Rush's Rushes Come to a Stop

Admittedly it is with more than a bit of glee that I report the following from CNN.com

Rush Limbaugh was arrested Friday on prescription drug charges, law enforcement officials said.

Limbaugh turned himself in to authorities on a warrant issued by the state attorney's office, said agency spokeswoman Teri Barbera.

The conservative radio commentator came into the jail at about 4 p.m. with his attorney Roy Black and was released an hour later on $3,000 bail, Barbera said.

The warrant was for fraud to conceal information to obtain prescription, Barbera said.

The hypocrisy of the thrice-divorced, family values proponent also know for his right-is-right law and order stance has finally come home to roost.

That's MISTER Goody-two-shoes to you!

And while I can attest that nice guys do NOT finish last, we’re also no where near the front either.

You Are 10% Evil

You are good. So good, that you make evil people squirm. Just remember, you may need to turn to the dark side to get what you want!

How Evil Are You?

Couldn’t we just change the title to “How Uninteresting Are You?”

Some odd questions though…equating anime with evil?  Eh, it’s just for fun and means nothing.

Lo, the End is Near

Our men have had visions and our women have dreamed dreams.
There are wars and rumors of war, in Babylon no less.
The End Times are here.
The time has come.
For on the very same day two babes were born from opposing camps. This can only mean one thing: both the Second Coming and the Anti-Christ are now here on Earth. But, to hide their identity from the orthodox believers, they both took the form of little girls.
Okay, so Brooke is no "Virgin Mary" and her mother is certainly no St. Anne, nonetheless I will ascribe that little baby Grier may well be the Second Coming of Christ.
But, how can I be so certain? Because on the same day the spawn of Tom Cruise and his brainwashed concubine Katie Holmes issued forth: Suri.
Soon we will see the 144,000, the chosen ones, those who own a copy of Blue Lagoon AND Pretty Baby disappear in the Rapture. Then will come the time of Tribulation when no one dare be "glib".
O woe unto us for the trials that await.

Reality TV, what a concept?

I belong to one of the smallest minority groups on America today and I and my people are under attack.  You see, other than the first season of The Apprentice, I have never seen more than about 30 consecutive seconds of any so-called "reality" show.

Sure I'm as likely as the next person to slow down at a traffic accident but just to get an idea of the damage; I most certainly do NOT want to see any carnage.  That's how I view these shows: slowing down to view emotional carnage.  "How conniving and underhanded will the tribe-members be this time?"   "My goodness, can you believe how lazy and out of touch that mother is to let her kids run around like that?"  "I bet Donald will see right through that two-faced tramp."  "Ooo, I wonder if Paula will be sober enough to get into another cat fight with Simon."  It's one thing watch a soap opera filled with such depravity but these are being sold to us as real people, real relationships, and real reactions.  I guess, like a sporting event, the "unpredictable" nature of it all has some appeal.  But as the editors and producers really are the ringmasters in this circus of humiliation, it's hardly cínema vérite.

I long for art, the creative expression of themes and ideas that move the human spirit, not just our baser animal nature.  I want to hear snappy, crisp dialogue like on West Wing or Cheers or Frasier.  I want to get to know complex characters like Andy Sipkowicz or Dr. Gregory House or Alan Shore.  I want to be challenged by edgy comedies like The Simpsons or Arrested Development.  I want a chance to enjoy creepy yet fun experiments like Twin Peaks and Eerie, Indiana.

"Reality Television", IMNSHO, is to culture what a Big Mac is to cuisine.  It passes the time as effectively as McDonald's can fill your stomach.  And, it's just as cheap...but with a far better return on the investment.  Money drives the nets to make them and craven scheudenfreud drives many to watch them.  

I do not watch "reality" unscripted television.  I do not want to watch it.  I was particularly careful to avoid these shows when we were a Nielson house but still they persist.  And as more and more of them fill the airwaves, there's less and less original programming.  I and my fellow television minorities are under attack and left with no recourse but to retreat from television even more.  But that further separates us from the society at-large.  We are being exiled within our own living rooms.

Regrets, I've had a few...

Maybe because it is the Lenten season this time of year is often a time for reflection which, for me, invariably leads me to ponder the road(s) not taken.

”Of all the words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these... it might have been.” -- John Greenleaf Whittier

Not to discount the wonderful things in our lives now which we might have missed had we taken a different path, however, there’s always the “what if” of our past that bubble up every now and again. So without diminishing current relationships and states in life, what are your regrets of your past? I’ll start.

