RandomFailure

I was at the office on Sunday, and ran a few errands at lunch. As I was walking, I was behind this woman wearing a “trendy” outfit: calf-high boots, black leggings, and a sweater that almost covered her butt. She was a little concerned about not being covered, as she kept pulling the sweater down. Then I guess she heard me, as she became rather self-conscious about it, trying to pull the sweater down more. She then stopped to do a little window shopping.

Apparently, my not looking like Brad Pitt caused her to stop.

Darlin’, if you don’t want everyone to look at you and your butt, you should look in the mirror before you leave the house.

Caroline is having surgery tomorrow to remove her hemangioma.

We call it her “Chuck” because the first time that Karen told me what it was called, my first thought was “What? Chuck Mangione?” Karen dismissed it as a stupid thing to say. And then she stole it and pretended it was her idea.

But it stuck, and now we all call it her “Chuck.” Her doctor determined that it would not fully include and that surgery is necessary to remove it. We’re both a little nervous about the surgery, but I think everything will be OK.

Update with a picture of Caroline tomorrow.

Simply put: it’s not easy. You now it’s bad when the trash talking starts on the local news filler portion of Good Morning America (yes, I’m talking about you Matt O’Donnell). Add in trash-talking co-workers; but it’s mostly from people who use lots of words without really saying anything. I was dreading the breakfast meeting at work this morning, but everyone left me alone. They were concerned with just talking about the game. The surprising thing was that everyone was talking about it, even those who didn’t seem like sports fans. Guess the Phillies bandwagon is full.

It has occurred to me for some time that my present hair coloration (the light grey around the temples) causes me to look a little like Reed Richards (Mr. Fantastic) of the Fantastic Four. I never paid much attention to it until recently, when someone behind the counter at one of the local Cosi shops mentioned it while I was getting my lunch. See the pictures below and judge for yourself. And yes, that is my natural hair color. (I’ll skip the strained facial expression and the fire behind me, so the comparison is not perfect.)

It started a little over a month ago, when we took out the Tickle Me Elmo Extreme to show her. She went nuts for it. I think the Elmo Live pushed her over the edge.

She started excitedly saying “Momo! Momo!” (At just about 19 months, that’s as close to “Elmo” as we get.) So the next day we had to go shopping for a regular plush Elmo; since it was far easier to carry around (no skeletal movement system). First stop: Target. No luck. Next (unplanned) stop: Toys R Us. Got one.

Picked up a Cookie Monster too. After some initial resistance (“Do you want Cookie?”  “Nooo!”), she has warmed up to Cookie. But at not the Elmo-level obsession. Every time she sees Elmo (which is tough to hide, since he’s on the diapers and the diaper box), it’s tough to get her to stop thinking about Elmo. All things considered, it could be worse.

Conversation snippet overheard while running a few days ago on Oregon Avenue from two guys sittings on a step:

I don’t like crack.

I don’t like nothing about it.

I don’t like the high…

Then I went out of earshot. Maybe that was a good thing.

You get signs like this one, seen while on vacation in Miami Beach.

Owen Wilson (yes, the actor) is a giant douche. Let me explain.

He’s here in Philadelphia, filming a movie. He’s staying at the Four Seasons. Karen and I were at a wedding there on Saturday night. The cocktail hour after the ceremony was outside, in the courtyard. We were near a window and could see inside, specifically the entrance to The Fountain. I happened to be looking in, and there’s this shabbily dressed guy standing looking at the menu. It was Owen Wilson, possibly just coming from the gym. The bride was inside and asked him if he wanted to join the party for dinner. She was about 15 feet or so away from him. He said about two words and dismissed her with a wave of his hand, like he was waving off a dog.

How rude. Now I can understand his desire to be left alone. But he could have been nicer. Especially to a bride in her wedding dress. No congratulations, nothing. A little courtesy would have been nice. Apparently he forgets that it’s people like us who allow him to do what he does.

Aah… the joys of leaving work a little early. I get to spend some more time with the girls, get to eat a leisurely dinner, time to read the paper, whatever. But, I have to rely on SEPTA to be on time. Ha! The 6:19 #57 bus this evening didn’t show and the next#57 bus (supposed to be at 6:35) was late, too. So the bus was jammed. And I got to listen to some crazy old guy complain to nobody in particular (meaning he was talking out loud to himself) about the lousy SEPTA service. <sarcasm> I’m so glad he was there to point that out </sarcasm> Which probably was a good thing, because some punks at 4th & Washington threw lit firecrackers in through the front door. Because the bus was so crowded, someone was standing right there and was able to kick the firecrackers out before they went off. It took just over an hour to go the three miles from my office to home. Almost ruined the evening. Spending time with Miss Caroline was more than worth it.

Looks like the third time really is the charm!

Results were released online on Friday. Hard copy came in the mail today. I barely passed (by six points); I had thought that I had done better. The total score is not all that important, but I did feel pretty good coming out of the test. Karen jokingly mentioned that I should order a copy of my answers, to see what I did wrong. And maybe that would help her out if she decides to take it this summer.