Long Shrift

upon further review

A few weeks back, I purchased a new DVD player, and I also ordered a 30' cable from Monoprice.com. Then I ordered a 50' cable when I realized I had completely miscalculated the length I needed (apparently I forgot a couple of esoteric things like floor joists). The cables weren't anything special - just standard Ethernet cable, the stuff that you'd typically use to connect, say, your computer to a router or cable modem. No flashing lights, no gold-plated connectors - I hooked up the cable, it worked.

I just got an automated message from Monoprice asking me to provide a review of the cabling. My first instinct was to write something completely ridiculous, like how the cabling proved unsuitable for, say, rappelling, with disastrous results.

But I doubt I'd be able to hold a candle to the reviews of the Wattgate 381 Audio Grade Duplex Socket.

abortive reasoning

I would normally avoid talking about the big issues at a family gathering - at least until I've had a couple of beers, at least. Maybe I started it: I had been talking about Freakonomics, and how the authors correlated a drop in violent crime with the passage of Roe v. Wade. Then somebody blurted out: "I heard that Planned Parenthood did one billion abortions last year."

Yeah, that was a 'b'.

I couldn't let it go, so I pointed out that the population of the United States is about 300 million (with an 'm'). There was a momentary pause, and then that conversation ended.

hard to believe we're raising a smartass

We were finishing dinner. Quinn had just finished telling us how a kid in his class got in trouble for smarting off to their teacher. He picked up his plate and started toward the kitchen.

"And earlier today," my wife called after him, "we had a little talk about being sassy. Didn't we, Quinn?"

"Yeah, yeah."

We immediately called him on his this. I'm glad he was in the kitchen, so he didn't see me trying to contain my laughter.

In other news, Quinn's announced that he'd like to take guitar lessons. I'm all for it, as long as his future groupies tend toward the Gwyneth Paltrow and not the Tawny Kitaen.

well-grounded, continued

Quinn has not given up on the idea of building a vast underground complex out back. We had hoped that this idea would be forgotten, like so many of his other inspirations. But this morning he brought it up again as we were leaving for school. It didn't cross my mind again until late in the afternoon, when my wife called me at work.

"He'd like to talk to you," she said. "About Digger's Hotline."

"Since I'm not going to actually call them, what am I supposed to tell him?"

"Tell him that they said that there are wires out back, and we can't dig, say, more than two feet down. Enough to plant things in the garden, but that's all."

That sounded like a good idea. A moment later, Quinn was on the phone. "Did you call them?"

"Yes, and I've got some bad news. They said there are electrical wires all over the place in the backyard, so we can't dig down more than two feet."

"Wow, that's a lot."

"Two feet isn't very deep, buddy."

"Is it taller than me?"

"No, it's... well, Mommy can get out a tape measure and show you." There was a pause, and I thought I could sense some disappointment.

"This is good news, Daddy."

"It is?"

"Yes, because we will save a lot of money if the rooms in the backyard only need to be two feet high. I can fit in there, even if it's only two feet."

"Um, you'd have to crawl around."

"OK. You and Mommy would fit down there too, right, Daddy?"

----

It's flattering that Quinn thinks I am even capable of helping him with his grand plans. He believes that I can excavate a hole in the backyard big enough to accommodate a bar, two lounges and a theater. Or that I can nail together a few pieces of scrap wood and build a rocket. I know these days are numbered, and that there will come a time when changing the furnace filter will cease to be awe-inspiring.

But as for the underground empire... I'm still hoping that this plan will melt away before snow does.