Guess Who His Hero Is

Yesterday was Tom's birthday. Today was the birthday party.

Let me begin by saying, I don't like doing birthday parties - I don't like cleaning the house, just to have it mobbed. I don't like trying to find the perfect time slot. I don't like trying to plan for the perfect length of party (though I'd rather be too short than too long). I don't like trying to come up with thematically appropriate games.

But I started doing parties for my first child, and it doesn't seem fair to quit now that I have four and they have seen the pattern established. The only good thing that I have learned is to not allow more than 4 guests. (My 4 kids + 4 guests = 8, the number of novelty items in any party pack!)

All that said, today's theme was Indiana Jones training camp. I'd planned for three outdoor games: perfect; only the kitchen needs to be clean, right? And then there was snow on the ground when I woke up this morning. Yesterday, spring; today, winter. What does Indy do inside? Eat strange foods, teach classes, sleep and kiss girls. Fortunately the perverted weather demon that ordered snow for this morning also called for a warming trend, and the games were able to go on.

We dodged fast moving rocks, had whip target practice, did strength training, and practiced running hunched over, clutching something (in this case, their shins). Kudos to me, it also passed off 4 different things for Tom's Bear Cub Scout award.

We had cake and ice cream, everyone got plastic snakes and Mutt swords (I found them online for .89! A serious sale, because they used to be $5.99. I guess I have shopping estrogen, after all!) and it was over and done in 90 minutes. The only snag? Tom was supposed to choose 4 friends to invite, and he managed to mention to two other young men (not originally invited) that there was going to be a party. I didn't feel right telling them "Sorry; we can't exceed maximum occupancy;" so there were 10 kids instead of 8, and Addie and Jake had to yield their goodies. (I'm sorry to say, it serves them right, too. They were the hardest to deal with at the party. How old are they, anyway?)

This, by the way, is the cake. Decorating the cake is both my favorite and least favorite part of any celebration. I love coming up with something cool and creative; I hate that I always leave it until the hour before the party, making me feel rushed an stupid. I came up with this idea just this morning: Indy, surrounded by snakes. Apparently, I do work best under pressure!

I'm the Guy

Tom and Liz are taking piano lessons from a lady at church. Not content with teaching them piano (and she's doing a fabulous job!), she's also introducing me to new movies.

One of them is "Strictly Ballroom." It was directed by the same man who did "Moulin Rouge" (Baz Luhrmann) and was released in 1992. It's Australian, and can't quite decide if it wants to be a drama, a comedy, or a mocumentary on ballroom dance competition, but which ever it is, my daughter Addie and I have fallen in love with it.

So imagine Addie's joy when she found out her school offers Ball room dance as a class in the 9th grade! Extra cool, it would count as both an art and phys ed class for her graduation credits!

Now we both want to do ball room dancing lessons. The biggest obstacle is that the men in our lives (Honey and brother Jake) are flat not interested in doing it. We are taking lessons from another lady at church, and I might say, we are cute. We dance a mean fox trot and swing, and will soon begin the cha cha and the waltz.

Even though Addie is taller than I am, I am the guy. We figure, if she gets the class she wants, she'll be the one dancing the girl's part, so she might as well get used to it. If we could just get other people to come and take lessons with us, so that we could get used to moving through crowds, it would be perfect!

See you on the dance floor!

43 Days and Counting

I haven't eaten chocolate for 43 days.

This is an unheard of accomplishment. Before that, it was a mere 24 hours. It doesn't really count though, because it was Fast Sunday, and I wasn't eating anything. (Actually, there was a week in 1995 where I didn't eat chocolate, but I was in the hospital, on IV feeding, and they weren't even letting me suck ice chips. It doesn't count if you aren't given the choice).

I am astonished at the power of a spiritual fast. When I am fasting for religious reasons, I can go 24 hours with out eating. I once fasted for 24 hours, two days in a row (with a one hour break in the middle to frantically gulp water and -yes- chug chocolate). But I did it, because it was spiritually motivated. If I'm not fasting, I can't get from one meal to the next without some kind of snack to tide me over.

My niece gave me the idea of a long term fast. She and her sister were fasting for another sister in the mission field: no refined sugar for 18 months.

That sounded a bit extreme to me, but it captured my imagination, and I decided I would try the same thing. (I'm fasting for my school application though; this fast should end some time in April.) And for me to give up chocolate would be as big as refined sugars would be for them. I didn't think I could do it.

Here it is, 43 days later, and I haven't had any chocolate. Not a chip, not a nibble, not a lick.

Are you reeling yet? No? Let me add: there is abundant chocolate available. I make homemade cookies for my kids lunches every week: triple chocolate, oatmeal chocolate chip, simple chocolate chip cookies. There's been ice cream. My kids have had chocolate frosties from Wendy's. And the cruelest test of all: my mother has been teaching Addie and Jake how to bake. Every week they come home with a new brownie, or a new cookie; last week, it was chocolate cheese pie. (I think my mom hates me.)

