I’m all for protesting and marching for a cause, if the cause is a right and good one. I even did one when I was in undergrad, on of the March for Women’s Rights that took place around 1989.

But this protest during the Republican National Convention leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Seriously.

Look, I’m voting for Kerry this fall. While some of my views are Republican, such as less government spending and strong defense, I don’t think that the current President is for that. And for social issues, like gay marriage and stem cell research, I am firmly in the Democratic camp.

So call me a moderate. Or call me confused about what party I should affiliate myself with.

But leaving that aside, I do not feel that there should be protestors during the Republican National Convention (RNC). I mean, we all know there are many people out there who don’t approve of President Bush and want to have their opinions heard.

And that is fine.

But really, people, can’t the Republicans have one week at their own party’s get together where they can just get their business done without people yelling at them and burning effigies?

At the Democratic National Convention, there were around 200 protestors, complaining about both Bush and Kerry. But at the RNC, there are over 10,000, blocking streets and shutting things down.

Why?

Yes, their voice should be heard, but just once, for one lousy week, let the democratic process happen. Let the Republicans nominate their candidate, have their parties, and present their point of view.

There will be plenty of time for mud slinging between now and November.

I just got finished watching “From Dusk Till Dawn.” Excellent flick that is about a couple of twisted criminal brothers who end up going to a brothel filled with vampires.

Really.

It is an interesting movie. I highly recommend it, if only for the scene where Selma Hayek erotically pours whisky down her leg.

Hey, it takes all kinds.

I’m in odd mood, so here are some vignettes. (As an aside, vignette is a funny word. There is no ‘y’ in it, yet I can hear it. Also, the ‘g’ is silent. What a silly word.)

A friend of mine in Improv found a note tacked to his door. I’ll paraphrase it. “We leave this note so that you can avoid the embarrassment of a face to face encounter. We are in one of the apartments below you, and have to get up very early to get to work. However, for the past two weeks we haven’t been able to sleep well because of the high volume of your late night energetic activities. Please keep the volume down. Thank you.”

He wants to get that note framed.

We found it funny that his neighbors have a great idea, thanks to her yelling one word over and over, how agreeable his girlfriend is. We also suggested that they should take a cue from our classes and extend it to “Yes, and…,” shouting that multiple times.

While at Pennsic I was (and still am) reading Neal Stephenson’s “Cryptonomicon.” Great book. I’m 700 pages into it, only 400 to go. While reading I came across a reference that I didn’t know about, so I wrote down in my notebook “look up Antaeus.”

A little googling and I discover that Antaeus was the son Poseidon and Gaia. He was a huge giant who forced visitors to wrestle with him. He of course killed them all. His strength lay in his contact with his mother, Gaia (that is, Earth, or, the ground). If he touched the ground, he was invincible. Keven Sorbo learned this and beat him by lifting him off the ground and, in a fit of G rating, convinced him to fight on the side of good.

Or he killed Antaeus if he wasn’t being directed by one of the Raimi.

Now if I could only remember why I wanted to look it up in the first place. It was over a hundred pages back, and there is no way I’m going to look it up again.

Okay, that was weird. I googled Antaeus and Cryptonomicon, and it popped up. Good grief! The whole freaking book is online! And there it is, chapter 40.

I read.

Hmm, I’m not impressed. He’s comparing Alan Turing to Antaeus, saying he neither mortal nor god. Oh, wait, I get it, Turing is a giant in his field. That makes sense. In fact, I like that! Antaeus. Gotta use that in conversation more.

So I heard another story at Improv. Apparently, Scottish women are known to be a tad, well, headstrong. That is a nice way of putting it. One of his friends, who was drunk, had decided to break up with his Scottish girlfriend.

She didn’t take it well, and started to yell and scream at him. He, being drunk, took it with aplomb, and basically had one urgent thing on his mind. He needed to go to the bathroom.

So he goes to her toilet and closes the door. She’s still yelling while he whips it out and goes about his business. She barges is, still screaming and fighting mad. He continues to pee, ignoring her.

