Aaaand She's Off

The big news since the last posting is KyKy earning her driving privileges. On Thursday afternoon we headed down to Chaska, where it is rumored the people giving the road test are a bit more lenient. I couldn't tell you if they are or not, but KyKy passed on her first try. She could think of only one other friend who had passed on one attempt. She's been driving around with us since November, and she isn't a risk taker or all nervous behind the wheel, so her passing was not a huge surprise.

Yesterday was her first "solo" trip, although it wasn't truly solo. She ferried her sisters to softball and karate. This is the big, big upside of her getting her license, TOYH and I can have her make the annoying trips for us, other than going to the liquor store get daddy his beer and mommy her red wine. She's still keen on running an errand without anyone with her, that day will come.

I remember how incredibly liberated I felt when I finally got my license. Living out in the middle of nowhere, we were completely auto dependent, and until Terri got her license mom had to cart us around. I'm sure she was happier than Terri when Terri got her license. Because dad was commuting up to Moose Lake for work, we became a 3 car family - 1 truck, 1 sedan, 1 high milage commuter car for dad. There was usually a vehicle available for any driver who needed to get into town, even when there were four licensed drivers in the house. I think my first trip by myself was to play in the pep-band at a basketball game, taking the old Dodge "Wimpy Wagon" truck. I felt so free, not having to depend on anyone to get me to and from practices or "social engagements."

Things are different for me now. Driving is a chore and getting in the car to go somewhere by myself makes my brain crazy. I'm not sure if that's a function of the aftermath of the accident or if it's because I can't stand the thought of putting more miles on a car that is closing in on 180,000. When I think of my dream job, a big part of that dream is being able to commute by bus or bike. I know KyKy doesn't share my disdain for driving....yet. On the bright side, she sees the environmental and health benefits of taking the bus or biking for some trips. She took the bus to and from work on Saturday despite having a license.

Speaking of dream jobs, I'm not at mine right now. This job should be easy, but somehow I seem to find a way to screw up something almost daily. In fairness to myself, I think the instructions I get are sometimes ambiguous, but the fact remains that this isn't rocket science and I shouldn't have so many problems. I've always thought that I could be content doing just about any job. I'm not sure I think that anymore. For better or for worse, work plays a huge part in how we identify ourselves, and I suppose by extension, determines our self worth. I'm not strictly defined by my job. I have other interests outside of work I think make me a semi-interesting person to be around, but I'm embarrassed to say that when I meet new people or catch up with old friends, I dread the inevitable question, "What are you doing now?" - in other words, "What kind of work are you doing?" or really, "Who are you as a person?" Job as identity. I can never give the simple answer, "I stock shelves." I'm always qualifying what I say by adding that its transitional or some such thing. In short, I guess I'm kind of ashamed by my work, and thus my identity as a person. I tell myself that this shouldn't be, that I'm bigger than my job, and that I'm good enough, I'm smart enough yadda, yadda, yadda. Oh well. I'll just have to buck up and not let it bother me.

But Can I Still Respect Them The Next Morning?

Yesterday morning at work I was sent to a different section of the store to help get ready for the day's opening. In the course of conversation with one of my coworkers I found out that he is a "Mixed Martial Artist" and that one of my female coworkers is a big fan of "MMA" and attends matches at the Mythe nightclub in Maplewood. This rising sport used to be known as ultimate fighting, which appears to have started as a brutal near fights to the death. In the past 15 years or so, the sport has evolved and instituted some rules. In a striking fit of common sense, the powers that govern the sport thought it best to make kicking someone in the head when said person was splayed down on the mat illegal. Whew. Since I don't watch MMA, I will let others pontificate about this sport being a barometer pointing to the end of Western Civilization. I simply have no interest in watching. None. Not even to be able to pontificate about how this is the end of Western Civilization. I'm more interested in why these two people I work with, who seem entirely rational and well-adjusted, are smitten with this sport. The guy I worked with is very pleasant, doesn't have a chip on his shoulder, and I've never seen him act or pose as a tough guy. The woman is a sporto type, (she went to the Twins' opener). I never would have guessed that she was into this kind of human carnage, although I was told it might be because of the drink specials at the Mythe.

All this lead to a fevered insomniacal hour last night, consumed with thinking about the appeal of MMA and of other sports. Let's see what I can recall:

American Football - The unmasked truth about this sport is that it is deadly dull. I just don't see where people get off calling this game exciting. A play normally lasts 5-6 seconds after which there is, at minimum, a 45 second period before the next play starts. This is soooo much a teevee sport. Why? To fill up that 45 second gap, the previous play is reviewed, dissected, telestrated, replayed ad nauseum. If teevee watchers were forced to sit and watch the teams huddle and substitute players after every play instead of replays, the ratings would take a nose dive. Booooorrring. The only attraction left for the game would be the "big hit," that is, waiting for someone on the opposing team to get shellacked, and hopefully injured, by someone on your team. I think I watched about a total of an hour of football in 2008. I think I saw 4 serious injuries. Dumb. And boring.

