Harry's Ruminations

Joey and I went to TRON: Legacy 3D last night.  On the way home, he posed the following question: "Hey Harold, so what if when I was a freshman in high school, I met some girl who had hair just like Quorra , and who looked just like Quorra, and who had a TRON outfit like Quorra?"  My reply: "Turn and run the other way as fast as you can." Yes, Olivia Wilde steals every scene she's in. Oh, and the 3D wasn't worth the extra $$$.  Tron in 2D on an appropriate screen is still a beautiful film, the minimalist counterpart to the sensory overload of Cameron's Avatar . Sometimes, gravity is not your friend. Ouch. I welcome our new Verizon overlords . I love the motorcycle shots in TRON (those in the real world, on the Ducati), but I think I'd like something more comfortable in real life.

Each year I get to watch my boy appear and disappear in a 24 hour period.  I hate that. It's amazing how rewarding it can be to put something together with your kids.  This year, I got to put together a playschool dollhouse, a K'Nex Twisted Coaster, and an er...um....something to do with mechanized hamsters that need exercise.   A toy is evil if and only if it requires batteries. I find Michael Bay's Transformer's movie mesmerizing in that "If its on, I have to watch it" way I usually reserve for Airplane!, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and The Ten Commandents. Bad news is worse at Christmas somehow.  It's like you're in the foxhole, getting shelled, and the guy next to you farts.  Nothing to do but smell it. The Mattress sales industry should be regulated tighter than casinos.  Casinos at least offer comps. If you're on the hook to feed your buddy's dog while he's on vacation, wear comfortable footwear.  Said dog may be off her chain...

So, the other day, J-man and I were trekking to Shelbyville, Maria in the back seat.  Joey was bored and he started the "Guess a number between..."  Each time we play this game, I calc the ceil(lg(N)) of the higher number and request that many guesses, and I win every time .  (" Stand back, I'm going to try science !") Anyway....Maria wanted to get in on this, too.   Which is fascinating, since she CAN'T COUNT. M: I'm thinking of a number between four and nine. J: 7 M: No H: 5 ...we proceed to guess every number between 4 and 9, inclusive.  Twice. M: No guys...you're doing it wrong! Inspiration struck . H: Is it forty nine? M: YES!  VERY GOOD DADDY. * * * My one parental gift is a capacity to think like a 3 year old.

Ruminations for today: It's a crime there's no site where you can put in reasonable search criteria ("manual diesel wagon") and have it monitor AutoTrader, eBayMotors, Cars.com, Craigslist, etc. Sort of like Kayak.com does for airline tickets or Mint.com does for finances. Corollary thought: Some techno-geek/gear head like me invented just such a program, but loved it so much never left his Mom's basement. Plurality of choice sucks. Both 'cancelled' and 'canceled' are correct English. The single-L form makes my brain want to explode. So, okay...until we invent telepathy, we're stuck with language of some form to communicate ideas. Each language has its own strengths and weaknesses: brevity, density, beauty, expressiveness. Could we come up with something BETTER THAN ENGLISH, please?! Corporate communications is where English majors go to die. In no particular order, here are the new cars I want to test drive: Mazda 2 Mazda RX-8 Ford Fies...

I sit here in office 249, staring down the last work week of the year, the Meghan McCain tome Dirty Sexy Money winking at me. Outside, the temperature hovers at 17 F, as arctic air chills most of America. Yes, I blinked, and the weekend was over. So, what happened? First, I saw Despicable Me with Maria Thursday night (yes, a little Daddy/Daughter time). Wonderful film, even if the tickets cost us $3 and the concessions cost $19. I laughed a lot, and Steve Carell is a genius. I've subjected Whitney to my (bad) Gru impression since Friday. Friday was an odd day. I got my soul RotoRootered on Thursday afternoon, so I felt off-center Friday. Emotional and talkative, rather like my Real Self © got to come out and play for a few hours. That's me that isn't crushingly overbearing, self-absorbed, defensive, etc. The guy who wrote poems, played (and liked) music, and put himself out there every day. 'Twas nice. Anyway, so I had a couple of meetings on interviewing t...

Background: I have a 6 week old infant daughter. In an ongoing effort to avoid sleep deprivation psychosis, my wife and I now alternate "standing watch" for Grace each night. Last night was my night. Man, a day that ends at midnight and begins at 4:30 sucks. Really could've done with another hour of sleep at least. Still, it beats Sunday night/Monday morning, at which time my daughter went to bed at 11:30, then woke up at 2:30 and screamed the next 18 hours.

Yes, I've caught the blogging bug. I feel different enough from my former self that it seems to make sense. Maybe I'm reading too much Peter Egan these days. Whatever, I'm here, again. This weekend was another hole in my soul weekends when Joey gets to go to Louisville to be someone else with Dad #1. This is not how he phrases it, but that's it in effect. From my perspective, I drop him off @ 7pm Friday, he goes into a fugue state for 48 hours, then I pick him up at 7pm Sunday. In any case, it kills me, as Joey's my only defense against the giggly, shopping, toe-painting brigade known as the Combs Women. Actually, I overstate. The women of my family are wonderful, well-rounded folks. Still, they're women, and it's difficult to crack jokes that begin and end with "poop," "balls," or "fire." With them. Joey and I could do 10 minutes of standup on the word "poop" alone. I think of us as the two stooges. Ahem, a...