Not satisfied with his reaction, she kneels down, cups her hands, and starts to catch the urine before it reaches the toilet and proceeds to toss it in his face.

Hey, this is freaking me out still, and I’m typing it at 1 AM. For you folks, it must be horrible, especially if you are drinking your morning coffee or are decorating your hands with the equivalent of goose poop.

She does this several times, still yelling.

It may come to a surprise to some of you, but I’ve been drunk once or twice before in my life. When I get to the peeing stage, nothing deters me. I’ll stand there totally focused on the task at hand, and nothing else is able to cross my mind. Well, okay, one thing does: how long I’m peeing. Once I swear I think I peed for over seven minutes. It felt like I had multiple chambers in my body, and whenever one was tapped out, another would come on line, and I … wait, you don’t want to hear this.

Nothing dissuades me. That is why I can believe that this guy just stood there in front of the toilet while his recently ex-girlfriend flung his ex-alcohol right back at him.

He left soon after that, and had to take the subway home, with no change of clothes.

How’d you like to sit next to him? “Dude, ever hear of washing your hands?”

I’m tired.

I’m usually quite good at handling stress, but I worry sometimes that I’m just sublimating it. Is that the right word? [Quick Googling…] Oooh, yes, that is!

I need to write out my feelings, but I keep put them off. It is much easier to coast. Actually, coasting is easy, because I’d probably just come to a stop somewhere. Instead the breaks are off and I’m keeping the cruise control on at an unsafe speed. I steer here and there, weaving through traffic, and hope to god I don’t crash into anything before I reach my destination.

The problem is that I think I’ve forgotten where I’m going.

My son, Marcus Man, is learning more words everyday. The good news is that he is getting more articulate and we can respond to his needs more readily. The bad news is I have to stop using words like ‘sphincter.’

While only twenty months old, it feels like he’s already got a head start on the terrible-twos. He throws tantrums whenever anything doesn’t go his way. Elaine and I find it funny (unless she has a splitting headache, which means she never finds it funny), and we make it a point to keep the boundaries we set.

“No, you cannot go upstairs when Mommy is taking a nap.” Cries for twenty minutes.

“No, you may not stick your finger in Pythagoras’s eye.” Cries for five minutes.

“No, you may not type on the keyboard when Daddy is using quicken.” Cries for eight minutes.

“No, you may not eat broken glass.” Cries for three days.

While he is learning more words, he still can’t really tell us what he wants, or communicate that he understands what we are saying. Oh, yes, I’m very confident he understands every word, but I’d still like some sort acknowledgement beyond the window shattering crying.

The words he has learned are just neat. He knows many parts of his body (eye, ear, elbow, belly, head…) and can say many different types of food. It seems that everything to him is an ‘unny’ (bunny) and he constantly wants to go ‘outside.” “Up” and “Down” he uses a lot. I know I’m missing a ton of words he can say, and it so much fun to hear him say them.

Except for the sad version of Mommy. He uses that whenever Elaine walks out of his sight for more than 3 milliseconds. It sounds like a Banshee wail: long on the o’s and the ie’s of the ‘y,’ with such infinite sadness.

Whereas when I go away he just raises his hand and says, “Bye bye!”

I love my son.

Words are fun, and I love teaching him new things. Even if he doesn’t understand the concept behind things yet, I still think it is cool.

Especially since he can how answer the question: “Marcus, what is the square root of four?!?”

War is over, and Elaine and I hydroplaned home safely. Elaine had a good time, but as this is my blog, I’ll be talking more about the fantastic time I had. Here are snatches of things I remembered that made it fun for me.

I spent most of my time at the Coxcomb Academy and had a blast. I attended at least three fourths of all the classes they had, taught three of them, and performed at three shows.

Apparently I was Mr. Improvisation. Fortunately, at Henry’s assistance I performed on Sunday at the Teacher’s show, and with Matthew we put on a fantastic improv routine that brought lots of laughs to people. Imagine if I worked hard all year long at Second City and I showed no skill?

I ran “Whose Line Doth It Be” with Matthew. It ran late into the night (10:15 PM, I think). Because we had so many people who wanted to be contestants, we personally didn’t get to play as much as I would have wanted, but it seemed to go over very well.