NASCAR - Three words. Watching. Paint. Dry. Similar to American Football, I think the popularity comes from the suspense in hoping there could be a high speed car wreck, the equivalent of a "big hit" (with injury!). This sport has had the unfortunate consequence of making NASCAR's yahoo fans think that 35W is Daytona and that they are Jeff Gordon. Morons.

Basketball - Boring on the pro level only because the athleticism is so great that the game does not look challenging. Raise the basket 3 more feet and widen the foul lane 10 more feet and it might be more like women's basketball, which looks much more interesting to me.

Hockey - Interesting because it has nonstop action due to the line changes and the zipping around on ice skates. On the pro level, the stupid enters in through the constant ticky-tacky clutching, grabbing etc. which has the effect of dampening the thing that makes hockey interesting, the speed. Also, pro hockey has idiots like Derek Boogaard who runs a hockey camp for kids to teach them how to fight. 'Nuff said.

Soccer - I've truly enjoyed watching World Cup soccer on the teevee. Ironically the problem with the game is not actual violence and injury. It is the appearance of violence and injury. In my observation, one only has to look at an opponent cross-eyed to get him to flop down on the turf holding his leg as if his achilles tendon has snapped and rolled up like an old fashioned window shade. From what I gather, the team trainer comes out, kisses the boo-boo and everything is all right since the player, more likely than not, finishes the game showing no ill effects. (Note to self: suggest magic lipped soccer trainers move to NFL. Millions could be made.)

Here are two gross generalizations for you. For the most part the pro sports I've watched have been so filled with chest-thumping bravado and in your face intimidation that I simply turn them off. The other thing I generally find bothersome in most all sports are players testing the limits as to how much they can get away with without being called for a penalty or foul. How much grabbing can an offensive lineman get away with before getting flagged? How hard can a basketball player push off before the ref calls him out on it? Gotta test those limits, and when it becomes epidemic, the leagues change the rules to reign in the scofflaws.

Which brings me to baseball. This sport at the pro level is not without its problems, but it is the one game I can sit down and watch on the teevee and not feel like I am wasting an afternoon or evening (o.k. I could watch World Cup Soccer for a few hours).

I'm not sure what the greatest appeal of the game is for me, but I do know that the intimidation and trash talking doesn't seem as prevalent, A.J. Pyrzynski excepted of course. Sure there are brush back pitches every once in a while, but honestly I think the pitcher and catcher and the hitter are all trying so hard to outsmart one another that they can't be bothered with overt intimidation. Second, baseball has no clock artificially imposing drama. Third, game is played out in the open with no silly scrums that can hide rule breaking behavior. I realize pitchers trying to paint corners of the strike zone may be attempting to get away with something, but he expects to be scrutinized on each pitch, he cant hide anything. O.K. Joe Neikro using a nail file and Kent Hrbek lifting Ron Gant off of first base were trying to get away with something. One was successful one wasn't. Like I said, the game is not without its problems, but the fact remains that the league doesn't have to tinker with rules constantly to refine the game, other than cracking down on steroid use. It'll be a cold day in hell before the NFL gets serious with performance enhancing drugs.

The good news for our family is that Madster is playing park rec softball this spring and is really jazzed about it. This gives me an excuse to take her down to the Metrodump for a game or two this summer. Woohoo!

On Busyness And Sleep

Once again there was a weekend of activities that kept us from all being together. For some strange reason I thought that as a family we would be under the same roof at the same time more often, but I guess I that was wishful thinking. KyKy and Madster have this week off from school so they spent the whole weekend with the Evil Grandmother doing camera club things. 'Nika, not to be left behind alone at home, had her old school chum from Emerson, Sophia, stay over night on Friday for a day and a half of giggling and movie watching. TOYH went to a "tea" at church on Saturday afternoon and we both attended a birthday party for a neighbor on Sunday afternoon. This evening Madster starts Park/Rec softball, along with karate. More running around, although she vows to ride her bike to softball when she can.

In between all the comings and goings, we had a couple of guests. On Thursday, TOYH's sister-in-law from China came over for dinner. On Saturday my long lost sister from Atlanta showed up for a chat and a visit. Both of them are on whirlwind tours of the motherland and were able to squeeze in face time with us at our humble abode.

