Playing it Safe on April Fools Day

April 1st is a time for fun and frolic: Children playing tricks on their parents; Adults playing tricks on each other. But sometimes, an April Fools joke can backfire (like the time I told my wife I had had an affair and she immediately confessed to doing the same*).

(*April Fools!)

So to help prevent sticky April 1st situations, here are some pranks to avoid:

• Don't adjust the bathroom scales up or down and expect hilarity to ensue. Up, the victim of the prank becomes temporarily despondent; down, the victim becomes temporarily euphoric. When you do your big reveal ("April Fools honey! I messed with the scale!") all that remains is a certainty that you think the victim is fat. I don't know how that works, it just does.
• Don't make Ebola jokes in public places. Or private places. If you need to make a joke about Ebola, the furthest you can safely go is to create a keyboard shortcut on your Mom's iPhone - substituting "Ebola" for "Bronchitis" - when she is suffering from Bronchitis. That's a little funny.
• Don't tell your six-year-old, tempted as you might be to do so, that soon she'll be losing her "baby eyes" when her adult eyes come in. You know, like teeth.
• Don't put a sticky note that says "I have a gun, give me all your money" into your spouse's little pile of transactions he or she is bringing into the bank. And if you do choose to do that, don't put a sticky note on the back of his or her prison uniform that says "I'm new here. Please treat me nice."
• If skydiving is in the plans for someone you know on April 1st, don't tamper with their parachute. It doesn't matter how down-to-earth they are, they'll likely be crushed.
• Don't pass a religious freedom law that is actually a vehicle for discrimination. People might think you're serious.
• If you're doing one of those classic food substitution tricks (salt for sugar, water for vinegar, real rocks for chocolate rocks), make sure the substance that's consumed as a result doesn't induce vomiting. That would be in bad taste. (Just throwing it out there.)
• PLASTIC SPIDERS ARE NOT FUNNY.
• Don't put anything in writing that can later be used against you (e.g. when you are named the new host of The Daily Show). This goes for all year round, by the way. Jokes aren't funny. Even funny jokes aren't funny. Don't make them.

I hope this helps. I have to go now because there seems to be an elephant in my backyard that I have to deal with. Damn thing shows up every year around this time.

A Tough Topic

Today I'm going to take on a tough topic. You may think this is just another of my gags, but really it's just something a little more meaty than usual. And by writing this, I'm hoping to give you something to chew on, something you can really sink your teeth into. Today's topic is...

Gristle

Gristle is about as nasty as things come.

First of all, for those who may not be familiar with the word, here is the dictionary definition:

Gristle: cartilage, especially when found as tough, inedible tissue in meat. 

In fact, when I say "here's the dictionary definition" I do mean the dictionary definition. It is the word so repulsive that no other meaning wants to be associated with it. There isn't a second meaning like "The friction created when a person's thighs rub together while walking"; or "A green, studded hat".

"Gristle" only means: "cartilage, especially when found as tough, inedible tissue in meat."

So how about some pictures for the gristle-uninitiated? 

No. Don't wanna. If you want pictures, look for them yourself. Suffice it to say that there are no cute pictures of gristle. Not one. And if I put pictures of it here, well, you and I would always know that somewhere lurking in my blog is a picture of gristle. And we wouldn't like coming here anymore.

Go to your favourite recipe site and try to find something that lists gristle as an ingredient. Here's what food.com had to say:

0 Results for "gristle"

How about famous quotations that contain the word "gristle"? There are some (courtesy of topfamousquotes.com)...but not things we tend to cite often in conversation.

"A bad past is like gristle. You can chew on it forever and starve yourself to death, or you can spit it out and see what else is on the table. Author: Lisa Wingate

"When you're chewing on life's gristle; Don't grumble, give a whistle; And this'll help things turn out for the best...And...always look on the bright side of life...Always look on the light side of life."Author: Graham Chapman

"A book is meant not only to be read, but to haunt you, to importune you like a lover or a parent, to be in your teeth like a piece of gristle." Author: Anatole Broyard

 If you try to visit gristle.com, you get a blank page that says only:

"The new home of Gristle dot com"

And what does that even mean?

Here's what you get a gristle.org:


Words that rhyme with gristle? Thistle, bristle, missile, whistle - each a word with an element of nastiness (if you're wondering about whistle, try giving one to a little child).

Gristle-based foods?

