T is for Training

Recently our architectural graphics company, Venture Graphics, took on a huge project of over 100 homes which was more than the four guys on staff could handle so we hired on a few contract workers. For the most part they have been doing excellent work, except for a couple of repetitive mistakes in Photoshop. This week, I've been creating training presentations to address those errors. Check out this one: Tracing and Masking behind Railing. There's a lot of graphics jargon in it, but I think you can get the drift. I'm having fun! Also, with these presentations, we are getting prepared for that day that we will support tent-making missionaries who can learn our work online. See n Say...

B is for Bionicles

We would like to think that as parents our children are being molded into our likeness, but at times it seems that the opposite is true. Take, for instance, Bionicles. For the uninitiated, Bionicles are a set of Lego bricks that are assembled into android-like characters. Stuart and Ethan can spend hours in mock battles and wars until, that is, the fighting get too personal - when a punch to Ethan's Bionicle is retaliated in kind on Stuart's person. (Carolyn and I can tell when things are getting rough as we will hear our children shouting in Gollum-like voices using only the verbs - kill, murder, die, destroy or blow up.)

Still, I can live with that, if it weren't for the fact that these toys have invaded every other aspect of our lives. Like all toys of this generation, Bionicles are diversified into all media - Gamecube and GameBoy games, comic books and DVDs. Fashion is not immune as Nike makes children's shoes with interchangeable Bionicle masks. Though we don't own any of those overpriced shoes we do have a couple of Bionicle electric toothbrushes. You can't get away from the merchandizing. A trip to the market must include a Bionicle or a Bionicle GameBoy game. A visit to Grandma and Grandpa's home will inevitably end with the boys at the computer on the Bionicle website. Dinner is not dinner without a Bionicle comic book as reading material. Any conversation will always include the phrase, "Mommy, Daddy, when can we get the new Bionicle...?"

It's hard not to get cynical about the toys and their pseudo-classical mythology - God-like creatures called the Toa of light, Toa of fire, Toa of wind, Toa of rock, etc. Last holiday season, I mockingly asked Stuart, "Hey, do you know that Lego is making a new Bionicle for Christmas? It's called Mistle Toa and his power is blowing kisses! Ha ha ha!" Of course, Stuart rightfully ignored me as did the webmaster on the Lego website when I entered that joke on their bulletin board - "You're comments have been eliminated as they were deemed inappropriate for this site."

If you can't beat them, join them. We have given in to their habits. Trips to the bookstore have been replaced by Target runs for new Bionicles. So far no weekend fishing expeditions: We took a Saturday outing to a Legopalooza convention, which unfortunately had no Bionicle display. I am sure Stuart and Ethan thought the convention was "Legos for losers." One of the games for Stuart's birthday was a Bionicle building contest, which Stuart won in a cake walk as you can see in this film clip. All his friends were amazed at how fast he was. I wonder if his Lego-building prowess can be harnessed for good... Civil engineer? Architect? Cybernetics? Bionicle evangelist? Or will Carolyn and I find ourselves in ten years time hawking Legos on EBay to recoupe our losses? See n say...

A is for Allergies

I love peanut butter. It's great on celery, in sandwiches - grape jelly or banana - or as a sauce for satay... When I was in school, the cafeteria served peanut butter bars which everyone hated except for me. I'd have 10 at a go. I can just sit in front of the TV and eat spoonfuls of peanut butter straight from the jar. It doesn't matter what brand, creamy or chunky, low fat, low salt or regular... Jimmy Carter is my favorite president... I want a statue of the peanut king, George Washington Carver on my front lawn...

So, it is pretty surprising that Ethan should have an allergy to peanuts. His teacher calls home to tell us that while they were working on a birdfeeder (pinecone, bird seed and string), Ethan wiped peanut butter- used to "glue" the seed on the pinecone - onto his face and developed an allergic reaction. The area around his mouth turned a rosy red as if he were applying lipstick while riding public transportation. Fortunately, it wasn't too serious and Ethan was back to normal that afternoon.

Anyway, I'm reminded that spring is here - flowers will be blooming, pollen hanging like a fog - and my allergies are on the way...

