Here come the bus

He looks so young and so old, all at once.

From Hollands at Home

Wise words

Really enjoyed this passage from Garrison Keillor's column this week. It's in reference to a museum viewing of Mary Cassatt's "The Boating Party."

Meanwhile, the man pulls at the oars, the lady wonders if this trip was a good idea or if some disaster is at hand, and the child lolls on her lap, dazed by the sun. They started this trip in 1894 and haven't advanced an inch, meanwhile half the people who ever stood and watched them have reached that distant shore and the rest of us are getting closer every day.

Read the whole column, which mainly is about hollow patriotism, here.

Love that Illinois weather

On Memorial Day, Max and I went for a morning (before 10 a.m.) walk in Libertyville that ended with both of us sweating. The next day In Ottawa, we had to dress like this in hopes of remaining comfortable for our daily evening excursion.

From Hollands at Home

On a semi-related note, Max has helped me with my walking goal in a way unlike anything else ever has. I haven't been shy of my daily goal of 6,850 steps since April 23, and I'm pretty sure I was sick that day. I'm averaging almost 11,100 steps per day this month. On May 1, I was 163,643 steps off my pace for the year. Going into today, it was just 44,668.

I'm at almost 970,000 miles (update: Steps! 970,000 Steps! Not miles!) for the year. Since I started tracking in 2004, here's the dates I've hit 970,000:

2004: June 3
2005: June 18
2006: June 29
2007: June 5

Speaking of my muse, he's fussing on the activiy mat (and Jack is singing the "Pick up Max" song he wrote), so ths post is over.

Hard to work up outrage over pump prices

Column originally published May 28, 2008

"Does it trouble any of you when you see what you're doing to us? The profits that you're taking, the cost you're imposing on working families, small businesses, trucking, farmers É is there anybody here that has any concerns about what you're doing to this country, with the prices that you're charging and the profits that you're taking?"

The speaker was U.S. Sen. Dick Durbin, D-Ill., and the target was oil company executives. The place was a Senate Judiciary Committee hearing a week ago today. And with gas prices nearing or exceeding $4 per gallon for a big holiday weekend, I can imagine many Illinoisans agreed with Durbin's sentiments and would, in his place, ask the same questions.

Yet try as I might, I can't seem to find the same level of outrage. It's not because I like paying $4 a gallon. Heck, I walk to work almost every day, partly in hopes of keeping gas in the tank for more necessary outings. But yelling at company heads for making money hand over fist and threatening a windfall profits tax seems pretty un-American to me.

Several factors are involved in crafting the price at the pump. I don't fully understand all those factors, nor do I really care to. And while I'm no economics major, I also think I have a pretty good grasp on capitalism, which I think works like this:

Continue reading "Hard to work up outrage over pump prices."

My kids hate me....

The reason I say this is because Max woke up at 4:00 am today. This is not unusual and actually, he slept the rest of the night, so I can't really complain. I got up to pump (Kim, now you know this is Kristie writing) a little before 5 (Scott, bless him, does the middle of the night feedings, so I can pump as necessary). After pumping, I got in the shower. Jack came down to hang out with me at 5:45. Seriously kid, 5:45? It's called sleep. Jack is not well acquainted with it. Then, as I am brushing my teeth, Jack says to me, "Mom, your tummy is getting bigger!" Thanks buddy. That does wonders for a girls self-esteem. He was, of course, excited by this, because for him a bigger tummy is a good thing. For now, anyways. Then the rest of the morning has unfolded as usual except that Jack is ready to go wait for the bus right now, which is unfortunate because the bus doesn't come until 8:45. After explaining to him that we are not waiting outside for an hour for the bus, he still doesn't understand and is now whining about it in the living room, which will most likely wake Max up, who is sleeping in his carseat in there. Joy.

On another note, when I asked Jack why his cars were in a line across the living room the other day, he told me they were waiting in line to wash their hands. Pretty cute. It makes you think that he would be enthusiastic to wash his hands. But that is not the case.