• Gristle Bitz breakfast cereal.
• Gristle Chunkz snack cakes.
• Gristle-and-cream frozen yogurt.
• Grissol bread sticks (nah, that would never work).

Enough said I think. I could go on all day, but I think I made my case. Gristle is the pariah word. We don't talk about it. We don't want to encounter it. We certainly don't want it anywhere near our mouths.

But all that said, I will sign off by offering my own bit of gristle poetry...

It makes me shudder. It makes me shake.
When I find gristle in my steak.
When I don't find it, it's not a stretch.
To say that gristle makes me wretch.

Enjoy your day and let's eat carefully out there.

(In case you're wondering, I was at my Mom's house yesterday, she made soup, and some cabbage got mistaken for some gristle. That's why it came up.) 

Why Your Parents Are a Little Protective of You

My kids don't get it.

They are only alive because my wife and I took good care of them when they were little. Their safety was always foremost in our minds, spotting danger miles away and doing all we could to keep them from it (except for the occasional tumble down the stairs). They were girls, mind you, so they might have survived without our constant attention...but still.

What they don't know is that the world wasn't always such a safe place and parents weren't always aware of the dangers that lurked around every corner. Allow me to explain.

Birthday Cakes

Parents used to think it was fun to bake cellophane-wrapped coins into birthday cakes. This was before they were aware that little kids could choke on things like coins, or that things like coins and cellophane leaked toxins when heated. Or was it just an annual reminder - on the anniversary of the day they brought us into the world - that they still had the power to change their mind?

Seat Belts

Imagine this: There weren't seat belts in back seats of cars for a long, long time. We used to sit, stand, lie, walk around, play tennis (and so on) all while the car was in motion. Tired children used to be placed gently on the floor of the car, swaddled in warm blankies, their cute little noses pecked ever so gently, before late night drives home. And in the front seat, there was the driver's seat and the "suicide seat" - also not equipped with seat belts. The only air bag in the car was the adult who wasn't driving. Good thing that drunk driving, distracted driving, and speeders weren't around back then either.

Halloween

We used to go out alone on Halloween. No parents. No cell phones. No GPS chip implants. Just a bunch of kids, dressed up in disguises ringing neighbours' doorbells asking for handouts. Mind you, this was before pedophiles, so what was the harm? We used to ask for UNICEF coins too, so that when birthday time rolled around our parents would have extra change to bake into our cakes.

Pesticides, Fertilizers and other Toxins

Nothing was too good for lawns back then. And nothing felt better than rolling around on a freshly sprayed lawn, picking lush, green blades of grass, holding them to your mouth and making a beautiful whistling sound. Ah, the sweet smells of childhood.

Nutrition

Before all those stick-in-the-mud nutritionists came along, food was food and eating was fun. French fries were a vegetable (potato), ice cream was a healthy dessert (it contained milk, after all), and chicken skin was the "crispy" part that everybody fought over. Vegetarians were pariahs. Gluten didn't exist yet. We ate meat at every meal, ate cereal that bore more of a resemblance to candy than whole grains, and washed it all down with Coke. (Note to Americans who are reading this: in Canada some of these practices have stopped.)

Smoking

Smoking was everywhere. Everywhere. On the street, at work, at nursery school, in restaurants, in malls, on airplanes, in hotel rooms, ... everywhere. Second-hand smoke was when you picked up a partially-smoked cigarette butt off the street and re-lit it. (Or sometimes, you could get second-hand smoke by rolling down the window of your car and catching a partially-smoked cigarette butt that a passing car had gently tossed in your direction - which might have interrupted a back-seat tennis match, but was a refreshing break nonetheless.)

Bullying

Not a problem back in the day. No anti-bullying laws necessary. It's just what parents did.

In Conclusion

Girls...you might think we're rotten, over-protective, micro-managing, smothering morons who don't know anything about what it is to be young. But not only do we know, we also survived it. You should thank your lucky stars everyday that we're your parents and that you live in these times.

Understanding David's Feelings about Spiders

As some of you have figured out, I'm not a big fan of spiders (I was going to say "big spider fan", but when I typed "big spider" I got a little scared and had to change my phrasing).

Some of you seem to think it's funny to post scary videos featuring monstrous spiders on my FB wall (flushing a giant spider in Australia, for example). And while that's not quite as bad as finding a real-world giant spider on my real-world wall, I still consider those who do this to be insensitive and a little bit evil (which isn't a great way to feel about your family, I'll add).

