Yet another trophy for the Dudley boys

The big event of the year at our cub scout pack--verily, in most cub scout packs around the country--is the annual Pinewood Derby. Each scout gets to carve his own little car from a 6-inch by two-inch (or thereabouts) block of wood. There are quite a few rules, and some families go nuts trying to make their car just that much faster than the others. Races are often determined by just a few thousandths of a second.

When I was a boy, I was in cub scouts for a total of about three months, and I hated every minute of it except

• the time a litter of kittens was born at the house of our surly, reluctant den mother, and
  
• the time we took a behind-the-scenes tour of our local McDonald's and all got green milkshakes.

The straw that broke this camel's back and made me leave cub scouts forever was the Pinewood Derby. I seem to remember that about an hour before the competition, my older brother gave me his pocket knife and told me to whittle it into a car. I think I managed not to get blood on anything. I was what, seven years old?

I seem to remember gluing the wheels to the body, but that might not be what happened. Regardless, race time came and I had what was a block of wood with wheels that didn't turn very well. The edges were a little rounded at least. I don't remember even painting it. My car was put on the track with the three others in my heat, the race began, and... my car never reached the finish line. I think it made it all the way down the hill but not much farther.

The night ended early for me, with a lot of tears.

Fast forward thirty years when my oldest son, seven years old, is handed his first Pinewood Derby kit. He was excited. I was terrified. In 8th grade I managed to saw and pound together a few boards into a passable enough tool box to get a B in wood shop. I knew many of the dads in my son's cub scout pack were in construction or spent their leisure time making ornate custom cabinetry and pimping out their Camrys and BMWs. So they knew cars, and they knew woodworking.

I knew Perl and SQL.

This was not going to go well, I could tell. After a brief debate with my wife wherein I argued that Ethan could do every bit as well with power tools as I could, she prevailed and I hacked away. My stroke of genius was to leave it rough (having no skill, it really was my only option) so that it looked like Ethan had built it. He painted it himself, so the illusion was complete.

His car did not finish last in every heat. It actually got one 3rd place (out of four) and three 4th place finishes. But it finished, which was the great thing. During the awards ceremony, though, I learned that our pack did something amazing: they gave awards for design (quality of workmanship) and originality as well as for winning the races.

The next year, our path was clear. To win the design/workmanship trophy, skill was required. So that was right out. To win the races with speed, patience was required. Forget that. But originality--that was right up my alley.

Ethan's aircraft carrier car (we did the pack's first overnight aboard the USS Hornet the previous spring) won first place in originality, and our first Pinewood Derby trophy came home.

The next year the pressure was on for real, though, when Ethan's little brother joined the pack. No doubt he would be crushed if he didn't also get a trophy. So we set to work.

Sam agreed to create a campsite scene on a flat car. It seemed very scout-oriented, and he was able to do much of the painting and gluing himself. For Ethan, who had just gotten his first iPod and totally loved Star Wars episode 1, we settled on a "pod racer." This was a simple car design with what looked like an iPod in the driver's seat, with some old ear buds glued on.

The Dudley boys swept the originality trophies that year, taking first and second place.

Last year we won nothing. We had two losers--Ethan went for speed, and Sam did a landscape of our house (or something like it).


(Yes, those are cinnamon graham letter cookies spelling out "pinewood cars.")

This year, Ethan had moved on to Boy Scouts, and Sam decided to go for originality again. After some protracted brainstorming, we settled on a guitar car. The basic design came out just fine, but it was an insanely slow car. But what could I do? I was traveling a lot and barely had time to make the cuts. Sam sanded and painted it himself. And won 2nd place in the originality category again. Here he is holding his trophy on Thursday night, while I was in Atlanta and unable to attend the race.


So now both Dudley boys have two originality trophies from our pinewood derby. Since our pack gets about 50 cars entered each year, I think that's a pretty good track record (get it? track record? ha, ha!). Unfortunately, Sam still has two more years of the Pinewood Derby. Maybe next year I'll retire and he can do the whole thing himself. I'll just give him some glue and a pocket knife an hour or two before the race.

Mark at the Chattahoochie

I am sure it's spelled wrong, but there you go.

If I weren't married...

If I weren't married with kids, I would so totally become a groupie for Emma Anzai.



You can't really hear the song too well on this clip. It's an awesome song, though. It's called "Howard's Tale." Here it is in a playlist.com play list:

haiku wednesday - January 21, 2009

This week's words are
cadence
humble
resolve

The post-inauguration edition! Yay! I love the word cadence.

---

humble silence breaks
fingernails rap loud cadence
my resolve tested

---

smug bitch ain't humble
tight-assed stair stepper cadence
I resolve revenge

---

firing squad cadence
keeps me humble in my cell
resolve to escape

Did I win yet?

Apparently, Jason Evans liked my story.

Thank you, Jason--not only for selecting mine over some exceedingly worthy entries, but for putting up prizes, taking days and days (and days) out of your life to set it up and collect entries by email and post them and read them, and for commenting on each and every entry. It is truly a labor of love and an Herculean effort.

