February 2004 Archives

Last night I made pizza for dinner. I was planning to make my signature pie, but Katy made a request.

"Would you put some pepperoni on it for me?"

I was thinking "Are you nuts? And mess up my delicious masterpiece?" but in the interests of continued marital tranquility I said "Okay, fine, I'll put some on part of it." (It is just a pizza, right?)

Turns out that wife of mine was on to something. This new version was unbelievable. The combination of slow-cooked onions and garlic, cheese, and pepperoni was to die for. It looks like I have another pie to add to the repertoire.

See? Change is good.

Tonight UC Irvine's basketball team is playing on national television - ESPN2 at 8 PM PST. The L.A. Times pointed out that this is the first time my beloved Anteaters (not making that up) have been on TV since 1989.

1989!

I was at that game, in the student section. We all taped it hoping for a glimpse of ourselves (which did not happen). I also remember that the ESPN sportscasters called us "Cal-Irvine." I'm not sure where they got that one. They don't call UCLA "Cal-Los Angeles," do they?

I guess it's better than being called Cal State Irvine. Everybody knows the Cal State system is vastly inferior to the UC system.

We just got the kids' school pictures back this week. I thought I'd post them here along with a couple stories.

First, Cameron:

Cameron is really into Lego right now. Since his trip to Legoland with Katy's parents, he's been walking around the house poring over the Lego catalog and asking questions and providing commentary. He has been telling us he really wants a particular set for his birthday in a couple weeks.

We were at Disneyland last weekend so we stopped by the Lego store to check it out and decide if it was going to be something he could handle. Katy and I both thought it would be okay, so Katy snuck back to the store and picked it up.

Unfortunately, Katy did not stash it away quickly upon our return home. Cameron came across it while looking for - what else - instructions for the small Lego set he got while we were at Disneyland.

He became quite upset. The reason that he was upset, however, might surprise you. It was not because he couldn't play with it right away - no, he was disappointed that he wouldn't be surprised on his birthday. I wasn't home at the time but apparently he cried for quite a while. Poor kid.


Now, Claire:

Claire got in the car the other day after school and told Katy that she wanted a different name. After some questioning, it came out that one of her school friends has one name at school (Sammi) and a different name at home (Samantha).

She thought that was a good idea, and told Katy that she wanted to be called "Ariel" - although it wasn't clear whether she wanted that as a "home" or "away" name.

Katy could not keep from laughing at this, and Claire broke into a big smile and said "I'm just teasing, Mom!"

Can dotting the "i" in Claire with a smiley face or star be far behind?

I am not a big risk-taker, and I am generally pretty happy staying inside what I believe to be my limits, physically and otherwise. However, I am fascinated with how other people persevere in extreme situations. I often wonder how I would bear up under the pressure of a true life-or-death situation, how deeply I could dig when the shit hit the fan.

Tonight I got two hours of this kind of contemplation when Mike and I went to see Touching the Void, a documentary about two young British climbers who were the first - and thus far only - people to summit Siula Grande in the Peruvian Andes.

Their story is just unbelieveable. The fact that both climbers are narrating the film tips you off to their survival, but the way they survive is beyond description. Let's just say that Jon Krakauer, author of Into Thin Air, had a spa vacation on Everest compared to Joe Simpson's experiences on Siula Grande.

The film is in limited release but if you get the chance you should check it out.

Last weekend I headed outside to mow the lawn. For those of you not living in Southern California, this is one of the tradeoffs of good weather - you "get" to mow year-round. I pulled vigorously on the mower's starter cord and it broke off at the base.

The mower is six or seven years old so it didn't surprise me too much that it had finally broken. I chuckled a bit at my reaction - I almost fell over backwards when the cord came flying at me - and got some tools to see what I could do to reattach it.

It's okay to do some disassembly on your mower if you like but don't get carried away. You know how the cord (generally) gets pulled back in after you yank on it, as if a spring were involved? It turns out there is a spring involved - if your mower is like mine, it's a coiled strip of metal under a fair amount of tension.

And how do I know that? Let's just say that although the sound "Spro-oi-o-oi-o-oi-oing" may occur fairly regularly in cartoons I don't hear it much in real life.

I was finally able to get the spring back into it's base but there was no way to resecure it to the top of the starter. This particular lesson in applied mechanics cost me about an hour of my Sunday afternoon and 25 bucks for the replacement assembly at the Sears Parts and Service center.

It could have been a lot worse.

I have spent a fair amount of energy declaring Hudson Hawk to be one of the worst movies ever made.

It is on TV right now. I find myself laughing out loud. Perhaps I was mistaken.

As you may know, tomorrow is Valentine's Day.

After surviving a Valentine's Day Massacre of my own in 1999 (a story for another time), I am always sure to be ready to observe this day. This year I ordered something for Katy from a popular online retailer.

As my company frowns upon the delivery of personal packages to work, I had it delivered to the house. The day before it was to arrive I let Katy know that a package was coming, and that she should not open it.

Her first comment was a firm "You shouldn't be buying me anything for Valentine's Day."

This statement was followed up a few seconds later with an excited "Is it a big box or a small box?"

Luckily, you don't have to fully understand something to appreciate it.

My friend Dean requested an old story from me the other day [month]. Since we go way back I told him I would oblige him. This is a long one, but here we go:

An Interesting Thing That Happened To Me Right Before I Moved To Cali

The summer of 1984 was a busy one for me. I was working two jobs to pay for a trip to Scandanavia in August - lunch shift at McDonalds and evenings at the movie theater. This particular Saturday night had me scheduled to work the snack bar at the drive-in.

I got a call late in the afternoon from Jennifer, who was supposed to work the box office that night. She needed to trade slots with me for some reason - it had something to do with her other job at the local market. I jumped at the opportunity to trade slinging sodas and popcorn for sitting in a nice quiet booth selling tickets.

Here is a picture of the box office I speak of. When I worked there it was the Forty-West Drive In. It closed in the late 80's and and reopened as the 66 Twin in 1999.

I got to work as the sun was setting. After hanging out in the snack bar for a few minutes I collected the combination tackle box/cash register and headed across the rolling gravel hills to the box office.

It was a busy night - not surprising considering the general lack of Things To Do On Dates In Weatherford, Oklahoma - and I sold well over $1000 worth of tickets before the movies started. As things quieted down I scrounged up a legal pad and started writing a letter to a girl I had met at camp that summer.

Then things started to get interesting.

I was surprised to see a man walk up to the box office. I was more surprised when he pulled a gun out of his pocket, pointed it at me, and told me to "put all the money in the bag," which he handed me.

I thought about this proposition for about two seconds. I could tell Mr. Robber was nervous - he kept repeating "I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to hurt you." I didn't want him to hurt me either. So I started shoving bills into the bag.

About this time Dan, the owner of the theater, was leaving. As he drove out the exit lane, thirty yards or so in front of the box office, he noticed Mr. Robber leaning on the windowsill of the booth.

It appeared to him that one of my friends was visiting with me at work. This sort of fraternization was frowned upon, and Dan decided to drive over and take me to task for my transgressions. Since his headlights were out Mr. Robber did not see him pull into the entry lane.

I had finished putting the money into the bag and was handing it to Mr. Robber when Dan noticed the gun pointed at me. Realizing that Mr. Robber was getting ready to run off with his money, Dan jammed on the gas to run him over. Sadly, he spun out a bit on the gravel, giving Mr. Robber time to turn and run. Dan clipped him, knocking him over the low white fence that edged the entry lane, but he quickly got up and dashed off into the night.

Dan wheeled his car around the back of the booth as fast as he could, yelling "Where did he go? Where did he go?" Frankly, I had no idea where he had headed. I yelled that he had headed off towards I-40 - which ran about 50 yards from the booth - but I really didn't know for sure what direction he had gone.

Dan screeched off in a cloud of dust, screaming "Call the cops! Call the cops!"
I silently thanked whoever had put the emergency number sticker on the phone as I dialed the police.

Here's how that conversation went:

Me: "I'm calling to report an armed robbery."

Dispatch: "Can you repeat that?"

Me: "An armed robbery at the Forty-West Drive In."

Dispatch: "When did this happen?"

Me: "Just now, a few minutes ago."

Dispatch: "Where did the robber go?"

Me: "I really don't know - I couldn't see which way he went."

Dispatch: "Ok, stay on the line. I'm going to put you on hold for a minute."

Excuse me? (I realize now that he was putting the call out on the radio but at the time it was a little unsettling.)

I suddenly realized that I was sitting in a well-lit glass box, surrounded by a murky darkness that held at least one gun-wielding bandito. I dove for the floor while I waited for the dispatcher to come back on.

When he came back he advised me to stay calm and stay put and that the police were on their way. Sure enough, within a few minutes all four of Weatherford's police cars came screaming past on Route 66.

At this point I will leave my first-hand account.

Now, the drive-in is a couple miles west of town and there's not much else out there. Next door to the drive-in is the (then new) ShoWest 3 walk-in three screen theater, and next to that is a farmhouse, but that's about it.

Ms. Accomplice had parked their van in front of this farmhouse, where she waited while Mr. Robber took care of the robbing. After getting bumped over the fence, Mr. Robber ran to the van and hopped in. Ms. Accomplice stomped on the gas and they zoomed off into the night.

That would have likely been the end of it, but for one thing. The occupants of the farmhouse saw Ms. Accomplice sitting in a van waiting in front of their house and watched the guy jump in. Suspecting they were up to something, the farmer jumped into his station wagon and gave chase.

When the local police caught up with the van, the station wagon had somehow managed to get them pulled over. Mr. Robber jumped out of the van and made a dash for it across the fields, while the police officer kept his car's spotlight trained on him. The officer got out his rifle and fired off one round before Mr. Robber stopped in his tracks. (He later expressed some regret about this, saying to me "I would have hit him if I hadn't had to put the light down.")

They put Mr. Robber in the back of the car and drove him back to town, where he was booked into the local jail.

In the meantime, another officer came by to question me about the proceedings. They were very curious about the gun as they hadn't found it in the van. I wasn't very helpful. I was able to tell them that it was:

(a) metal
(b) bluish

and most importantly, as far as I was concerned

(c) pointed at my face

I went down to the station and filled out a police report, and that was the end of my involvement. They never found the gun, and I have no idea what happened to Mr. Robber or Ms. Accomplice The Van Driver.

When I got home my mother was in near-hysterics. At the time, I thought she was overreacting a bit - I was 17 and therefore knew that I was immortal. Now that I am a parent myself I can appreciate her position.

I am not typically one to mock the modern band geek.

However, I saw this on fark this morning. I do not get it. I do not understand it. Did these guys lose their D&D books or something?

Some of you may remember that I advocate cleaning out your dryer once a year. Last year there was some confusion about what exactly I meant by that, and so this year I have prepared an illustrated guide for you:

How to Keep Your Dryer Running Well.

Enjoy!

Here are my Super Bowl predictions for this year:

1. I will overeat.
2. I will talk Katy into driving home so I don't have to worry too much about imbibing.
3. Cameron won't break any windows.

I sure hope I'm right about number three.