I regret…
• … being overweight throughout high school (and my entire life) which robbed me of so much self-confidence that I never thought I was worthy of the relationships I really wanted (e.g. Kendra Torrey: extremely cute, highly intelligent, talented musician and completely out of my league.) or the roles I desired (Editor-in-Chief, or the lead in the plays).
• …not “playing the field” in my early years. (Could never master being the kind of jerk that women seemed to go for; I was always the “pal”—the pal who goes home alone.)
• …listening to my well-meaning mother and all the others who convinced me that acting and performing is only for “special” people.
• …not joining the military because I thought I was too much of an anti-authority smart-ass (and a physical wimp).
• …not understanding the inherently adversarial relationship between schools and parents of special ed kids early on.
• …never learning to ask for help when I didn’t understand something.

Interestingly, I never realized until now that all of my regrets are things I didn’t do, not things I did. I guess that’s what comes from being a “good kid”. No criminal record but a feeling that you missed out on a lot. But before we spend too much time on this, another quote would be instructional:

“Regret is an appalling waste of energy; you can't build on it; it's only good for wallowing in.” – Katherine Mansfield

It’s taken me some time but I’m finally at a point where I can look back on my regrets and simply accept them like the scar on my hand. It’s not particularly attractive but it is part of what makes me uniquely me.

When teachers attack...

My middle kid, a freshman in high school, has moderate-to-severe learning disabilities.  She spends most of her day in self-contained LD classes but as we and the school strive for a least restrictive environment, she often has a class or two in the mainstream.  In one of these classes (“advocacy”), she apparently had to complete some form which asked for her grade level.  As she is aware of the new calendar year, she was a bit unsure if her grade level also changed and she asked for some help/direction.  As she relates the story, the kids in the class responded with conflicting information and she became frustrated (and no doubt embarrassed) and crumpled the paper, tearing it and allowing some pieces to fall to the floor.  The teacher then came over to her and they must have engaged in some sort of dialogue because somehow my daughter ended up standing and facing the teacher who demanded that she pick up the paper.  At some point the teacher said, “That’s it!  I’ve had it.” and pushed my daughter backward hard enough that she fell hitting her back and her head against the teacher’s desk (metal).  She has several bruises today and is quite sore and her head hurts.  She was also complaining of being “unfocused” which is an indication of mild seizure activity (her epilepsy caused her LD).  Until now, proper meds and a surgically implanted device have cut her seizure occurrences and intensity dramatically so I am concerned that this injury might have exacerbated her condition.

I am a bit too close to the subject matter and it is too recent for me to completely trust my judgement.  So I am asking for input from cooler heads: what would you do now?  What do you think I can expect to happen?

Oh and regarding the veracity of my daughter’s report of the incident…although she is an LD kid she is extremely honest at least as she perceives the world.  The problem is that her disability may skew her perceptions sometimes.  Regardless, she is bruised and sore.  My wife took pictures of the injuries but I have not yet seen them myself.

Sea Cruise

Apparently actor Tom Cruise would rather "get clear" than get clean OK, I admit to a bit of envy of a man my age schtupping Katie Holmes^* (she won me over in her luscious nude scene in The Gift) but, c'mon, someone needs to prick that prick's ego to allow a bit of a sense of humor inside.

Overshadowing such trivial events like the Downing Street Memo, more deaths in Iraq, Global Warming confirmations, and the threat of recess apointment of John Bolton, we must examine the seminal event of the year: "The Squirting of Tom". A phony reporter maneuvers a "microphone" in front of the publicity seeking Mr. Cruise at the London premiere of his latest flick (Steven Speilberg's War of the Worlds) and squirts the Tomcat right in his kisser. From the video I've seen it looked like Cruise was smiling at first but that could also have been a grimaced reaction to watery onslaught. Whatever. Immediately, Cruise seems to realize that he's been made to play the fool in front of all those people and all those cameras and we see what happens when we mere mortal dare to taunt a demigod.

Oh, if only Kokopelli was there...<cue dream sequence effects>

Cruise: Now, why would you do that? Why would you do that?
Koko: Uh...because it's funny?
Cruise: That's incredible you would do that. I'm here giving you an interview...
Koko: Excuse me? Giving me...? All the press here are giving you the opportunity to promote your movie and help you make even more money. This isn't news by any stretch of the imagination. It is hype and you and your studio are the primary beneficiaries so don't try to come off all generous just because you deigned to lower yourself to talk to the "little people".
Cruise: ...answering your questions and you do something really nasty. You're a jerk.
Koko: Geez, Tommy, it's just water. It's not like it was pig's blood. Can't you take a joke?

