had the obligatory film of three couples giving birth. I got to see three naked women. Whoopee. I really didn’t want to see people giving birth. I don’t want to see my wife giving birth. I don’t even watch my wife when she pricks her finger for her blood sugar levels after every meal. I’m going to station myself near her head, holding her hands, talking in her ear, and not looking at thing. I’ll let the doctor look. She knows much more about this than I really care to know anyway.

Thus I was sitting there with a video of naked women playing, and I was bored bored bored. I should have brought my laptop computer, but I guess that would have been frowned upon.

We then were told, over and over again, that it is okay to be seen naked by the hospital staff, that there will be lots of bodily fluids but it is nothing to be embarrassed about, and that, I kid you not, people have been giving birth for hundreds of years.

I wonder how women gave birth before the Renaissance.

I suppose other people needed to be told not to be embarrassed, but Elaine and I don’t. She’s giving birth. I don’t really care what happens that day as long as she and the baby are fine.

There was some good information, but although the intent was to not use technical terms, it didn’t turn out that way. The teacher never defined what the placenta is (yes, I know what it is, but only cause I’ve read Orson Scott Card novels). She also talked about the tearing of membranes and how and why that had to happen. Finally I raised my hand and said, “Do you mean that her water has broke?” When she said yes, everyone in the room murmured in new understanding.

I am looking forward to some parts of the class. It will be good for Elaine (and I) to practice those positions that relieve back pain and other types of pain.

Overall, I’m sure Lamaze is worthwhile. So far, though, I don’t see why it takes ten hours of training. Elaine’s birth is only going to take twenty minutes anyway, right? Right?

What is it about being 35 that causes all sorts of problems? I’ve lived less than one fifth of my life, yet my body seems to be falling apart. Get this:

· My right eye flutters a bit.
· My right knee really hurts when I kneel on it.
· I have a pain in my right side (hey, maybe I’m just half falling apart).
· I have elevated liver enzymes (small, but they are there).
· I have high cholesterol.
· My hernia scar still hurts a bit (and that’s on my left side!).
· The tinnitus is getting worse in both ears.

When I was a score of years younger, I healed quickly, never had to take medicine, and pretty much could do anything.

Now I feel that if I can wake up in the morning I’m way ahead of the game.

I still am hopeful that I’ll be able to live forever, being healthy and robust. Scientists are working on it, and I might be just young enough to take advantage of these advances. Or maybe I’ll just plug myself in, so that when I’m in a decrepit 200 year old body, I’ll be living as a 17 year old in a virtual world.

I used to wonder if I was living in a virtual world now, but then my knee hurts and I figure even I wouldn’t want that much realism.

And yes, I do want to live forever, especially if I can stop aging. I may change my mind in the future, but probably not for a couple of hundred years.

Arbeau update: He is sitting up and looking like a cat again. His kidneys seem to be fine, but he is still in critical condition. I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but I am.

Elaine update: We have our first Lamaze class tonight. Going to one makes me feel like I’m in a sitcom.

Little Arbeau is going into surgery again. I brought him home, and he was quite active in the car, and things seemed okay.

The next day we started him on his medicine. As soon as we gave him the liquid, he just shut down. He was hardly moving (for hours) and drooling all off the antibiotic out of his mouth. The same was repeated with the evening medicine.

So, on Friday I took him to the vet. He had a fever and was dehydrated. Our vet was very concerned that since it was the weekend, if anything major happened they wouldn’t be open, so she recommended that I bring him back to MSU (and the vet there agreed).

So, back in the car. I let him out of the cage during the drive. He gently walks over onto my lap, pees on my pants, then settles right down on that and snuggles. Sigh. I guess it good training for the baby.

An hour and half later we arrive. My pants were dry by then. They check him out and agree to keep him. So I leave him there. Later that night, after dinner (it was our anniversary, so we cancelled our dinner at the Earle), we got a call that they need to perform surgery, now, because the infection had spread to his abdomen.

We agree to the surgery, and five hours later, at 3:30 in the morning, the surgery is done. It went well, but they had found not only bacteria, but also all sorts of bile through his system. They cleaned everything up and it appeared that the surgery went well, but it would be a few days before they knew if it was sufficient to save him.