O is for Offense Folk Songs

Recently, I've been digitalizing much of the music that I have stored up through the ages. One of the oldest albums to undergo this media transformation is The Lollipop Tree an LP of children's music sung by Burl Ives, whom most of us know as the voice of the snowman narrator in Rankin and Bass' Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. (Those of us with a bit more culture recognize him as Big Daddy in the classic film, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.) The process of digitalization is quite difficult with the limited hard and software I have. I set up a turntable to tape onto a cassette which in due turn feeds into my PowerBook G4 running Audacity which then transfers the music into large AIFFs for iTunes to finish into MP3s.

It's hard work, but a labor of love: The Lollipop Tree was our very first album. My sisters and I spent many happy hours listen to this record and to think - the memories of my childhood are now distilled into 1s and 0s for eternity (or until my hard drive gives out.)

But, does Ives' mellifuous voice mask a sinister nature in these folk songs? Or in my adulthood, am I reading too much into the lyrics? Could what I once thought was a ballad about an inept ranch hand turn out to be about wimp struggling with his sexuality? I should have guessed as much since the title of the song was The Lavender Cowboy who died with "only two hairs on his chest." This had to mean that he was gay... Or, Chinese...

But how could a song such as Wee Cooper O'Fife get past the censors? I have a hard time believing that generations upon generations of Scottish children listened to and sang this song, accepting its Punch and Judy storyline in which a frustrated husband resorts to beating his snooty wife. It's not something you want your children to mimic, laugh at or sing about. Oddly enough Burl Ives' rendition doesn't include the lyrics in which the threatened wife swears to change:

Oh I will card and I will spin
And think nae mair of my gentle kin!
Oh, I will wash and I will wring
And think nae mair o' my gowden ring
Oh, I will bake and I will brew
And think nae mair o' my comely hue
She drew the table and spread the board
And "My dear husband" was every word.

Anyway, who needs to get on the moral high horse to ban rap music and its profession of violent misogyny? We should start with our own children's music...

S is for Spit

As I watch our boys grow up, I wonder what I will remember of them in the years to come. Hopefully, the painful times will fade away, but not at the expense of mundane though precious moments. Like watching Ethan brush his teeth. Ethan never forgets to brush his teeth - partially because he hates the dentist - but I don't want to forget how he does it: First he stores up gobs of toothpaste foam until dribbling. Before the cup of his mouth overfloweth, he quickly slurps everything back before throwing his head forward with one big whale spout of spit gushing out into the sink. He's always had a fascination with spit as you can see in this video.

I also wonder: Will he look upon me with as much affection 30-40 years from now when I have spit trickling down my chin? See n Say...

O is for Opiate

When Karl Marx wrote that religion was the opiate of the masses, I bet he never roasted a chicken. For Christmas, Carolyn and I got ourselves a George Foreman rotisserie which came gratis with the higher profile grill. As great a kitchen appliance as it is - easy to use, energy saving, calorie reducing, fits on your countertop - I have found it absolutely mesmerizing. A 2-pound chicken takes a couple of hours to roast, but instead of using that time wisely reading my children a story, finish my taxes or muse over my strategy for peace in the Middle East, I was inextricably drawn to the spinning poultry. It wasn't a Pavlovian response in anticipation of dinner. Rather, the rotisserie has a hypnotic effect. Could it be simply the revolving spit? Was it the gentle hum of the electric motor? Or the tender emanating warmth? I don't know. Try it at home to See n Say. Hey, if everyone had a rotisserie maybe we would have world peace...

C is for Chess

A few weeks ago, Stuart joined his school-sponsored chess tournament. Kids from all over the county came. In preparation, Stuart and I trained for a couple of weeks on his GameBoy Dexter's Chess practicing moves and strategies and it paid off: Stuart won 3 out of 5 matches. If he had gotten just another draw - a tied game - he would have medalled with an outside possibility of third place. I was so proud of him. If he were to commit to the game, he has potential to be pretty good. We'll see n say...

The only disappointment I had was that I wasn't able to watch Stuart compete as no parent was allowed in the playing area. After the introductions (which I recorded on my digital camera), we were shooed out to a waiting room where our kids would come every hour or so to report on their progress. It's weird to think that out of all the activities in which a child can participate - sports, choir, orchestra - chess is the only one in which parents are barred from attending. Stuart tells me that the players are isolated as to prevent their parents from cheating: A tug of an ear lobe or a throaty cough could well be codes for QxB!, R-H8, checkmate.

I suppose there are chess moms and dads out there who want to see their children win at any cost. It's a shame that their indiscretions have made us all lose out on the experience.