Last week, my dad came up and watched the kids while Jill and I ran the Crazylegs race. It was also the weekend of the Mifflin St. Block Party, a mild riot which is held annually in Madison. Though I've attended the Mifflin St. Block Party several times, I'm unsure as to its origins. I know it was started in the late 60's or early 70's and that our new mayor (Soglin) was involved at the outset. What mus have been a freewheeling lovefest back then has turned into a typically self-abusive drunken riot. Two people got stabbed this year. Though I'm uncertain of the stories behind the stabbings (could be gang related), I'm relatively certain that, as usual, alcohol plays a key role in these violent events. It was a strange feeling to watch all these 20somethings head to the Mifflin St. riot while I went for a 5 mile run. I really felt like I had changed sides.

I also had a good run in with a new recipe tonight. I have struggled, literally, for years trying to make a spinach/feta/tofu pie and finally got it right tonight. Jill sauteed the onions, and mixed in spinach and silken tofu. We pressed out as much water as possible, then I set that mixture in the oven for 10 minutes. After taking in out, I mixed in the feta. Then, individual pies were made out of crescent rolls (the pillsbury kind in the tubes) and baked. What's always ruined this recipe in the past was moisture from the spinach/tofu/feta ruining the crust. I turned out great tonight, though. Kudos to me!

El Desructo got new batteries for his remote control car and is driving it around the apartment and driving me crazy.

The Little Scientist wrote a poem last week:

"How We Know You're Moving"
If you see strangers:
lurking, living, leaning
in your house
then we know you're moving.
If you hear cars and trucks:
picking, parking, puddling
around the home
then we know you're moving.
If you sense people:
sacking, packing, tracking
What you need,
then we know you're moving.
If you ask your parents
they will tell you
then you'll know,
you're moving!

********
We are not moving this year, however, we signed another lease for our apartment.

Last weekend we were in Kenosha again - Jill is helping my dad in the Barasch Tax Accounting Salt Mines.

The kids stayed with my mom for a few hours while I ran some errands. Though for everyone's sanity, and so the kids have a healthy understanding of boundaries, we are usually quite structured in regards to mealtimes and bedtimes, things always go erratically with feedings and bed times when you travel. After I dropped the kids off at my mom's, El Destructo says to her, "I want 4 slices of ham for my snack." This is, mind you, at 9 AM. Frequent readers are familiar with El Destructo's diet. Frequent readers will be relieved that El Destructo has broadened his palate from frosting and processed meat to include many things recognizable as "food" even prior to the corporate domination of diet.

Mom had intended to take the kids to the park after Ben gorged on ham, but immediately after he ate, May visits the kitchen. "I'm hungry." And Nana has to go to work making macaroni and cheese and fried chicken. May described it to me later by saying, "And, before you knew it, it was a feast!" They had pineaple, beets, spinach, strawberries, and bananas.

I had a nasty cup of coffee while watching the Valvoline guys change the oil.


All in all things are well here. I plan to get my bicycle repaired this week and will start biking to work again. I am working right now on a brilliantly creative neuropathology gross description.

Jill's job evaded certain destruction when a Dane county judge ruled that the passage of the Job Destruction Bill was passed in a voting session before the public was given adequate notice of the vote. Thus, the judge has ruled that the law, though passed and signed, cannot be published. Without publication, state agencies are unable to enforce the edicts of the law. That is, until those crazy guys on the other side of the aisle come up with some new trick.

Other political news includes an upcoming pro-zombie march. I think the pro-zombie march is this weekend. We're big supporters of the rights of the dead, and also the living dead, to receive equal respect as animate, physiologically appropriate people. I'll try to post some pictures of the zombie liberation rally next week.

I'm thinking about running the Crazylegs Race this year.

My New Year's Resolution was to reconnect with creative energies. One of the things I will try to do is write blog entries again. What can you do to make up for not writing for a year? Beg forgiveness? Slave away and hope to be rediscovered by former readers? Post a link to the blog on Facebook? Probably not facebook.... Ironically, it is easier and more discrete to bear my soul to anonymous readers on the internet than to my "Friends" on facebook. It's not that my friends don't read this blog (or didn't before I screwed it up by not writing for a year), but that I'm not sure that I want everyone who has "Friend-ed" me to see what I write. If they really, really want to keep tabs on me, they can google me and do some cyberstalking.

