Bandwagon . . . kinda

The Boston Marathon bombing. I guess it's all anyone can talk about right now. So I'll jump on the bandwagon. BUT, before you read on, please understand I don't like bandwagons. Keep that in mind.

I've been reading a lot - blogs, tweets, news stories, Facebook updates . . .

There are some things I can't escape. First, who makes up those little pictures on Facebook? You know, the ones with a candle burning for the victims of the Boston Marathon bombing, asking to be passed around on social media? I've seen three different ones so far. Somewhere, this is someone's initial reaction to tragedy - must make Facebook thingy and see how many shares it will get.

Strange world. Stranger that people keep sharing it. I don't understand the point. Does it make a difference? Do people think they are "doing something" about the tragedy, or "raising awareness" or "sending love" to victims. I have no idea. I don't get it. If one of my family members had been killed or seriously injured, a candle being shared on FB wouldn't do much for me. Maybe it's just me. And the cynic asks, is it just an ego thing, to see how many times it will be shared? Can I beat the other guys' candle thingies?

And yes, celebrities are quick to tweet their thoughts about the bombing, condolences, "thoughts and prayers." And why wouldn't they post the same meaningless stuff. They're the same as everyone else I guess. They just get more exposure, due to their elevated social status. When they tweet their thoughts and prayers, it's quickly picked up by major news media; saw a headline: "Celebs tweet from Boston Marathon, offer support." There were other similar stories reprinting what celebs were tweeting.

Patton Oswalt, I see, is getting a fair bit of play for his published thoughts on the bombing. (He's a comedian, been on TV, a few sitcoms, most recently Two and a Half Men, I think. Google him if you really want to know). Anyway, if I had to summarize his stuff, it was basically, there are more good people than bad. Bombers bad, people helping victims good. Honestly, a nice read at first blush.

Memorable finale: "So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think, 'The good outnumber you, and we always will.'"

Yeah, nice thoughts I guess. He'll probably raise his celeb status a notch or two for the next week or so. Look for him on Ellen, or something. And the cynic in me has to ask . . . was that the goal?

And I must also point out that the definition of "good" is way up for grabs, depending on your geography, religion, social status, skin colour, sexual preference, cell phone choices, sock material and how much food you have access to in any give week.

Ugh, I feel like such a cynical grump. Can't help it. I yam what I yam.

But hey, I've already gone this far . . .

Anyone know how many children died of starvation around the world today? How many child soldiers were "recruited?" How many people were executed for belonging to the wrong political party?

Sorry kids, "the good" are busy tweeting right now, sending thoughts and prayers, creating candle thingies for Facebook. They are making a difference, raising awareness and sending love. Can ya feel it?

Accepted!

I'd read about it . . . and I found it hard to believe. I'd never experienced it, but the other Stay-at-Home-Dads shared their stories and swore it was true. They had been rejected, told they weren't welcome, at Mommy and Me groups.

Sad, in this day and age, that such discrimination still exists. Sexism, running unchecked in church basements and community centres.

I found it so hard to believe, until it happened to me.

It was about three years ago. I'd been an RCMP spouse for about 8 years when I discovered a Facebook page for us; for RCMP spouses to talk, share, commiserate and celebrate the life we all lead.

And yeah, I applied for membership. And I was rejected. So I wrote about it here.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. A comment on the "Rejected" blog post. From another RCMP spouse, an admin on another RCMP spouse Facebook page. And she was inviting me to join. INVITING me! 

So I did. And now I'm one of us. Thanks Sandy!

So let's see, what else? Animal butt magnets . . . still cracking me up!

Oh yeah, and while we're talking about sexist behaviour . . .

A quick review of "Mom's Ultimate Magnetic Family Fridge Calendar 2012."

First off, bought this one cause I didn't see "Dad's Ultimate Magnetic Family Fridge Calendar 2012." Mostly because there wasn't one. 

Second, mine didn't have the stickers in it. Don't know who to blame for that one. Walmart? Manufacturer? Who knows, but it had no stickers. And I like stickers with my calendar.

Third, the "magnetic" part failed. It fell off. I had to Superglue it back on. Bad, bad, bad.

You'll have to wait until next year for the full review of "2013 Family Calendar," but I will say it's wording is gender neutral and it has all of the promised stickers. It's up two points already.

Have a great Hump Day!

