My Parahippocampal Gyrus

Is, apparently, working just fine. Whew! That is a huge relief.

My Parahippocampal Gyrus

Guess What?

Yesterday I shared with Mary a story about Maggie and how much she understands. She's not quite eighteen months old and doesn't say a word yet, but she can understand complex directions.

It happened when I was in Maggie's room and had just finished changing her diaper. I looked around for her socks and realized that she had taken them off earlier when we were downstairs in the playroom. I told her that I needed her to go get her socks and a pair of shoes so that we could put them on her and then go for a car ride to pick her sister up from school. With that she ran off and returned a minute later with both socks and a pair of her shoes. She dropped them in front of me and then turned and headed to the closet to get her coat. I thought that was pretty impressive and told Mary as much.

Upon hearing this Mary made a quip about how smart all our kids were and that she had heard about a recent study that explained that kids get their intelligence from their mother. I don't think she really believes this. I think it's more along the lines of saying to your spouse that "your son/daughter/dog/cat did something gross/not smart/not to my liking" when they've done something gross/not smart or not to their liking. The flipside is that this same spouse is also likely to claim that "my son/daughter/dog/cat/fish did something brilliant or fantastic" when they've done something they want to brag about. That she used a "recent study" to back up her claim doesn't really convince me. I'm more convinced that they do get their intelligence from her when I pick up the girls from school and hear their conversations with each other from my spot in the front seat. To wit, here's the car ride conversation Mary's daughters held yesterday:

"Daddy?"
"Yes Grace?"
"Guess what?"
"I don't know Grace. What?"
"Chicken butt!"

"Hey daddy!"
"Yes, Hannah?"
"Guess what?"
"What?"
"Chicken butt!"

"Hey Hannah, guess what?"
"What?"
"Chicken butt!"

"Hey Grace, guess what?"
"What?"
"Chicken butt!"

And on and on this went until they started changing it little by little:

"Hey Daddy, guess why?"
"I don't know. Why?" I said playing along.
"Chicken thigh!"

"Hey Daddy, guess what?"
"What?" I asked hoping it was a different answer than the previous times.
"Chicken butt!"

"Okay." I said. This is funny. I get it. But..."
"You just said butt!" They said in unison.
"I didn't mean your gluteus maximus." I said.
"Did you mean my gluteus minimus?' asked Hannah giggling.

And then the conversation, if you could call it that, degraded even further:

"Hey Daddy, guess what?" asked Grace.
"I give up. What?" I replied.
"I have a chicken in my butt!"

I have a feeling that when she reads this Mary is going to say "You need to teach your children not to say 'butt' in public."

Guess What?

Bevare Ze Milky Pirate

Mary read the last post and said to me "Um, Dan? That was pretty deep. Should I be worried about you?"

The answer? No worries. Here's something she'd expect me to post. Enjoy.

Bevare Ze Milky Pirate

Lottery Laughs

I bought a Powerball lottery ticket. I don't do it often, but I thought "what the hey" and got one while I was at the grocery store yesterday.

I missed the live drawing on TV last night. I know they do it in the evening sometime and on ABC, CBS, FOX or NBC, but I have never paid that close attention. I figured I could check to see if I had a winning ticket by going online to check my numbers. And that's what I did today. Turns out I got the Powerball and one other number. Four bucks coming my way. Not bad for a two dollar investment.

While I was on www.powerball.com checking out my winning numbers I came across this link to the FAQ section explaining how they calculate the odds of winning. Always curious to learn more I clicked the link and got a whole lot more than an education on odds of winning various prize amounts.

You might expect www.powerball.com to have a FAQ section. Most heavily trafficked sites have a similar section. But what you likely would not expect find on www.powerball.com is a statement in the FAQ section like this:

HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GET MY MONEY?

It takes two weeks to collect the cash from the stores around the nation. If you go to the lottery to claim your prize after that two weeks, then you can generally have the jackpot money (all cash or the first of the annual payments) hit your bank account the next day - maybe the following day if you come to the lottery office very late in the day. That said, you will have no trouble getting a little credit if you wish to buy something big before the two weeks time. Just mention my name - and that you are the Powerball winner.