Yesterday we got another call that he was doing slightly better. He ate a little bit and was walking around. However, they are concerned about his kidneys. Today we get a call that he is more listless, but his kidney values are better. They feel they need to remove the gall bladder now, though, and so we approved that surgery. They are operating as I type this.

Hopefully, though, this will be it, and they think that he’d be able to recover if this goes well. They have a specialist working on him.

Poor little guy.

UPDATE:

He has pancreitus, and can fix it, but he'll need a feeding tube for a week. The cost is really high now, but the vet at MSU felt really bad about not doing the surgery earlier, so is taking a bit off the bill.

Thank goodness.

They are really nice.

The prognosis is very good, though, and if this works, we should have him home before thanksgiving, and he'll have a long and happy life.

We'll get a phone call tonight.

Poor little guy.

Today is our wedding anniversary: Elaine and I have been married for five whole years. The infamous ‘they’ are correct. Time does fly when you are having fun.

It doesn’t feel like five years. My friend Parsla had me compare it to my five years in undergrad, or my seven years in graduate school. Those comparisons don’t really work, as the range of years is so long. It doesn’t feel like five years, but I can’t decide if it feels like more than five or less.

I’ve known Elaine for far longer than five years. When I first met her, I thought she was too pretty for me (she still is). When she first met me, she thought I was a jerk (I still am).

We first got to know each other at Pennsic, about three hundred miles and two states away from where we live. Life is really funny that way.

I’ve been told that people think our marriage is perfect. Well, it isn’t. I don’t think there are any perfect marriages. We do have a lot of plusses in our favor though, and since this is my weblog, I think I’ll indulge myself by listing them (in no particular order, except for the first one).

1. We both love each other. I’ve known married people who actually don’t love each other, and that still surprises me. I thought the love part was a necessary condition for marriage, but I guess it isn’t.

2. We have realistic expectations. When we asked our friend’s father to officiate our marriage (an aside: I’m Jewish, Elaine’s Catholic, and he’s United Methodist. I’m guessing our son will be Martian.), he agreed only if we went through pre-marriage counseling. We took a test, and after he reviewed the results he said, in a surprised voice, “You two have your eyes wide open and have no illusions about marriage. You seem to be two of the most practical people I’ve ever met.” That is, we don’t think you can change your spouse after marriage, we don’t think life will be perfect, we realize that the most important part of a good relationship is communication…wait, I getting ahead of myself.

3. We communicate. My friend Rom (well, her name is Rommye, but she won’t let me call her that, so forget that I said that her name was Rommye, okay?) is someone I talk to when I need advice. She has said it is sometimes hard to give me advice because her first question is always, “Have you talked Elaine about this?” and my answer is always, “Yes.” When I have a problem, I talk to Elaine. When she has a problem, she talks to me. Timing is important, so we might wait a bit, but we always talk about it, get things out there, and then deal with it. The day I feel I can’t talk to my wife is the day I’ll have a real problem.

4. We have many friends in common. Also, when we go out with friends, we are out with our friends – we don’t ignore them, or do everything joined at the hip. We have fun with our friends as two separate people who just happen to love each other and are also best friends. When we go to movies with one other person, we try to make sure they don’t feel like a third wheel.

5. We have our own set of friends. I have friends that I see more than Elaine does, and they are my friends, mine alone. Kathy (in Pittsburgh now) and Rom (in San Francisco) are good examples. They love Elaine and think I really lucked out, but they are my friends and I go to them with my problems, concerns, ups, and downs. I have people I can talk to about Elaine, to help me get over things, or tell me when I’m wrong. Hmm, funny, I’m rarely right when I talk to them…I think I need to bring that up. Anyway, Elaine also has friends that she hangs out with that I don’t. I have no idea if they talk about me, and honestly, I really don’t want to know. This is me, happily vacationing in the land of ignorance. La la la…

6. The other person’s happiness is more important than our own. This is a biggie. One of my jobs is to do the dishes. It makes Elaine unhappy if I let them sit too long. So, I do the dishes without complaining. She doesn’t like working on the house. I don’t mind it so much, so when the leaves needed raking, I just did it. I was working late, and I came home and the dishwasher was unloaded for me. We figure out who can do what, not to get out of work, but because we are both happy when the other doesn’t have as much work to do. We don’t say things to just hurt each other, and we keep our eyes open to see that the other person is happy. Relationships take work, and this kind of work is one of the most important, and most rewarding.