A confession . . . or two

So, I have something else to blame on a brother . . . a new addiction.

It's one of those stupid Facebook games that I swore off more than a year ago, when I gave up Mafia Wars. But then he invited me to play Battle Pirates, I thought I'd take a quick look and now I just can't wait to expand my island, build more oil platforms, plunder the Draconians and collect my booty. Good lord, that's pathetic. And it's all JackSparrow's fault. That's his pirate name. Mine's CaptainCrunch. 

Pathetic.

So, I was confessing this to my wife this morning . . . excuse me, must go repair my fleet.

So yeah, we were talking about this game and how it was similar to an educational game back in high school in Geography class.

And that reminded me of an amusing little story, involving geography and high school. And I guess I should explain that I went to a Mennonite High School, though I am not Mennonite. That's a story for another time.

But this school had a dress code. Blue corduroy pants and shirts with no letters or numbers. The school had a lot of other silly little codes, but, again, that's a story for another time.

I forget if it was Grade 9 or Grade 10 Geography, but it was exam time. And somehow I got the impression that the dress code was a little relaxed for the exam hall. So, being the wild and crazy guy that I am, I wore my t-shirt with the number 32 on it. Crazy rebellious hellion.

Now, there was a prissy little teacher that had been dubbed "Sister Jim" by the students. Sister Jim didn't like me much. Not sure why. 

But Sister Jim took great pride and pleasure in "catching" me in my flagrant disregard for the rules of good behaviour. I wasn't too difficult to catch. I was just kinda standing there, waiting to go into the exam hall to write my geography final. But you'd think he'd captured Osama Bin Laden. Or, at the time I guess, John Hinckley Jr.

Anyhoo, he told me to stay put and pranced off to conference with another teacher or two . . . just a sec. Gotta go attack a Level 4 Draconian Cargo Ship. Pathetic.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Sister Jim.

So, apparently after the Nuremberg court met to decide my fate, it fell to Sister Jim to deliver the bad news. Which he did with a smug little smile on his face.

And it had been decided I would NOT be allowed to write my exam in the exam hall (gymnasium). Instead, I would have to write it, all alone, in one of the classrooms. I was marched down to an empty classroom, told to sit down, was handed my exam and I was left to write.

Now, I should point out that a major portion of this particular exam involved remembering where a lot of the world's countries were located. I was provided with a blank map showing only the shapes of the countries. I had to fill in the names. It was a part of the exam that I was dreading. I wasn't very good at meaningless memorization.

I looked at the blank sheet, sighed, shook my head and then looked up . . . at the gigantic map of the world, in front of me, on the classroom wall. It had all the names.

I did very well on that part of the exam.

Have a great Monday!

Tweet

The knives are out of place. The dishwasher's loaded wrong. I slept on a sliver of the bed last night, pushed out by another body and too many pillows.

Yup, Neomom's home! Wouldn't have it any other way.

So I feel pretty good this morning. Even though I really didn't sleep all that well. But the head cold is gone. Well, apparently not gone. It has shifted to Sonwun's nose this morning. He woke up sniffling and coughing. Crap! It's supposed to be a nice day today and it would have been great to go for a nice walk up the creek. 

My cold has kept us in the house all week. And now, with Neomom home, I was really hoping to break out. Well, we'll have to see how it goes.

Why can't we all just get sick at once. Then we can all lie on the couch, sniffle, complain . . . and rest . . . together.

Ah well.

So this morning at about 3 o'clock I was pondering social media. The trigger was a meaningless post I left on Facebook last night. It was a line from The Princess Bride: "Hello! My name is Indigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

Honestly, I'm not even sure why I posted it. I guess I liked the movie and thought it was kinda funny. But, to my surprise, a bunch of people responded to it. Didn't realize the movie was that popular.

What struck me was one line, also from the movie, posted by a fellow SAHD from Illinois: "No more ryhming now, I mean it!"

And then a Mom friend, from here in Portage, responded with the next line from the movie: "anybody want a peanut."

I just kinda thought it was cool. Two people who don't know each other, have had no contact of any kind, sharing a laugh over a movie they'd both seen and enjoyed.

And I guess I find it kinda cool because this kind of thing just didn't happen when I was younger. The world was so much smaller.

And, like it or not, this is the world in which my kids will grow up. So I must do my best to stay on top of this stuff - to the best of my ability. I admit, I do not own a smartphone. I do, however, have an iPod with WiFi. Kind of a smartphone lite.