^*Come to think of it, Miss Holmes did show a penchant for the older gents in Wonder Boys, didn't she. Hmm...now that Sandra and Drew are spoken for, perhaps I should find a way to wrench the young wench from the clutches of her Scientologist Svengali.

Early Summer Flicks

Just a quick post to say that so far my summer movie viewing has been a great 2 out of 2.

Waited a couple of weeks for the hype to die down but finally took the family out to see Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith. Yes! This one almost completely redeems the last two movies and that, my friends, is saying something. Not that I hated those films but they were so far below the heightened bar of the SW franchise that they were a disappointment by comparison. But this one...oh boy! Dark, long, deep and ultimately compelling. The only thing missing (and which would have made this the best of all SW flicks) was a Han Solo type character. Definitely would go back and see this one again.

Last weekend the wifey and I took in Batman Begins and were equally well pleased. Again, a dark and brooding film which captures well some of the source material from Frank Miller's graphic novel Batman: Year One. What a cast: Christian Bale, Liam Neeson, Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldman, Tom Wilkinson, Rutger Hauer, and the surprise standout for me Cillian Murphy as Dr. Jonathan Crane. Like the Spiderman movies, this one is not just about action and superhero fluff but deals with themes of revenge and justice and salvation. There were, however, two downers to note.

One was the director does not know how to film a fight sequence. Please, sir, take a gander at Spiderman 2 for some pointers. I am a major fan of the buckled swash and there was plenty of that as well as the traditional fisticuffs. But Christopher Nolan (who did the phenomenal Memento) is a bit too obsessed with the actor's faces. Thing is, Chris, when they're moving around so much we can't even glimpse who it is we're looking at when you've got the camera just ten freaking inches away from them! Plus, maybe I'm just too pre-MTV-gen but the edits went so fast that key elements of the danse violent were lost (like how the spurs on the glove could grab a sword, f'r instance, and just who's glove and who's sword would've been nice to know, too).

Secondly, I recommend all us grown-ups avoid movie theaters on weekend evenings. The giggling, mumbling, outright talking and seat-bumping from the teens behind us made us yearn for the good ol' days of ushers with flashlights in hand. I seriously thinking of bringing my own to the next film I see and shining it in the offender's face: "Hey, buddy, I said keep it down!" No wonder more and more folks are opting to watch movies at home. That and the sawbuck I had to hand over for the missus and I to get in. Still, I'm going to go back and see it again as my daughters still want to see it.

Where's (Doc) Waldo?

Obituaries - Obituary: Professor Paul R. Waldo, renaissance man of the theater - sacbee.com (free registration required)

I knew nothing about this...wow...they're just about all gone from my time now except for Tony Courkouros and Manuel Pickett.

Herb Klein (within a month or two of my starting at Sac State)
...Doc Larsen...
...Don Fibiger...
...Bob Smart...
...and now Doc Waldo...

When we were kids we marked the passage of time by our accomplishments. Is this what full adulthood means? To measure time by the passing of old friends and mentors? A dwindling of our past until all that is left is our own fading memories?

Ah, but there is but one last sip of wine left in my glass (a tasty and somewhat robust Meridian Pinot Noir). So I will raise it to Doc Waldo and the passage of an era fading in the dimming light.

Coming of age in a moment or a in a lifetime

I was going to edit my profile in Blogger and happened to notice the "most recently updated" blog list. One called David Duchovny caught my eye and off I clicked. That took me to Duchovny's blog. Hey, Hollywood types can blog, too, especially if it ties in with and promotes some project they're working on. (I remember reading Zack Braff's just before Garden State came out.) So there's this major ad to some film I've never heard of: The House of D. Apparently, Mr. Duchovny is writing and directing now. Must be nice. ANYway, the thing is the movie's site is a real cool Flash site and it got me interested in the movie. The story, according to the site is:

A comical and touching story of a man looking back at his childhood in 1970s Greenwich Village, Lions Gate Films' HOUSE OF D is the feature film writing and directing debut of actor David Duchovny, starring Duchovny, Anton Yelchin, Robin Williams, Téa Leoni, Frank Langella and Erykah Badu.