7. We still date. At least once a week we try to go out on a date. Sometimes it doesn’t happen, but we acknowledge that and try to make sure that next week we do go out. Spending time together, just the two of us doing something we like, is very important. I’m not sure how we’ll do that after the baby is born, but I will do my best to figure out a way. (Any volunteers for babysitting should give us a call, thank you.)

8. We both have our alone time. I’m a night person. Elaine is a day person. So she will get up early and have her alone time. I’ll stay up late and have my alone time. Some people don’t need that, but we do, and we get it. Hmm, this child is going to probably destroy that too. Don’t worry son, we still love you.

9. Elaine has a great sense of humor. Everyone knows I am a very funny guy (quiet, folks). However, Elaine knows when I’m joking, and comes back with great responses:

Chuck (after being asked how long you’ve been married): Two happy years!
Elaine: Yes, and three ecstatic ones.

Chuck: I’d like you to meet my first wife, Elaine.
Elaine: …and his last.

Chuck: Elaine, you are pretty smart for a girl (or lawyer).
Elaine: That means I’m brilliant for a boy (or engineer).

10. We each have things we like to do together and things we like to do apart. We both dance in the SCA together. We both love movies. I like computer games. She likes reading mystery novels. I like gaming. She likes roller coasters. Because there are things the other person doesn’t do, we can talk about it to each other!

11. We still say that we love each other. And we do.

I did say we have problems, but I’m not airing anything out here. We talk about things, and we work things out. We are still growing and changing as people, so there will always be some friction and issues that need to be dealt with. But that is one of the things that make relationships fun and exciting.

I’ve been asked if I think about other women. I believe most people, when they are honest, think about other people, and wonder. However, always, every single time, whenever I do, I compare them to Elaine, and think about what my life would be without her. I get very sad, count my blessings and good fortune, and fall in love with her all over again.

Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart.

Well, it might not be as bad as it could have been! It seems that he has a massive amounts of bacteria in his gall bladder (apologies if I spelled it wrong, I’m a Ph.D. not a Doctor), but that can be treated by antibiotics geared directly towards that problem. They were shocked at the amount, but that was the problem. Surprisingly, also, his liver enzymes were only at 61 when they checked today. Go figure. This is excellent news.

The great news is that I can pick him up at 5 PM! Yay! We’ll find out later in the week if there are any other problems, but it looks like there are no cysts, and if this works he won’t have to have his gall bladder removed. In a couple weeks we bring him back for a follow up ultrasound. More belly shaving for Arbeau. Poor little guy.

Pythagoras will be so happy!

Elaine dropped little Arbeau, one of our cats, over of the MSU Vet Hospital today. He was supposed to get a tooth pulled at our local vet a couple of weeks ago, but he had elevated levels of something in his liver (normal is below 100, the first time they checked it was around 200, and the second time it was over 900). Our vet then did an ultrasound, and found liver cysts and possible cancer. This would require surgery, hence MSU.

The results of the ultrasound at MSU were that his gall bladder is really enlarged and it is causing the problems in his liver. It probably needs to come out and then they will have to reroute some stuff to his liver. They’ll know more after the blood test results come back, but I’m sure they will do surgery.

They’ll try to get into surgery on Thursday. They want to keep him there until surgery to keep an eye on him, and then a couple of days afterwards because it is not an easy procedure, and there could be post-operative complications.

We’ll know more tomorrow. If everything goes perfectly, we might not see him for almost a week.

Obviously, Elaine and I are very sad. Pythagoras won’t know why Arbeau isn’t around. We will miss him a lot. He is always on Elaine’s lap when she is reading or watching television. He visits me when I’m on the computer. And he so cute and adorable. Although, I think the little brat loves Pythag more than he loves us. :-)

It doesn’t surprise me that the staff at MSU has all fallen in love with our little guy, and he's hardly ever in his cage, because everyone is fawning over him. I hope they give him some turkey.

Poor little guy.

This is another entry proving that I’m probably going to give my son two major psychoses and several neurological disorders having physiological manifestations.

Last night my wife handed me a baby magazine that had an article in it about naming your baby. It had obvious rules like:

1. Don’t give your child’s name impossible spellings.
2. Pros and cons for telling others what your baby will be named before it is born.
3. Think about how it will sound in the future (ex: “Supreme Court Justice Spanky Bottom Cohen” is probably a bad idea).