So I've got some of this stuff figured out. But I was recently reminded that I opened a Twitter account a while back. Had forgotten about it. But somebody started "following" me, so I got an email notification. 

I'll be honest. I don't "get" Twitter. Pretty sure I don't know how to use it correctly. But I see some of my younger "friends" on FB (that's how we say Facebook, apparently) who are using it. 

But with FB, and texts, smartphones and all that stuff, where does Twitter fit in? What's the attraction? What's the catch? Is it just so that we can all see what the celebrities are thinking in the morning when they wake up and get a coffee? Or is it just that we are able to tell all of our "followers" that we had a peachy day today, all at once. 

If any of you twitterers want to explain it to me, please feel free. I guess I'm just not one of those guys that can express himself in 140 words or less. Which is why I do the blog thing.

Anyhoo, it's the weekend. Enjoy! I plan to. (Maybe I should Tweet that last line!)

I'm part of the problem . . .

Aw crap!

I had planned a cop-out blog this morning. You know, something like a Top 10 of 2011, a look back at my favourite posts from the previous year. Turns out I only did 12 posts last year. Bad, bad blogger.

Thus the resolution to stay at this every day for 90 days. So onward.

As is my custom, I sat down with my coffee at the computer this morning to check out my favourite sites, check the weather, read a little news and check my blog stats. I mean, I write mostly for myself, but I can't help but take a look at how many people actually read this stuff. And I had a good day yesterday thanks, I'm sure, to my buddy Patrick's social media assistance. He tweeted and reposted yesterday's ramblings on his Facebook page.

On an average day, I see about 20 visitors, if I post the blog to Facebook. That number goes down to about 10 if I don't. Yesterday, I had 30 readers: 22 from Canada, six from the U.S., 1 from France and one from the Cayman Islands (Hi Steve!).

As for the news, well, I don't even want to talk about it this morning. Toxic, just toxic.

And then there's Facebook. I love some of the little posters or pictures that some folks find and share. Saw one this morning and thought, I've got to steal that and share it. Why? I actually thought about it this morning. It's this one:

Now I didn't repost this, even though I really wanted to. After all, it would make me look smart, superior. I honestly have no idea who the drunk chick on the right is. Pretty sure I've seen that pic in the tabloids in line at the grocery store checkout. But I don't know who it is.

But the kicker is the fact that I can only identify two folks on the left. Einstein and Hawking. That's it. And as much as I'd like to create the illusion that I know them all, just by posting this, I had to stop myself. Maybe after I figure them all out, I'll post it and then feel pretty smug. But for now, I just have to pride myself in NOT knowing who drunk chick is.

I guess I'm only partly what's wrong with the world today. If I learn who the rest of the good people are, I will in no way be responsible for what's wrong with the world today. It's a good goal.

Have a great Thursday. I've got some studying to do.

Addictions

Well good morning!

Sorry I've been away for a while, but it's been a busy few days.

As most of you regular readers know, the wife came home for a three-day break from her studies in Ottawa. She has since returned and I am, once again, alone with the boys. It was wonderful to have her home and terrible to see her leave again. But we will get by.

Enough about that.

I've picked up two addictions recently. I think they're related but I'll leave that to the psychoanalysts and, well, those of you who read this.

The first is Deadliest Catch, a documentary style show about king crab fishing in the Bering Sea. In a nutshell, these guys go out for a very short fishing season (less than a week), literally risking their lives doing a very dangerous job with the hope of a big payoff.

I've been trying to figure out what I love about this show. And I'm pretty sure this is where the psychoanalyst comes in. I love it because it's about some of the things I feel I'm missing in my life right now. A small crew of men, buddies, guys who must depend on one another for their lives and livelihood, working toward a common goal, missing sleep, sharing stress and working their butts off.

With next to no friends in this new town, and a job that involves diaper changes, Lego assembly and playdough with kids under 5, I miss that kind of thing. I think that's why I went and helped my new next door neighbour roof his house. Didn't know him from Adam, but he looked like he needed a hand, there was physical labour involved and we were 10 feet off the ground. Not quite crab fishing, but as close as I could get for now.

