Night Shade

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Last night as I’m kneeling on my son’s floor waiting for his stuffy sniffling to transition to the stuffy mouth-breathing of sleep, I found myself pondering the number of times I’ve found myself in such a position – apparently enough to know that neither sitting nor lying down would have left me in a comfortable state when I left.  These moments are much fewer than they’d been in the past; at times my wife and I practically took turns sleeping on his floor.  Now it is once a month on average at most.

Grasshopper’s sleeping woes have typically been just what one would expect from a toddler:  afraid to be alone, afraid of the dark, afraid of the sound of the washing machine on the other side of the wall.  In the past few months he had resorted often to sleeping on his floor claiming he was scared of his bed.  His bed, mind you, is a happy, plastic fire engine, so I wasn’t really clear of what there was to be afraid.  But it was easier to setup a couple of comforters on the floor as a mattress than to delve into the motivations of a 3 year-old, so we accommodated him and went about our activities.

For the past few weeks it had escalated to the point that his mattress sat on the floor for him to sleep on and I was close to sliding his fire engine bed out to the back yard as play furniture.  But as I contemplated this plan, I realized that I should really address the root problem rather than work around it (after all he was running out of floor space).  So I put his bed back together and we attempted a return to relative normalcy.  Of course, that very night as I attempt to settle the troops, he starts to get anxious and claims that he is scared.  So I ask what it is that he is afraid of.  As it turns out, he is afraid of a shadow that his night light makes on the wall as a result of a hump on the side of the bed along the wall.  So I grabbed something firm and rectangular, wedged it alongside the mattress to block the dip where the hump shadow was visible and – voila! – problem solved.  Unfortunately the object I grabbed was a picture frame which I didn’t realize actually had glass in it, so yesterday there was a clean-up issue.  But now the frame has been replaced with a blanket and a pillow and all is generally leveling out nicely … until allergies kick in.  It is always something.

Seeing the bedtime drama I still experience with Cricket, I know that the end is not yet in sight.  But it is at least getting easier to diffuse.  And soon I may never have to sleep anywhere but my bed … unless my wife has something to say about it.

Lord of the Flies

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Fruit flies, that is.  I somehow gained them last weekend while my wife was away and by mid-week despite our best efforts to thwart them, they became a plague upon our kitchen (still not sure what they were drawn to).  I began to think that I may have to share residence with them long-term and considered whether they could somehow pull their weight around the place.  But after a couple of strokes of ingenuity, I managed to reclaim my keep.  My remastery was a three-pronged attack involving (a) ‘humane’ traps (not that I really cared for their welfare) of old veggies and vinegar in bowls covered in perforated plastic wrap, (b) inhumane traps (fly strips) and (c) a vacuum with a long hose – the latter proved to be the game-changer.  There are a few survivors, but they won’t last in the long game.  I’ve got their number.

In other news, we are doing our best to squeeze what juice we can out of what remains of the summer.  Yesterday we treated ourselves to a dessert of evening pool time.  We bought a membership in for the summer and I think that it was only the third time I’ve personally made it there.  I did get the chance to see the fruits of my daughter’s swimming lessons.  Her general swimming and treading water has improved a lot (still room for growth, but she has more confidence at it) and I got the treat of seeing her jump off of the diving board about a dozen times (the last two of which she actually attempted to dive and succeeded in belly-flopping).  My son, who chickened out of his lessons 3/4 of the way through the first session, still sticks to hit comfort zone.  I guess I should look on the bright side – he has never seemed overly concerned about how he compares to anyone including his sister, so perhaps peer pressure won’t be all that heavy a factor with him later in life (one can hope).

In continuing our summer fun and not to be daunted by the stormy weather, today (I guess yesterday by the time this is posted) we spent the day at Giggleberry Fair (an indoor play place in Peddler’s Village).  The kids had hours of fun, my wife got tons of pictures, and I got pelted a lot by foam balls and dragged through many spaces not meant for upright, full-height adults.  Granted it was a blast, but by the end my neck and knees ached, my hair was slicked and my shirt semi-saturated with sweat, and my thirst nigh unquenchable.