I’ve made over one thousand baby name suggestions to my wife, and Elaine has shot every one of them. I’m a very creative person, and, contrary to the boring magazine article, I think my son should have a creative name.

What names did I suggest? I am so glad you asked. Here are my favorites.

Zen. As in Zen Cohen, which sounds like a Zen Koan. That is my favorite.
Pine. Get it? Pine Cohen, or Pine Cone.
Ice cream.
Street.
Semi. For semi colon.
Spastic. Also a favorite.

Okay, those are the pun names. I have others:

Slagithor. True, I think of it is a girl’s name, and I named my first robot that, but so what?
Paragon.
Argon. That is a noble name!
Rosencrantz.
Guildenstern.
William Shatner Cohen.
Castellan. That was my high school nickname.
Shmuley. That was from a book I read, the author’s name. Hey, at least it is Jewish.
Aquarius.
Hey You. I’ll be calling him that a lot.
Jake. Jacob is my middle name. And, Jacob is now the most popular boy’s name.
Xander. Yeah, from Buffy, why not?

Well, you get the idea, and probably think my wife is insane for not liking any of my name suggestions.

Then again, her mom told us, “You are naming your cats Pythagoras and Arbeau? Okay, we are naming the kids…”

So maybe Elaine was trying to tell me something when she handed me the article. The message I’m going to receive is that she wants more name suggestions, like Zeus, Socrates, Linux, Rupert, or Quantum. Names that will get him beat up at school.

I did notice something while reading the magazine. I had a difficult time paying attention to the article because of all the baby pictures there. They bothered me, and I really didn’t like seeing all those pictures. I’ve said this before: I’m not really a baby person. I’ve never found babies cute, adorable, or whatever. I don’t hate babies, but I’d rather hang around with kids when there are at least two or three years old. You know, when they are beating me in chess most of the time.

The article had these HUGE pictures of babies on all three pages. I flipped through the magazine, and yes, it averaged around 3.4 babies per page. Ugh. I know … duh … what did I expect, it is a baby magazine, after all. But sheesh, even though it makes evolutionary sense, I just don’t understand what people see in babies. Give me kids any day.

Everyone tells me that I’m going to think my baby is the cutest thing in the world, cuter than kittens. I honestly don’t believe that. Sure, I’ll love my son, but I don’t think I’m one of those people that goes gaga over babies.

I think I’ve alienated half of my friends now. Alison will have to find a second plane of hell for me.

Son, don’t worry, I’ll take lots of pictures of you as a baby. I’ll let your future girlfriends tell me if they think you were cute or not.

When Shawn woke up, she noticed that there was something wrong. She couldn’t place it right away, but then she noticed that Patrick, her roommate, was missing. Well, she wasn’t too upset about that, but then she noticed that all of her Hershey Kisses were missing – and oh boy did she get mad! She started looking through all of her hidden places: her endless box-o-fabric, the hilt of her dagger, and her collection of 265 pictures of ‘hunks from the silver screen.’ Search as she did, there was no chocolate (no Patrick either, but the chocolate was of far more importance). It was while rummaging through her dirty clothes (looking for any slightly melted kisses left in her pockets) that she noticed the dark spots on the floor. Could it have been blood? Or chocolate stains! She followed the stains and they led out of Patrick’s house into the forest beyond. There was no choice – she just had to get her chocolate back (and, if she wasn’t out to late, rescue Patrick). Grabbing her purse, a yoyo, and that dagger she got at a Renaissance Faire, she headed out the door.

A minute later she came back to put on some clothes, because she had been sleeping in her underwear. Better equipped, she heading back into the forest. She followed the trail deep into the heart of the forest. Well, it isn’t really a forest, more like a woods, but it sounds better if the word forest is used. After a while, the trail seemed to divide, so, using her vast powers of deduction, she chose the wrong path. The chocolate stained path that she chose seemed to flecked with some bread type substance. Either this was a very fertile area, or the thief was also a slob. The trail led to a clearing and in the middle of the field was a tree about twenty feet high and five feet wide. The tree seemed to be covered with golden leaves, and it smelled like, well, sort of like cookies! And here is the strange part: she saw little people, about one foot in height, running in and out of the tree! They didn’t look like chocolate thieves, and she was in the mood for a cookie or seven, so, sheathing her dagger (in the sheath that she hopes Reid will make for her sometime in the near future), she boldly crept towards the tree.