This sarcastic wit continues throughout the FAQ section, but to really get the full dose you need to read the Real Letters. Here's a sample:

FROM STEWART N: What do you think about the number 19?

I like it. An odd mix of the smallest number and the largest - together in one package. It speaks to the extremes of the Universe and yet shows how they can be inexorably tied.

It is also unique in that both numbers are formed by a single constant line (using standard type). One line straight; the other curving before coming down to the base line - not so distant cousins - and neither one having a family relation with any other number. The "4" has mutliple stops and abrupt changes in directions with its multiple line formation and the "2", "3", "5", and "7" have their sudden starts and stops.

Although a mere number, as humans, we can't but help to tie it to other numbers by which we judge ourselves. As an age number it is greatly important; the first step from being a "teenager" to becoming a "young adult". In fact, the shapes of the numbers suggest a relationship between youth and age - the straight erect youth next to the bent and wizened old-timer standing together - as if sharing the secrets of life (though "1" will certainly not listen).

I would have to put "19" up there as a major number; a number among numbers. Yes, I definitely like "19".

And then there's this one:

FROM CAROLINA B: Hi, I understand that if you win, and you've bought a powerplay, then your winnings will be multiplied by the powerplay number. BUT, this is what I do not understand. Suppose that I buy a powerplay of 5, but the powerplay number for the week is only 2. Would I still get up to 2 x my normal winnings OR would my powerplay number have to match the powerplay number exactly to win the multiples. Please respond like you're talking to a little child, because in this instance, I need for you to place the info on the lower shelf so I will understand. Many thanks for your time.

Ok, here goes.

Imagine that you are walking through the woods on a nice bright sunny day. The birds are singing and you are chasing a flutterby (that’s really what they used to be called and I like it better than the new name – butterfly) and, all of sudden, you find yourself standing in front a dark cave.

The cave is as dark as your scary closet was when you were a child and you can see nothing at all – even though you squint really hard. You move a litle closer until you can feel the cool air coming the cave and you are suddenly filled with fear. You think that there is a dragon in the cave. Your fear takes over and you run home, as fast as you can, looking behind you every few steps to see if there is a dragon getting closer.

For years, you think about the dragon in the cave. Finally, as you get older and a little braver, you get up enough courage to go into the cave, and you find . . .

Nothing.

There is no dragon. Nothing. It was just an idea that you had somehow. No one else believed there was a dragon. No one else told you there was a dragon. You just thought it up and that thing you just thought up kept you from going into the forest. Sometimes, people think of things that stop them from going somewhere or even from understanding someting. They invent a brick wall that they cannot get by. To move forward or to understand, they must first forget what they "know".

Just like you worrying about picking the correct PowerPlay number. There is no dragon, there is no PowerPlay number that you need to pick. There is nothing to worry about.

You only buy the option and then your ticket says something like “PowerPlay Option: YES”. Just before the Powerball drawing, we draw the multiplier number. There is an equal chance to draw 2X, 3X, 4X, or 5X (and sometimes a 10X). You don’t have to match the PowerPlay number at all. You just multiply your prizes by whatever number we draw.

And everyone lived happily ever after.

I love it. If you ask a silly question, sometimes you deserve a silly answer. It certainly makes you feel better about losing a two dollar investment on a silly lottery ticket.

Lottery Laughs

It's Like A Google Mashup Gone Terribly, Terribly Wrong

Okay... this is wrong for so many reasons, but you have to check it out.



I can't believe I'm actually going to end up using "Celine Dion" and "AC/DC" as tags together. Wow.

It's Like A Google Mashup Gone Terribly, Terribly Wrong

Da Bears Prayer

My brother sent me this via email from a fellow Bears fan in Wisconsin... Yes Virginia, they really do exist (up there).

Our papa
Who art a BEAR
Hallowed be thy fame,
Thy championship come
Thy play be run
At home as it is away.
Give us this day our Sunday win,
And forgive us our turnovers,
Though we pounce on those who turnover against us.
And lead us not to fourth and long,
But deliver us from Krenzel.
As it was in ’85, so shall it be in ’07,
Reign without end, Da-Men!!!!!!!

Da Bears Prayer

Thought of the Day

If you can't laugh at yourself... might as well laugh at someone else.