I continue my work at everyone's favorite warehouse-type store, still pulling the 5 a.m. to 10 a.m. shift MTWFSat. I've grown accustomed to the 4 a.m. wake up calls. The nice thing about this schedule is that I'm home by 10:30 in the morning and I have the afternoons to myself. Not having two days off in a row hardly matters because I get home from work so early. Granted, as soon as I get home, I'm back in bed for an hour or two, but it still feels like I've got so much day left that I hardly feel like I've been to work at all. The quality of sleep has been varying. For reasons unknown, I've been waking up at about 3 in the morning, and then dozing off and on until the alarm goes off. Maybe my body is telling me that it's time to start riding bike to work, which I really should do for a bunch of reasons. There was a stretch last week where I was waking up before the alarm, and then not really napping well, yet not being a total wreck the rest of the day.

It's probably because I spent so many years as a swimmer hauling my butt down to morning practice that I remain a "morning person." Waking up and getting out of bed is never fun for anyone, but I think it must be less traumatic for me than for others. Staying up late always gives me a twinge of anxiety, most likely because I think, rightly or not, that I'll be getting up early the next day. Or perhaps it's because sleeping in past a certain time, say 8:00, always makes me feel like I've wasted half the day. This is not so with KyKy. This morning when I rolled out of bed for my daily ablutions, there she was sitting in bed watching DVDs on her computer at 4 a.m. She did not wake up early to do this. Today her day started at about 1:45 p.m.

Had my 60 day review at work today. 180 degree difference from my 30 day. My supervisor is actually happy to have me working for her, which is a nice change. After 30 days, I think she was ready to let me go. I thought she was misunderestimating me, and she was a little bit. I have improved the quality and quickness of my work quite dramatically in the past 30 days, but I still maintain that I wasn't as pathetic as she thought I was at the beginning. This is not to say that I'm set on making a career out of stocking shelves. I'm still working toward getting some computer skillz at MCTC. To that end, I've started an algebra review. The math anxiety has not set in.....yet. I just wish I had put more effort into math from about 4th grade on. For some reason, I have a copy of my 11th grade "Holt Algebra with Trigonometry" in my possession. I started on page one and am working through it page by page, actually enjoying myself, which is the biggest surprise. Ask me about that one later

My (Supposed) Reading List

When I finally get down to reading books, I'm working through two right now. "Working through" is overstating it a bit though. The first book I'm mostly ignoring is "The Left Hand of God" by Adolf Holl. This book is what Tom and Matthew and I work through at our "Book Club." (Book Club is another a bit of overstatement - we mostly drink wine, catch up with each other, speculate theologically and sit around a fire out back. Wednesday nights are partly why I am not a total bitter crank.) I started the book a while back and was not terribly impressed.

Holl is not saying anything I haven't heard about or read before, but the manner in which he says it is a bit, uhhh, unique. The subtitle of the book is "A Biography of The Holy Spirit." Holl starts with the baptism of Jesus. In the beginning of the book, he generally follows the New Testament timeline with side stories from the 20th century that illustrate the movement of the Spirit. His general thesis is that the Spirit is unpredictable, and what we claim as indwellings or manifestations of spiritual possession (tongues, etc.) are by in large indistinguishable from psychosis. Meh. That's not new or terribly interesting to me. When discussing the book with T & M, I couldn't tell them if I found the book edifying or merely titillating. His idea that the Spirit might simply be psychosis is reflected in his rather scattershot, throw-something-out-and-see-if-it-sticks style. I must say that Holl does a nice job of giving a brief description of Wesley/Finney/Azusa Street holiness movement without any snobbish European dismissiveness of American sects and praxis. I actually should be reading the book now instead of writing this drivel.

The second book I'm currently reading is "Crabgrass Frontier" by Kenneth Jackson. Once again, I'm not really reading it carefully. I'll bite off a few pages before falling asleep or as in the case on Monday, I took it to karate and tried to read while 'Nika was screaming and punching at air. The problem with Mondays is that more often than not, there is parent there in the sitting area who is constantly complaining to another parent about the liberal agenda that is hiding behind every bush and coming out to get her and her family. Help! Help! I'm being repressed. If you don't like it, move. Perhaps you could find happiness and succor in Riyadh, Singapore or least Salt Lake City. I'm all for everyone holding their own opinions, and I realize that democracy needs to have all kinds of ideas to thrive, but lady, your constant stream of complaints in a shared space like this is simply, utterly annoying. Next time I'll bring my iPod to tune you out. Literally. Anyway, back to Jackson. He writes about the suburbanization of the U.S. He's been referenced in a lot of other books, so this not terribly new stuff for me. He reaches back in history noting that suburbanization is not a 20th century phenomenon. He compares city growth in the U.S. with British and the Continental cities. Lots of interesting tidbits that I'll have to reread since I've been so distracted or tired when I read it the first time.

Mostly though, I spend a lot of time on the computer reading political blogs, transit forums and blogs and to a lesser extent bike stuff. Too much time on the computer? Yeah probably. A waste of time? Mostly no. Do I feel like a more informed citizen? As a matter of fact, yes.