“Halt!” She did. Now, Shawn usually doesn’t follow orders so quickly from handsome men who are one foot tall, but this particular one foot tall man happened to be pointing his sword at her liver. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for my chocolate. You see …”

“Aha! So, you have come to steal our chocolate, eh? I will have to have our leader, Keebler, deal with you.” And suddenly, about a half dozen little people appeared with equally pointy weapons. “Follow us, Gulliver.” Since they insisted, she followed. As we went towards the tree, something strange happened. Either the tree got bigger, or Shawn got smaller, because when they got there it was ten times larger and the little people were her size!

“Er, don’t you want to take my dagger away from me?” asked Shawn helpfully.

He laughed, tossing a soft mane of hair away from his pointed ears, much to Shawn’s delight. “That toy? You expect us to be afraid of that toy?” So much for delight. Shawn was hoping for a little fear, at least. They lead her into a grand audience hall, and she was in heaven. All Shawn could smell was different kinds of chocolates and creams and cookies and fudge. Everywhere she looked she found people with pointed ears making all sorts of delights. Except for one room, where Shawn thought she saw the Pillsbury Dough Boy being tortured for recipes. But her tour was cut short because she was finally brought before Keebler.

“So, mortal, you dare come to our home and steal from us!”

“No, really, I wasn’t, I just …”

“Don’t interrupt! That wasn’t a question. You have two choices: you can either die a horrible death, or we can use you as a mold for some of our future products. What do you choose?”

Great, she thought. She could die, or be a cookie cutter. Shawn felt she had had just about enough. “Look Keebler, all I was doing was looking for my stolen Hershey Kisses when …”

“Eeeeeaaaaarrrrrrrrrggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhlllllllllllllllllll!!!!!!” the elves earghled. “Don’t say that word!”

“What word?” The elves had stopped in their tracks as Shawn spoke. “Look, if you could help me find my Hershey Kisses I would …”

“ENOUGH! We surrender!” Most of the elves were rolling on the ground, clutching their ears in pain. “We will help you, just don’t say the name of our fiercest competitor! You wanted to know who stole your chocolates?”

“That’s right. The chocolates.”

“Where do you usually keep your chocolates?”

“In my pockets.”

“You keep your chocolates in your pockets?”

“Yes. Would you be so kind, and help me to find, the lost chocolates that I keep in my pockets?”

Keebler thought for a moment. “I wish I could help, but I am sorry to say, I have not seen the chocolates, that were stolen today.”

“Did I happen to mention, did I tell you the tale, about how I was following, a chocolate stained trail? It led through the forest, deep in the woods. I know not where it leads, but follow it I should.”

“You did not mention, but I happen to know, about the chocolate stained trail, and where it does go. It leads to the Dragon, mighty and mean, and he smells very bad, cause he is not very clean. So now you must leave, say goodbye to this tree, because if you don’t, you will soon cease to be.”

Five minutes later, with a purse full of Tallhouse cookies, Shawn was back at the fork in chocolate stained trail, and this time she took the correct route. She knew that she was on the right track because Keebler was correct – The Dragon smelled awful. Within a half an hour she could smell something foul, and most of the vegetation around her was either dead or dying. It couldn’t have been her, because Shawn had already bathed once that week. Then, after going to the top of a small hill, she saw Him: The Dragon.

He was the meanest looking dragon Shawn had ever seen. Of course, he was the only dragon that she had ever seen, but that’s besides the point. He had huge ugly scales that looked as sharp as, well, as sharp as dragon’s scales. They were hard to look at because they clashed with the rest of forest (you see, the rest of the forest wasn’t covered with blood). His teeth were like great swords, and upon seeing Shawn he smiled, the same way a very satisfied cat smiles, except that cats don’t look evil. Well, most cats don’t. And the lousy bastard was sitting on top of all her Hershey Kisses! Some were probably already melted!

“Aha,” he hissed, in a blood curdling way that only a dragon can hiss, “you have come to let me eat you. How kind! I have eaten a stupid mortal in ages. A bit blonde and leggy, but I have had worse.”

Shawn wasn’t afraid. Much. Okay, Shawn was afraid. But she wasn’t about to let the Dragon know it. So, she stalled or time. “Gulp.” She was swift, that Shawn was, really swift.