An American artist living a bohemian existence in Paris, Tom Warshaw (David Duchovny) is trying to make sense of his troubled adult life by reflecting upon his extraordinary childhood...The year is 1973, and thirteen-year-old Greenwich Village native Tommy Warshaw (Anton Yelchin) is on the brink of becoming a man. While his bereaved single mother (Téa Leoni) continues to mourn the death of his father, Tommy escapes his own grief by causing trouble at school and making afternoon meat deliveries with his best friend Pappas (Robin Williams), a mentally challenged janitor. Following the romantic advice offered by Lady (Erykah Badu) - incarcerated in the infamous Greenwich Village Women's House of Detention for shadowy reasons - Tommy even experiences his first taste of love. Yet when an unexpected tragedy radically alters his world, Tommy must make a life-defining choice - one that will compel the adult Tom Warshaw, thirty years later, to confront his unfinished past.

Vividly capturing the spirit of youth in all its joy and heartbreak, HOUSE OF D examines with humor and pathos a boy's harrowing coming of age and the manner in which it defines his adulthood. Sensitively directed by Duchovny and bolstered by affectionate portrayals from a talented cast, HOUSE OF D is a winning, hopeful story about overcoming loss and coming to terms with one's past.

Sounds interesting, right? Well the thing that got me is that this is yet another "coming of age" movie. How many books and films and songs have been written about some pivotal moment from someone's 13th year? Did everybody have some climatic "whoa!" moment in their youth that marks the moment that they knew they were no longer a child? Because I didn't. Man, I feel gypped!

My dad died when I was barely four so I don't even remember him really. Then, my mother had to work to support my bro and me. Now this was back in the late 60s so I'm sure that was quite a defining time for my mom but what did I know as a kid?

I turned 13 in the fall of 1975. The Beatles were done and the hippies had slipped off into irrelevance. Going to the moon had become boring and with my grandmother living with us (her income as a cafeteria worker helped my mom I guess as well as providing a live-in babysitter) there wasn't much discovering to be done. It was a boring yet contented life of a middle/lower-middle class suburban kid. How can anyone of significance come of age in that? It was precisely the kind of life that gets made fun of by all tragically hip. And while I, too, deride it for all it's Wonderbread blandness, still I feel I must defend it, too. No, I didn't have a "harrowing coming of age" moment. Mine, like many of you probably, was a process. And whenever I contemplate this I always return to a TV moment that kicked my butt.

Back in 1988, The Wonder Years debuted and in the first episode Winnie's brother is killed in Vietnam and Kevin follows her to their hang-out spot to console her. There they share their first kiss and the narrator speaks the words that resonated with me so deeply that they still move me now, over 15 years later.

It was the first kiss for both of us.
We never really talked about it afterward.
But I think about the events of that day
again and again,
and somehow I know that Winnie does too,
whenever some blowhard starts talking about
the anonymity of the suburbs
or the mindlessness of the TV generation,
because we know
that inside each one of those identical boxes,
with its Dodge parked out front
and its white bread on the table
and its TV set glowing blue in the falling dusk,
there were people with stories,
there were families bound together in the pain and
the struggle of love,
there where moments that made us cry with laughter,
and there were moments,
like that one,
of sorrow and
wonder.

We all have our own stories, valid and noble stories in their own right. Maybe not the stuff of art films and mini-series, but worthy contributions to the human tapestry.

Anniversary Trip

I kept the secret for six weeks. Not bad. I was going to wait until we were on the road to San Jose tomorrow but thought better of it. Sure she'd need to know what to wear and since we're leaving tomorrow, I revealed to my wife the "secret" I had planned for our anniversary: I got us tickets to the (now sold out) U2 concert. She is all over Bono and U2 and has not been to a concert since she saw Led Zepellin. Since SJ is about 2.5 hours away, we're going to get a room there and make the return trip on Sunday. Finally we can have wild married sex and not have to worry about being quiet because the kids might hear us.

Fatigues fatigue

Okay, I want to be fair here so I will say that the blog post I lifted this quote from was titled "Soapbox Time" and opened with "Sorry, but I've got to get this off my chest." This suggests that this guy does not always act/think as poorly as the quote below would lead us to believe.

I can't even stop for gas while wearing my uniform without someone telling me what a horrible job our President is doing "over there".

So be quiet, keep your incredible stupidity to yourself, and stay protected by your betters.

