Regular Life

But he’s getting there. It’s kind of funny that he has a friend named “Owen,” and I think one named “Luke” now, too. (Owen is Luke’s uncle, and Ben is Obi-Wan, the old dude who trains Luke in the first movie, for all you aficia-not-o’s.)

I don’t want to make it seem like our boy only likes movies. He often plays with cars, trucks, dinosaurs, and makes up voices for them while they interact with each other. Plus, I read to him every night before his bedtime (unless it’s his mommy’s night), and occasionally at random times throughout the day.

It just so happens that Star Wars stuff is flashier, and that’s why I have the following videos.

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An example of modern humans studying a native.
(click to make his teeth bigger and sharper)

I read about a people called Nacirema in one of my sociology courses. Yes, I had more than one. What can I say? I was an English major and a sociology minor, and anthropology in particular fascinated me. Wow, can I ever think now of a hundred other courses that would have been more practical for the real world. Nah, I was having too much fun learning about differences in ear wax between races. Sheesh.

But back to the topic. The Nacirema. I thought of the study of indigenous peoples while devouring the first 65 pages of a wonderful book I’m reading. This particular group relies on potions and witch doctors, holy-mouth-men and listeners. They really are fascinating when seen through the eyes of a scientific observer. This article, first published in 1956 in American Anthropologist, is in the public domain, so I’m “reprinting” an excerpt of it here.

Remember, I did not write the following piece. My parents were teenagers in 1956, so I wasn’t around yet, much less old enough to submit a paper to a scholarly journal (gosh, if my folks had met in high school and Dad had knocked up Mom, I could have been born in the 50’s instead of 1970. That’s weird.)

OK, really this time, on to one of my favorite passages about these unusual people.

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Man in the Know: Dang, we shut that place down! That bartender never knew what hit him.

He Who is Clueless: Well, I know what just hit me. I gotta take a leak. You think he’ll let me back in?

MITK: Dude, don’t even ask. Haven’t you heard about the Urilift?

HWIC: The you’re a what?

MITK: The Urilift. Come around this next street corner with me, to the plaza, and I’ll show you.

HWIC: I only know you from work. I’m not going around there with you… at night… alone.

MITK: Trust me. Your bladder will feel gladder.

HWIC: My eyeballs are starting to float. But, does this entail my pulling down my pants at any point?

MITK: You’ll just have to trust me. Come on!

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Click to raise your voice with me, or to enlarge and sharpen the picture.

Because Wordless Wednesday really isn’t held on Wednesday, I’m protesting. It’s more a Tuesday afternoon and evening activity, with just a few stragglers posting anywhere near or beyond midnight. Wednesday proper? A rarity. Yes, I know the Internet is international, but most of the participants I’ve seen are in the USA, and time zones aren’t so varied here to warrant such divergence from the meme’s theme. In fact, more common is an American user simply called “Rhonda,” who posted at 11:21 A.M. Tuesday.

This group of pictures contains words, so I found it appropriate to the cause. Caught beside Highway 69 in southern Oklahoma, about an hour north of the Texas border.

       

Click for bigger and sharper.

I’m amazed at how children can completely ignore a concept, but once you give it a name you can’t get it out of their heads. Benjamin has a new favorite word, and I’m afraid I’ve created a monster.

Just about the only remaining frustration for us while preparing Ben for bed was clean-up time. Still is, to an extent. Every night before bed, he has to put away all his toys, usually with an assist from us. Lately he wants to pick up each toy by himself, but his habit of walking across the room, and sometimes the house, with only one toy in his hand was making this process unbearably lengthy.

Most of the time I could get him to grab one toy in each hand, but on nights he pretended to be a kitty-cat (including the four-legged walking), this caused conflict. We simply told him that pretend time was not to interfere with things that need to be done. Many times he got frustrated at this or at some other detail of the process, refused to help, and consequently watched tearfully as we took away favorite toys. We said something that seemed clever at the time but that no doubt will come back to haunt us. Something like, “If you don’t help pick up your toys, then you can’t play with them.”

This produced a classic parenting backfire.

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This Blue Macaw served up my favorite color in feathered form.

I’m letting the pictures tell the story for this post.

But, here’s a little background to get you started:

My brother and his wife and their son came down over the weekend and we had a great time, including a brief trip downtown and a big trip to the Fort Worth Zoo. Said brother is the guy who calls himself “Charles” when he comments here. Because that’s his name. That enough? Good.

Update: I wanted to clarify the next picture, based on an e-mail I received. My sister-in-law was on the phone checking on their dog, and Shannon’s grimace probably was just a split-second frozen in time to look much more serious than it was. Of course with two boys of four, we had some challenges, but we were having a good time in this picture.

(Click any picture to make it bigger and sharper — NOW! I’ve increased the size of the enlargements. Try it.)

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Popsicles never looked so strong.
(click to make bigger and sharper)

With all the talk lately of aging bridges across the United States, I’m reminded of my high school physics class’s bridge building contest.

The guy above, whom I’ve known since second grade, is the subject of my series “First Best Friend.” We’ll call him “Chris,” since that’s his name. We’ve lost touch and re-connected a few times over the years, and the last time we spent substantial time together was our freshman year in college.

Still, one memory remains burned into my brain.

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Had I known I had an audience, I would have done something much more memorable.

Ben and I leave the house Tuesday night for an evening bike ride. It’s becoming our habit as the daytime highs are hitting “only” 92 and the breeze provides a break from the humectant air.

Ben hasn’t learned to use the brake yet, because he hasn’t really needed it. He sees something interesting, stops pedaling, and his bike quickly slows against the training wheels’ drag. I squeeze my brake levers with both hands, the front brakes squeal in protest, and I steer to a stop beside Ben.

“What was that noise, Daddy?”

“Just my brakes, son.”

Repeat this about 10 times in the next 20 minutes and you have a fairly clear picture of most of our rides. But this one had something special in store (and of course I have a sound clip).

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Click for a bigger portion.

See other Wordless Wednesday participants:
http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/

Non-wordless UPDATE:
TODAY is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. If you can’t do so openly, then I challenge you to slip pirate talk into a conversation somehow. (example: when frustrated, just say, “Arg.”) That’s less obvious than, “Fix my computer now or you’ll walk the plank.”

Things I’ve learned from television and movies, and their veracity:

1. Always look directly at something, in good light, before picking it up. Failure to do this can result in your a) grabbing something you never even knew was there, which kills you; or b) grabbing your water cup and unwittingly taking a deadly spider along for the ride to the office sink, where you rinse out the cup while talking absently talk to a co-worker, never noticing the deadly spider’s escape behind the faucet.
2. Do not assume that the cat you just saw really made the sound you heard, or that it’s the only thing in the house/cabin/chalet with you. If I need to spell out the reasons for this, then you clearly are not a fan of (allegedly) suspenseful fare.
3. The hottest girl/woman in the room can, under the right circumstances, fall for the nerdiest guy. This has inspired guys everywhere to place looks high on their priority lists and to believe that they can afford to be very picky in that category. The only way I can account for my wife is to admit I was not quite the nerdiest guy in Shoney’s on that fateful night, and her vision wasn’t very good. Now that she’s had Lasik, I’m starting to worry.

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