In today's post, I will try to raise your awareness of why I am the way I am. And maybe, just maybe, you'll be a little bit more understanding in the future.

In that spirit, here are 5 traumatic episodes for your consideration...

 

Spider-related trauma episode 1: Mom goes berserk.

My mom doesn't like spiders either, but she has always been willing to deal with them. So as a young child, I used to observe my usually unflappable mother losing her cool as she pounded a spider into oblivion with a rolled up newspaper, or a broom, or a flyswatter, or a shoe. The adrenaline would make her look like an old-time berserker swinging an axe at a swarming horde of enemies. She was scary. Spiders made her scary. Spiders made me scared.
(If you're wondering about my Dad, I never saw him deal with any bugs in the house. It might have been fear. It might have been that he was too busy to deal with them. I choose fear.)

 

Spider-related trauma episode 2: David babysits for the first (and only) time in his life and he and his twin 4-year-old charges encounter a spider.

The screaming. The panic. I'm sorry they had to see it.

 

Spider-related trauma episode 3: Cleaning the rec hall at camp.

We have pretty small spiders in Canada. In Indianapolis, where I went to camp, there were things called wolf spiders that dwarf anything that exists in my native environment. These beasts like to hide behind folded chairs in dark corners of recreation halls that are being cleaned by unsuspecting young boys and girls - and pounce when said chairs are moved. Now, while you might imagine young David being embarrassed to scream, throw a chair, and dash across the rec hall in the opposite direction of the pouncing spider, I distinctly remember having to push other stampeding individuals out my way to do so (including a few counselors). Still traumatic though. I can't move furniture anymore without my fight-or-flight instincts revving up.

 

Spider-related trauma episode 4: Spider nest bursts into millions of baby spiders parachuting towards David's face.

I think I was lying on the ground fixing something on the front door (like the threshold or something) when I looked up and ... I can't even say it again. Read the title above.

I came away so completely traumatized that I don't fix anything anymore.

 

Spider-related trauma episode 5: Daughter places giant rubber spider on the floor of the basement bathroom.

Enough said.

What I will say, though, is that I'm a guy with lots and lots of Halloween decorations, masks, etc. readily at hand. Some of the masks are terrifying. I imagine they'd be particularly terrifying in the still of the night, being worn by someone lurking near a sleeping girl's bed, gently tapping her on the shoulder - a girl who finds it funny to prey on others' phobias. Just saying.
---
So I think my fears are justified. I hope you agree and stop sharing your "funny" videos with me.

And finally, a call-out to my various cousins who have admitted to similar feelings about spiders. Keep sending those "how to keep spiders out of your house" tips. I appreciate it and your ongoing support.

A Letter to My Youngest Daughter: 6 Things to Remember When You're 6 (and older).

Dear M,

In just a few more days you're going to be 6.

That's a big number, but 5 was a big number too (Number 2! Funny!)

Years from now, you won't remember everything about being 5. I don't remember very much about when I was 5 and most people don't. That's because there is a ton of stuff that you're going to learn and experience when you're 6 and 7 and 8 and 9 and so on forever. And sadly, that means that what you know and believe and love at 5 might get forgotten and left behind .

So I'm going to write some of that stuff down now and you can always look back at it and remember being 5. I'll also slip in some advice because that's what Daddies do.