And, if you read the context of the quote you can see he is venting after some rather distasteful remarks against the military and the Commander in Chief, his ultimate boss. OK, I'll grant him that. Furthermore, regardless of his arrogance, I still say we owe him a debt of gratitude for putting himself in harm's way at the behest of our country. But..."keep your incredible stupidity to yourself, and stay protected by your betters" Are you fucking kidding me? You, sir, are no better nor any worse than I. And I would willingly stand before you and say that to your face and were you provoked to a fight, you would probably win in very short measure. And then you know what? I'd stand right back up and say it again. And again. And fucking again. And you know what? That would make me YOUR better because my humanity would remain intact while you devolve into your beast. And even if you never swing at me or even so much as try to physically intimidate me, I still win because I have stood up. In such a case, you would not be my better but I would be yours...until you apologized. Then...well, I'd be honored to shake your hand and thank you once more for your service.

Back in the Saddle Again

Wow...over six weeks.

Sorry about that. RL intervened. Was gonna get some pix up from the snow trip but haven't found a pic host yet and I'm not happy with the Blogger method. Then, I was besieged with a plethora of programming problems at my place of employ. That was about a month of stress-filled, "what's taking you so long? what are you doing wrong?" extravaganza which has finally concluded with moderate (though not complete) success.

Soon, I will be back to my old blogging self.

In the meantime, to help us all cope with this extended absence and inexplicable return, I give you this tidbit on the abandonment of blogs.

Not that that would ever happen here, right me droogs?

Donner, party of 5...of 4...3?

I've lived in/around SacTown all my life and yet I've never been up to Tahoe when it's snowing. That changes tomorrow. Finally succumbing to the multi-voiced nagging, I and Missus Koko are taking the three Koko-ettes up to a rented house in South Lake Tahoe. Thing is the Nat'l Weather Service has just issued this lovely and inspiring little missive:

NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE SACRAMENTO CA
ISSUED BY NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY - HANFORD CA

30 PM PST THU JAN 6 2005

.ANOTHER STRONG LOW PRESSURE SYSTEM MOVING ACROSS THE EASTERN
PACIFIC IS EXPECTED TO BRING STRONG WINDS AND SIGNIFICANT AMOUNTS OF
PRECIPITATION TO NORTHERN CALIFORNIA. THE LEADING EDGE OF THIS
STORM WILL APPROACH THE NORTHERN MOUNTAINS AND THE SIERRA NEVADA BY
EARLY FRIDAY MORNING. ANOTHER COLDER STORM SYSTEM DROPPING SOUTH OUT
OF THE GULF OF ALASKA WILL MERGE WITH THIS FIRST STORM BY LATE
FRIDAY. THIS WILL BRING MUCH COLDER AIR INTO NORTHERN CALIFORNIA
BEGINNING FRIDAY NIGHT INTO SATURDAY. SNOW LEVELS WILL RANGE FROM

000 TO 5000 FEET ON FRIDAY BUT WILL LOWER INTO THE FOOTHILLS
STARTING FRIDAY NIGHT INTO SATURDAY AND CONTINUING SUNDAY. SNOW IS
EVEN POSSIBLE OVER THE HIGHER ELEVATIONS OF THE NORTHERN SACRAMENTO
VALLEY FRIDAY NIGHT INTO SATURDAY AS MUCH COLDER AIR MOVES INTO THE
AREA.

TOTAL SNOWFALL ACROSS THE SIERRA COULD RANGE FROM 3 TO 5 FEET AT THE
5000 FOOT LEVEL...WITH EVEN MORE ACROSS THE PASSES ALONG THE SIERRA
CREST. ACROSS THE FOOTHILLS AND NORTHERN MOUNTAINS ACCUMULATIONS OF
UP TO A FOOT ABOVE 1500 TO 2500 FEET ARE POSSIBLE...LOCALLY LOWER IN
THE SHASTA LAKES REGION. IN ADDITION...STRONG WINDS WITH GUSTS OF 60
MPH OR MORE ARE LIKELY AT TIMES...CREATING WIDESPREAD WHITE OUT
CONDITIONS.

STAY TUNED TO NOAA WEATHER RADIO AND OTHER LOCAL MEDIA FOR FURTHER
DETAILS OR UPDATES.

WEST SLOPE NORTHERN SIERRA NEVADA-WESTERN PLUMAS COUNTY/LASSEN PARK-

308 PM PST THU JAN 6 2005

...WINTER STORM WARNING IN EFFECT FROM 4 AM FRIDAY TO 6 PM PST
SUNDAY...

THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE IN SACRAMENTO, CA HAS ISSUED A WINTER
STORM WARNING.

SNOW...HEAVY AT TIMES..WILL BLANKET THE SIERRA NEVADA FROM EARLY
FRIDAY THROUGH SUNDAY AFTERNOON. A FOOT OR MORE OF NEW SNOW CAN BE
EXPECTED EACH DAY WITH THIS STORM. ADDITIONALLY...STRONG SOUTH TO
SOUTHWESTERLY WINDS WITH GUSTS OF 60 TO 70 MPH ARE EXPECTED TO
ACCOMPANY THIS SYSTEM. FROM 3 TO 5 FEET OR MORE OF STORM TOTAL SNOW
ACCUMULATION CAN BE EXPECTED BETWEEN FRIDAY AND SUNDAY ABOVE THE 5FOOT LEVEL...WITH EVEN MORE LIKELY AT THE HIGHEST ELEVATIONS OF THE
SIERRA.

PERSONS PLANNING TRAVEL INTO THE HIGH COUNTRY OVER THE NEXT SEVERAL
DAYS SHOULD BE PREPARED FOR HAZARDOUS DRIVING WITH BLIZZARD
CONDITIONS AT TIMES. CARRY CHAINS...WARM CLOTHING AND CHECK THE
LATEST ROAD AND WEATHER INFORMATION BEFORE DEPARTURE.

EDIS-01-06-05 1532 PST

Oh! My! God! What the freaking hell am I getting myself and my family into?! It may even be too stormy to play in the snow which is the whole reason for going up there. I was thinking that if they like it then we could go up again later and maybe we could afford some snowboarding lessons.

Assuming, that is, if we ever return...

Lego's blog

Cruisin' the Catholic Converts message board after a long absence I ran across a link to Legatus' blog My City Was Gone.

The man royally pissed me off a while back for reasons that have since been resolved and need not be gone into out of respect for the parties involved. However, I must give him his props: he's a smart guy and decent writer. Not sure about this "Jimbo" dude. I remember him from the Catholic Converts board but not like I was actually paying attention to him. That board, by the way, is a staunchly arch-conservative Catholic board somewhat out of step with most Roman Catholics in America (and proudly so). Still it is a repository of Catholic knowledge and resources. Just don't let it be your ONLY source. Then again, I may just be another one of the "neeples".

VNS Switched On

Sufficient time has passed since the surgery so we saw the doc on Monday to turn on my daughter's VNS. I once again explained what it would do to her. I don't think she's ever really understood what we were doing or why. She just grudgingly went along. Naturally, she'd rather we'd all just leave her alone but she also wishes she didn't have to deal with her seizures. For all her trepidation, she's been a trooper.

So the doc brings out this laptop computer with a device attached by a cable. I didn't note what kind of computer it was but I did notice a DOS command prompt when he exited the program. I'm thinking this was a 486 that was still chugging along running proprietary software. Anyway, he has my daughter hold the device, a metal box about 3"x4"x7" with a single LED indicator light, up to her chest. He changes a few settings on the computer screen (frequency and strength of the charge) and less than ten minutes after arriving we're done.

After a few minutes, she receives her first pulse. It's weird for her, of course. Then again five minutes later (and so on forever more) she gets another one. She describes it as a kind of vibration feeling which is to be expected. A small electric current is sent up the vagal nerve which runs up the side of the throat for 30 seconds every 5 minutes. She can also activate it herself with one of the supplied magnets which would send a stronger charge for when she feels a seizure coming on. Although not uncommon, we did not note any drastic change to her voice. It should also be noted that it is set at the lowest and most infrequent setting so she can get used to it. No doubt the doc will be upping the charge a bit in a month or two.

Interestingly, today she was asking for her magnets so that she could activate it herself. Not only does this show she's getting used to it but also is ready to take some action herself to control her seizures. We'll have to explain to her that this device may not show real effectiveness for a few weeks or perhaps even months. On the other hand, some patients have noted some improvement almost immediately. Personally, I think just having the option that there's something she can do when a seizure approaches would give her some sense of control. As long as she can derive some benefit from that, the added sense of control could give her a much needed confidence in dealing with the world in general.

Hardly a cure-all but a step, a small but significant step in the right direction. Sure she has a long ways to go but I'll take my victories wherever I can find them and build on from there.

