I was looking back over some of my more recent posts (although recent is a relative term given my lack of posting these days). One thing I've noticed is that I never really intended this to be a play by play rip-off for how my day (and by extension my family and friends days) goes. Somehow it ends up being mostly that and I apologize. My life is rarely interesting enough to sustain me, let alone the people that pop in here regularly. That being said, I'll attempt to have things other than what went on since I last posted.
I did take particular notice of the post I had a few Thursdays ago. I think I should clarify, it's not like I knew I was becoming a father and all of sudden I was reduced to weeping in a corner like a little girl without a pony. Don't get me wrong, I felt emotion before I found out I was going to be a father.
When I was 6 my parents took me to see this in the theater. During the scene where Superman renounces his powers to marry Lois, I started to cry. It's the first time I can remember crying for a reason outside of the kid's reasons (I'm hungry, I'm tired, you didn't buy me the toy I wanted, etc.). My mom thought it was cute and I just didn't quite understand the concept of movies not actually being reality. Hell, when I was 6 I still wanted to grow up to be Superman.
I've also cried on other occasions. When the Penguins won the Stanley Cup for the first time. When Badger Bob died. When Herb Brooks died. My wedding. The episode of M*A*S*H when Henry Blake dies. Miracle. But I usually had some sort of control. Until now.
We had our son dedicated in church on the 8th. It's not an occasion to cry and during the dedication, I didn't. However, my Grandmother (my mom's mom) was able to make it to the dedication in a wheelchair. Approximately 10 years ago she was given less than 2 years to live. She has a leaky heart valve that isn't able to be repaired and eventually will kill her. The entire family knows this and I think my mother and her brother are prepared for it, at least to the extent that they can be. I'm not. My Grandmother was the most independent person I knew. She lived alone (at least for most of my memory...my Grandfather and Uncle Frank died when I was 3). She carried coal in for her furnace every winter til I was a senior in high school and we basically strong armed her into getting a gas furnace. She walked the length of town every day going to the post office and grocery store to pick up anything she needed. The only thing she didn't do was drive. She wasn't able to make my wedding and I've always felt a piece of sadness in that happy memory. She was at my son's dedication and if I didn't believe in a God before, I did that day. With no advance planning or warning, two of her favorite hymns were part of the service. She was so happy and in turn we were all happy. Why am I bringing all this up, you ask? Actually you probably stopped reading several paragraphs ago, so I bring this up for me. On Friday, she slipped while she was walking and broke her ankle in two places. Now, she's become depressed. For someone that age, in her health, depression is a bad thing. So, on the way to drop off Dad's baby we stopped to see her. She's absolutely so happy to see Gage it breaks my heart to have to leave. I know that every day is another day closer to not having her, it's always been like that and the same could be said for anyone or anything, but after having known her for almost 30 (Yes 30 dammit) years, I can't imagine living without her.
Now that I've gotten that out of my system, not much else is going on. My uncles bought a house, so I helped them move in over the weekend and my cousin is looking at Carnegie Mellon as a prospective college, so I get to show off my campus in a personal tour.
On a completely different topic, I rarely take recommendations seriously anymore. Call it the whipped pup syndrome, I guess. I can't help but wipe out everything I've heard and judge for myself. In the category of books, I've had positive recommendations that I thought were horrible (Moby Dick), and negative recommendations that I thought were, on the whole, good (Crime and Punishment). Finally, Susiezy recommend Wuthering Heights. Actually, to be fair, she recommended that I stay the hell away from it. She was right. Hear that, you were right. I certainly don't say that often. And, to make matters even more interesting, I'm now doing something that I rarely, if ever, do with a book. I'm re-reading it. A few years ago, my brother gave me Black House for Christmas. Black House was written by Stephen King and Peter Straub and is the sequel to their first novel together, The Talisman. Now, I read the Talisman when it first came out back in '84 or '85. I wasn't more than 10 or 11. My memory is good, but not quite that good. So, I figured I would re-read what was a great novel the first time around in order to set myself up for what I hope is an equally enjoyable sequel. I'm going to have to do the same thing with the Dark Tower series. I haven't read the first one since the mid-80's as well and number 7 comes out sometime later this year, I believe. So, no it's not an obsession like other people I know. I certainly haven't re-read anything that I've read within the last five or six years. And, I haven't read the Harry Potter series so much that the cover is frayed and torn and the pages are almost worn smooth of all type. That is reserved for the truly addicted. Right, Suze?

I posted this last year in the wake of the tragedy and though I'm a day late this year, the sentiment is still the same.