For one of my classes (the improv workshop), I told the class that I was going to be very critical in my reviews and give a lot of advice. At the end of it (which ran over 45 minutes!), many people came up to me and said, “That was one of the hardest classes I ever had at Pennsic. Thank you!! I really learned a lot.” I learned a lot too, and I think it is helping me to focus and hone my improv skills.

I went out again late at night with Arwen and Gwen. We got to see many different types of performers, visit many camps, and meet many interesting people. I juggled my glowing balls and even sung a song once to entertain a camp.

Jarl Finn got elevated to the Order of the Pelican (about time!), which makes him the Midrealm’s first Quadruple Peer. Matthew got put on vigil for the Laurel during the Coxcomb Graduation Show. The skit the Royalty put on for that was very cool and fun, and he deserves the accolade very much.

The weather was heavenly during the first half of war week. On the cool side and perfect for fighting. Then Poseidon ousted Zeus and the buckets of rain almost washed Pennsic away.

We tried out a new powered inflatable bed from the Skymall, and it worked beautifully. It was very comfortable, elevated off the ground, and never lost any air. Because of that, I’ve had the best sleep at Pennsic I’ve ever had.

I got to dance with my wife at the Pennsic Ball. I love dancing with her!

Tons of jokes were passed around, and my favorite is the Knock Knock joke about the ‘interrupting starfish.’ If you want to hear it, just ask me. Please. Especially if DeForest is around.

Oooh, yes, Elizabeth was made a Defender of the Tower at Cynnabar’s court – the first fencer to get that title. Awesomely cool!

The Fool’s Parade rocked. Sophia did an excellent job. She made appointments for us to go to the three Royalty areas. Aethelmarc was the best: the Queen herself came out and asked for entertainment. We gave her a quick five minutes, then she handed out bookmarks and cookies! The East let us in for a few minutes. The Middle told us to go away because they were in the middle of a meeting, which is understandable. So we did.

Sophia also directed “i Grandissimi,” a commedia performance that only had three days of rehearsal, and the show was a riot! That was another activity that had way too many volunteers, but they had to prune it somehow. I was invited to direct improv warm-ups before rehearsals. I could do a whole class on that.

Ice cream. The Coopers now sell hand-dipped ice cream, with hot fudge and whipped cream. There is now nothing that I can only get at home. Everything I would crave I can buy at Pennsic. Yum.

Sophia and I played a fun game: how many people will stop us on the way to getting lunch. I think she came out ahead of me, but it was close! It is really nice to know so many people.

I think for this year I’m going to work on a bunch of one-man improvisational skits that I could do for before Court and other down times. Not much in improv is done solo, but there are some ideas that I have that, if expanded, can be pretty entertaining.

I hope!

(Although, as this is an open blog, everyone is more than welcome to read, comment, and / or ignore as you will.)

Kay, we made it home! The storms that you and the rest of Pennsic suffered through that Friday night were hellish to drive through, though I thoughts were more with everyone else back in their tents while our van slowed down to a crawl.

The weather got fine about halfway through the trip, and we made it home before 10:30 PM to a clean house and a happy Pythagoras.

Aside from my Improv class, we spent the next two days unpacking, doing laundry, attending Kevin and Kendal’s baby shower, and giving a ton of hugs to Marcus Man, who we missed very much.

It was fantastic spending some time with you at war. I’m glad we had the chance to walk down and have dinner. We are both very busy, and the relaxing walk was excellent.

You are a wonderful person. I don’t tell you that enough, so I thought I’d write it here. And before you go denying it, there are many people who would agree with me. A list can be supplied if the court so rules.

But specific reasons help, so here they are, in no particular order.

• The first impression you get of anyone you meet is always positive – that is, you really think the best about people.
• You are extremely generous, not just with things, but with your time, which is even more valuable.
• You are always one of the first to volunteer and to help.
• You have an extremely positive and happy outlook on things, that you bring people up.
• You are also a realist.
• You are an amazing chef, and you bless others with your cooking. Heck, you got me to like a peanut oriental dish!
• You carry yourself with grace and elegance, and have a heart of gold.
• You are a wonderful friend.