Other friends who placed included JaneyV, McKoala, Aerin, Precie, and Laughingwolf. Other friends who entered include Jana, Ello, and Lissa. I apologize if I missed mentioning you--please comment if you entered and I didn't put your name here! Congratulations to everyone who entered, especially to those who placed. 125 entries is a good body of competition.

See you tomorrow for Haiku Wednesday.

Funniest Onion Article Ever

Friend Jim posted this link on his Facebook page. Since it was the Onion, I followed. It's probably the funnies Onion article I've ever read, and yes that's saying something significant.

Bush speech in 2001

I normally don't post just links to other places, but this was too good to pass up on inauguration day.

haiku wednesday - January 14, 2009

This week's words are
entwine
forfeit
tryst

Three words with a sort of similar sound to them.

---

their sunlight forfeit
saplings entwine, strive upward
a dark forest tryst

---

email chains entwine
forever loves now forfeit
tryst left them empty

---

forfeit sight and sound
a tryst of touch, taste only
our bodies entwine

Random Complexity (Aerin's Challenge)

Aerin at In Search of Giants is hosting a writer’s challenge to foster inspiration and community. It's pretty low-pressure: 1000 words a month. At the end of the year, you'll have a total of 12,000 words, which is not even half a NaNo entry. Go here to sign up!

UPDATE as of May 6, 2009: I was informed that the artist who created the original graphic that was provided for Aerin's writing challenge has popped up and sent a cease and desist letter to Aerin. I couldn't really care as I really thought the graphic ugly to begin with, but since I thought my friend Aerin had created it, I kept my mouth shut. The above graphic is most definitely NOT the graphic in question; the offending graphic has been removed, and this one put in its place. Does it violate someone's copyright? Hmm. Prove it.

Jason Evans' writing contest -- My Entry

You still have a day (update on Jan 14: TODAY!) or so to enter Jason Evans' tenth writing contest. 250 words or fewer, inspired by the photo on his blog. Get the details and read the other 80 entries here.

I have just now sent in my entry. After Jason puts it up, I will edit this post to indicate the number of the entry and include a link to it on his site. For now, you can amuse yourself by (a) visiting the link above and reading the 80 existing entries, and (b) reading my submission below.

Update on Jan 14: My entry is #90.

The photo that is used as the base for the story, shown here, was provided by Jason.


Sliding
by Peter Dudley

I’m tired. I look at my skinny, motionless fingers in my lap, the black nail polish. The quivering is only in my mind. Orlando knows about the shakes. He still gets them sometimes, and the desperate sweats, too. “It’s like running up the down escalator, Dicey,” he said. “You can’t ever stop.” Cigarettes help, but never enough. He would want me to call.

I shouldn’t be here, sitting with this old Trader Joe’s bag lady waiting for the number 52. My skin prickles, billions of tiny needles, with every thump of my heart. The 52 is late as always. Just like a year ago when Shade picked me up and took me to that party where I got high for the first time. Shade calls me a lot these days, but I don’t answer even though I want to.

Shade’s black Acura slithers up, its thumping music driving my pulse. The window slides down. “Hey Dicey.” Flash of pearls and gold in his smile. “Hop in, girl.”

I stand and take one step, dizzy in desire and need. The door swings out, opened by someone inside, unseen. A promise of painless bliss entices me, but I know Hell awaits. I glance at the bag lady. Her shriveled pomegranate face looks tired, and scared.

I step back up on the curb and shake my head. “Two months sober, Shade.” My steady fingers dial Orlando as I start climbing that escalator again.

My first ever fiction payment

Probably not what you thought... I actually have been paid for three short stories in recent years and also some nonfiction, but my first-ever payment for fiction (and poetry) was waaaayyyy back in college. I happened to receive my check and contributor copies while my mother was visiting, so she made me pose with it. I'm glad now she did. Who has a photo of their first fiction payment?

This was for a poem and short story that appeared in a publication called "The Missing Link," which was the 1988 version of the UC Berkeley Engineer's Week publication. I don't know if they still do this or not, but it was your garden variety fiction and poetry literary one-shot magazine... with the addition of technical papers, engineering cartoons, and things like that. 1988 was the first year they opened it up to all students at Cal. I was in the Engineering school anyway, so had I known about it I could have submitted the prior year as well. I also got a short story (much better than the 1988 story) and poem into the 1989 version as well, but I don't recall getting paid for that. At left is the cover of the 1988 issue; below is a scan of my poem that appeared in the 1988 version. Hey, I was only 20 at the time, I think.

haiku wednesday - January 7, 2009

This week's words are
deception
panic
scheme

Intriguing words today. Possibly more appropriate for an election year, but really they're a timeless combination.

---

darkness--panic grips
deception expertly laid
surprise birthday scheme

---

she's just an old friend
no deception, no scheme here
can't soothe your panic

---

make them panic, fear
lies, deception, and untruths
our war scheme won't fail

More Vermont Photos

I finally retrieved the power cable for my camera and was able to transfer the photos to my laptop. I have only a few. I should have taken more of the inside of the beautifully redone, 160-year-old farmhouse and barn. It's got five bedrooms, and although it doesn't have a spacious feel, its coziness is more than comfortable and never feels cramped. Except when you're trying to fit 13 people at the dining table and have to use two wing chairs to complete the seating. Then it's a little tight.

First, way back before we even got to Connecticut, Captain Mike let my boys into the cockpit for a tour. Ethan (the tall one) got to change an indicator light bulb and program the autopilot. Sam (the short one) got to sit in the pilot's chair but didn't touch anything. It was way cool for both of them.


When we got to Vermont, the weather was mostly gray and overcast, and there was already over a foot of snow on the ground. The weather warmed up and actually rained one day--it was over fifty degrees when we had most of our snowball fights. The sunny pictures below are on the day we left, when it was only 20 degrees but beautifully clear and decidedly gusty.

Looking up the road from the driveway. Yes, it's a dirt road.

Looking down the road from across the street. Still a dirt road.

The boys resting after one of our many epic snowball battles.

He's about to throw that across the pond at me, but there's no way he could make it from there. The pond extends back behind him and is formed by a dam out of frame to my left. The pond was frozen over enough to walk across, but we did not ice skate. It wasn't THAT safe.

Standing at the top of our sledding hill (which slopes down to the right), looking back at the barn and the house. The pond is behind me about 50 yards.

Uncle helps Sam get snow out of his boot and then retie them tighter. With trees and a stream at the bottom of the sledding hill, we do a lot of bailing out at high speed. Snow tends to find its way inside garments.

Just the back of the house, one more time. The windowless section is the back of the garage. In the summer, the meadow is hip-high in grasses and wildflowers and various Vemont things. The neighbor mows part of it with his tractor (my parents do not live here full time). The smallish tree right near the house is some sort of apple, and it attracts deer. Although we did not see any, we saw tracks left during the night.

View from my sister's kitchen window

haiku wednesday - goodbye 2008 edition

This week's words are
glimmer
passion
wish

As 2008 leaves, I wish it a hearty farewell and welcome 2009, which many of us hope will bring change. Not just spare change, though some people that used to dole it out yesterday are today asking for it (like certain banks). I hope bone is enjoying retirement and thomg is enjoying being the 3WW czar now. I think there was another change in management that was pretty significant in 2008-9, but it slips my mind right now. Maybe some African country like Kenya? Oh well. Whatever. Haiku time!

---

a candle's glimmer
I wish it still burned as bright
Joan, your passion shone

---

(I feel it's important here to note that all my haiku are unrelated. The two below do not have any connection whatsoever to the one above.)

---

hope's glimmer stomped out
your wish: keep them closeted!
religious passion

---

I peer through the blinds
glimmer of your bedroom light
a wish of passion

The Vermont Farm

Here's the view from the road past my parents' house in Vermont (the house is just out of frame to the right). What you can't see is just up to the left there's a nice sledding hill and a pond (frozen over right now). We got a few inches of fresh snow and a lot of wind last night, so all our bootprints have been wiped away. It really is beautiful here.

A Very Southwest Christmas

I have been a fan of Southwest Airlines for many years despite the fact that they originated in Texas.

On Christmas morning we left home at 8:40 a.m. for Oakland Airport. Our flight was a few minutes delayed, but no big deal. I was surprised how many people were traveling on Christmas day, and how everyone still seemed relatively jovial. Maybe because they were on their way to see loved ones, or perhaps escaping from too many loved ones.

Four of us were traveling--one purchase ticket and three frequent flier awards--and I had checked in early enough to get in the "A" boarding group. So things were good. Our transfer in Albuquerque went smoothly, though the 9 year old nearly left his backpack in the terminal because his nose was buried so deep in "Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing." Our flight from Albuquerque (I love that word for some reason) to Hartford made a stop in Baltimore... something I hadn't known when I booked it, but it wouldn't have mattered.

But here's the point of my post: Although the flight attendants and gate staff were friendly and helpful and cheerful the whole day, it was this stopover in Baltimore that was special. Since we'd arrived 20 minutes early, we stayed on and had nearly half an hour before they boarded the rest of the folks. I told the boys to go look at the cockpit, thinking they'd take a quick peek and then get shooed back to our seats.

Instead, Captain Michael returned from somewhere and invited them into the cockpit. Ethan (the 12 year old) sat in the co-pilot's chair, and Sam (the 9 year old) stood behind and watched. Fifteen or so minutes later, the boys returned looking like they'd just met Santa Claus in person and had sat in his sleigh. Ethan had not only got to change an indicator light bulb that was out (any union reps in the audience please disregard that last note) but he programmed the autopilot for our flight. The captain of course oversaw every move he made, and the proof was in the actual landing at Hartford an hour or so later, but still.

And we thought it was over. But shortly after takeoff, the pilot announced the flight plan and said, "Of course, thanks to Ethan and Sam for helping us set up our flight today." Then Lynn, the lovely and talented flight attendant who worked our section of the cabin from Albuquerque to Hartford, delivered two small bags. At first they looked like paper lunch bags. But the captain had cleverly used (clean) airsick bags to make up some goodie packs for the boys. Nothing special, but each boy got a pack of peanuts, a bag of pretzels, a Southwest luggage tag, and a pack of Southwest cards.

I can not wait until Southwest opens up routes to Minneapolis and Charlotte. When they do, I won't have any reason to fly any other airline. Certainly not US Airways, who charge you a dollar on the flight for a cup of coffee. Talk about no frills.

Anyway, it turned into my best flight in many years, thanks to Lynn and captain Michael and co-pilot Dave. And it happened on Christmas day.

haiku wednesday - Christmas Eve edition

This week's words are
faith
miracle
whisper

Happy holidays to all my friends and even everyone else. For your listening pleasure, here is a bit of Christmas Cheer in song. Sorry these are kinda weak... I'm in a hurry to get packed for our trip.

---

"please, God" they whisper
close eyes, bitter test of faith
field goal miracle

---

whisper a sled prayer
faith in snowstorm miracle
his sled sits idle

---

"like a miracle"
her lips whisper to my ear
"you were good, too, Faith"

Ten on Tuesday: Resolutions!

This is not an official 10 on Tuesday post but follows up last year's T10 about new year's resolutions. It comes in two parts: First, a report card on how I did against last year's resolutions. Second, a bunch of new resolutions in the greatest tradition of election year promises. Also, a question to all my friends: What are your resolutions for 2009?

Last year's resolutions:

1. Vote. For this I get an A-plus because I voted the right way. Unfortunately, much of California voted the wrong way.
2. Write. For this I get a B-plus because I did write some, and composed the Unlucky 26... but I did not write three short stories like I said I would. I did, however, write two.
3. Submit. A solid C on this one. I submitted one story to a contest (no luck) and another to a different contest (honorable mention). But that was about it.
4. Call and write family more often. Um. Maybe a solid D. I didn't quite fail, but close.
5. Stretch. A on this. I now stretch and warm up pretty well before soccer and workouts. Not that it's done much good.
6. Get trained for scouting. A-plus. Not only did I get trained, but I volunteered as a uniformed leader for both Cub and Boy Scouts. Not that I have the time.
7. Revise. Solid B. I have worked hard on Andie's Gold (nee Gold Miner's Daughter), and it's much improved. But it still needs work in the later chapters.
8. Submit. B-minus. GMD/Andie's Gold have been sent out, but only recently and only to a handful of agents.
9. Tell people I care about them. I think maybe B-plus on this. I've been lots better, but I'm still pretty reserved in this area.
10. Carpe diem. I give myself an A-minus on this. Although my writing goals suffered, my day job flourished and I took on several challenges I might have let pass in the past.

Not bad. No total failures. A few good successes.

Now, a few resolutions for the upcoming year:

1. Do something proactive with the Unlucky 26. Agents, small publishers, or self publish. Not sure yet, but something will be done.
2. Be more proactive with Andie's Gold. (Assuming none of the outstanding queries bear fruit.) I have faith that this book should be published, and I just need to find the right combination.
3. Continue to write. I did pretty well until work got crazy; work will continue to be insane throughout 2009, but I should be able to continue writing at least as much as this year, hopefully more.
4. Don't skip the gym. It's so easy to say "today is too busy," but the days that I go I feel so much more energized. When I don't go, I start getting down on myself. It helps that I now have a buddy who goes to the same gym.
5. Be realistic about my time. This fall, I had too many obligations. I need to scale back something to retain my sanity.
6. Reprise #4 of last year: Write and call family more often. Um, yeah. That's a resolution like for every year of my life.
   

How about you? What resolutions do you have this year? Which ones did you break last year or fail to break?

Fully illustrated Unlucky 26

Dear friends,

I have completed a draft of a formatted, fully illustrated version of my Unlucky 26. As our dear friend Church Lady (bless hear heart) pointed out, it can use some polishing. If you are willing to (or interested in) seeing a PDF of the draft, please let me know by email at dudleypj at gmail.com. I'll send you a link and password.

In accordance with the majority opinion, I will not be self publishing at this time. But I do think I will create a private POD project of this and print some copies for my own enjoyment and use while I pursue real publication. (Any publishers or agents interested in seeing it, also please let me know at the above address.)

prop 8... the musical!

"Prop 8 - The Musical" starring Jack Black, John C. Reilly, and many more... by Jack Black

haiku wednesday - December 17, 2008

This week's words are
hesitate
jealous
neglect

Once more, 7 of 17 syllables accounted for. But it's all good. I love a challenge.