1. You love to sing and dance. When you're at home with us you put on music and belt out tunes like you're on stage performing in front of thousands of people. You do the wildest dances with arms and legs flailing in all directions - with the music, against the music - doesn't matter. You do it in front of us with pride and confidence and a complete lack of embarrassment, and most importantly you insist that we do it too. You told me yesterday that you don't think you ever want to perform in front of other people (like being in a play, for example) because its too scary. You need to know that the people who do that stuff have nothing more or less than you do when it comes to performing, they just do it even though they're afraid. Don't be afraid - show the world your joy and get the world singing and dancing with you (like you did with us when you were 5).
2. You are funny. You have the most sophisticated 5-year-old sense of humour I've ever seen, and I've seen some doozies. You love to laugh, but you don't give it away for free (unless it involves poo, pee or butts). You love to make people laugh and you're good at that. But people don't know you're funny until they spend some time with you and get to know you, because you also don't want to say anything bad in front of people you don't know. I like that in you. Getting to know you and earning your trust is like winning a prize. And the prize is the look in your eyes when something funny occurs to you and you're about to say it. Always be funny. Share your funny thoughts. Make jokes. There's too much sad stuff in the world and people need other people (like you) to lighten things up.
3. You care deeply about other people's feelings. You are the most diplomatic person I know (at any age). You don't ever want to offend. You feel really sad when someone else is sad or angry. Even when you're just watching a show or a movie and someone is about to do something embarrassing, or when they're being picked on or teased, or when they're sad for any reason - you cover your eyes. That's amazing. I want you to always be that way. I also want you to sometimes push yourself to overcome that fear too. That's because you will have friends and family who sometimes need to hear what you really think, even if it hurts them. Because you're the way you are, people will value your honest opinion about things. They'll stop asking for that if you don't tell them the truth, even when it hurts.
4. You love to create things. Drawings. Paintings. Crafts. Games. Like your dancing and singing, you don't hold back when you do these things. Your imagination is astounding. Most people are that way at 5, and then the world tries really hard to get them to stop being that way. That's because people think they know how things are and should be. New ideas and new things threaten people and the way they understand how things work. They also think that the most important thing is making money, and it's not easy to create something new and make money from it. Artists have a hard time making money. So do writers. So do people who start new businesses for that matter. But don't let that stop you from being creative. Don't listen to people. Life isn't just about money. You are here to create.
5. You love to read. This is something you're just learning and - thank God - you're good at it and you like it. When you look at a chapter book, I think you see an adventure waiting to happen. When you look at a book that's about dinosaurs, or the human body, or space, or..., I think you also see an adventure waiting to happen. Reading is an adventure. Learning is an adventure. When you're in school, it may sometimes become a chore. That's because schools teach a lot of things the wrong way. They teach history by making you memorize names and dates instead of telling you stories. They teach spelling by making you memorize words instead of making you read. They even teach you about books (literature) by breaking them up into tiny pieces that you HAVE to read by tomorrow morning and then asking you questions that take all the fun out. Reading is fun. Learning is fun. You know that at 5. Don't forget that.
6. You love your body. I don't think I've ever seen anyone love their own body like you love your body. You love prancing around naked. You love waving your bum in the air. You love dressing up in clothes whether they fit properly or not. You love dressing up in costumes and you don't worry about what people think. That's probably going to be the hardest thing for you to hold onto after you're done being 5. I don't know why, but there will come a time when you don't like your body anymore. The girls and women who they put in movies and on television shows will make you feel like maybe your body isn't what it should be. Somebody will tease you about something about your body, and then you'll worry that they're right. People will put you down so they can feel better about themselves. These words will seem hollow when you're older, but I'll say them nonetheless: You are perfect and that will never change. You know that right now, and that's all that's going to change - knowing it. Daddy will always tell you that and he won't be lying. Surround yourself with people who make you feel good about yourself and ignore everyone else (except your Doctor, whose job it is to tell you how you can be perfect AND healthy).

I will miss my 5 year old when she becomes 6 in a few days, but I will love you at 6 too. And 7. And forever. See you then.

Love,

Daddy.

You've Got to be Kidneying Me

As you may or may not have noticed, David has been quiet for a little while.

That's because he has been dealing with a little visitor for just over a week.

The first time this little visitor dropped by (September 2012), an important and memorable ode was written in his honour after he had departed. Read (or re-read) it here: The Passing of A. Stone.

This time, I feel no affection for the little guy. I am not wistful about his departure. He was a nasty piece of work and I'm glad he's gone from my kidney and my urinary tract (if indeed, he's gone).

I don't know exactly what he looked like, but I imagine something like this sliding through the tight confines of my urinary tract:

So this time, in his honour, I offer a few scattered thoughts:

• Is passing a kidney stone akin to giving birth? I don't know. The only experts who might have an informed opinion would be women who have done both. And I've heard that some say passing a kidney stone is worse, while others say it's not even close. I suspect the truth is that it depends on what you've passed and what you're left with. If after childbirth, the resulting child looks and/or behaves like the stone I've depicted above, I'm guessing the experience is no better than, and probably worse than passing a stone. And on the other hand, you probably remember childbirth as a more pleasant experience if you end up with something that looks like this...

 

• Why are there so few Disney characters who suffer from kidney stones?  With the exception of Beauty and the Beast, the subject is barely ever sung about. I guess we need to be satisfied with:

No one's slick as a stone 
No one pricks like a stone
No one's neck's as incredibly thick a stone's...