“Don’t worry, human, you still have a chance to save your worthless life. I will ask you one question, and if you somehow are able to answer it correctly, I will answer one of your questions or do you one favor. Is it a deal?” The Dragon was smiling again. There is nothing worse than a smug dragon.

“Er, do I really have a choice?” Shawn thought that maybe she could get out of this!

“No.” Then again, maybe she won’t. “Ready? To bad if your not.” The Dragon took a deep breath and began. “A space shuttle (mass of 3,200,000 Kg) is in a low orbit about the Earth at 150 kilometers and traveling at 320m/s. In order to reach a geosynchronous orbit, how long must it burn its oxygen-hydrogen fuel (which provides a thrust of 2 g’s per cubic meter burned – assume standard size propulsion units). Don’t forget that the mass of the shuttle changes when fuel is burned. You have six seconds, begin.”

The Dragon was licking his lips in pleasure, dripping saliva and burning some of the chocolate and ground around him. But Shawn wasn’t worried. “The answer is 22.354 seconds!” Little did The Dragon know that Chuck had asked her that same question the day before during lunch.

“Beltch,” the Dragon beltched, burning part of her hair and five yards of forest. There is something worse than a smug dragon: an angry one. “Alright human, you have answered the question. What do you wish?” He began to curl and uncurl his huge pointy claws.

Shawn couldn’t believe that she had actually won! To bad The Dragon didn’t know that differential calculus and orbital mechanics were one of her many hobbies. She decided to answer quickly before he changed his mind. “I would like you to give me all my Hershey Kisses back, please.”

“Is that all?” The Dragon looked even funnier confused.

“Well, um…yes.”

“Of all the things you could have asked for, that is what you want?. Don’t you want your roommate back?”

“No. Not really. He left his checkbook, so I can pay the bills. And now I’ll also get his computer and be able to get rid of his stupid cat. I would really just rather have my chocolate back.”

“But there are so many other things I could tell you. Don’t you want Mel Gibson’s private phone number and address? The cure for cancer? Wouldn’t you like to know what hair style would suit you best? I could tell you the closing price of Microsoft for the next five years!”

Shawn had an idea. “Could you tell me how to find a decent, well paying, fulfilling job that I would enjoy?”

The Dragon looked shocked. “You humans are all alike. You ask the impossible. Look, I’ll make a deal with you. Your roommate has really been a pain and rather annoying, so why don’t you just take him back with you, and I’ll give you your chocolates back, along with a lollipop.”

That sounded reasonable to Shawn. “It had better be a big lollipop…”

“Good!” The Dragon seemed very pleased to get rid of Patrick, and Shawn was pleased to get her chocolate back.

I have a case of the blahs, and I'm not sure why. Not knowing why tends to make such things worse.

I should be pretty happy today. I finished writing my Phase II like I planned (very good), and I found out that one of the Phase I's I wrote last round was accepted for funding (extremely good). I have some new games. I'm not travelling this weekend so I get to spend some planned time with Elaine (best of all).

I'm still pretty blah though. I have a people situation that's causing me problems. I get too ticked off, which makes it harder for me to be objective. I have too much to do, and not enough time to do it. I'm still trying to figure out how to make us cash-flow positive, and more expenses occur all the time. (No, I'm not a senator).

I know two things that are bothering me. One is my body. My right knee is killing me, and I don't know how that happened. My right eye flutters/pulses, and I have no idea what that is about. And, the medicine I'm taking for my ears (Tinnitus) doesn't seem to be having any effect.

The other bad thing is that little Arbeau, one of my cats, either has some kind of cyst, an abcess or cancer. We'll find out Tuesday how bad it is, and they might perform surgery that day.

Poor little guy.

Oh well. I'll feel better soon. I always do.

One of my most important job responsibilities at Cybernet is proposal writing. We write proposals at least twice a year. Beyond that, we write proposals for the government based on earlier current work.

I have one of those due in a week, a Phase II proposal that runs for two years and is worth $750,000. It is obviously very important, and I need to do an excellent job when I write it.

Unfortunately, I have a hard time just writing. That is part of the reason why I have this web lot – to help give me the discipline to write something almost every day. With this proposal though, I’ve gone for days doing everything but writing the proposal. There are always fires to put out, easier reports to write, work to review, people to review, business phone calls to make … that sort of thing. Sure, I did some work on the proposal, getting information and filling out the easy sections.