---

I neglect to act
jealous of their fame, I yearn
still I hesitate

---

hesitate and lose
did I neglect to tell you?
jealous that I won

---

hesitate, jealous
you think they neglect your needs
while she has their love

penny wise and pound foolish

Things are tough all over these days. Foreclosures at record highs. Unemployment soaring. Dire projections for holiday retail with consumer confidence in the toilet. It's so bad that people are now throwing shoes at heads of state. (Where do I sign up for that? Is it like a dunk tank or something?)

So I get that companies need to cut expenses. I get that. But come on.

First, I read about the NFL laying off 150 of its 1,100 workers. First, who knew that the NFL employed 1,100 people that weren't players or coaches? Second, assume the average salary of those laid off is $100,000. That's a pretty generous assumption since it's rare that the highly paid management get laid off in these situations. But let's say that's the case. The league has revenues of $6.5 billion. 150 fewer employees at $100,000 a pop amounts to a savings of about $15 million. So the league, under pressure from the severe economic hardship around them, dumps 150 employees for the enormous savings of 0.2% of revenue. By the way, $4.5 billion of that $6.5 billion goes to player salaries. What's next? Because of the economy, will the NFL start charging for coffee in business meetings? Speaking of charging for coffee...

A few years ago, many airlines stopped serving meals on board for "free." Your $500 round trip fare no longer entitled you to having food provided, even on long trips. OK, whatever, I can see how serving hot meals may actually be a pretty big expense and a huge pain in the ass. Then many airlines even stopped handing out peanuts, ending a tradition dating back to 1904, when Orville threw a handful of peanuts at Wilbur after losing the coin flip to see who would make the first flight. Recently, many airlines have begun charging for luggage... some only charge for checked bags if you have more than one, others have begun charging for even one checked bag. Who came up with this stroke of genius is unknown. I bet it's made gate-checks amusing for the airline staff as more people try to carry on their luggage.

Today, though, I discovered that US Air has not only done all those things, but they've come up with the most ingenious cost-cutting, revenue-producing move of all: charging for drinks! I'm not talking about the $4 for beer, $5 for wine (which on US Air is now $7 each). I'm talking about what used to be "complimentary soft drinks and coffee." Now soft drinks are $2. And a cup of coffee is $1. A dollar for a cup of coffee. On the airplane. Stop the madness!

If they served 10,000 free cups of coffee a day, let's say their cost of serving it is maybe $5,000. Now, instead of losing that $5,000 a day, they're earning $10,000 a day. Heck, quadruple that and say they're making a $60,000 daily bump on their books. Over 365 days, that's $2.2 million. And the soda... For simplicity, let's assume that's $2.8 million a year, amounting to $5 million a year difference on the books. Compare to their revenues of $11.7 billion and net income in 2007 of $427 million.

Let me ask you: How much is free soda and coffee worth?

Yeah, I'll think four or five times before picking US Air for my business travel. I can't wait until Southwest reaches Minneapolis and Charlotte.

haiku wednesday - December 10, 2008

This week's words are
enemy
shatter
vague

I love the word vague. Always have. Not sure why. Maybe because it's only an o's tail different from vogue. Which is one letter different from rogue. Which means something sort of like maverick.

---

shatter peace, kill truth
something vague about his war
who's the enemy?

---

"answer hazy"? vague.
shatter the magic eight ball!
enemy inside

---

coffee enemy?
oh! gross. shatter my groove, dude.
be more vague next time

It's time to take sides. You must now decide.

Facebook is apparently the great promoter of democracy. Our friend from Down Under, a bona fide Published Author, demands I come out on my blog and let you, the unwashed masses, decide.

Should I self-publish, or should I not?

Hold on, before you rush to stock up on Spaghettios and canned beans to survive the End of the World, let me give the context. I'm not thinking of self-publishing a novel. No, I hope one day to get my novels out the real way. (I am waiting for the offers to roll in, but some other smart guy has told me I need to send out queries first. Huh.)

I am, instead, considering self publishing The Unlucky Children of Marrow Moor, an Illustrated Compendium of Cautionary Tales. I am currently in the process of illustrating each story.

So, what do you think? Should I turn to the dark side and fly solo (solo as in "alone," not solo as in the Harrison Ford character), or can someone explain how the hell I sell something like this to an agent or publisher?

Lest we forget, our exalted guiding light, His Evilness, self published. Not that I pretend to approach even a pale mockery of a sham of a shadow of his greatness.

wellcome, peple with bad speling!

Inspired by OxyJen's recent mention of some celebrity's hair, and lacking anything more interesting to say, I decided it was time to revisit the ol' blog stats!

First of all, this is my 612th post, though my stats say 611 because like some newbie I overwrote one with another when trying to post anew last week. Oh, whatever. Anyway, I can't think of anything else I've done 612 times except necessary biological functions. But probably I'm just not thinking hard enough.