Thought of the Day

Baby, That Ain't Your Concern

Take it for what it's worth... $240 worth of pudding.

Baby, That Ain't Your Concern

Writers Block of Cheese

I wanted to write a post tonight, but could not think of a thing to say. But then I got an IM from Scott. He asked if I had read his latest post. I had. It was a good one. I told him so and that he ought to write more often. From that point our IM exchange went like this:

scottmonkeyboy77 9:46 pm: i have bdd

danthemanimal 9:48 pm: bdd?

scottmonkeyboy77 9:48 pm: blogger deficit disorder. find it hard to write stuff everyday.

danthemanimal 9:48 pm: agree

scottmonkeyboy77 9:49 pm: you come up with killer posts all the time.

danthemanimal 9:49 pm: nah. but thanks
danthemanimal9:49 pm: I've hit a bit of a block lately

scottmonkeyboy77 9:49 pm: guess you can always write about cheese

danthemanimal 9:50 pm: good idea. it's a challenge. Tonight I write about cheese.

scottmonkeyboy77 9:51 pm: block of cheese. turning writers block into gourmet cheese
scottmonkeyboy77 9:51 pm: and the style is cheesy of course

danthemanimal9:51 pm: writers block of cheese

scottmonkeyboy77 9:51 pm: sounds tasty

And then as usual our conversation flipped to a totally different subject. Absolutely no segue. It is important to note however, that we are both "fathers of daughters" with three girls each.

scottmonkeyboy77 9:53 pm: you gonna try again for a son

danthemanimal 9:55: that would require lots of debate... I think we're done... for now

scottmonkeyboy77 9:56 pm: yup.

danthemanimal 9:56 pm: you going for boy?

scottmonkeyboy77 9:57 pm: i don't think so.

danthemanimal 9:58 pm: get a dog

scottmonkeyboy77 9:58 pm: or a penguin
scottmonkeyboy77 9:59 pm: go write the cheese report

So there you go. A post about an IM chat between to guys talking about cheese, babies and penguins... The Cheese Report. Was it any gouda?

******
In fairness to Scott I have changed his IM name here to keep him from getting unsolicited IM's. I'll let you guess if mine is real or not.

Writers Block of Cheese

Wikipedia Brown

We just finished reading an Encyclopedia Brown book with Hannah a week ago. It was a kick to read it with her as I had read the entire series when I was a kid. The series was published sometime around the late sixties/early seventies.

When we visited my sister she gave us a few more Encyclopedia Brown books that her boys, now in high school, were willing to part with. These were two of the books I had in my collection that now made their way back to our home. Books are meant to be shared, so it was fun to now have them back to share with the newest reader in the family.

So with Encyclopedia Brown as the book series du jour at our house, it was only fitting that I should come across this modern day take on Encyclopedia Brown.

Way to go Encyclopedia... I mean Wikipedia... I mean Colt Brown!

Wikipedia Brown

Infatuated?

Earlier today Aaron accused me of being infatuated with bathrooms. Seriously? How could he think such a thing? I've only posted about bathrooms and related issues a few times here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here. Okay and here too.

Hmmmmm... Maybe he's on to something here. Maybe.

I did a little research and I think I know where this might be coming from and why. If you have a copy check out Uncle John's Bathroom Reader #8, page 64.

Infatuated?

We Should Tell The Priest

Prior to moving to our new parish we had been members of St. Agnes Church. It is a very small, but beautiful church. If you arrive late you most likely will have to spend mass back in the vestibule with all the other late comers. Seats in the main part of the church are hard to come by unless you arrive right on time. As parents of a two year old and 3 month old we rarely made it to mass on time. Thus we often spent mass in the back with the other late comers. Most of them had little children too.

On one particular Sunday Hannah had to go potty during the Homily. Mary stayed with Grace while I took Hannah to find the bathroom.

The bathrooms at St. Agnes are located downstairs just off the big common room where we get the donuts after mass. Since she was still little I took her to the men's bathroom. What is the cut off age for girls to stop going to men's rooms and boys to stop going to the ladies room with their parents? Anyway, the men's room is very small. It has one urinal and one toilet.

