powered by SignMyGuestbook.com

Recent News... Just for Pope Gregory... Finding the nativity An accelerated rate To tell the secrets of my prison-house House and a shelf

2003-04-01 - 8:13 a.m. Bob-day, Version 2.0 The engineering life cycle in microcosm: AoD gives me a toy: the �Sci-Flyer: Chinese Yo-Yo Ready for Takeoff!�. The handle is a plume of fire, the top a Flash Gordon like rocket ship. A quick fling, and the paper telescopes out, propelling the ship skyward. I take the toy to work. I startle people when the rocket ship suddenly lunges toward them, then reverses course to me. They complain about the inaccurate physics of such a model in relation to real rocketry. They decide the toy is cool. They pet it, play with it, pass it around, envy it. My colleague who collects Astronaut and Spacecamp Barbie dolls (swear to God, they make such things and she has about seven of them on her bookshelf) wants to know where AoD scored such a find. (Okay � back to the tangent, cause this part is disturbing � the Barbie dolls are almost a timeline of women in space � starting with the cute escapee from Dale Arden�s wardrobe, seguing to one with a bubble helmet, and ending with a realistic astronaut wearing a decent approximation of a Manned Maneuvering Unit.) They try to figure out how it works. They explain to each other how it works. They break it. Okay, Martin breaks it. They try to explain how it was already broken, it was a weakness in the design and, if you�ll just give it here for a second, they�ll fix it. They abandon hope of a quick fix. Martin shoos everyone away, makes a tool from a paperclip, and fixes it in the car on the way to lunch. Martin returns my toy. Many theories are again espoused about how the break happened. Variations in individual launching technique are carefully examined and a clever twist-during-the-return is credited as the smoothest approach to retracting the yo-yo and landing the rocket ship. I put it back in it�s packaging and careful replacing the instructions, which no one bothered to read at any point in this process. So, Bob�s birthday party was a hoot. Landmark occasion for several reasons. 1. Bob�s birthday and we love Bob. Bob is a wise and venerable man who teaches us about music, good martini�s, right thinking wardrobe choices and the proper use of absolute power. 2. Roland watched Grease with me, let me put glop in his hair and even did that Greaser-lounge-against-the-wall-and-groove thing. 3. I wore pink. No, really, I swear. Took Mel 20 minutes to talk me into it. 4. Harv�s hair � from the �fro to the mustache � whoa dude. 5. The appearance of the olive and egg penguin. Cower in fear, for the end is obviously nigh. Well, maybe not. No one actually ate it. 6. Steve �Poodlehead� Tanner, homeland security agent. For the guys, you have to add �AoD dressed as Emma Peel � catsuit � mreow!.� If they�d let me fill a wading pool with margarita�s, it would�ve set off the palm tree nicely, but Gen seemed to think that was an outdoor (out of her living room anyway) activity. Hey mom. Hey! she says, with surprise in her voice, cause I don�t usually call on a Saturday night. Mom, how to you make a pompador? A what? You know. 50�s hair. Well, you start with a French twist, I think. No, no, no. Guy hair. James Dean. Grease Oh. Well you need Vaseline or something � explanation of flipping and boofing ensues. I hand the phone to a doubtful looking Roland, who listens to his mother-in-law explain how to slick back his hair. Mel arrives. Mel stands in the bathroom doorway and watches Roland and I attempt to execute Mom�s instructions. Mel laughs hysterically and is generally, no help. And, she makes me wear pink. So Roland, with half a bottle of gel and some pin curl technology (Don�t look in the mirror at this point, honey. Trust us.) goes out sporting greases hair. For the valiant effort, AoD awards him a prize � which includes one of those annoying 2�x2� inspiration and zen books you buy at the bookstore checkout counter � only this one has been, um, edited with AoD sayings and art. H.Y.S.T.E.R.I.C.A.L. And the food. Just call Angel of Death, EM � for Evil Martha. (Which is probably one of those double negative things, putting Evil in front of a word that means the same thing, so I think it all cancels out to something quite good.) Really. But don�t take my word for it. Let�s check the scorecard: Martha: Makes cute food. AoD: Makes cuter food. Use of monkey and tiki themes especially admired. Martha: Has a farm, including a chicken coop for gathering fresh eggs needed for various arcane recipes. AoD: Has a farm, including a view of the cemetery. Much cooler. Martha: Thinks she�s funny. AoD: Actually is funny. Martha: Says she makes good food, but as far as I can tell, she prisses about her kitchen telling professional chefs how to do their job while they resist the urge to punch her. AoD: Makes yummy food. And nobody is suing her for unethical trade practices. Martha: Pretends she cooks for hundreds effortlessly. AoD: Graciously shares credit with her husband, Bob, who, among various other stuff, made those liver and bacon thingys. Yum. Just don�t put them in the cr�me fraiche. Yes, I think the judgment is definitely in favor of our Angel of Death. I learned that 50�s food definitely involved a lot more skewering. Wonder if that started Bob�s fondness for pokey things? � � Scribble to Theo previous - next �