I love you very much, Kay.

Tomorrow morning, at some bleary-eyed early hour, Elaine and I will be heading off to Pennsic. Marcus Man is with his Grandparents, and Pythag gets the whole house to himself, with the occasional visit from Patrick for food and snuggles (thank you again, Patrick!).

I’m excited about Pennsic this year, more so than I have in a while. Because of the hernia, I’m not going to be able to fight in the battles. While that isn’t good, it does mean that I get to spend as much time as I want playing with Coxcomb! Yay, tons of improv, acting, and learning.

Even better, we are only going for six days and five nights! Yup, we leave early Sunday, and get back late Friday night. I’m thrilled. We get to experience the fun of Pennsic, and still get our weekends to do what we want.

I’m really going to miss Marcus and Pythagoras.

Jumping to a totally different topic, Elaine and I have been feeling a bit uneasy lately. On Tuesday she got a phone call from the hospital. Her blood work indicated that there is a greater probability than normal that our second child will have Downs Syndrome.

Yes, the odds are still very much in our favor that everything is fine, but man, it felt like I was punched in the stomach.

They moved up Elaine’s ultrasound appointment to Friday, and we were able to meet with a genetic counselor who would tell us what all this meant. The people at U of M Hospital are fantastic, and while we had a ton of questions, they pretty much answered them all for us before we even had a chance to ask.

Basically, what Elaine had was a quad test (which used to be called the triple test before they added a fourth…in a few years it might be called the quint test). Normally, babies born of a mother who is 35 years old have a 1 in 243+ chance of having Down’s Syndrome.

After the test, with elevated levels of something or other, it is 1 in 85.

One in eighty five. Sure, those are fine odds, but it terrified us. The mathematician in me knows that I shouldn’t worry, but the father in me wants to grab someone and yell, “Please, do something about this, anything!!”

Some quick research showed us that really nothing could be done about it. There are many reasons why the test could show elevated levels in the blood, but the main one is Down’s. And Down’s is genetic, and there is no treatment or cure. It just is.

Looking back, and knowing that the test would only show that, I don’t think we would have taken the test. The only reason we could think of for us to need to know ahead of time is if we were going to abort our fetus based on the results.

While the thought did cross my mind, it was only to ask the question, and my immediate response was, “No, that would not be a reason to end a pregnancy. We still want our child.”

I guess that puts me in the category of “pro-choice but not desiring an abortion for one of our own.” Elaine has the same attitude.

It was scary that I had to face that question head on. Out of academics and into reality.

So, we spoke to the counselor. She told us that DS isn’t hereditary, it just happens mainly when the chromosomes from the egg or sperm don’t split properly, causing there to be an extra 21st chromosome, and that happens more to offspring as the mating couple grows older.

I wish they would have explained that to us during sex education class in high school.

Fortunately, the ultrasound could help determine if the chance of Down’s is more or less likely. There are certain mongoloid features and heart structure defects of DS that might show up even at this early stage, and if they did the odds of our unborn child having it go up. If they can’t tell, it stays the same. If the features look “normal,” then the odds go down.

Another test, called an amniocentesis, can also be performed. Fluid is taken directly from the sac surrounding the fetus. Genetic testing is performed on it, and in two weeks you know for sure if your baby has Down’s or not. 100% yes or no, no doubt whatsoever. Unfortunately, there is a small change (1 to 2 out of 200) that the procedure itself could abort the baby or cause major permanent damage.

That’s a horrifying thought.

We didn’t know what to do. Yes, we’d like to know, one way or the other.

No, that isn’t honest. We’d like to specifically know that our second child is fully healthy. Can’t automatically have that, though.

So, if we aren’t going to abort, would it help to know ahead of time, to prepare if the news is bad, or to relax and feel relief if the news is good?

We couldn’t decide. So we put it off until after the ultrasound.