But now the temperatures seem to be going back into the miserable range (and there is that pesky thing called work), so our summertime adventures will be dwindling as the start of first grade looms on the horizon for Cricket (and Grasshopper will too be returning to preschool, though details as to where have yet to be worked out).  So I return to the grind, mindful that there will be storms to be weathered and some share of pests, but fully prepared to dive in and slough off what missiles life shoots my way.

Jack of Shadows

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On the suggestion of a family member, I recently read an older sci-fi/fantasy novel called Jack of Shadows by Roger Zelazny (the person recommending it is an English professor who loves Doctor Who, so it is easy to give his recommendation some credence).  I am being accurate in labeling it both science fiction and fantasy as it takes place in a distance future where the Earth has long since stopped rotating (to be more accurate, it is in synchronous rotation) and while the residents of the day-side have continued to advance in science, the dark side has taken to the arcane arts and maintains a feudal society based on seats of magical power.  In this world, the protagonist, Jack of Shadows, was born of the twilight zone and as a result has magic that is rooted to shadows themselves rather than any geographical location.

In this story Jack, a thief, finds himself quickly at odds with some daysiders that results in his death (which seems to merely be a temporary inconvenience).  When he returns to being, he takes on a long-term mission of vengeance against those that wronged him.  This journey leads him on a quest for power which, as we all know, corrupts.  But Jack was never really the good guy to begin with, so a turn from shady to deeper shadow is not all that out of character.

While the story was a rather short novel, the world that Zelazny imagined in it had a lot of potential for further exploration and was well thought out.  Though it showed some of its age in the portrayal of technology.  For instance, Jack ends up spending some time dayside using up computer time at a university.  Given that the book was published in 1971, it is no surprise that computers could hardly be depicted in any other way than as mainframe systems that process data and spit out print results.  And one item that struck me as odd was the use of candles as the primary source of artificial light everywhere.  I guess electricity was not likely distributed well darkside, and dayside there was hardly need of lights if there was window access, but it seemed a little odd and was something on which the author failed to elaborated.

Generally though, I rather enjoyed the story.  It was a far cry from most of what I’ve grown accustomed to reading lately, but definitely in a good way.  It has led me to consider broadening my literary horizons – perhaps by reading more of Zelazny’s works.  But we shall see what lands on my reading list next.  A bunch of co-workers (many of which have Nooks) have expressed an interest in starting a small book club where we actually read in coordination.  If that happens, it will likely shape my reading list for a time and I may find myself peppering those reviews with notes from the group.  And as always, I’m open to suggestions on new books.

Lessons Learned

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They say (whoever ‘they’ are) that you learn something new every day.  I’ve learned a few things today.  To name just a few, I learned that I’m going to be an uncle once more over, that I am apparently boycotting Target, and that even though I know very little about the new Showtime series, “The Big C”, I have no intention whatsoever to ever watch it.

In many ways my life is currently about development.  For one, I am currently one of the lucky members of a company-sponsored leadership training program at work.  Myself and 11 others were selected from over 50 people who applied for the program, and we collectively meet for 2 hours a week to learn how to be better leaders.  There is also a project component to the program (there has to be some sort of measurable benefit, right?).  Some seem to be of the opinion that the project is more important than the training to the powers that be, but while I doubt that is necessarily true, even if it is it seems that the project is an important one and what better way to enforce the lessons at hand than practical application.

Additionally, I’m learning how to manage my kids more effectively.  When every suggestion/request/command that I issue is greeted by my daughter with inquisition and and by my son with either ignorance, abject compliance, or abject defiance, it is difficult to avoid yelling from time to time.  But I’ve noticed that yelling often begets yelling and can rapidly deteriorate even with the best of efforts to steer back.  So I’m making an effort to avoid yelling at all (it is a true test of stamina sometimes, believe me).  Now I just have to groom them not to yell back … I’ve got time.