Someone was using the toilet at the time, so we waited.

And waited.

Finally he opened the stall door. He skipped washing his hands and headed to the bathroom door to leave and head back upstairs to mass. Just as he was exiting the bathroom Hannah burst out "Daddy! Look! Why did that man use sooo much toilet paper?!?!?"

I tried to hush her, in order not to have a confrontation with the excessive toilet paper using, non-handwashing, fellow church goer. But she was right. That man had used far too much paper and clogged the toilet. And he didn't even try to flush! Apparently he either did not hear her or chose to ignore her comments - much like he chose not to wash his hands.

Hannah was complaining that she really needed to go badly so I had no choice but to take her to the ladies room. There was no way I was going to set her down on that toilet and that nasty mess.

While she sat on the impeccably clean potty in the ladies room she started grilling me on why that man had behaved he way he did. She was clearly fascinated by this and would not let it go. Why did that man use so much toilet paper? Why did he clog the toilet? Why didn't he flush and why didn't he wash his hands? I told her I didn't know why. Maybe his mommy and daddy never taught him proper bathroom etiquette when he was a little boy.

When we got back upstairs we joined Mary and Grace in the back of the church. Hannah immediately began to relay her latest bathroom experience to Mary. She said, in a voice that at the time I was sure everyone within twenty yards could hear, "Mommy, there was a man who used way too much toilet paper and clogged the potty! He didn't even wash his hands!"

And then she saw him. He was in the back of chuch with his family. Hannah pointed right at him and said "Mommy! Daddy! There he is! Do you think we should tell the priest!?!?!" I was mortified.

Thankfully, I do not think he heard her. Or maybe, again, he chose not to hear her. Either way now that we are at a new church we have a new rule. Everyone goes potty before leaving for mass.

We Should Tell The Priest

Yellow Wallpaper

Yellow wallpaper is all you need to think about to be able to pee in public. I know it works. I can prove it too.

During my last year at Syracuse I lived in a house off-campus with five other guys. There was Andy, Collin, Mark, Dan, Chris and me. Chris was also called "“Duff" because his last name was Duffus and I guess it was easier to call him Duff than Duffus. So, yes there were two guys called Duff living in the same house. There were also two guys named Dan. It caused plenty of confusion trying to figure out whom anyone was talking about at a given time. Were the phone calls for "Dan"” for Dan Powers or Dan Duff? When conversations or stories involved "Duff"” was it Chris Duffus or Dan Duff that they were referring to? Confused? So was I. All the time. But I digress...now back to advice on how to pee in public...…

Anyway, one night we went to Chuck'’s, aka Hungry Charlies for a few pitchers of beer and general carousing with our fellow students. Somehow, someone mentioned that they had "“stage fright"” whenever they had to pee in public. You know, the inability to pee when other people were either waiting in line behind you or at the next urinal?

Mark shared with us that he no longer had that problem. Turns out that Duff had a bathroom at his home which had yellow wallpaper. Whenever he had to pee in a public bathroom, he would just think about the yellow wallpaper back at the bathroom at his family's house and he instantly was transported to a place of comfort where he never experienced "stage fright". Mark had heard about this from Duff and one time had a chance to travel to visit the Duffus household and see the yellow wallpaper for himself.

Mark wasn't sure if someone else's visual cue could help him or not until he was out at a bar and encoutered "“stage fright"”. He tested it out. He visualized the yellow wallpaper at Duff'’s house and the seal/dam/floodgates were broken. Peeing in public was never again a problem for Mark. So while it wasn'’t a memory of his own bathroom at home, he was able to adopt it for himself once he had seen the actual wallpaper.

When Mark shared this remarkable story with me I thought I'd try it myself. It was Duff'’s visualization of his own family'’s bathroom so that made sense that it worked for him. Mark had seen it and was able to adopt it as his own. So knowing that it worked for these two I decided to test it out for myself. Now I had never seen the bathroom, the shade, color or pattern of the wallpaper. But that didn't really matter, right? I knew that this worked for Duff and Mark, so all I had to do was imagine what the yellow wallpaper looked like and I could use this as my own escape tactic to avoid not being able to void.

Let me tell you it works. Every time. Like a charm.