The ultrasound was amazing. The doctor showed us all the baby’s features: head, feet, hands, heart, spine, arms, legs. All tiny, all moving, very active, with its hands covering the groin, of course. I asked tons of questions, but I also said, “It is very hard to not ask the question I really want you to answer.” The Doctor’s understood how I felt. I still had to wait.

Afterwards, the other doctor came back in, and of course time seemed to slow down to a crawl. I’m sure the gave us the information right away: no indications of Down’s Syndrome, the features looks normal, and everything looks fine.

There is still a chance. It is now 1 in 170 (half the chance we had before the ultrasound). Incredibly low, no chance at all really.

We still can’t stop thinking about it. As the doctor said, if your baby has it, then the odds are 100% and that’s that.

Based on the results, we decided to forgo the genetic testing. Yes, it would be nice to know, but we would have a hard time living with ourselves if anything went wrong because we decided to have an optional procedure done.

Right now we trying to not give it much thought. Like I said, it is in the back of our minds. Always there is a worry, but in the background, like a noise you can barely hear. I know that when it is time for birth and we go to the hospital, all those fears are going to come back in full force.

One positive note is that when the baby is born, they will be able to tell right away if Down’s is present or not. We won’t have to wait two weeks for a genetic test. It will be quite obvious how things are.

And either way, I hope that I’ll feel then as I do now, that I’ll love my daughter with all my heart.

That was the other piece of information we got from the ultrasound. We are going to have a girl.

Course, they can’t be definite.

They never can.

And they tell us that the odds of us having a girl based on what they saw are 2 out of 3.

Yesterday pretty much sucked, with two crappy things happening, and it will be months before I know how it all turns out. Definitely one of those days I’d like to do over, if possible.

So, instead of whining and bemoaning life, I thought I’d talk about something inconsequential: I can’t get this product’s commercial out of my mind. It is for those really stupid Oral-B brush-ups.

Okay, fine, so the idea isn’t stupid. Since we have disposable razors, disposable diapers, disposable friends, disposable tableware, and even disposable political platforms, having a disposable toothbrush isn’t too far of a stretch.

But seriously, are we so busy, and do we eat so much, that we need to put on a little finger condom and scrub our teeth in public? And, no water or sink is required, so I guess that you get to swallow all that crud that was lodged in your teeth. At least this time it has a fresh mint flavor as it slides down your throat.

Let’s put that aside, though, as it is the commercial that gets me. I love it. The little catch phrase is “Rip….Slip! Brush….Aaaah!” (Notice that they don’t say “brush….spit!” so I guess you really are supposed to swallow.) I love that jingle! I find it going through my head constantly and saying it over and over at every opportunity, much to the annoyance of my wife, friends, and cat. My son finds it funny, but he’s only 19 months old, and he finds it funny when I poke myself in the eye.

It isn’t just the jingle (Ahhhh!!). It is the choreography. They have a bunch of young Gen-Y (or is it Gen-Z now?) people doing slow smooth dance motions, and then they arch their backs, raise their arms, look heavenward and exclaim, “Ahhh!!”

That is so much fun, I find myself doing that spontaneously. Try it now! Throw your arms out, look up, and just exhale a throaty “Ahhhh!” It’s better than doing yoga for an hour.

As I frequently need a ladder to climb my mind up out of the gutter, I think of other things when I see this commercial. They all talk softly, almost whispering the words. “Rip.” Then they smile mischievously and “Slip!” the little condom on their finger. Then they seductively stick their finger into a mouth full of perfectly paid for teeth, “Brush…,” and then they climax into an explosion of “Aaaah.”

I’m surprised they didn’t get Monica Lewinsky to be a spokeswoman for this commercial.

The “Aaahs” start of soft and seductive, but soon everything gets louder, the music gets stronger, and the gestures get more dynamic. More and more people are interacting. First they are on a bike thrusting into each other (Ahhh!), then they are a group of people strutting down the mall, almost dancing (Ahhh!), slipping on finger condoms and probing each of their mouths and exclaiming with joy…

Excuse me. I’m getting way too excited. I think I’ll go and brush my teeth.

I had a busy and fun weekend.