"If there's any justice in the hereafter, Brooks is standing behind the bench of a hockey team in heaven today facing his old Wisconsin foe, Bob Johnson. The ice is wide and smooth and every player can skate like the wind and pass the puck perfectly from tape to tape, skating in seamless and ceaseless motion. There are no neutral-zone traps, no goonery. Just smart, swift playmaking and intelligent defense, the hallmarks of Herb Brooks hockey. Johnson, whose sunny nature shone in stark contrast to Brooks' serious reserve, saluted everyone he met by declaring, 'It's a great day for hockey!' August 11th, 2003 was not a great day for hockey."--Helene Elliott, Los Angeles Times

It's been a pretty busy week. Tuesday, I spent all day preparing documents for an auditor who never showed up. Wednesday they had their annual Rah-Rah-We-All-Love-The-University-Meeting. At least they served lunch. On the bright side, we did get to leave a couple of hours early.
Thursday at work, I was trying to counsel someone on their Harry Potter obsession. I don't think I succeeded. I believe the last thing she said was, "I'm thinking about a tattoo of a lightning bolt in the middle of my forehead." Thankfully, I'm one of the most normal people in the world. I'm level, calm, and have no obsessive tendencies or qualities. It's this rock-steadyness that will enable me to help her through her problems.
Then, last night I thought I had stepped into some bizarro universe. I got home and Terri immediately handed me Gage and said that I should go get dinner and a movie while she mowed the lawn. I had to step outside to make sure the house number was correct. She had been participating in a public policy forum and had gotten a free rental card from Blockbuster, so I understood the movie part. Dinner and mowing the lawn kind of threw me. So, I put Gage in the car, headed down to the Blockbuster and began to marvel at the synergy and marketing strategy that was created. Near where I live there's a Pizza Hut and Blockbuster side by side. So, I went into the Pizza Hut, ordered dinner (the new twisted crust breadstick pizza-which got me wondering how in the hell they got away with creating that in the Atkins friendly low carb South Beach hell that the world is becoming lately), then strolled over to Blockbuster, looked over all the new releases, selected a movie, paid, and walked back over to Pizza Hut in time to grab my pizza, get in the car, and go home. That is enough to instill brand loyalty in me. It was quick, convenient, relatively inexpensive, the pizza was good, the movie was ok, and I'm hooked. I'm not hard to convert. I guess it comes from being normal and average.
I did have one problem with the movie. Since Terri was mowing the lawn, I didn't get the special edition of Die Hard like I would have normally. I decided to get something that she would like. So, Gage and I picked out this. I know, a chick flick without a doubt. However, in my defense, I get to stare at Jennifer Garner for an hour and a half. And, really, how bad could it be. So, we started watching the movie. I can believe that a 13 year old has enough expensive camera equipment to make most paparazzi shamed. I can buy into the fact that a 13 year old wants so desperately to fit in that she wishes she was 30. I can buy into the wish dust concept that makes it come true. I can buy into the fact that she doesn't remember anything from the past 17 years. I can buy into the fact that she ended up with everything she ever wanted, a cool life, working at her favorite magazine, and gorgeous as hell. I can also buy the fact that she's currently dating a New York Rangers hockey player. However, here's my problem. When the hockey player (a fictional player, not an actual NHL player) walks over and meets some of Jennifer Garner's high school friends, he attempts a few lame jokes and then apologizes saying, "I'm sorry, I get so giddy after we win." RIGHT THERE! NOPE! DON'T BUY IT! I mean, seriously, suspended disbelief can only carry you so far. Everyone knows the Rangers don't actually win. They wait around for the opposing team to screw up and lose.
Anyway, tonight is another work around the house/shopping night to get ready for Gage's Dedication on Sunday. That ought to be a pleasant event. It's the first dose of reality that Terri is leaving the Catholic faith and by the same token, Gage isn't being raised in the Catholic faith. Don't get me wrong, I'm going to end up taking all the blame and hatred from her family. As usual. That part doesn't worry me. I'm worried about later on when Gage begins to understand the difference. I'll never pressure him into one corner or another, but her family will. Hopefully, he'll recognize the game. Oh well, that's way into the future. For now, I just hope they keep the peace on Sunday. That is, if they actually condescend to show up.

Well, Friday we worked around the house trying to get all those little projects that build up taken care of. On Saturday I headed out to cut the grass only to be foiled again by the Pittsburgh weather.
Saturday night I headed down to Chiodo's bar. This bar has been operating in Pittsburgh since 1947. I'll contend (as will many others) that Chiodo's has the best beer selection in Pittsburgh. They also have really reasonable prices. Most import beers are $3.00. Anyway, Mark, Tom, Adam (Mark's brother), and I headed down to have a few drinks and hang out with Tony, who was guest bartending. The reason he was guest bartending is because it could be the demise of Chiodo's. Apparently Walgreen's Drugstore has put in a bid to buy and subsequently demolish the bar. It would be quite a shame, but it has to pass through all sorts of channels before it actually happens. We also met up with Diane and Ed at Chiodo's. So, it was a pretty good night.
Sunday, we headed to church and then back home so that I could make a cake for someone's 30th birthday. A nice tombstone cake with the inscription..."Here lies Tom's hair. After thirty years it left him bare."
So, we hung out with Tom and Tiff (a buggy driver from college) on Sunday night. Today, Terri and Gage came to visit me at my office and we went out to lunch. Everyone at the office loves Gage. They're impressed with the fact that he's so alert and mobile.
That's about all for today I guess.