Useless Blogging

This is backdated so I can search on the date. It’s kind of cheating, but it’s meaningful cheating.

Last year, Sara attended a soiree for a kid in her pre-K class at a fire station. It was quite the affair, given the age of the child. His mom told me that her family is of the opinion that anytime you turn “a full hand”, a larger-than-usual party ought to be held. (Base 10 carries the day.) I remember thinking that was an intriguing idea, if not one I’d subscribe to enthusiastically.

Recently, Sara went ahead and turned six years old. I’m still trying to determine what it is about this year, or this birthday, or her, or me, but there’s SOMETHING about this that makes it feel like this birthday is bigger than the past five before it. (Sara operates in Base 12? Maybe.) I don’t really have too much more to add to that equation currently; “something in the air” is all I can muster.

Regardless of the air, birthday wishes are in order. Sara, I wish you to continue to be as happy as you have been, and as happy as you have made me and everyone around you (if it’s physically possible for that much happiness to coalesce in one person). I wish you health, prosperity, but mostly (and I can help with this one) I wish you love.

Happy birthday, Sara. I love you.

(PS: Happy half-birthday, Emma!)

Google Voice’s voicemail transcription is the bomb-diggety. That is all.

There are myriad ways I’m a lousy father. I do my best, but I know I fall short. Providence has landed me in the arms of a great woman who is both able and willing to pick up my copious slack in that department.

One way I know I miss the mark is believing my older daughter. She never made it particularly easy with her penchant to exaggerate, just as I know that my fondness for teachers and a general belief in their absolute desire to do what’s best for the children in their care exceeds realistic levels. I kept telling Emma — and myself — that it couldn’t ever be as bad as she describes it. I don’t know what clicked, in her and in me, but something did, and I’m grateful.

To that end, today is my daughters’ last day at Middle River Baptist Child Development Center. I’ve watched this daycare:

• Let my five year old autistic daughter run a quarter mile home
• Lose my daughters’ things and try to blame them, changing their story no less than three times in the process
• Have its teachers set my older daughter up for ridicule and embarassment
• Send writeups home bearing witness to the bad behavior of my older daughter, only to learn that none of the people who signed as a witness actually saw my daughter do any of the things they described
• Break their OWN policy in informing the parents that ringworm was discovered in one of their kids, and not see an ounce of apology in the letter that finally did come home

There’s certainly more, ranging from ‘things that got on my nerves’ to ‘why are you a teacher again?’, but I feel that’s a decent bullet point list.

I’m sorry that I didn’t believe my daughter more the first time through, and I’m sorry that my inaction caused her grief. (And if you’re reading, MRBCDC, that is an apology. Not apologizing for how people feel, but rather apologizing for the actions that were in the wrong.) I’ll be working to make it better.

I have video evidence (currently on my cell phone) of Emma eating a hot dog. From her reaction, it may be the only time this ever happens.

From Random

Ryan, tonight:
Often times I believe that we are standing on the shoulders of midgets, and dead and rotting giants are simply relieved to not have to watch us fumble around and fuck things up.

Two child-related events of note happened yesterday:

Emma wrote a song entitled “Sunset”. Unlike most songs she writes, it is not a rehash of some existing song with silly lyrics; this one is actually about liking sunsets. Her music teacher apparently liked it so much that she’d like to have the class perform it at the spring concert toward the end of the year. Buy your tickets now.

Yesterday, around 2:30PM, Sara proved that she’s a growing girl yet again, this time marking the occasion by losing her first tooth (a lower incisor).

Pictures to follow, I hope. Congratulations to both of my girls!

So the last few days have been an interesting mix of purgatory and hell, health-wise. My symptoms would be tolerable and controllable during the daylight hours, and then jump straight into chills and a spiked fever when the nighttime hit. I finally but the bullet on Friday and stayed home to try to sleep it off, and it seems to have worked.

So if you’ve missed me, that’s why. If not, feel free to disregard. Coming later: thoughts on social networks.

Someone call me when players are done being whiny prissy cheaters, and maybe my interest for baseball will return to a point where it was in my youth.

I’m fairly well off, but I’m not horribly affluent. The economy affects me, but hasn’t crippled me. So I think I’m decently qualified to take a stab at what a decent stimulus package ought to do.

For the bored: Keynes is right. Tax cuts do jack, and in a time like this, they only stand to exacerbate the situation. Tax cuts come when everyone has money. First, we need to get some. I’m frankly loathing hearing anyone talk about tax cuts and how it puts money into the hands of the consumer. No, it doesn’t; leaving you with more is not the same as seeing that you have more, especially when people are scraping to get by (and are likely least affected by taxes in general).

Create work. Create jobs. Pay people. THAT puts money into pockets, and lets people spend again.