Things you didn't know

Next time you allow yourself to consider the possibility a politician is speaking the truth, read something like this blurb from Tuesday Morning Quarterback:

Stop subsidizing rich former presidents: Last year, TMQ complained that although former chief executives George H. W. Bush and Bill Clinton are wealthy, both continue to take large amounts of presidential retirement benefits and other sweetheart payments -- money forcibly removed from the pockets of taxpayers who are struggling to get by. Reader Zach Stanley of Boston points out this Politico story indicating the situation is worse than my 2007 item suggested. Clinton, whose recently released tax forms show he has made more than $10 million per year since leaving office, nevertheless has already claimed $8 million in retirement benefits (and he's not retired), plus $3.2 million for office overhead, plus $420,000 for his phone bill. The later figure is difficult to take seriously; even if you yakked 24/7 on a satellite line to Tajikistan, it's hard to believe you could ring up $420,000 in telephone charges. Is some of this money really going to staffers for Clinton's speechmaking business? In public the very wealthy Clinton wags his finger about how the rich are shafting the average guy. He himself is shafting the average guy by claiming lavish tax subsidies.

All this is doubly vexing because the payments are made under the Former Presidents Act of 1958. That bill was enacted when news broke that former president Harry Truman was living on little more than his Army pension: As a matter of principle, Truman refused to give paid speeches, make endorsements or serve on corporate boards, because he believed such actions demeaned the dignity of the presidency. Phrases like "the dignity of the presidency" and "as a matter of principle" don't seem to have much meaning anymore in politics. But the whole point of the Former Presidents Act was to enable previous White House occupants to live comfortably without having to sell their names. Now Clinton is selling his name like mad, while George H. W. Bush, who was born into wealth, demands subsidies too. Thank goodness the dignified Truman did not live to see this selfish spectacle of ex-presidential money-grubbing.

The rest of that TMQ column can be found here.

Family stuff, site news

Howdy, kids. We're wrapping up our three-daw weekend at Pops & K's in Libertyville this morning with a full house -- Pops, K, me, Kristie, Jack, Max, Kim, Matt and Jen plus Maggie and Nina. All we need is Brian -- who was here parts of Saturday and Sunday -- and we've got a full house.

Anyway, the weather has been nice enough for two walks around the lake, plus Max and I took a 3.75-mile jaunt through downtown Libertyville this morning, in part for a change of scenery, but also to scope out some of the construction projects (I have some photos that I'll put online when I get around to it).

Perhaps the most amazing part of the weekend was Max behaving well enough during dinner Saturday night for me and Kristie to eat our meal at the same time. That is a rare occurrence.

Plans are to have a third cookout around noon today, and then for us to head back around 2 p.m.

As far as the site, note two changes in the links rail. The Wisch List is operational again, as its author has privately relaunched his blog independent of the Tribune, where he is no longer employed. I also have added Sports Guy Unplugged, a new effort of Bill Simmons, the ESPN.com all-star who currently is a little miffed at the Worldwide Leader, according to Deadspin.com.

Pictures added

I threw several weekend pictures in the "At Pops and K's House" Picasa album, including this one:

From At Pops and K's

More video fun

Shot this clip this evening (it's 10 MB -- sorry about that) after Matt and Jen arrived with Jen's dog Nina (or, as Jack calls her, Nina White Dog). The toddler-terrier circus has been in full force at Pops & K's house this weekend, and Nina adds to the fun.

Jack and Max updates

We'll start with Jack, who for some reason as we hit a bump on the way home from the park tonight asked me if we hit a squirrel. After the 5 minutes it took me to figure out that he was saying squirrel (it sounded nothing like squirrel and he kept saying it for the whole 5 minutes), I got to wondering what made him think a bump in the road was me toasting a squirrel. It's not like I hit poor animals all the time. As a matter of fact, I go out of my way to not hit squirrels and the like. On another note, the little guy got tested for sensory integration issues today at preschool, so we should have a meeting with his teachers to discuss his "issues" sometime next week. It will decide if he needs an IEP. Which I didn't even realize before this that they write IEP's for preschool kids, but hey, what do I know?

Max, our littlest cutie, is working on some serious cooing. He's got the gurgles and coos going a ton more and has realized that the noises get our attention and therefore, makes a ton more noises when he's being talked to. He's also big into playing the tongue game, as I call it, which means he sticks his tongue out, I stick mine out, then I get a huge grin and then we repeat that process. He still will only sleep in his carseat, but is sleeping for good long stretches at night (not so much during the day, but I'll take the trade-off). He prefers to be held all the time, and now prefers that position to be facing outward so he can see the world. He will be twelve weeks old on Sunday, which causes me to say, holy crap where did that time go and at the same time say, good lord is that all the older he is? I've been trying to get some video taken of the little guy cooing, but every time I hold up the camera, he stops doing it........so if I ever get lucky and get some good footage, I'll be sure to post it. Or make Scott post it, actually. I still haven't learned how to do that.

Of taxes, pizza and making a newspaper

Column originally published May 20, 2008. Link works now.

Once upon a time, current White House Budget Director Jim Nussle was a member of the U.S. House of Representatives from Iowa's 2nd Congressional District.

I was managing editor of the Independence Bulletin-Journal, a fine newspaper with an office across the street from the Buchanan County Courthouse.

Since then, redistricting pushed Nussle into Iowa's First District, where I voted for him in a successful campaign against Davenport, Iowa, real estate salesman Bill Gluba in 2004. In 2006, I voted for Secretary of State Chet Culver instead of Nussle when he sought unsuccessfully to become Iowa governor.

But back in the days when he was a representative and I was a small-town journalist, I assigned myself to travel to nearby Winthrop, Iowa, to see Nussle address a class of grade school students. While his politics never completely won me over, he did roll out a simile that day I've often repeated to try to illustrate the complexity of serving as a public official. Though it probably wasn't his thought originally, but it does bear repeating.

Trying to write a budget, Nussle said, is like trying to order a large pizza. He had the students' attention and mine, too. He asked what type of toppings the kids liked, and they shouted the usual suspects: sausage, pepperoni, extra cheese and so on.

The challenge, he explained, is making sure every student in the class got enough pieces with the toppings they like while keeping the order to one large pizza -- and then figuring out who would pay for the pizza.

Continue reading "Of taxes, pizza and making a newspaper."

Another one

And here's Jack:

An exciting new feature

What do you get when you mix a new digital camera, someone else's high-speed Internet connection and one of the cutest babies in the history of the planet? This film clip of Max:

More photos

Both recent snaps (the top one is from today).

From At How's House

From Hollands at Home

Time Killer

If you haven't yet heard heard of Hulu.com, do yourself a favor and get there right now. Why? Here's why:

I hope you had the time of your life

Column originally published in 2004 and retouched for today. Also fixed the broken link for last week's column, which I think is way better than this one.

Attention Class(es) of 2008:

It probably does not matter what I write, because if I remember anything about being a graduate, it's how the keynote speaker loses his or her main audience about three seconds into the speech. The only people who pay complete attention are school board members, teachers and any parents who are not trying to persuade their young children to stop seeing who can jump off the back of the highest bleacher row without cracking a vertebrae.

Perhaps this is because most commencement speakers are so painfully irrelevant to the graduating classes they are addressing. As I write this, 11 years out of high school and seven years out of college, I'd like to think I could bridge that gap and have something worthwhile to say to the young men and women matriculating in these coming weeks. But another thing I remember about being a graduate is feeling no one else had ever dealt with a graduation so serious as mine. Therefore, anyone who tried to relate a graduation sentiment to me might as well have been speaking Cantonese, because there is no way it could have any possible bearing on my life.

I've heard a fair amount of commencement addresses in person, including a real stinker from Iowa Gov. Tom Vilsack. I always put the remote down when I see celebrities like Bill Cosby doing the deed on a cable news network this time of year. But for all I've seen and heard, no one speech stands out in my mind as life-changing.

Even the speech given by my high school valedictorian, a girl I'd known since first grade, seemed a bit hollow. She and I didn't have as much in common as I'd thought, despite spending 12 years in many of the same classes with the same teachers and mutual acquaintances.

Continue reading "I hope you had the time of your life."

Master of the Obvious

As my mom can attest, this was my nickname for my little brother Kyle when he was about Jack's age. My son has now earned the title for himself. Examples? Here's a few........

"Mom, when I leave, then I am gone."
"If I don't push my peepee-er down pee will spray on the tub"
"Today, my guy is on the 12" (said about the calendar)
"Is dad coming home now? I am home." (said while we are where else? But at home)

More bad policy from our trusted leaders

Column originally published May 6, 2008

For every gallon of gas you buy, you pay 18.4 cents to the federal government. For every gallon of diesel, it's 24.4 cents.

That means each time I put 13 gallons in my 1998 Buick Century, Uncle Sam reaps $2.39. Let's say I've filled up an average of once a week since I bought the car in February 2002, about 420 times. That's more than $1,000 I've paid in federal gas taxes.

I could fill the rest of this column with a list of the things I could buy if someone gave me that money back right now — which, incidentally, is happening with the economic stimulus rebate — but that's not the point. The point is to expose the folly of the proposed three-month federal gas tax holiday, an idea endorsed by two of the three remaining presidential candidates, Sens. Hillary Clinton, D-N.Y., and John McCain, R-Ariz.

On the surface, it sounds like a decent idea. As of this writing, a gallon of unleaded regular at the station nearest my house costs $3.569. Less the federal tax, that would be $3.385. So I would be paying $44 to fill up instead of $46.40.

If I filled up every Saturday in June, July and August, I would save $31.20, which is enough to pay for an oil change and a car wash or two. The senators argue that, extrapolated over the hundreds of millions of driving Americans, especially during the busy travel season, the 18.4 cents per gallon would be an economic boon. But to whom?

Continue reading "More bad policy from our trusted leaders."

Conversations with Jack

A few tidbits from yesterday......

While I was reading Jack a book before bed (Make Way for Ducklings) he saw a picture of Mrs. Mallard sitting on the nest of eggs. Our conversation goes like this:

Jack: Mom, did Mrs. Mallard poop out the eggs?
Me: No, honey, she didn't. They come out a different hole.
Jack: Oh.

Another conversation, this one taking place as I am in the bathroom (we have an open door policy left over from the days when I thought having Jack watch us use the potty would encourage early potty training. boy was I wrong.) I must explain that Jack still goes pee while sitting down to minimize mess.

Jack: Mom, don't forget to push your pee-pee-er down.
Me: Jack, Mommies don't have pee-pee-ers.
Jack: Does the pee come out your butt?
Me: No, mommies have peeholes instead of pee-pee-ers.
Jack: OK.

Seriously, I was at a loss for that one. I didn't really want to risk explaining the difference between boys and girls to my four year old only to have it repeated loudly at a very inopportune time. So, that was my version on thinking on my feet. Not great, I know.

What are YOU looking at?

From Hollands at Home

The lip hang

Is it wrong that every time Max hangs his little lip right before he considers crying that I laugh? It is so cute......and so sad. I can't help but giggle before I pick him up. (It is important to note that the child has nothing to be that sad about since he constantly has a full tummy as evidenced by the ever expanding fat rolls on his legs and double chin and is also constantly being held or paid attention to since he won't allow things to be any other way.)

Life with baby

I'm probably jinxing myself here, but Monster Max has had two nights in a row where he went to sleep around 9 p.m. and didn't need to eat again until after 5 a.m. He still fusses a bit a few times after the first big sleep -- more frequently as it gets closer to dawn -- but after I make sure he's comfortable and has a plug, he generally goes back to sleep. Needless to say, this is a very exciting development at our house.

Jack, on the other hand, was up before 6 a.m. today (after no nap Friday). He can go to sleep without his plug, but I don't think he knows how to stay asleep without it. He also had a way full diaper, which means he either doesn't know to wake up and use the toilet or is just too lazy.

(These are the kind of sentences he'll be mortified to read if I'm still doing this blog when he's in college.)

Demonic Squirrel Motorcycle Riding Story

I got the link to this story from a work colleague the other day. Can't say if it's true or not, but it still makes for a pretty good read. Here's a sample:

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn t-shirt, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe 70mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street…on one wheel and with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder.

Read the whole story here.

Looking back on days gone by

Column originally published in April 2006, then tweaked a bit to use again April 29, 2008

Flunk Day is tomorrow.

Those four words are music to the ears of any person who attended Coe College at any time since 1911. Flunk Day is a rite of spring for Kohawks, who for the past 97 years have taken one day each spring semester to skip class as an entire campus community. The outgoing president of the student senate declares the celebration, which pretty much is the highlight of the academic year.

Every April, I think fondly back on my four Flunk Days and wish there were a way for the working world to embrace the concept. As an adult, of course, I realize that would be impossible, especially since we depend on so many businesses to be open around the clock (hospitals, grocery stores, gas stations and so on). Maybe that understanding is what makes me appreciate Flunk Day all the more.

My high school had an annual Senior Ditch Day, routinely the Monday after prom weekend (since students had to attend classes the Friday before prom in order to participate). I spent my Senior Ditch Day in the Wrigley Field bleachers, but other students weren't so lucky, as they had conniving teachers who scheduled mandatory quizzes and tests just to keep the reins in tight command.

But Flunk Day... Flunk Day is something special. From humble beginnings — when the tradition was still taboo and an academic walk-out considered scandalous — has emerged a glorious experience that involves about 75 percent of the student body.

Continue reading "Looking back on days gone by."