To search strings: My hits are way up this week thanks to a guest appearance by Hayden Christensen in the last post's title. Judging from Google Zeitgeist, he may be joined by the Georgia Senate, Santa Claus, or Sean Avery soon. One wonders why Plaxico Burress is not in the hot 100 right now. Maybe because you can't escape the frikkin' story no matter where you go.

Anyway. Why am I welcoming bad spellers today? Because they are the searchers who stumble here and happen to stick around! According to Google Analytics, I get the most first hits with any permutation of "corner kick" or "hayden christensen." But those are people just passing through when they see I don't really have any photos of Hayden Christensen's hair in pornographic situations. No, the people that stuck around for several minutes (probably because they have to sound out all the words to figure out they didn't find what they were seeking) searched for

• movie charcters (2.5 pages per visit, and nearly 2 minutes on site average!)
• www star wors (2 pages per visit, and over 2 minutes on site!)
• pete dudley (oh, wait, that's spelled properly... but, like a mute pirate, it's missing an aarrh)

Other search phrases that raise one eyebrow for how the hell my site got selected, and another for why the hell someone is searching for them:

• "i can't imagine mastering the skills"
• 3ww (american terrorist)
• charlie the tuna ringtone
• corner kick foreclosed
• favorite luke and laura moment
• hiding a report card
• jar full of pennies
• list of celebrity brazilian jiu-jitsu practitioners
• poem the pully
• son cannot join swim team because speedo
• you suck spam

And finally, the linky love (top referring blog friends). Click on them because they are worth reading.

• Paca over in Hawaii! A highly educated camelid.
• Sarah who is contemplating fleeing to Canada. (Wait until spring, I say.)
  
• Janey over across the pond! (Maybe we'll get to meet you on our trip in April?)
  
• Robin on the east coast, coming through with clicks even during a hiatus.
• Gene, living his own kind of insanity. (You'll be happy to know the wall is still standing.)
  
• peterdudley.com--probably all those agents looking for reasons to reject
  
• And honorable mention to Freddy's Cafe, Lissa, Tiff, WrittenWyrdd, and Chris. Merry, Blogless, Fairy Hedgehog, JimK, and J@na all get a mention, if only because I love you guys. But if you want links, you gotta put up the clicks, baby.
  

Huckle Cat, marijuana, and Nano--but no Hayden Christensen

Good buddy Gene who has chronicled his personal DIY Insanity through what seems to me a complete home rebuild, has slapped me with a tag. A "seven random or weird book facts" meme. Simple, except for tagging seven other people.

1. When I was little, I could not get enough Richard Scarry. I must have had every book with Huckle Cat and Lowly Worm. I would sit with them for hours and hours. I think I finally moved on to chapter books when I was about fourteen. (When my older son was born, we discovered there are videos. Sweet.)
2. I knew I wanted to write way back in elementary school. My fifth grade teacher had a gold star program where we would get a star for each Newberry book we read or for each book we made and wrote. She taught us how to stitch the paper, add cardboard covers and binding tape. I made at least a dozen such books, mostly fiction. Stories included
   A Trip to Las Vegas, books 1 and 2 (autobiographical)
   The Purple and Green Cat and Other Stories (short fiction)
   Forced Journals (eponymous)
   Tom in Disneyland (fiction)
   More Stories About Tom (short fiction)
3. When I was in elementary school, my brother was in high school. In the mid 70s. He had this really cool book... I think it might have been Vernes' "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea," but I can't recall. He had taken an x-acto knife and cut out the middle of most of the pages, making a secret hiding place inside. I liked to open this book and look at the little pipe and smell the cool dried plants he kept in there. I thought maybe he'd get mad if I said anything, so I kept quiet. It was so cool, but I could never bring myself to cut up the pages of any book, even for a secret hiding place. Of course, I never had any need for a secret hiding place. But my brother's book idea, and its contents, made it into a short story I had published in The First Line a couple of years ago.
4. I don't read very fast. I don't move my lips or anything, but it takes me a long time to read a book. I could scoot through, but I tend instead to be deliberate about the words, sounding them out in my head, hearing the flow of the language as much as absorbing the story. I think that helps with retention, but it makes it hard to finish some books. I think it's also the reason that I don't like some books that other people gush over. If prose seems stilted, arrogant, or self-congratulatory, or if it's just clumsy, I put the book down.
   
5. I love to read aloud to my boys. I read all seven Harry Potter volumes as well as five of the Narnia books to them, and countless others. There was a time I could recite half the Berenstein Bears books without looking at the pages.
6. I have written four novels in the past four years. The most recent, a YA adventure story that takes place during the gold rush, is good enough for publication. I haven't secured representation yet, mostly because I haven't sent out many queries.
7. My second job out of college, when I was 23 years old, was running a tech pubs group at a software startup. Over three years I ran a team that produced comprehensive documentation for a PC operating system (PC/GEOS for you old tyme Geoworks fans) comprising about 5,000 pages over seven volumes. I think I still have a copy, in the original shrink wrap, but I can't find it now.