The other element, of course, is the gambling. These fishermen can spend the entire sleepless season pulling up nothing, with no payoff. I honestly get excited for them when they bring in a full pot of King Crab. A successful fishing season can net each deckhand upwards of $50,000. Not bad for a week's work, bearing in mind, of course, that, statistically, one or two of them will end up dead each fishing season. Big risk, big reward.

I think if I was about 20 years younger, with no wife and no kids, this is something I would have loved to try.

Anyway, if any of you are interested, there's a Deadliest Catch marathon on this Sunday on the Discovery channel beginning at 7 a.m. and running all day. Check it out.

As for my other addiction, it's the Mafia Wars game on Facebook. Hate to admit that, but I love the game. As expected, it's about building an empire, based on crime of course. It's about making as much money as possible, building businesses and wiping out the competition.

Unfortunately, my "family" is still pretty small, so the bigger families are robbing me blind right now, but I own a deli, a bar, two rental properties, an Italian restaurant, an apartment complex, a Valu-Mart, a marina and an office building. Plans are underway for a 5-Star Hotel, but I need another $8 million.

So these are my escapes. My addictions. And right now I need them. I am doing my best to get Sonwun and Sontoo some outside activity, but it's proving more difficult than I imagined. Preschool is full, swimming lessons are full and I went to the Thompson Public Library yesterday, a Tuesday, at 11 a.m., and it was closed. The bars and liquor stores are open every day, all day, but the library is not. I fear for this city's collective intelligence.

Anyway, mommy's home in 24 days, nine hours and six minutes. Can't wait!

Rejected

Well, I apparently don't qualify as an RCMP spouse.

At least according to the Facebook Group, Spouses of the RCMP.

No big deal really, but I have to wonder why. I mean, according to the intro page to the "closed" group, it is for "all of you out there who have uprooted their lives to follow your husbands and wives as they pursue their careers with the RCMP. The nights and weekends spent without your partner, the missed holidays, the new jobs/homes, leaving your family and friends behind... Can you relate?!?"

Um, yes, I can relate. I am intimately acquainted with all of the above. My wife is currently away in Ottawa for two months taking some advanced training. I think that covers the "nights and weekends spent without your partner" clause.

Missed holiday? Um, yes again. Without going into too much detail, there have been a few. Several Christmas mornings waiting for night shift to end . . . turkey dinner invites where I was to meet up with the wife, who was on shift at the time.

New jobs/homes - see the blog entries for the last couple of months.

Leaving your family and friends behind?

Yeah, I think I qualify. However, I am also thinking that my penis is getting in the way. I just don't have any other explanation for my rejection. Mostly because one has not been provided. It was about a month ago that I applied for membership. It took a few days, but I get a note from the "administrator" Christina Marie. She asked me to tell them a little bit about myself and my connection with the RCMP. I did so, outlining recent postings, my stint as an RCMP clerk and so forth.

I have waited a month now for acceptance and I must accept the fact that it's not coming. But I would have been nice if they at least sent me a note telling my why I've been excluded.

"Dear Mike,

Clearly, you qualify for acceptance into our little group, as it is advertised. But I'm afraid there is a problem. You pee standing up and the rest of us don't. The consensus is that you would add nothing to the discussions on child birth, clothes shopping and menstrual irregularities. And, quite frankly, we don't want to hear your views on beer, football and small engine repair. We realize we should probably change the information on Facebook to reflect this reality, but we don't want to appear sexist.

Thank you for your interest, but we are not interested in you.

The Real (Female) Spouses of the RCMP."

That would just make me feel so much better. A little honesty goes a long way.

I wanted to send a note to Christina Marie this morning, asking what was happening with my application. But the link to her message box has been severed. When I click on her picture (which is one of those non-pictures, by the way), nothing happens. I can't get in touch. Not only have I been rejected, I've apparently been forbidden from attempting to find out why.

Well, I'm a shit-disturber from way back, and I just can't resist this one. So today, I will send in a second application for membership. I am sorely tempted to find a picture of a female for my profile, change my name to Michelle and see how it goes. But I won't. I will be myself, a man, a stay-at-home dad and a proud RCMP spouse. If that's not good enough, well, screw 'em. I'll let you know how it turns out.

In the meantime, it's shopping day! Woohoo. It's also laundry day and I just can't wait to play with my new washing machine, which was delivered yesterday at supper time. Livin' the dream baby!

Seven days, five hours and 43 minutes until Mommy comes home!