What other plans do I have to reconnect with my creative energies? I'm hoping a children's book will be in the works. I have two on the back burner. 1) "Dinosaurs and super-heros drive construction trucks" 2) "How do ninjas bike to work?"

Professionally: I work in the lab at the VA hospital in Madison. This month I'm rotating through the autopsy service. It's fascinating. Whenever a medical student rotates through, I brag, "Noone consults the autopsy service for acne. These people have real medical problems." Some of their medical problems are so serious that, in fact, ........

News of the kids: El Destructo and The Little Scientist are well adapted to their new environment. During some of the recent political protesting, El Destructo turned to me and said, "Dad, when will I get a chance to vote." He enjoyed marching, but I think the meaning of the protest was a little over his head. When we got home, he marched around the apartment waving his placard and demanding, "Vote Packers! Vote Packers! Vote Packers!" Totally absurd. Nobody in our house would ever vote for the Vikings. He wants a gerbil for his birthday.

The little scientist has been doing well in school. During recent teacher strikes, she came with me to work and made up for my brusque antics and wretched flatulence with her charm and grace. She also redesigned our reporting system. She's going to take ballet this summer. She's made some new friends in the neighborhood and at school.

A brief treatise on economics: In a capitalist economy, which ours is, at least nominally, there are boom and bust cycles, growth and recession. These are normal. Keynsian economics is the idea that the government should sully the waters of pure capitalism by intervening during times of economic troubles. For example, build roads during a recession, thereby improving infrastructure and creating jobs. However, economics and politics are deeply intertwined and one frequently cannot take an economic position without it implying a political stance as well (excepting my chivalrous and gentlemanly Uncle Charles). The more conservative branch of of the American political system had for many years advocated a post-Keynsian approach to economics - a faith that pure markets can fix all problems. The recent economic problems have led prominent conservative figures, like Bush Jr., to reconsider the Golden Calf of Free Markets and re-embrace Keynsian economics (ergo the Wall St. Bailout).

Politicians in WI are not quite as progressive ***smirk*** here in WI, however, and it seems likely that Jill's perfect job will fall victim to the recently elected governor's job creation plan. In post-Keynsian economics, the government could never apportion aid to destitute, retarded, or elderly as efficiently as a private corporation could. And in fact, if you think about it, this is why there are so many corporations solely dedicated to social service and caring for the poor, the infirm, and the elderly. ***can I smirk twice in one paragraph?*** I'll leave you to the internet to sort out the details of the political protest, but would like to recommend one article by the Wall Street Journal for those who have an interest in finance and a reasonable understanding of the bond market.

As for me, I will wash the dishes, do the laundry, and try to rebuild my blog. One post per week.

So we've been getting rid of stuff and getting ready for the move. Also Jill's parents have been out helping us get the house ready to sell. The kids had been sleeping on the air mattress and had a good time jumping on it one afternoon. The air mattress was ruined after that and won't hold any more air. I was disappointed in myself for letting the kids jump on the mattress. "I guess we'll have to throw it out," I moped.

El Destructo, ever the optimist, pipes in, "we're going to need to buy a bigger trash can!"

We were talking about where the kids got their names at the table the other day and May turns to her brother and says, "You were named after a bridge, and I was named after an old, old lady."

The kids and I went fishing with our friend Pete the other day. We had a great time and the fish didn't swallow even one hook - they were all released back alive. Unfortunately for me, I pulled a muscle in my tush while standing around doing nothing and it's been very painful. I had to take a few days off running.

I'm going to OT for my broken wrist, which is feeling better (I can type fairly well now with very little pain), it's a weird social scene, we all sit around a big table doing our exercises and making small talk.

Last week, I went to the doctor's office. I had Ben with me and was waiting for the doctor when my phone rang. It was a real estate agent I wanted to talk to about selling our house. I scrambled around the doctor's office trying to find a writing implement. I searched all the drawers and under the sink - nothing to write with. So, I couldn't write down the guy's phone number.