Holiday re-cap

I foolishly stepped up to "direct" the "sacred drama" at our church which was performed in lieu of the liturgical readings on Christmas Eve. I had eight kids who wanted to narrate on a script that only called for three. With my theater background I figured I could work them all in and that the different voices would add more texture to the experience.

However, it seems I crossed some sort of Catholic liturgical line. I was told that because it was part of the Mass only three narrators could be allowed. Huh? So at the second rehearsal (out of 3 total) I put the kids' names into a hat and pulled out the three. Fortunately none of the three girls who never showed that night were picked. Two kids were disappointed and I looked like a heel once again. I had already severely let down a couple of little girls who had their heart set on being Mary. I had anticipated that one. But it was probably made worse because I picked my daughter who, I swear, was by far the best one for the role (based on her peformance AND her height relative to the actors playing angels and Joseph).

Unfortunately, at the time of the actual performance I missed most of it as I was corraling and educating all the last minute "ancilliary" shepherds and angels--about two dozen kids who, as they were told to, just showed up that evening at Mass and put on a make-shift costume and who had little to no idea what they were supposed to do. Still, from what I saw and from what I heard, it seemed to come off well.

I wish my singing solo earlier did as well. It was before Mass as people were coming in and taking their seats. I was to sing this solo written from Joseph's perspective. However, with all the commotion and the placement of the mikes relative to the piano, I could not hear the piano and could not pick out my starting note. We had to stop and start again. How embarrassing. But once I got going on it, it went quite well. But, boy, we could sure use some monitors back there.

---

Please, God, let this be the last year of Santa!

My youngest daughter insists on sleeping on the couch by the fireplace on Christmas Eve. My middle one, who due to her disabilities has maintained her Kringlistic beliefs, just would not fall asleep. Finally I was sneakily schlepping stocking stuffers past her open bedroom door at three o'clock in the f-ing morning! Then I had to load up the stockings and sneak them back to hang them, ever so quietly, about two yards from my sleeping young 'un. After that, I got to drag out the biggies from the Jolly Ol' Elf: a PS2 for the littlest one, a nifty telescope for Miss Middle girl, and a TV/DVD/VHS combo for the oldest. They were all well-received in the morning, or so I imagine as this was the first year where the missus and I were not up before the kids.

I bought Mrs. Koko several smallish items (a Christmas pin, a cologne sampler collection, a Wizard of Oz DVD, etc.) but her biggie was a nice leather coat that she was in no way expecting. She was way impressed and pleased. I received Metal of Honor: Rising Sun for the GameCube (and was up until 1am last night playing it), the Star Wars trilogy in DVD (what a cool bonus disk!), and a way, way, way cool black pork pie hat.
Man, I LOVE this hat. I've been wanting a pork pie for over a decade but could never justify spending that kind of money on something so trivial for myself. I'm not a "sexy, gorgeous" guy type but this baby brings out my "charming and cute" qualities. Then from my ma-in-law I got a healthy gift cert from the local music store which I'll be putting toward an acoustic guitar amp. And my big bro bought me a couple of guitar lessons at Sacramento's premiere guitar store. Too cool.

On a downer note, my godmother was in a minor traffic accident and suffered six broken ribs. That meant that her planned open house on Sunday was cancelled and I'm without my Christmas tamales this year.

VNS implanted

Well, the middle child got her Vagal Nerve Stimulator implanted. Her surgery was scheduled for 9am on Friday and she was home by 1pm that same day. The doc says she lost about one cc of blood which is indicative of a very successful procedure. We finally took the bandages off today and got to see the scars. They're still a bit red and puffy but she has a lot more mobility already. We won't get the device turned on until a couple of days after Christmas. The medicos want to be sure she is completely healed before we add the next variable.
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The above was composed on the date listed but not posted until nearly a week later. I was trying to find a way of posting some digital pix we took during the process and once she came home but never did.

Tree Day

As much as I long for a Rockwellian joys in our family life, the truth is we have very few traditions established. However, over the last few years it seems a trip out to Davis Ranch in Sloughhouse is an event even our teenage "Daughter of Constant Complaint" gets excited about. Sure there are plenty of churches and Boy Scout troops hawking Christmas trees at nearly every intersection and parking lot in town but Sloughhouse, though out in the country, is actually closer than my work. And all the trees are the same price ($28) no matter how big.