On Friday work hosted a Cyberpicnic. It was a park on the northwest side of town. Tons of food was provided, and everyone brought their families, so Marcus Man had some kids to play with it. I did a little Frisbee, went on the swings with my wife, and enjoyed the food and people.

That night we all went to play laser tag at The Zap Zone, which surprisingly is less than a half mile from my house! Cybernet paid for two games for each person. The earlier teams were for all the kids and their parents (Marcus was too young), and the later ones were for the rest of us.

I haven’t done this in years. Fortunately, my friend Kelly gave me some really good advice: keep moving at a fast walking pace. That way, you are always heading towards people, and if anyone is behind you they can’t catch up. Even if you are shot, just keep walking.

The laser tag vests have four places where you can get shot (from least to most points): the gun, the chest, the shoulders, and the back. If you get hit your gun is deactivated for five seconds, but you are also immune. You also have a special button. Hold it down and you have a shield that lasts for ten seconds (immune to shots), and hit the button fast and your gun fires a ‘photon’ which kills multiple people in an area of effect shot. There are also bases to shoot.

The shield is really nice to have when you go after a den of snipers in the upper level. They can’t touch you while you pick them off at close range. While they are recharging, you can escape!

The first game I came in second place (15,350 points), and for the second game I came in first place (15,600 points)! I guess Kelly’s advice worked. I have to admit, it was fun to shoot my colleagues and have them shoot back!

Saturday I went to my improv class (I’ve updated my acting class, and will be updating Class D soon), then went to work to write proposals. I got done at a reasonable hour (sorry, Natalie), so my wife and I watched “The Good Girl” on HBO’s video on demand. A bit of a disturbing movie, and very well done.

That night I checked my blog’s activity log and had a pleasant surprise: in the past week my new filter has blocked over 15 spam entries. YAY! I love it!!

Sunday I went to work in the morning and early afternoon to do more proposal writing, came home, wrote up my journal and relaxed a bit while Elaine and Marcus were at her Mom’s. That night was gaming, and afterwards I wrote this and chatted with Karen via IM.

And I don’t care what she wishes. She is too cute to be an evil minion.

Elaine is home!

Marcus is home!

Pythagoras and I are extremely happy guys!

And I have it on good authority that Elaine loves all her guys too.

I got home a half hour before Elaine did, and got to hang out with Marcus and his grandparents. Tons of fun. It is very cool to see him try to play with the cat. He wants to play so much, but doesn’t know how to not thrash the rope at poor Pythag.

He is learning how to pet nicely though.

Then Elaine came home, and Marcus Man was thrilled. Not as thrilled as I was, but he did get to her first.

In honor of Elaine being at home I’ve put a likeness of her to the left.

I also reduced this page to two columns, and added some links that I use a lot, even when I’m away from my own personal machines.

Right now, at work, I’m in the middle of writing a ton of proposals. So if this isn’t updated much, now you know why. Although, I have to admit, I like to take a break from writing by … um… writing.

(Hmmm, that title might not be the best choice if your mind is in the gutter. Ah well.)

I saw my Marcus Man this morning!

While Elaine is in Colorado (since Saturday), and my surgeon has told me that I can’t lift more than a gallon of milk for two more weeks, Marcus has been with his Grandmother. I’ve checked up on him by phone, but today I went to his daycare to drop off some diapers and visit.

He smiled when he saw me. He didn’t jump and down like when he saw Mommy after three days a while ago, but he was very happy to see me.

I sat down on the floor, and he got up off of his favorite teacher, toddled on over to me, and flopped down in my lap.

Awww.

I love my little Marcus Man!!

I read him a book a few times, kissed him a lot, and hugged the stuffing out of him.

I should have been at work, but I got in very late last night, so I figured I could spend some of the morning here.

When I had to leave he started to cry. Hard.

It broke my heart.

I soooo can’t wait for both Elaine and Marcus to be home tomorrow.

This is something you don't want to hear coming from the cockpit while your plane is banking in steeply for a landing and you can see the ground straight down outside your window:

Two klaxons shrieking “BLOOP! BLOOP!” and a computer voice yelling, “Pull up! Pull up!”