Those Who Cannot Remember The Past Are Condemned To Repeat It - George Santayana

It's been nine years. In the ensuing nine years, since our view of our world and ourselves changed, have we gotten a little removed from the event? Do we look on it, even in the little time that has passed, as an event as remote from our daily lives as Pearl Harbor? A tragic event that shaped us, but is so far in our history as to not effect us? I believe it continues to shape us; it's an event that causes our future to be incredibly fluid, more so than it might have been otherwise. The images from 9/11 are harsh and still shocking. Seeing them again is like being back on that Tuesday morning, in tears and shaking that such a horrific tragedy could happen. Not just here, but anywhere.

I wish they would make Ground Zero and the field outside Shanksville national monuments. I love the pictures of the twin pillars of light reaching high and brilliant into the night sky. I wish we were not violently changed nine years ago, but since that is futile, I hope we never forget.

Are You Sure This Isn't Skinamax?

I saw this on in a patient's room on network TV at 1130 in the morning. It's almost uncomfortable to watch...I kept thinking I was going to get busted for watching pr0n!

My friend posted this on FB and I had to repost it everywhere because it made me laugh. Mostly because the Cat from Hell is named Sylvester and this is the same attitude I get from him every freaking day.

First Day of School 2010 edition

6th Grade Thug Life:

When did this kid get so enormous?


2nd Grade Cuteness:

He wasn't too excited....

FB in Idaho

FB spent a week in Idaho with Fun Uncle Chris and the Best Aunt and Cousin Ever.  Reminiscent of the summers of my youth where our parents would turf us to our grandparents (11 miles from where FUC [ha!] lives now) for a few months.  There we would say goodbye to Grandma at 7 in the morning and she wouldn't see us again until dinner.  Sometimes we'd roll around for lunch and grace her with our presence and whatever smells we happen to be exuding at the moment.  We ran wild and free; fishing, swimming, biking, growing up.  So my bro sent some pictures:

They swear that's a foot and a half long corndog from the fair, but I have my doubts.  The least offensive guess I have is a deep fried Geoduck.  

FB enjoying a massive jalapeno filled hamburger. Apparently, he hammered this back along with a big order of curly fries and more than one soda.  Oh, to be a growing boy.

FB and the Cuz on the beach cruisers, preparing to ride into town.  I bit my tongue about the lack of protective headgear.  He spent the week with the Cuz (formerly known as PChinkins..now lacking the chins) riding all over the town like some pedal power bike gang.  I would like to point out that, despite FB wearing the same thing, these pictures were not taken on the same day.  And that I sent him to my brothers with more than his swim trunks and a single shirt. 

This may be the closest he came to bathing all week:

My bro assured me they were in the water everyday, and that he took that opportunity to keep FB as clean as the dog.  After his shower the night he got home I asked him how it felt to be clean and he said that he had taken a shower that morning.  When I said that was because his uncle knew better than to send him home to me without one, he replied, "Aunt Ardie wouldn't let me out of the house unless I took one first."  Which frankly, makes more sense.  My brother wouldn't have cared if the entire complement of passengers on the plane would need to be revived after being overcome by the miasma of funk from my boy, but the SIL is a little more philanthropic.

I'm not dead! I feel happy! I feeeeel haaaapppy!

No, contrary to how it appears, I have not shuffled off this mortal coil and joined the choir invisible.  It does appear that I channeling a serious amount of Monty Python, however.  I've started a new job....actually, it's the same job, it's just in a different locale, and thus entails an ass ton of different protocols, paperwork, etc, ja niin pois pain.  (That there is Finnish, is pronounced "ya neen pois pine" and means "et cetera."  I'm in a strange mood; sue me.)  More about the job later (like how I'm winning friends and influencing people, namely an anesthesiologist, by pulling an IV he didn't think was running well enough [it was BTW] after he started another one.  What?  She was an uncomplicated section.  And I hadn't had any Pepsi yet.  So I had a brain fart that would have caused even anesthesiologists that know and love me to question my skills.  Let alone one who doesn't know me from some chick off the street.  Whatev...)

Steve's biological father sent me a nice wad of cash, which he does on occasion in, what I believe to be, an exercise in redemption for being such a dick when his kids were little.  He wanted me to do something fun with the boys so I bought this:

It came in three separate boxes with a total weight of 286 pounds.  The enclosure poles alone weighed 174 pounds.  I thought I was going to rupture something dragging those suckers into the backyard.  It took me three days after work to put this sumbitch together.  The trampoline itself was no sweat; legs and frame snapped together and the mat was fairly simple as well despite 96 tension springs and "help" from an overexcited 7 year old, which resulted in some of the said springs getting hooked a little off kilter and needing to be unhooked and then re hooked in the proper place.  Do you know how hard it is to unhook a tension spring after it has found a home?  I was sweating more than  virgin in a cat house.  The enclosure poles were an exercise in torture. The bottom and top half of the poles had to be joined, then the top and bottom foam padding had to be put on, then you had to put this big, blue vinyl condom on over that, and put on these notched top caps.  (There was much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth going on, not to mention some more blood, sweat, an inkling of tears.)   To attach the poles to the frame you had to hold these 20 pound poles about 2 and a half feet of the ground while attaching them with three U rings.  They were so kind as to include one of those cheapo, flat wrenches that are completely useless, and my children had decided to get into my socket set for some reason known only to themselves, despite threats of a fatwa if they mess with my tools without asking, and proceeded to lose the ONE socket I could use.  So, I attached all eight of these poles with a little open end wrench.  Much cussing ensued.  Senior Chief's wife called in the middle of this and when FB told her I was putting up the trampoline she asked him if he were helping or hiding in the house.  My friends know me oh so well.   And FB laughed when she asked and not because he thought she was joking.  Putting up the net involved a step ladder, bungee cords that had to be hooked to the top of each pole, weaved through the net, hooked on the frame, and then a nylon tie was wrapped around all of that, and tied on the bottom. EIGHT FREAKING TIMES!!!  Next time someone sends me a bunch of money, I'm spending it on cookies and Pepsi. 

The boys seem to enjoy it, however.

Yeah, I don't know why it's not right side up, and I'm too tired to figure it out.  Besides, keeping your brain engaged will help ward off Alzheimer's.  In parting, while I was hugging SoS goodnight he informed me that he could see down my shirt and he was lookin'.  As you see, nothing changes here.

Angel Flight

Watch through the backstory, get to the song and listen to the lyrics. With the drive to get the Runyon Creek Bridge named after Patrick, this seemed apropos.