Usually, I push for getting the ol' tannenbaum the Saturday immediately following Thanksgiving (I have decreed in full fatherly mode that Christmas season officially begins when Santa parks his fat, red hiney in front of Macy's on 5th Avenue in NYC at the end of the parade.) However, a whole slew of life-crap has just devoured our time and the house was not properly prepped for a tree that weekend. So it was marked on the calender for the following one: December 4 - get the tree; Dec 5 - decorate it.

But then, on the Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend, the day before all the kids go back to school, Mrs. Koko wrenches her back. She is out of commission completely for the next 3-4 days. The first few days of that week had at least two of my three daughters ill with one thing or another. The house which had settled into a mild chaos as I focused on clearing out the garage and gathering the Christmas trimmings, fell further into disarray while I was at work. We barely clear enough space to maneuver in a tree by that Saturday and luckily, after a couple of nights of Flexeril, Mrs. Koko's back is behaving a little better (though not soon enough for her to make it to a yearly cookie exchange--no holiday treats in the Koko house yet).

Saturday comes and there's a slight (but planned) delay whilst the older two daughters get their hair trimmed and colored. And then, we're off! The usual sibling arguments once there and the inevitable disagreement over which tree is the "perfect" tree. Mom like Tree A (which really was the better tree) but the youngest one (9 yrs old) is on the brink of tears if we don't get Tree B. Her sisters side with her...eh, it's almost as nice as Tree A and, frankly, we were losing daylight and it was getting cold. We go with Tree B. I give my girls a few tries with the saw but eventually it's up to Dad to fell the poor plant. Then, while I lash our quarry to the roof of the minivan, the rest of them go on a second hunt for a tree for grandma. Soon we have two trees strapped to the van and, after a brief stop for some kettle corn, we're off to the Sloughhouse Inn--our traditional stop on all our tree safaris--just a half mile up the road. The missus and I each have a prime rib sandwich while the girls dine on burgers and a calamari appetizer. As it supposedly can earn the Daughter of Constant Complaint some extra points at school, we ask to see the manager so she can interview him about the many and various ghost stories associated with the Inn. He was cool about it and had a decent story to tell himself even though he'd only been there a few weeks.

We drop off grandma's tree and set it up for her. It's a bit taller than she usually gets but it looks great. Then we get ours home. I have a bit of trouble getting the stand to fit over the trunk and have to saw off a bit of the knots on the side before I can get it in. Finally I got it in the stand and drug the tree into the house to our traditional tree-spot, in our front bay window. Only...it doesn't fit. The tree is about a foot too tall. The ceiling slants upward from the window so we bring it further into the room. But it's not clear of the ceiling until it is practically in the very center of the room, right in front of the TV. OK...on to Plan B. Some quick furniture rearrangement and we get the tree positioned under the peak of the vaulted ceiling.

This is easily the largest tree I've ever had in my house in my entire life. And the girls just love it.

Now if I can only pull off my hoped-for surprise this year...ages 9, 14, and 15 and they've never been to the snow. One thing or another always seemed to get in the way. I'm looking now for a vacation rental for the weekend following New Years (they're all booked up until then) up in/near Tahoe. Keep your fingers crossed.

Say "cheese", Mary

CNN.com - 'Virgin Mary' sandwich back on eBay - Nov 16, 2004

OK, this time I can see "a face" as well. So often I have trouble seeing anything in the Holy Rorschach tests that pass for visions of the BVM or the fruit of her womb. But this time I can see someone. But tell me, just how in tarnation do we know who the lovely young lady is? I'm thinking it's Fay Wray who, recently shuffled off this mortal coil. We really don't know what the Blessed Virgin looked like. Sure we can guess but folks are generally so ethnocentric and/or over exposed to the Western library of Biblical art that Mary and Jesus often appear as a young mother from Dresden with her chubby little son. I'm sure Jesus did not look like Jeffrey Hunter, Max von Sydow, Robert Powell (okay, maybe he came close) or Jim Caviezel. And he certainly did not look like Ted Neeley (although it'd be cool to think the Savior could belt out a rock ballad like Neeley did in "Gethsemene") nor Jeremy Sisto (Jesus as a frat boy?). No, Jesus was not a white man, not in the European sense anyway, and neither was his mother.

So when folks see an image in their windows or cheese sandwiches how do they know just who it is they're seeing? And why, oh why, would the Most Holy Mother of God appear in such a profane manner?