Also with my kids, I’m learning to be careful what lessons I pass on.  I was explaining how picking flowers is traumatic to the plants and in doing so anthropomorphizing the parts of the plant to better impress upon her the pieces of it and how the interact (e.g., the roots are the plants mouth, the leaves its arms) – while she got the message that the plants had little chance of survival given her incomplete extrication, in the end I get a shrug and the statement “but I love the way their butts feel on my face.”

To elaborate on some of the learnings of the day, firstly my sister-in-law seems to be expecting her second child.  We are all routing for a girl (other than Cricket, the rest seem to be boys on my in-laws’ side).  Target apparently stepped in it with the homosexual community by contributing $150,000 to the right-wing political action committee, Minnesota Forward, who then used the funds to promote Tom Emmer in the Minnesota governor’s race, who happens to support banning gay marriage.  Being generally anti-right-wing-wingnut and of the stance that everyone should have the right to be happy in whatever shape or form suits them so long as no one is getting hurt (non-consensually), I think this is a big step in the wrong direction and is disappointing coming from Target.  I won’t likely be picketing, but I do tend to shop there semi-frequently due to my dislike of Walmart.  But I’m sure I can find somewhere else to purchase my random household items until they dig their way out of this one.  Finally, the last item is related to work and is frankly the main reason that I’m up and on my computer at this hour on a Sunday night/Monday morning.  I will likely be sleeping in a bit and going into the office late to cover for these late hours (they’ll live).

My final lesson learned for today is that is likely smarter once all is said and done and obstacles are cleared to going about ones preferred business (in my case, going to bed), spending a half an hour delaying that by writing an arguably cheeky blog post about nothing in particular is not the wisest course of action (especially since the motivations behind writing said post are mostly vague feelings of guilt and spite).  And I know that in such a state, I’m not likely to go back and proofread it either to make sure I didn’t make any important mistakes or make an ass of myself (not that I often avoid those things anyway – it keeps things interesting), so this post could be doubly dubious.  But I’m nearly done, so I may as well let it be what it is.  After all, you live and you learn.

Bridge of Birds: A Novel of an Ancient China That Never Was

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Per the suggestion of a friend/colleague, I located and read this first of three books by Barry Hughart in the The Chronicles of Master Li and Number Ten Ox series.  The book and series follow the adventures of a Number Ten Ox, a simple but strong Chinese villager of no particular status, and Master Li, an anciently old and incredibly shrewd sage.  The books very much follow the model of the Sherlock Holmes adventures in that the are from the perspective of the companion to the wiser protagonist.

In this first volume, all of the children between the ages of 8 and 13 in Number Ten Ox’s village seem to befall a plague that puts them into comas.  Seeing as the abbots cannot figure out how a plague could possibly target children of a particular age range, Number Ten Ox is sent to the nearest city to find a wise sage to help shed light on this mystery.  After being rejected by most of the wise men in the city for having such a laughably small amount of coin to secure such services, he finally stumbles upon Master Li Kao – who is old cold, hung over, lean as a bird, and very old.  Ox prepares to leave without bothering him when he discovers that he had once one a prize from the emperor making him one of the wisest men in China at the time.  After sobering him up and getting some food in him, he takes the case.

The root case, as it turns out, is easy to solve – the kids who were afflicted had been eating leaves that were poisoned as they collected them to feed to the silkworms; children under 8 were not used for such tasks and children over 13 refrained from such impulses.  The mystery of the poisoning also was quick to be solved, but the mystery of the cure turned out to be an adventure neither of them could have expected.  With Master Li riding on Number Ten Ox’ back, the pair trek all over China, wend through various labyrinths and face off against monsters, ghosts, immortal dukes and various other characters in their travels, making friends and foes alike.  And in the end they find that their journey is not nearly the serious of random coincidences it initially appears to be.

While this tale incorporates a significantly greater amount of mysticism and magic than one would tend to find in a Sherlock Holmes tale, it certainly makes for a similarly entertaining and brain-teasing adventure.  And the narrative format of being written from the perspective of an ancient Chinese man of humble roots really yields a unique perspective.  Even though there is no cliffhanger to the story – it is well encapsulated – I can easily see myself reading through the second and third books in this series.