• What are the foods that help you get rid of a stone? What foods put you at risk? What foods help prevent a stone? Here's a summary of my answers to these questions based on some extensive internet research:

I don't know

Lime is good. Beets are good and bad, but mostly bad. Cranberry juice (the real stuff, not the cocktail) might alleviate symptoms. Calcium is bad. Swallowing tiny crystalline pebbles could be a problem. A raw pheasant egg, buried on a cloudy afternoon in the shade of a sycamore tree, then disinterred at midnight using a brass shovel and eaten with the salt from a baby's sweat could help. Cats are bad (that's a general statement that I felt like saying, independent of context).

• Here's the good news about experiencing a second kidney stone: For the first one, I sat on the floor of my bathroom in agony for about 5 hours before screwing up the courage to tell my wife that my appendix had exploded and I was about to die. For the second one, I was asleep in bed at 11:45 pm when I awoke with an all-too familiar pain. I immediately dragged myself from bed, packed a bag, got dressed, brushed my teeth, grabbed some Junior Mints, and politely interrupted my wife (who was playing cards with the neighbours at the time) to tell her that we should probably make our way to the hospital around about now. From first hint of pain (hint being an understatement) to intravenous morphine in about 75 minutes. Because once you've had a rock in your guts causing mayhem and stabbing randomly and frequently at the walls of your kidney, you tend to remember what that feels like. And that's a good thing. I can't wait to experience it again.

• Here's some advice for the friends and families of a kidney stone victim. The sufferer can make jokes and they're funny. You should not. Nothing you say is funny. Links to internet pages about foods that prevent kidney stones should be sent once the suffering is over. Conversations about how painful the passage is, links to Seinfeld episodes about Kramer's stone, arguments about childbirth vs. kidney stones (and so on) don't really add much to the whole experience for the sufferer. Compassion should come in the form of silent devotion, immediate response to whispered requests, and otherwise - absence. The sufferer will love you when it's all over (but that's not a given, so be careful). You can't help with the passage - it is a Vision Quest upon which we must embark alone.

• While enduring this particular stone, I gave a keynote presentation at a conference, I shoveled the driveway (sort of, once), I took minimal pain medicine, I didn't yell, I didn't drag anyone down into the well of pain I found myself in, and I even went to the bathroom by myself (after 4 days of not doing so I might add). I am the hero here. Let us celebrate me and my re-emergence from a week of fear for my life. 

Until next time...thanks for listening. David.

Ice Carrots

She calls icicles ice carrots.
She calls grilled cheese girl cheese.
She calls a whirlpool a swirlpool.

In our furious rush to teach her how things are supposed to be and what things are supposed to be called, we'll rid her of these malapropisms.

Her sisters had to give up orps and craps; why should she be allowed to hold on to hers?

----

She's got day-of-the-week socks that she tries to wear on the right day.

She already knows to think thank God its Friday.

Not because of the socks but because it's the weekend. 

 She's learning to pause at punctuation when she reads.

And to use it when she writes.

She just figured out that she can probably count as high as 1000 if she could be bothered.


She can read a note on a Saturday morning that says "Daddy's gone for a run. Let Mommy sleep. I put paper out for you to draw a picture" and she will proudly follow those instructions because she can.

She pauses the TV when she has to go to the bathroom.

And presses play when she's back.

She waits until the Skip Ad timer counts down on YouTube then gleefully skips the ad.


She knows all the words to Somebody That I Used To Know.

Though she likes Walk off the Earth's version better than Gotye's.

She knows that money is needed to buy things.She has yet to understand that you can't buy everything you want.


She's learning to tell time on a clock with hands.

----

I love every part of her journey. Even the destination.

I love lying on the floor with her at night, having cut out some really badly drawn ponies - mine is Turquoise Prisoner, hers is Emily Sparkle - and playing a game where we see which one can swim fastest, skate the best, or fart the loudest. I love it for 15 minutes at a time, whereas she could do it for hours and still want more.

Play is her work, as someone smart said; it's work for me too, but I try.

She read Get Out of Bed! to me last night. Cover-to-cover.

The reading will accelerate and enrich her vocabulary and her spelling, so that she learns to fall in line and say icicle, grilled cheese, and whirlpool (because those are the words you're supposed to use even though her versions are way better).

It will also make her need me less.

The older two still enjoy arts and crafts (even when they're not with their little sister) but we took orps and craps away from them and that's a shame.

And they haven't let me read to them in years.

I'm going to try to keep the ice carrots I think.