Long Shrift

the neighborly thing to do

The other day, after dinner, I took Quinn out for a walk around the neighborhood. He asks a lot of questions, many of which I can't answer. If he sees anyone, he asks who they are and what they're doing. And why - always why. Despite having repeatedly explained to him that I don't know most of the people in our neighborhood, the questions persist.

We were walking by a beaten-up pickup truck, and I noticed that there was a set of keys hanging from the passenger side door. I stopped and looked around, pondering what to do next. I knew what the right thing to do was - I had to start knocking on doors until I found the owner. The only thing that gave me pause was that I'd have a whole host of things that I'd have to explain to Quinn, plus the potential for an awkward moment or two ("Daddy, why is that man not wearing pants?" "Daddy, why does it smell like someone tooted?").

Just then, a man came by. He walked with his eyes down, as if checking the edge of the sidewalk - which struck me as a look I usually reserve for homeless people. I asked him if he knew whose truck that was. He seemed startled at first, then he looked around at the closest house, and paused. "I think that's his truck. Well, I'm not sure if he lives there any more, but he did a couple of years ago. Wait, yeah, he lives there. I'll go ask him." He knocked, the door opened. I didn't hear the conversation, but I heard the man in the house exclaim "Oh, shit!" He thanked me as he grabbed the keys.

I guess having a kid changes you. Years ago, in the same situation, I might've just kept walking rather than break that barrier between myself and the rest of the world. Years ago, though, I probably wouldn't have been walking around the neighborhood, either - having a kid gives you an excuse to be a tourist on your own block.

As we walked away, I expected an interrogation, but Quinn was strangely quiet. He was probably still processing what had happened - as was I. I'm not sure what Quinn took away from that incident, but I'm hoping that he'll learn to be the kind of person who knows his neighbors by name.

bartender wisdom

Ran into my friend Dave yesterday. He had been managing at a college bar for years, and recently took a job at another bar/restaurant with a more mature crowd. He made an astute observation: the crowd at the new place comes in to drink and to socialize; the crowd at the college bar comes in to "drink and see what happens next."

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Just need to get over to the offramp so I
10:28 PM May 14, 2008 from web

Heather Armstrong almost ruined Mother's Day

I'm not good at thinking up gift ideas for my wife, and I often end up trying to find the right gift at the last minute. This is exacerbated by her uncanny ability to get thoughtful gifts for me, and that she tends to think of ideas far in advance. Mother's Day filled me with dread. And then inspiration struck: Milwaukee's Department of City Development has a series of posters, one for each neighborhood in the city. Jenny had been meaning to get the Bay View poster for some time, but hadn't mentioned it for months. A quick Google search turned up the posters, and $5 later it was mine. I figured I had the perfect gift - it implies that I actually listen to her and even remember the things she says.

Earlier this week, she and a friend went to the Body Worlds exhibition down at the Milwaukee Public Museum. (The verdict? Amazing. However, some of the bodies might appear artificial... until you see the hair.) As she was telling me about it, suddenly she lit up. "And wait until you see what I picked up at the museum."

She told me to close my eyes and wait. I wondered if I was going to open my eyes and see a sinew keychain or something. Of course, it was the Bay View poster. She saw the expression on my face, and I had to tell her that I had another one sitting in the trunk of my car. (By coincidence, the very next day, a co-worker who had recently moved to Bay View expressed an interest in the same poster, so he just got the world's cheapest housewarming gift.)

Of course, I got points for the gift anyway, but now I was in trouble. I had a couple of gift ideas, but the poster was to be the centerpiece. The other gifts included:

• The slightly kitschy upside-down tomato planter (which I saw advertised on late-night television, so I knew it was a product I could trust).
• A CD that wasn't going to be a surprise. First of all, we had recently talked about it, and it's not like you're fooling anyone when you wrap up a CD - they're probably not going to think it's a puppy. (Side note: I'm a fan of R.E.M., and I like the CD, but if describe a 36-minute CD as "defiantly lean," you're inviting people to make jokes about how it was not so much an act of defiance, but that the aging band members needed frequent naps.)
• Ergonomic garden tools. My wife has carpal tunnel, and loves to garden, but still, it says "You're an excellent mother, and you deserve gifts" and follows with "It seems like there's a lot of creeping charlie invading the flower beds."

I had an ace in the hole, though. My wife's a big fan of Dooce.com, and I read that the author, Heather Armstrong, recently published a book. Perfect! I meant to go and pick it up one day after work, but the week got away from me. I'd have Saturday to get it, since Jenny would be working. So a quick jaunt to the local Barnes & Noble and done.

Except that B&N didn't have it. They offered to call the other store at Mayfair, a shopping mall that is everything I hate about shopping malls and more. But they had a copy, and they were holding it behind the counter for me. Another fifteen minutes in the car with a fidgety toddler, an aggravating search for parking and a walk the length of three football fields to get to the store... but hey, this book was the centerpiece now. I was so happy to be finished with the shopping, and Quinn was being good, so I even braved the children's book section so that he could get something. (He picked a box of animal puzzles that came in a little suitcase-like box. I later remembered that trying to show a toddler how to do puzzles is extremely frustrating, and I also realized that he was only interested in the suitcase.) The book was waiting for me at the counter - I glanced at the cover and got out the plastic.

Home at last, and time to wrap. I took my first actual look at the book, and realized I had made a horrible mistake. I had been expecting a book by Heather Armstrong, but she was actually the editor of a collection of essays by several bloggers (including herself). The big problem was that it hadn't dawned on me that a book entitled Things I Learned about My Dad (In Therapy) might be, oh, I dunno, a series of essays on fatherhood.

When Jenny came home from work, I told her that I had a gift that she had to open on Saturday, not on Mother's Day. As I routinely get quizzical looks from my wife, I have developed a shorthand approach using a Likert scale; this look rated a 2.

Please indicate your agreement with the following statement:

My wife thinks I'm insane.

1. Strongly agree
2. Agree
3. Neither agree nor disagree
4. Disagree
5. Strongly disagree

She unwrapped the book and laughed. "So why did you have to give this to me today?"

"Because it's about fatherhood, so it just didn't seem like the ideal gift for Mother's Day."

"I was wondering if this was something you didn't want my family to see, like porn or something."

For the record, I have never given her porn. Also, she had already purchased a copy of the book to give to me on Father's Day.

bring on Skynet

UPenn's ModLab recently showed off a robot that re-assembles itself. In the video, the robot is kicked apart, then crawls back together.

While watching the video, my mood changed suddenly from fascination to a lingering nervousness - after all, if an artificial intelligence is indeed going to take over the world one day, this brings us one step that impending apocalypse. Considering the track record of human-on-robot aggression, I think this scenario is becoming more and more likely. (Thankfully, the researchers at Carnegie Mellon are thinking about humans, unlike the irresponsible UPenn students.)

Then again, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the machines took over.