Still, it took me forever to get started on the work plan, which is the most important section. I find it odd that I have to be in the right frame of mind to write proposals. I actually enjoy the process. When I’m in the flow of writing and things are coming together, it is an exciting Zen like high, similar to what I get when I’m juggling for a long period of time. The words just flow, I think of wonderful ideas and connections, and the whole proposal just falls into place.

I’ve developed tricks for getting me into that zone, or at least into the mood. Deadlines help. The proposal is due on Wednesday (next week), which means I really have to be done by Monday at the latest so it can be proofed. Friday is better so I can have a worthwhile technical review.

I can also bribe myself. I’ll make a deal that if I get done a specific amount of work (like the work plan, or the objectives), then I can go home. So, if I get done early, I go home early, but if it takes too long, I will be staying very late into the evening. This works better for Phase I proposals, which are much shorter in length. Besides, I shouldn’t spend much time on them anyway.

Monday was bad, I didn’t get anywhere near the kind of work done I wanted. But…yesterday I had my breakthrough, at around 2 PM, the whole work plan and objective came out of me in about four hours, and it was pretty good! Today I went further and have finished more sections. I’m finally on my role and I think I’ll get this complete either late Thursday or early Friday.

It is such a relief. I was irritable all last week and early this week because I wasn’t getting it done. Now when I go home I can actually relax because I’ve gotten work done. I don’t feel guilty playing Civ 3 (like I ever feel guilty doing that!) because I’ve made good progress.

I love the feeling I get when a proposal is done and it is well written. I get excited about the work, and see a great future in doing that work to advance the state of the art in technology and to help my country.

Naturally, I like winning the proposal even more!

One thing I’m afraid of is that, after the baby is born, this web log will be filled with nothing but talk about my child. How much he’s grown, how much I love him, when he first smiled, his projectile vomiting and how he cute he looks. That sort of thing.

I will do my best not to do that. However, I will have the occasion entry about my child and family, because my wife and soon to be son are the most important people in my life.

This is one of those posts.

I envision that fifteen years from now, when I finally let my son out of his room, he will surf the meganet on his ocular implants and stumble across this web log. Hi son! In case you are wondering why you are so messed up and turned out the way you did, you need look no further. In these pages I’ll be recording all the times and places where I’ve probably scarred you for life (your Mother, of course, is perfect, so there is nothing bad to record about her). You’ll have an easy time when you go to your lawyer because you can point to certain web log entries and say, “There, this is where my Dad really messed up.”

This is one of those times.

Last week Elaine and I went to the University of Michigan Children’s Hospital for our baby delivery tour. Most parents know about this. You go to the hospital and find out where everything is so that, later, when your wife is in the most pain she’s ever had, and your are at your most frantic, you know exactly where to go, who to scream at, and how to validate your parking.

I was incredibly impressed with the facility. Great large rooms (half of them have real bathtubs, not just a shower!), outside phone lines, TV and VCR, a recliner for me, fridge, and, of course, everything you need for your baby and mommy.

They have special rooms for emergencies, a nursery so that the parents can actually sleep, and special television channels so you can learn what to do with this thing that just popped out of your wife. Everyone there seems to adore babies, and can’t get enough of them. It put our minds and hearts at ease.

Unfortunately, throughout the entire time, when I supposed to be paying close attention to the important detailed information that would be critical to the safety and health of my wife and newborn, all that was going through my head was, “Wow, the nurse who is giving this tour is really hot!”

Yes, that is right, I was checking out the nurse with my pregnant wife and unborn child right next to me. She wasn’t dressed like an on duty nurse. She was in regular yet very fashionable clothing (bright orange sweater, a skirt, heels, and hair all done up), and was very happy to be giving the tour and talking about babies. She probably could have been on the television show ER. I’m glad they had a packet at the end, because I’m sure I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should.

I’m confident there is some plane of hell now reserved for me because of this.

So, I’m sorry son that I didn’t pay as much attention to this as I should have. It won’t be my last mistake. Not by a long shot.

I am comforted, though, that I easily came to the conclusion that, even though the nurse was quite attractive, she cannot compare to my far more beautiful wife.