And now the people to be tagged:
J@na (if she's still blogging)
Janey (if she's not too sick)
Sarah (if she hasn't moved to Canada... oh wait, they have internet there, don't they)
Robin (because I can't tag anyone without tagging Robin too)
Paca (there's bound to be a cookbook reference there)
Blogless (because we need something funny and new from da Troll)
Maria (my own writing mama)
And I'd have tagged Lily, too, but her blog is invitation only and since it's invitation only it doesn't show up in my feed reader which means it doesn't really exist in my universe. Sorry, Lily!

haiku wednesday - November 26th, 2008

This week's words are
fury
guilt
thankful

How could I go nearly a month without haiku wednesday? Maybe it was such a complete, thorough failure with NaNoWriMo that I inadvertently made it NoNoHaiKu as well. Or maybe it was just work, which has been overwhelmingly busy but terribly interesting.

---

Plymouth Fury chokes
gas price goes down; so does guilt
thankful it still runs

---

despite your fury
I feel no guilt in her bed
thankful it's over

---

mom's fury, no guilt
just thankful she don't call cops
I'm outta here, man

out da way FOOL

because it never, ever, ever gets old

Test from my new blackberry

because I didn't have anything interesting to take a picture of at the moment

First the Worst, Second the Best

We had 80 degree weather for the end-of-season tournament for my under-10 boys soccer team. We had a terrific team, going undefeated in the first eight games (5-0-3) before losing to a team that played dirty but still deserved to win the game. My boys lost their focus and were so concerned about their unblemished record that they forgot all the things they'd learned throughout the year. So we finished the regular season 5-1-3 and the third seed in the tournament.

Our tournament had two groups of three teams each, and group play comprised three games. The top team in each group would advance to the championship, and the second in each group would advance to the consolation. We had a tough road ahead with a rematch against the team that beat us, a match against a top team we had not faced, and another match against a middling team we had not yet faced. And I was worried that we had lost our focus and reverted to typical 9-year-old style (imagine the Peanuts characters in their Halloween costumes, with a soccer ball at their feet). Bunch ball.

But I needn't have worried. Our boys came out on fire and dominated the first game, 4:1. In the rematch against the team that had beaten us, we played hard and could have won but for an unfortunate own goal; we still earned a tie, 2:2. What was great was that not one single player yelled at the boy who scored the own goal. Instead, they rallied and played even harder. It all came down to our third game--win and get the championship, or lose and go home. We came out smoking again and dominated, winning 3:1.

The championship game didn't go so well because our boys were tired (we have only 2 subs on the roster where most teams have 4, so four games in two days is tough). Still, it was a great game, and I am so phenomenally proud of the team for making it to the championship game. Even a 2:0 loss to a very deserving champion felt like a win to me. Plus, we got these really nifty trophies for coming second.

I was going to retire from coaching, but I think I may try my hand at U12 next year after all.

imagine, if you will...

Imagine a boy, four years old.  He plays with Tonka trucks in the dirt, creating vast imaginary cities and digging great imaginary canyons.

Imagine the boy five years later, nine years old, swinging at a fastball and slapping it over the shortstop's head to score the winning run on opening day of little league.

Imagine this boy at twelve, his friends teasing him about Cindy Lou having a secret crush on him.  He doesn't understand why he hates the teasing.  He just wants to hang out with his friends.

Imagine this boy at fifteen, discovering he has a deep crush on someone in his science class.  He can't wait to see this classmate, to pass notes and sit close while examining the petri dish or reading the digital scale.  He checks his breath before class, thinks about this person at night in the dark alone in his bed.

Imagine this boy at nineteen, intoxicated by the new blood he's found at college.  He's moved on from high school crushes and has new infatuations, new loves.  He understands his immaturity, his need to spread his wings.  He falls into bed as often as he can.  He learns to become a man--what it is to have his heart broken, and to break another's heart.  And he matures from the experience.

Imagine this man at twenty eight, now with the same lover for five years and certain it's true and forever.  He still gets a thrill pulling into the driveway after a long day at work, enjoys lying in bed together on a lazy Saturday morning, grocery shopping together and driving through the countryside.

Now imagine that this man's love is another man.

You already knew what to expect at the end of my monolog, didn't you?  You already knew, from reading my previous posts, that I was going to drop the gay thing on you, and you're rolling your eyes thinking, "C'mon, Pete, you telegraphed that from the word Tonka."

Now imagine the boy in this story is your own son.

And now think about what your yes vote on Prop 8 accomplished.

We need to work HARDER to protect marriage

I have, one might say, finally seen the light.  In order to protect the sanctity, the integrity, of marriage, we need to protect it all the way.

Marriage only between a man and a woman?  Yes.  But marriage--for the good of the family, for the strength of our very society built upon the family unit as its foundation--must be returned to the purity that it once enjoyed.

Because a marriage will grow weak if the husband and wife are separated for long periods, people who are likely to live in different places for more than two consecutive weeks within a twelve month time should be ineligible to marry.  This would rule out incarcerated convicts, fishermen, husbands who take frequent long business trips, and anyone in the military.

Because anyone who has failed at marriage once is likely to recidivate, divorcees should be ineligible to marry (again).

Because marriage must originate from a place of purity, anyone who has had premarital sex should be ineligible to marry.  This would eliminate nearly everyone who attended college and everyone over the age of twelve in Arkansas.

Because the tradition of the female as the home-based caregiver is critical to the continuing health of the family unit, any woman with a job should be ineligible to marry.  Furthermore, any woman who has ever held a job is likely to suffer internal conflict after giving up the job, and that would only lead to resentment.  Thus, any woman who has ever worked should be ineligible to marry.

Because marriage as a state-recognized institution is primarily for the encouragement of family units, any person who is likely to use birth control after the wedding should be ineligible to marry.  (Difficult perhaps to enforce, so it should instead be illegal for married couples to use any form of birth control.)  Furthermore, any individual professing a desire to go through life without procreating should be ineligible to marry.

Because people who were abused or molested as children have a higher statistical probability of engaging in similar activities, and because such activities endanger the family unit, anyone who has ever been abused or molested or raped should be ineligible to marry.

Children require a solid, fully functional, two-parent (mom and dad) family to grow into proper, society-supporting adults.  Thus, any child of a single parent household (through no fault of his or her own) must be deemed unlikely to be able to sustain a proper relationship and therefore must be ineligible to marry.

Who will help write this new, much more robust and vigorous Protection of Marriage amendment to the California constitution?  I am certain I could get enough signatures to put it on the ballot.  Anyone who voted YES on Prop 8 would be compelled by the sanctity of traditional marriage and the need to protect the health of the proper family unite to vote YES on this proposition, too.  Anyone want to take a stab at the language?

By the way, do people who "see the light" understand that what they're seeing is the perfect integration of the entire rainbow?

A brighter day

A friend's post about happy people at Home Depot brought to mind a post I wrote just prior to the 2004 elections about human events causing global changes.

During George Bush's first term, the brightness of the visible dark side of the moon increased, which means that light reflected from Earth increased. Ergo, light reaching Earth from the sun decreased, which meant the Earth literally got darker after 15 years of increasing brightness (Reagan and Clinton). Unfortunately, 23 seconds of googling failed to yield the figures for 2004 through 2008. I'm guessing the Earth continued to get darker in Bush's second term.

Now, though, I am anticipating a reversal with the election of Obama. We've already noticed happy people at Home Depot (which therefore refutes the "global warming" "theory" since clearly they're ice skating in Hell today). And happy people all over. The world is getting happier already, just two days after the election.

Don't believe the world was impacted by the election? Check out the initial analysis by the global consciousness project, The election was as impactful to the global consciousness as the September 11th attacks were.

Personally, I'm planning on buying stock in sun screen manufacturers. It's gonna get brighter down here on planet Earth over the next eight years.

Bush devil image lifted from this place via google image search. Chart lifted from the Global Consciousness Project page linked to in the text.

Election thoughts, and then I'm done

One last set of thoughts on the election.

First, thanks to all of you who dropped by to read my drivel and add some intelligence through the comments. Now, my random thoughts:

• Both speeches last night were brilliant, and perfect for the attitude that needs to be in place to begin making progress against all the troubles facing the country.
• Where the hell was that John McCain during the last four months? Gracious, articulate, moderate, charming, courageous.
• Obama can't accomplish squat without Congress, and I hope to hell that Congress takes a truly inclusive, eyes-open approach to solving our nation's problems. I do not have high expectations on that count, though. Politicians being who and what they are, I expect they're already intoxicated by their huge majority and trying to figure out just how much they can ram down everyone else's throat and just how thoroughly they can consolidate power for the next X years.
• Hopefully not lost from Obama's speech: a sincere and dramatic appeal for people to reach out and help each other. Neighbors need to know each other. Parents need to act like parents, not children. People need to watch out for one another, offer a helping hand instead of a bitter epithet. Anyone who thinks government will solve all society's problems without the cooperation, work, and sacrifice of individuals in our communities is in for a lifetime of disappointment and frustration.
• Is he ready to lead? Holy smokes, Obama was PRESIDENTIAL in his acceptance. Not only is he ready, but he's a natural. I hope the Obama we see on stage is the same as the real Obama behind closed doors. If so, we chose wisely.
• Oh, wait... is Bush still in office?
  

And now I'm done (I think) with political posts for a while. Which is a good thing because I don't have any time to think about politics any more.

NaNoWriMo update: I've fallen way behind and am thinking of dropping the effort. Got some good ideas and even a pretty good opening, but there's just no time this year for writing.

Vote! Or don't!

Make sure you go out and vote today.

Unless you're planning on voting for McCain, or for California's Prop 8. In that case, stay home and do not vote.

Teaching my kids to exercise their first amendment rights

Rally against prop 8

Prop H8: Because some Americans are less equal than others.