I've not eaten one bite.

Want to know how I can tell this is entirely a spiritual experiene? I haven't lost one. single. pound. Apparently, I've increased my refined sugar intake to compensate.

Sigh. I wonder what I can fast for that would be worth giving up refined sugar, and if I would increase my fried food intake to compensate?

A Glimpse of my Weekend

I worked Saturday. I didn't realize it was Valentine's Day when I put myself on the schedule. I was up and out the door by 5:30. Working on Valentine's Day doesn't have to be a disaster, necessarily. The things that made it a disaster really could have happened any day of the week.

First off, for those who don't already know, I am a CNA -which means that I get to do all of the really dirty work that nurses used to do, with out anything like the pay. I work at a senior long term care center. This is where the elderly go when their families either can't care for them any more, or they require round the clock nursing care. Many of them have regressed to toddler states of mind (and body). Most days, it doesn't really bother me. What can get on your nerves is personalities.

There is one woman, I'll call her Jane, who can be a challenge. Not because she is unpredictable, but because she is so VERY predictable. When I got to work at 6:00 am, she was already up and dressed for the day. She's mostly blind and largely deaf. She barks. I don't mean that she thinks she's a dog; I mean that she issues short, crisp, repetetive demands. She's like that yappy dog the neighbors leave outside because they can't bear to have it inside.

If she's up, it must be time to eat. She has a predictable array of yips and yaps: "Take me to my table! Get me hot chocolate! Where's my bib? Where's my orange juice?" These are repeated at regular, short intervals. If a figure passes in her range of semi-vision, she'll cut loose with a barrage of barks. If you try to explain to her that meal time is not for an hour, the bibs aren't ready yet, the orange juice isn't out, she'll acknowledge what you say, settle down for a moment or two, and then repeat her demands. When the meal is over, she insists on being taken to her room and laid down.

In between meals, she has three activities: sleep (oh, blissful, quiet, speech-free sleep), going to the bathroom, and asking when the next meal is. I don't mind telling her how long it is to the next meal; I'm perfectly capable of saying "Not for two more hours, Jane; yes, I'll come get you. Anytime, Jane." It's the trips to the toilet that are wearing on patience and sanity.

Firstly, she rarely accomplishes much. Secondly, she's always certain that she has accomplished great, solid things (if you get my drift). Thirdly, if you answer her request for confirmation honestly, she calls you a liar and insists that, indeed, she has made a contribution worthy of note. This is a predictable course of events. It will happen at least twice in an 8 hour shift.

But when it happens at the same time that three other people have actual toilet needs, a family member is calling for a head to be put on the chopping block (not mine, you understand; just someone's), it's the end of shift, and my replacement isn't showing up 20 minutes into their shift, I get a little short.

"Yes, Jane, I've never seen one so big!" Again, she's mostly deaf. So in a small, echoing bathroom, I'm nearly shouting this; partly to be heard, and partly out of pique. It was not my shining moment.

On the lighter side: at about 11:30, a large vase of roses, a teddy bear, and a balloon bouquet was delivered for one of the aids, from his significant other. As another aid commented: "We have 15 women working here right now, and the only person getting flowers delivered on Valentine's Day is the gay guy!"

(so you don't think poorly of my Honey, we had celebrated with dinner and a movie the night before, because I'd be too tired to do anything after my shift at work, and I got my flowers that night -before I could tell him about the fellow at work!)

Players Revealed

I was going to wait for more votes on the last blog to finish the story, but apparently people have other demands on their time. (Did that sound whiny?)


Addie is player B. She was unaware that the violin had been hung on the stand, and was further unaware that the stand was behind her when she backed up.


Honey and my initial response to her confession (kudos to her for bringing it up first, by the way), was typified by 10 years of insurance employment: determine proportional negligence. No doubt, Addie should have been more aware of her environment; but player A hung her violin from a junior high music stand by its scroll, for the love of Pete!


So here was my prepared speech for PA's parents:


"This is the sequence of events as Addie explained them to me. Is this what you understand from your daughter? ("Yes;" or "No," followed by an appeal to the witnesses) To tell you the truth, if the situation were reversed, I'd be chewing my daughter out for being so careless with her instrument. I wouldn't be calling you at all. I would feel my daughter's poor judgment more than outweighed someone else's clumsiness. Therefore, we will pay no more than 40%."



Here is what I heard when PA's mother called:


"Hi, you Addie's mom? I A's mom. Addie and A play together ev'ry day, very nice. They friends, they tell you. They stay friends. A's violin neck broke, very bad. You pay half, kids stay friends. How you pay?" (insert oriental accent of choice.)



I'll spare you the broken explanation of a Summerhays repair estimate and the repeated appeals to friendship and demands for half. The estimated repair is $200. So here is what I actually said. "If this were my daughter's violin, I wouldn't call you for any money. She shouldn't have hung her violin from a music stand. But for my daughter's sake, we'll pay no more than $100." (estimates being what they are).