I still have never seen the bathroom that helps me out. That's why I know this can help anyone. If you ever feel a bout of "“stage fright"” coming on while you are using one of the public troughs at a sports stadium, just think about yellow wallpaper. Any shade or pattern will do. Just know that it worked for Duff who grew up using that bathroom. It worked for Mark who saw it once, and it worked for me because I believed in its power.

How'’s that for free advice?

Yellow Wallpaper

Feeling Flushed

It's amazing how we can miss the obvious just because we fail to ask the right questions. Sometimes our preconceived notions and perceptions of other cultures blind us to the obvious.

When Mary and I were dating, we planned to go backpacking throughout Europe as soon as I was done with my tour of duty with the Wienermobile. In the summer of '95 we spent eight weeks backpacking around Europe. As part of our planning efforts we read up on our destinations with the aid of several tour books. One that proved particularly helpful was Rick Steve's Europe Through The Backdoor. This book was filled with great cultural insight and cheap suggestions on meals, tours and accommodations.

I remember reading a section on the various bathroom options available throughout Europe and found some very humorous and others downright amazing. The book included photos of toilets from different countries with explanations on how to use them. Some required money to use while others stood out because they had different ways to flush. One that struck me as particularly odd was a photo of a hole in the floor with two raised areas for your feet to rest on. There was nothing to sit on at all. I laughed out loud when I saw this, but soon realized that this was good information and would help me be prepared in case I ever encountered such a situation.

About four weeks into our travels we visited the Italian hillside town of Perugia. At this point I had already seen several examples of the toilets described in Mr. Steve’s book. At the train station in Nice, France I even encountered the one with the raised foot areas and hole in the floor. I passed on using it.

Well, nature called as soon as we arrived at our youth hostel in Perugia. The bathroom seemed ordinary at first. This one in particular had private stalls with doors and a bowl which closely resembled the type of toilet we would normally encoutner back in the states. The difference was that this appeared to be a slightly different version with no flip up lid. And no, this was not a bidet, it was a toilet.

I really needed to use the toilet and did not have too much time to ponder my situation. I needed to go quickly. If I were at home in the U.S. I would have approached this task sitting down. Seeing as there was no seat and remembering the various toilets I had read about in the book, I thought that I had encountered a new variety of European toilet. I figured that I was about to have a new potty experience.

So I did what I had to do. (to be continued...)

Feeling Flushed

Feeling Flushed (Part Deux)

Continued from previous post...

So I did what I had to do. I pressed both hands against the sides of the stall, stood half hunched over while doing what could not wait and needed to be done. After what seemed an eternity I finished my business. I was dripping with sweat and my hands and arms were trembling with exhaustion. How in the world do these people wipe themselves?!?!?! I almost fell over when I had one hand on the stall wall and the other fumbling with the toilet paper roll. This was, without a doubt, the most awkward, physical feat I had ever encountered.

After washing up I proceeded to head back to the dormitory room. But before I actually left the bathroom my curiosity got the better of me. I don't know why but I decided to take a look at one of the other stalls. I suppose I just wanted to make sure that I had no option with going through the ordeal that I had just been experienced. But somehow, somewhere in the back of my mind up crept an idea that this really couldn't be the way that Perugian's go potty. No way. Nuh uh. All the toilets had to be like that one... the same - without seats.

To my great dismay I discovered that the other toilets did have seats. I used one that was broken. I am an American Idiot.

The lesson I learned? I now know what it is like to be blinded by preconceived notions and miss the obvious. Had I not read up on European toilets before my trip I may have asked myself "what is wrong here?" and realized that the toilet seat had been removed.

Moral of the story? Don't stress yourself out over what you don't understand. Take a step back and ask yourself what really makes sense. And choose another stall.

###

You are probably asking yourself "was this really a day, time, or experience that made Dan feel the most special?” No. Not really. What this day does remind me of is all the experiences that I have had that make me laugh and help me learn more about myself. I find joy in the journey. It is the lessons learned from the events and experiences in my life that make them special. They are special experiences to me if they help me grow in my understanding of who I am. That is what I enjoy.

That plus I enjoy bathroom humor.

Feeling Flushed (Part Deux)