After the doctor came in and talked with me for a while, Benjamin spoke up, "Um, Doctor, my Dad needs something to write with." The doctor was impressed and gave him a lollypop.

Walking May home from school the other day, her friend, Andrew, came running behind us and from about a half a block away was calling her name. May ran over to him and gave him a hug. When she came back she told me, "Andrew and I are on the Listening Side of the Class." She then listed the other kids in her class who were "Listeners." It was a short list.

I'm all faklempt about leaving Jersey today. I've been trying to drown my sorrows in Anime. I've come across a pretty good show, "Mezzo." In short, a girl, a punk rocker, and a lightly older guy ("Pops") are assassin-detective-rockstars. I'm sure that when I say "assassin-detective-rockstar" great volumes of images are generated in your head. Good.

In the episode I watched tonight, the older of the main characters has the following to say after they begin to uncover the latest plot: "I knew something bad was happening here. You could smell it in the air; like cookies; evil cookies." I laughed out loud, told Jill about it, and then wrote this blog entry.

On Tues, I picked El Destructo up from school, and his teacher had something funny to say. "Benjamin had this cup," a Dunkin Donuts paper coffee cup, "and he insisted he had brought it from home. He's been carrying it around all day and drinks from it. I took it away from him on the condition that he be allowed to bring it home."

"I don't remember him having that cup, but..." I shrugged.

On the way home, he tells me, "I found that cup in the hallway at school. When we get home, can I drink sink water from it?"

"Sure."

On Monday, when I picked up May from kindergarten, I asked her, "Did you get a new book from reading class?"

"Yes. It's a book about animals. It's non-fiction."

Then, on the way home, a boy who lives down the street from us and his mother were behind us on the sidewalk. May turns her head and shouts at this boy, "Dominick! Your cat pees on our porch! You need to make him stop!"

A few problems with this embarrassing truth:
1) It need not have been shouted such that everyone on the block hears it
2) On cat peeing is not a problem, yet it has incited our cat to mark his porch not infrequently
3) She kept repeating it over and over until...

"I know." Says Dominick.

"Well, what are you going to do about it!" Demands my daughter - insisting on a total surrender.

"We'll just have to try to keep the cat inside from now on." Dominick's mother replied.

Today I wanted to go to some lectures on toxicology - I was the only one who showed up. As I rarely give a lecture for which I am unprepared to an empty room, I took the subway back to the main campus to spend some time goofing off on the computer. My broken arm is feeling better and I get my cast off in ten days, the day after the match. It's still awkward and frustrating to type (the cast constantly bumps into the Ctrl and Alt keys). In spite of the chaos of the unanticipated computer commands, a true artist soldiers on.

News of the kids:

El Destructo has discovered the sandwich. Previously, he subsisted entirely on a diet of processed meat, frosting, and cold pizza. On Sunday, there was a cold cut spread at church and he asked me to make him a ham and cheese sandwich - which he ate! Now, as long as processed meat is wrapped in the middle, he will heat bread! He came running up the stairs as I was shaving to show me his breakfast this morning, "Look Daddy! A bologna-sandwich-toast!"

May still hates getting her hair washed. I've told her again and again, "When water gets in your eyes, wipe it away." No dice. The other day, it was time for her to take a bath, and I suggested they would get their hair washed. The kids are used to getting their hair washed every other bath/shower, and a bath/shower every other day. May screamed at me, "DAD, WE JUST HAD OUR HAIR WASHED YESTERDAY! WE SHOULD NOT BE GETTING OUR HAIR WASHED AGAIN!" A tiny purple vein at the base of her neck leaped and pulsed with every forceful shout. I'm used to evaluating the discourse of my children with skepticism, but how could one deny the pulsing vein? Later, May's story was corroborated by my wife.

Both kids have been excited about the possibility of moving after the match. They've been "packing" off and on. May told us, "If we move to Chicago or Wisconsin, that would be great. If we stay at our house in New Jersey, that would be great. I'm excited for either!"