Ready to Rock & Roll

At first, Miss Tessmacher and I (and the Rozzle, natch!) were set to visit Aunt 'Da and Unca Joel in Ann Arbor. But, Tess only just returned from her summer teaching gig Up North, and she's a little tired of traveling. SO. We're gonna do it THIS way: Aunt 'Da will come up HERE to visit with her sis, and I will head south to A2 to hang with Unca Joel. Y'know what that means? Plenty of record shopping, beer drinking, perhaps a smoke of the hooka, and then Friday night, bay-bah…

Cheap Trick.

Poison.

Def Leppard.

Rock and fuckin'-a ROLL!

(Did I…mention we have 12th-row seats???)

It'll be pure, unadulterated, middle-aged metal mayhem. I am…SO looking forward to this. A review when I return.

My Support Can Be Bought

I would like to go on record as being a proud, patriotic sponsor of the effort to eliminate the Frilly-Ringed Avian Underbrush Doohickey. For years I've proselytized about the need to do away with FRAUD, as it simply is a nuisance everywhere it pops up. It is an exceedingly dangerous and invasive species, not natural to North America, and I believe we should work to eradicate FRAUD with extreme prejudice. Toward that end, I am offering my substantial clout to You, dear reader. If you would like my help in doing away with FRAUD, I would proudly give You and/or Your Organization my endorsement. I will put together ads targeted directly at FRAUD, and send out multiple emails to help educate a wide audience about the abuse of FRAUD to our natural landscape. I have at my disposal 25,000 email addresses, and would gladly contact these people on your behalf at a cost of $1.39 per name, or $34,750 to implement the program.

OH! Oh, shit, wait…you don't want to pay the money? Oh. Well then. Ahem.

Dear Friends of FRAUD,

Having just discovered that my get-rich-quick scheme was flushed down the shitter by my intended dupes, I realize that I am willing to forego any scruples or even the slightest modicum of good moral standing and offer my services to you instead. I'll go on record as admitting that I was taken in by untruthful claims by those seeking to eliminate FRAUD, in exchange for which you promise not to use the press as a tool to fuck my ass, okay? I realize that I'm being a total two-faced money-whore here, but what the fuck: it happens all the time, right? I mean, if *I* didn't do it, someone else would! Er…yeah.

(Sound ridiculous? Then head on over to the American Conservative Union and see the kind of ham-fisted duplicity those total whack-knobs are engaged in. That drooping flag sigil? That's a pretty fair summation of their scruples.)

2

Two years?? Two fuckin' YEARS?!? Whoa. I don't even WANNA know how THAT happens!

Seems more like two weeks ago that Tess woke me up in the middle of the night, claiming to have felt a *pop!* and wondered if it was her water breaking. The subsequent trip to the hospital…the confirmation that, yes indeed, that is amniotic fluid…the crashing realization: HOLY SHIT. We are having a baby. Like, today. The long wait for worthwhile contractions to show up…the pitocin to help 'em along…the labor and delivery that Tess, miracle woman that she is, accomplished with ZERO pain-management medication…and, finally, that beautiful face squalling into the world. Surely, that was only two weeks ago, right?

I remember so well being terrified of changing a diaper, for fear that I'd somehow fuck it up. Now, I wonder when her diapers, so fluffy and white and pure on arrival, came to look sort of mottled and scrungy, even when newly-laundered.

I remember so well the feel of her in the crook of my arm, falling asleep in the throes of a milk-coma. Now, I wonder when she got so big that she just…WALKS everywhere, and when she does want me to carry her, I can only go a block or so before my arms give out.

I remember so well her tiny cries, thinking about what her voice would sound like when she finally talked. Now, she just up and TELLS me shit: "I want a breakfast bar!", or, "Want to go outside play in sandbox!"

The Rozzle. No longer a baby. ALWAYS my baby. Feast yer eyes…

An Independence Day dress, complete with festive coronet.

Swimming with G at Interlochen.

Mesmerized by the opera singers.

"Hey, I'm big enough for this thing now!"

Coaxing her to blow out her candles.

ETA: I forgot to mention that, for those of you who either have way too much time on your hand, OR cannot get enough of The Rozzle…Papa has loaded lots of video onto YouTube. Search "brucepmiller" and you'll get almost more than you bargained for!

Scott's Workout Tips: Mowing

If you're even a casual reader of this blog, you know that I hate exercising. Oh, I'll do it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Running, strength training…*yawn*. I know my body appreciates it, but my spirit is always a little dampened when I actually face the doing of it. On the other hand, I really enjoy being physically active. I'd rather do something physical, that has a point, as opposed to just mindless repetitions. Walking (to get somewhere), bike-riding (to get somewhere), chopping wood (to get…well, to get chopped wood)…this is all exercise of a sort, and I'd far prefer to do any of these things as my "physical activity" and leave the running to marathoners.

Given that, here are some tips for mowing:

1) If possible, avoid gas-powered mowers altogether. Get a reel mower. Cost ya - at most - a couple'a hundred bucks, but after that, yer done. No gas to buy, no oil to buy…just the seasonal treatment with WD-40 or some other rust inhibitor. Plus the occasional blade sharpening. GREAT workout. Plus, good for the environment.

2) If you must have a gas mower - as do I - maximize your workout by NOT gripping the handle tightly. This comes courtesy of a book titled The Workout by Gunnar Peterson. He advises, when doing any dumbbell work, to only grip the 'bells as tightly as you need to in order to control them. Too tight a grip moves the exercise potential to your hands and wrists, and not to your biceps or triceps. Same deal with the mower handle: only grip it as tightly as you need to to control where you're going. By doing that, you move the area being "worked" to your bi- and triceps, and to your pectorals. Good strength training.

3) Don't have a riding mower. You should be able to hand-mow your lawn in, I guess at most, a couple of hours. If you have so much grass that you "need" a riding mower…plant some trees. What, are you a feudal English lord, that you need acres and acres of grass? Get real. Give yourself enough space for a badminton net, maybe some horseshoe pits…but otherwise, let 'er grow. Nothin' bugs me like seeing some faux-brick-front McMansion fronted by 300' of grass, ain't no one ever uses. Ugh. Life's too short to mow that much. Plant a garden, sow some wildflower seeds…ANYTHING other than just an endless plain of July-burnt, cut-too-short grass.

4) If you have the "power-assist" option…don't use it. I'll admit, when I first started mowing our yard after we moved in, I was happy to have the power-assist. After that first summer, though, I'd built up the strength not to need it. Which is good, 'cause it broke. Anyway…push with your legs, push with your arms, don't grip the handle too tight…make it a WORKOUT, dammit!

5) An iPod whose battery-charge window reads "empty" still has enough juice for at least an hour of raucous classic rock. Journey, Thin Lizzy, Boston…these will all play. Loudly. Try bustin' out some, I dunno, Ani DiFranco…chances are it ain't just a dead battery, it's yer iPod goin' on strike. (This last for the sly poke at KAT, if she ain't to busy moving to actually sit her ass down and read some blogs.)

'Kay. Go mow. Get sweaty. And for heaven's sake…TAKE A SHOWER!

We The People

"We, therefore, the representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name, and by the authority of the good people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare, that these united colonies are, and of right ought to be free and independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the state of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as free and independent states, they have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things which independent states may of right do. And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor."