Somewhat live

and mostly awake, I blog from the left coast. Sunny sort of downtown Bellingham, WA, home of Western Washington U. and Mrs. Skinny's parents. Part of the year. On no apparent snowbird-type schedule.

Either way, we are here, a bit unslept but mostly sound. We have a trip to Victoria, BC planned for tomorrow & thursday, and a trip out to the wilds of central WA for the weekend and a not really official family reunion with the cousins spread across this great state.

Other than the usual complications of kosher food - we stocked up in Seattle and will have to make do with it for the rest of the trip - it's nice to be here, be with family, and not going to work.

Gadgets!

So me & Mrs. Skinny decided we were due new cellphones. It being several years since the last upgrade, and us finding out they've replaced the old rotary kind with these push-button jobbies.

A word about me & technology, specifically mobile technology - I'm not so into it. In fact I resisted getting cellphone for a few years, on the theory there was no one I wanted to talk to that badly. I gave in eventually, and it has proved to be a lifesaver for that vital human function - grocery shopping. List or no list, I can now call Mrs. Skinny twelve times in 6 minutes to ask what I forgot.

Don't get me wrong - I'm a wannabe geek with a great interest in technology & putting it to good use. I just don't see the value to watching Lord of the Rings extended version on a 2 inch screen, with or without director's commentary. Even if it means I can have my hobbits anytime, anywhere. Texting is another mystery to me - why the heck would I want to communicate in eight word, poorly spelled bursts?

So the plan for new phones was simple. Mrs. wanted something she could text on as she dips her toe into the sore thumb universe, and I wanted a nothing phone. Let me make a phone call and I'm pretty happy. We check out the offerings at what passes for Ma Bell these days, and I find a nothing phone. For free, as they often do. OK, I'm good, what about Mrs?

She goes to the store, checks it out, and identifies something a little higher rent with a slide out keyboard. We finally get to the website, plunk mine in the cart, and we're poking around a bit more before pulling the trigger. So it turns out the one Mrs. wanted was no longer available. By the time we sort it all out, the higher-end version of the one she wanted is now free. And the cheapo I was looking at - is now $30? How does that happen in less than five minutes?

Needless to say, cheap wins out over simple every time. So we are both the proud owners of the Pantech Matrix Pro with its accompanying doodads. I can't find half the stuff on it, much less use it. But I must admit - I just synced it up with my work calendar, and it was a breeze. Which I think is very cool, and I will now know my schedule wherever else I am.

I'm still not texting - you can't make me.

All right, Outta the Pool

Mr. Possum loses this one; no additional SkinnyJuniors as of yet. Plenty of matzah and associated GI distress, a considerable lack of sleep, but no babies delivered Chez Skinny at any point over the extended holiday weekend.



Mr. P had selected a girl, arriving on 4/20. Mrs. Skinny would've been happy to oblige, but Jr. ain't quite ready yet. Updates as events warrant.

So...

I have dropped at least one hint, (and to one Alabama Marsupial, several) that something's up chez skinny. Terry thinks it's a medical condition, which, in effect, it is.



Say Hello to my leetle frien':







I know, I know, it's a little grainy and out of focus. I think I used the wrong F-stop or something.



So indeed, there is another small parasite headed our way come the spring. The ex-utero two have taken to calling it Little Matzah Ball, which is appropriate since we are due right around Passover.



This particular gestation has not been without its issues. I was planning to say something here a while ago, but we had a disturbing last 3-4 weeks, courtesy the medical establishment. One of the zillions of tests required in this nation before you are considered fit to reproduce came back as positive for a genetic disorder known as Trisomy-18 (you can read about it from the dedicated folks over at the Trisomy 18 foundation).



When the midwife describes said disorder as "incompatible with life", it certainly does make you pause a bit. Unlike its cousin, trisomy 21 that's involved with Down's Syndrome, children with this genetic anomaly generally don't survive the first year if they make it that far. Needless to say, we were not prepared for that particular development. What followed is standard - more tests. Amnio for the Mrs, prayer for me. Thanks to the piece of crap lab the insurance insisted we use (thanks for nothing, Quest Diagnostics! I hope some marketing jerk is reading this and tells everyone I think you people suck!), we had to wait three full weeks for results.



Which were negative. Which in this case is a good thing. So we are, happily, one of the thousands of people out there who got a false positive from one of these dopey blood tests. I'm glad of the results, but I can't say the last month has been fun. When you and your spouse begin discussing the euphemistic "options" if the worst happens, most people are not in a great place. Happily it's all moot, even if I have not enjoyed much lately.



Anyway, that's the big news around here. Work has increased, but not my paycheck. The children grow up, and I grow out. Life continues, and thankfully the Lord agreed with me on this particular question.



Look for a Little Matzah Ball this spring, coming to a Skinnydan nowhere near most of you.

Purim Roundup

I finally have some time to talk about what was a truly spectacular success with Mishloach Manot this year. Mrs. says the idea was hers, but I don't think she's entirely correct. Both of us certainly contributed to the execution, so either way we both deserve credit.

It was truly a fabulous idea, and it all began simply enough two and a half years ago with a brief conversation with our then new neighbor...

Neighbor, you see, works for the Orthodox Union - one of the main kashruth supervising agencies in the world, certainly in North America. As one of their food

supervisors, he goes around certifying various products and manufacturing facilities. One of the tiny perks of his position are many rolls of kosher tape - like the big rolls of "caution" or "police line tape, only it's sticky and it says "the enclosed product is kosher unless the seal is tampered."

Now, whichever of us thought of it asked neighbor for a roll of the tape (which they had used to seal moving boxes) for some Purim deviltry. The idea was to apply kosher tape to a food product, or simulation of one, that would not normally be kosher.

Like, say, a McDonald's bag with a cheeseburger inside?

Indeed.

So was born an idea that it took us two years to execute - we just couldn't get it together in time for Purim before. But this year, Mrs. happens to have a cake decorating magazine with directions for something called candy clay. You take candy melts, add corn syrup, and Presto! - a moldable hunk of chocolate. Said magazine also contained instructions for? A BBQ grill, including burgers and hot dogs, made entirely out of candy.

How fortuitous.

Add the idea of yellow-chocolate dipped pretzels, Drake's apple pies, and a visit to a faraway Golden Arches to secure the bags and...

Well, look at the pictures and you'll see the results:

The Burger, assembled
Y'want fries with that?
Three essential food groups
Open bag, with press release visible
And the deal, sealed

So, that's the deal. There were several pieces that would have put this into the stratosphere of legendary Shalach Manot - a happy meal toy inside (considered from Oriental Trading, but shipping would have been more than the toy itself), and as a friend pointed out, me in a visor & MickeyD's shirt delivering it, but I think we did pretty well all considered.

No, I will not try & top this next year. We're going back to simple, I think.

Eight Years ago Today

a poor, unsuspecting woman submitted herself to a life of shameful enslavement to a skinny, unpleasant, sorry excuse for a human being. This poor woman has had to spend 8 years dealing with an expanding gut, a receding hairline, and more snoring than any person should be forced to listen to. In return, she has provided joy, sweetness, light, and several unmentionable activities. She has done it without consideration for the complete lack of respect from her partner and his utter inability to hear anything below an opera-singer bellow.

Happy anniversary, sweets - I'm a lucky, lucky man.

Speaking of bowling

as I was last week, me & Missus went out on one of the local Hebrew Bowling Nite Outs this past Saturday eve. Now that shabbos ends some time before Tuesday, we can actually get out at night.

One of the local shuls does a couples bowling night every year, and that's actually how we met a number of our friends in town. So we went again this year to a new place a bit farther away. I bowled lousy, but a bad night bowling beats most other entertainments.

I suppose if I went more than once a year I'd do better, but it would also help if the numbskulls would stop turning the freakin' lights out. I grant you some people find a darkened bowling alley with unintelligible music blaring and airplane landing lights the only source of vision romantic, but I'm not one of those people.

Bowling should take place in the bright UV light of flourescent bulbs, and snuggling should be reserved for the back seats of cars and public phone booths.

So

I'm home today, given that other people in the family have been laid low by some kind of bug or the other. Well, one other person, who made the mistake of checking with WebMD about her condition. The good doc suggested that her aches & other symptoms were signs she was suffering from Neoplastispoziphlebomitisosia. And to find a local practitioner and give him all our money.

So I stayed home to nurse her through her illness. And drive carpool for youngest in about ten minutes.

On a far more salubrious note, I have a Very Important Piece of Advice. Always. ALWAYS. Make friends with the secretaries/Admin assistants. They can make your life outstandingly wonderful, or they can make it a living hell. In my case the former comes true tonight. The CEO's assistant slipped me four seats to a local hockey contest, gratis. And the good seats, not the nosebleeds. (I did drop a hint about getting the skybox, but that is nearly impossible to pull off.)

So, despite the fact that it's an Islanders game, and that they're playing Chicago, I will be sitting front (though not center - the seats are to the right of one of the goals) at the game tonight. We'll have to see if Mrs. will join us - call it a gametime decision.

Grandpa John

passed away last week. He was Mrs. Skinny's grandfather, and a decent, honest, bighearted man. I had the privelege of meeting him several times, and it was fewer than it should have been. It's hard and expensive to travel to the west coast, there's no kosher food where he lived, etc., etc. As usual in these cases, you wish you had done things differently despite the effort involved.

John was a WWII vet, as I recall, and worked for Lockheed for many, many years. He was an inveterate record collector, stopping at all the yard sales to pick up more, whatever they were. He gave Mrs. Beatles records years ago - he never listened to them, but he had them. He was a fine singer, and fond of the Gilbert & Sullivan operas that Mrs. & I like so much - he played Ralph Rackstraw in Pinafore on a number of occasions. My dad met him on a trip out there a few years back, and the two musicians hit it off very well.

I'm glad he got to meet both of our kids, and we will certainly tell them about this wonderful man. Mrs. has gone out west for the memorial service, and, the rest of us are with her in spirit.

He was a terrific guy, and we will all miss him.

So

the Mrs. is actually down South, Atlanta way, on some conference or the other as she starts the long road to becoming a certified lactation consultant.* Meaning I am left home with the kiddles. Alone. This on top of the onslaught of relatives over the weekend just past explains my lack of activity (sister in law on Thursday, in-laws on Monday, parents came for dinner with in-laws on Monday [excellent grilled turkey breast, I might point out], inlaws to the airport tuesday with rental car thankfully, wife to airport Tuesday, my dad with the kids while wife taken to airport) blogwise.

It's not as bad as it sounds, largely because oldest starts school tomorrow and thus I am down to one as of about 7:30 AM tomorrow. So today I took oldest for her annual lice check at school, dropped off some of her supplies at her locker (yes, I was surprised that first graders get lockers, but they're not locked, so it's basically a cubby with a door), and then took the kids to a local science museum. It wasn't the best I've seen, but they were entertained and that was fine. We got ice cream on the way home, and I have to say I may be getting too old to eat an entire Carvel butterscotch sundae at one sitting.

I have no big plans with youngest beyond taking her to meet her teachers tomorrow, which will kill exactly 1/2 an hour. We've been invited out for both shabbat meals, so I may dedicate part of tomorrow to baking cookies with her. This will keep her busy, and give us something to bring to our various meals. Gingersnaps sounds appealing to me - simple enough & fun to make, without the noodgy part of shape cookies. My dad is supposed to come out again tomorrow so I can go play hockey at night, so that may distract youngest as well.

Posting may be light until next week.

*I should note that the idea of looking at women's chests, and getting paid for it, sounds too good to be true. And, in fact, it is.

Lookit the Elephant!

I should mention that we took the kiddies to the Museum of Natural History on Tuesday. I will also mention that a simple walk across the mall from the Smithsonian metro stop to the museum was Sahara-like. It is bloody hot down here, and I don't care for swamp-like humidity. The museum itself was fine, save a few overwhelmingly PC exhibits. I think the museum community is pretty reliably left, so it's no big surprise. Mrs. was unimpressed with their description of "Wealth in Africa" as being centered (other than on actual money) on "friends, family, etc." No mention of poverty. No mention of internecine warfare. Whatever. There was a section of the museum labeled as "Western Culture", which turned out to be a gift shop. Intentional? Meh. I would've expected a "westerners have ruined the world" lecture, so crass commercialism was a relief in comparison.

The only other exhibit of note was the "Arctic!" exhibit, which is only notable for the excessive! use! of! exclamation! marks!!!!!! throughout. The hyperactive, handwringing, overblown description of man's destructiveness (and no, we didn't actually go through the wretched thing) led me to refer to it as the Al Gore exhibit.

A few expensive tchtochkes later, a brief panic when we couldn't locate youngest, and then home.