So we are paying for peace, not for justice.



Follow up question: how much, if any, of the repair should Addie be responsible for, or is this just filed under "Sometimes Life Sucks"?

You are called to Jury Duty

Violin Player A (hereafter referred to as PA), Violin Player B (hereafter referred to as PB), and witness Violin Players C and D (hereafter not referred to at all) were all sent to a practice room to rehearse for solo and ensemble.

PA decided to play the piano and hung her violin from the music stand by the scroll. PB, unaware of this, and positioned between the stand in question and the blackboard, backed into said music stand and knocked it over, breaking the neck on PB's violin.

Should PA's parents contact PB's parents to ask them to help with the repair bill? If so, what percentage should they ask?

Please don't hesitate to register your opinion. Heck, feel free to poll friends and associates.

Meet the Fam

This feels a little silly, actually. At this point, anyone who reads this already knows who we are. But I'm dreaming big, and I made people cough up different information than I usually put in the annual Christmas letter. So here we are.

First of all, the last name is Milne, and it rhymes with kiln (that's right, like the blog name). It isn't Mill-knee, or Mill-en, or Mill-ine. It's one syllable. The stars of our show include:

Honey (alias to be supplied at a later date).

Age 42

Favorite hobby: playing the banjo

Favorite game: chess

When he grows up, he wants to : be a stage performer at Disneyland

His favorite food is : Mexican

His Big Crazy Wish is: to live in a country that actually adheres to the Constitution.

His favorite quote is : "Yesterday is history; tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift; that is why it is called the present." (Kung Fu Panda)

Lyn

Age 37

Favorite Hobby: reading

Favorite Game: Ticket to Ride

When she grows up, she wants to be: an awesome nurse

Her favorite food is: Bajio Taquitos

Her Big Crazy Wish is: to be a published author

Her Favorite quote is: "Mawidge is a dweam wiffin a dweam." (the Princess Bride)

Addie

Age: 14

Favorite Hobby: writing stories

Favorite game: http://www.howrse.com/

When she grows up, she wants to be: a Renaissance Woman

Her favorite food is: ice cream

Her Big Crazy Wish is: to be able to change into any animal

Her Favorite quote is: "It comes in pints? I'm getting one." (Fellowship of the Ring)

Jake

Age 12

Favorite hobby: football

Favorite Game: Madden '08

When he grows up, he wants to be: an NFL player

His favorite food is: Chocolate

His Big Crazy Wish is: a full-ride scholarship to BYU

His favorite quote is: "Do or do not. There is no try." (Empire Strikes Back)

Tom

Age 9 (almost10)

Favorite hobby: drawing

Favorite Game: Lego Indiana Jones

When he grows up, he wants to be: an artist

Favorite Food: Potato chips and cottage cheese

His Big Crazy Wish: to be a great wrestler and not break any bones.

His favorite quote: "Sticks and stones may breaketh my bones, which is why I runneth away!" (Shrek 3)

Lizzie

Age 8

Favorite hobby: playing with Addie

Favorite game: Nintendo Star Fox Assault

When she grows up, she wants to be a: grocery checker for Macey's

Favorite food: catsup

Her Big Crazy Wish: That Darth Vader were really alive.

Her favorite quote: "Ski-doosh!" (Kung Fu Panda)

So that's our family. You'll be learning more about us that anyone truly wants to know, I'm sure. That's why names have been changed to protect the innocent!

I wonder what grade we'll get?

I hate school science fairs. Kids hate school science fairs. I wonder if teachers hate school science fairs?



The thing I hate the most is "helping" my kids come up with an original idea. Teachers have banned volcanoes, plants and water, the solar system, and teeth in soda experiments because they have seen them so often. So coming up with something new is a challenge, and my kids don't like my ideas. (Someday, I'll talk some one into doing an experiment on fluid intake vs output; they may have to pee into a container, but I'll bet no one has ever done it before!)


The other thing I hate is striking the proper balance between helping and taking over. It's supposed to be their experience, but when you go to the school displays, you can tell that there are some parents in serious competition. I don't like worrying about what kind of grade I'd get in 7th grade (or 2nd, or 4th) science.


All that said, here is Jake's experiment on diffusion (I'll introduce the fam more fully tomorrow; never waste good blogging material!). The idea and procedures were mine, but the work, the calculations, the poster board and the final report are his.


I hope we get a good grade!

Welcome to my home

I love blogs. I love reading what other people are up to. I love writing. I'd love to practice more of it. A blog seems like a low key, no pressure way to get after it.

I read one blog with great interest. The woman posted a picture of something she had done. Reaction included some negatives. She remarked later that she was amazed that people would say nasty things when it was so much easier to let it go. Why, she wondered, would someone enter your home, only to say what an ugly couch you had (metaphorically speaking). Some one else responded, "They didn't enter your home to see your couch; you hauled it out onto the front lawn for all the world to see."

That said, Hello, world; here is my couch.