I got to play a lot this weekend. I was very busy, but it was fun and nice. Friday I spent with my lovely wife. We mainly watched television and hung out with the kitties – but having time together is one of the things couples need the most, in my opinion. Oh, as an aside, Firefly is a wonderful show. It has been growing on me each week, and it is so much better than Enterprise (another starship show) and most shows now on television. Definitely worth your time!

Saturday I did something I haven’t done in years: I played Magic the Gathering. Like a drug addict getting his first hit in a decade, I was thrilled to open those packs and see what types of wonderful cards I got. I was like a kid in a gaming store! Wait, I was in a gaming store. I still don’t know if I am going to start collecting cards again, but I do enjoy putting decks together, owning cards, hording and owning everything!!! Wait, I’m okay now.

This happened because some of my friends got together at a gaming store for a Magic the Gathering Tournament. Brad owns it, which made me feel kinda old – friends shouldn’t be owning businesses! I knew about a half dozen people there: Brad, Kelly, DeForest, Matt, Zach, Eric, and Katy. There were also kids there, literally one third my age. I had fun scary them by telling them I was just like them when I was their age.

Still, they were one third my age. I was three times older than them!!! Talk about shocking. I’m glad I was able to beat most of them, until one young punk just whipped my ass…

That night Alison came over and we saw the movie, “Tuck Everlasting.” It was…okay. The original Highlander movie had more philosophical discussions about living forever than Tuck did, and I thought that Tuck just had a blah ending with no real thought behind it. That night after Elaine went to bed I showed Alison “Terminator 2.” She had never seen it before and had no idea what the plot was about, so she got to see it they way it was intended! And it was a nice contrast to Everlasting Chick Flick. Yes, she liked T2. Alison has good taste, even though she adores Muppets a bit too much.

Sunday I went to fighter practice, which is always enjoyable.

Afterwards we gamed. We being me, Kelly, Elizabeth (pronounced E-Liz-A-BETH!), Anne, and DeForest, who is the game master. We are playing 7th Sea, where players get to be a Hero, with a capitol H. It is the most fun I’ve had gaming in years, and might rank up there with the Yo-Yo Girl campaign I played in the last century. I like playing in groups with a small number of people, who work together, and know how to roleplay. DeForest had me get in a nice moral quandary, and I had to make a decision that was both right and wrong. It was fun, and I’m looking forward to see how that experience pans out. But, most of all, I like being a Hero, and having the chance at making a world a better place.

I also try to make the real world a better place. However, it is nice to have a fantasy world around, to test things out. A place where mistakes have no real world consequences. Besides, I like being a part of the telling of a good story!

Last night was Halloween, and as we have a new house in an old neighborhood, I was interested to see how that would turn out. I think we had around 50 kids stop by. Most were wonderful – very cool costumes, pleasant kids who said “trick or treat” and thank you. They liked my Shrek ears that I got at E3.

Some kids bothered me though. There were some teenagers who didn’t wear a costume at all. I let the kids pick a few pieces of candy that they would like. These kids tried to grab a handful. Then they ran off without even saying thank you. Must have been their ‘trick.’

SCA dance practice was fun. We did SCA dances to modern music (like Vogue to the Isles, or Bitzaria to Safety Dance). No one came in costume, put people looked nice. I especially liked watching Elizabeth and Anne doing modern dancing together.

Today I did a bad thing. I went out and bought the Civ III expansion and a new game, Age of Mythology. (Patrick promised to play me in the multiplayer aspects, right?) So now I’ll be spending more time in front of the computer, instead of using my time in more constructive ways: clearing out the garage, putting together bookshelves, or sleeping. At least my wife and cats visit me, so I’m not totally isolated.

Speaking of my wife, she insists I post a correction to my post from yesterday. She states that she got up before I did, at 6 AM, and was actually downstairs in the on the computer at 6:45 AM when I thought she was still in bed gloating over Pythag’s decision to headbutt me awake.

She’s probably right. However, many times in the past she has gloated in the manner I related it yesterday. And, when I complained, I am convinced I heard he say it anyway, whether or not she was there. Anyway, I stand by my earlier post, as it was a conglomeration of earlier events, and I am a creative person, so there.

But yes, Elaine gets up early than I do, every day. Except when I see her asleep.

Back on the computer game note: yes, Patrick , you should.