Harry's Ruminations

I'm 31, and I have arthritis in my lower back. THIRTY ONE YEARS OLD. Mom's prophesy has come true: "You need to get up and move, or you'll have arthritis by the time you're 30." You were off by one, mom. Can't really lay blame on anyone but myself here. I'm the one who decided sitting around like Jabba the Hut for the last decade was the way to go. Twenty six percent body fat, zero flexibility, and no core strength. Sorry, this is my first "you'll have this for the rest of your life" moment.

I've been pulling lots of OT at work lately (as has my whole team) and this past week, the walls started closing in on me. That's appropriate--I work in a windowless lab surrounded by high-walled cubicles and machines that wouldn't pass FCC Class B certification with a bribe and a reactor radiation shield. Our lab has a sign with fake (?) blood on it that says: "Stress relief: Bang head here." Anyway, my manager strongly suggested some time off. As did my wife. As did the janitor. So, I took today off and took Maria to see Toy Story 3 , the latest computer-animated masterpiece from Disney/Pixar. Okay, so our family is a Pixar family. We often don't speak English; we speak in citations from Pixar movies, our favorite being Finding Nemo and Cars Nevertheless, after suffering through the turdly Shrek: Somebody Shoot Me a month ago, I was gunshy about walking into the 3rd installment from this franchise. Where could the story go? To another plane of exis...

Most of my Saturdays involve me getting to "sleep in" to 7am. Today was special--I got to sleep in to 8:30, at which point Bella declared, "Well, I've been awake for 2 hours at this point, might as well get up." To encourage domestic sanity, Whitney and I have an arrangement--each of us gets alone time for around 4 hours each weekend. Traditionally, Whitney gets hers Saturday mornings 'til 1pm. Yep, I'm to be a single parent for the next 4 hours or so. Easy enough, right? Actually, it's pleasant. Usually. I have great kids--conversant, responsive, unspoiled. They appreciate time with Dad, especially when he puts the laptop down and unplugs his NPR-podcast laden iPod. Today was going to be great--we'd take the recycle to the recycling center, hit a motorcycle shop or 3, maybe con our way into a test-drive of a car with a manual transmision, then hit the UK arboretum and some other goings-on in Lex. Plans change. Got everyone in the van, loa...

(As related to Kim Tegge, the lone coffee holdout at work) Stage 0: Coffee?! BLECH! Does smell good, though. Stage 1: Coffee?! BLECH! I'll take a Mocha Frappuchino, please. Stage 2: Coffee?! BLECH! I'll take an instant French Vanilla Cappuccino, please. I drink one of these every couple of weeks or so. Stage 3: Latte, please. I can't stand coffee. This is my first one this week. Stage 4: Hmm...no latte? No Starbucks? Need something...I'll take some coffee with my cream and sugar. Never had this before. Stage 5: Dark roast Starbucks house blend with a shot of cream. You know...maybe a couple per day. Stage 6: Black coffee. Any will do. 4 cups per day. Stage 7: Reheated black coffee from yesterday while I'm brewing the extra-strength coffee at 5am because I've had a coffee headache since 4:30. 6 cups per day. Actually, I can't remember how many I drink per day. I NEED ANOTHER CUP! So, where do you fall on that scale?

This morning, my daughter Maria, had a tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy at an outpatient surgery center in Lexington. She did very well, considering. She wasn't happy to have all that pain when she awoke. She cried, and I held her in the recovery room as they took the IV out of her left arm. The nurses and staff at the outpatient center were attentive, answering our every question. We took the slow trip back to Georgetown in the Cube (still no van 'til next week), and she dozed lightly with mom keeping her company in the back seat. Since then she's taken her Tylenol 3 (with yummy Codeine) and 2 popsicles.

This year, I was puzzling over the word 'Easter' itself. Doesn't seem to have any religious connection, does it? All the Latin-derived languages borrow from "Pesach," the Hebrew word for passover. Surprise, Easter is named for an Anglo-Saxon Goddess of Spring . Traditionally the goddess Eoastre saved a frozen bird by turning it into a bunny. A bunny who could lay eggs, like a bird. BANG--"Easter Bunny" For me, this Easter has been a real bust. Really, the whole Lenten season, too. Usually, I get into everything from Ash Wednesday through Pentecost--purification, focus on religious life, prayer. This year, it's been a succession of issues: Pregnancy, Mom's cancer returning, ongoing illness in my wife & kids, work, a car accident, dealing with insurance company. This weekend's been the exclamation point on that--missed our Good Friday chorale because of shuttling J, then missed Easter because J's got stomach flu. Three round...

Since March 22nd, my family's been tooling around in a Nissan Cube . Let's be honest: We hate it. We miss our Honda Odyssey and look forward to its return. Heck, this thing makes me yearn for the consistent handling, quiet competence of my 10 year old Toyota Camry. Yep. This brick is Hello Kitty with wheels, and yikes has it overstayed its welcome. For those who don't know, a Nissan Cube is a Nissan Versa with a different body. A Nissan Versa is the smallest Nissan automobile sold in America, featuring a coarse 122 hp 1.8L engine and a Continuously Variable Transmission. Pic of the versa: Beauty is subjective, but I'd say ugly is obvious. How these TWO rolling monstrosities made it past clay models is beyond me. Anywho... So, what you have with the Cube is a box-it-came-in car, with amazing interior space. Let me describe what it's like to drive this car: Imagine driving your patio deck around with an underpowered engine and Satan's own transmissio...