The Ballad of Jayne

Micah told me she'd give me anything if I could guess what song was in her head. Naturally, I clarified the rules; she offered me nine yes-or-no questions and ten notes of the song (whistled, so no lyrical or instrumental questions), then one guess.

Now, when someone offers you *anything*, you must take the game seriously. I mean, I could turn a promise of anything into this, this, or even this!

I started asking about the title of the song - four questions (and some slipped info by Micah) got me that it started with "The B" followed by a vowel (she had to do some fact checking to make sure she knew the official name of the song, which was a bad sign for this strategy of guessing). "Neat! I can probably Google that if I narrow the range" I thought, so another set of questions got me that it was made between 1970 and 2004 and was featured on a sci fi show! These questions took me wayyy too long to think of, by the way (like an hour, ha!).

The ten notes were given last - and they were not familiar to me at all! Micah's seen a limited number of science fiction, so the selections were limited (basically only things she's watched in our nearly three years of marriage - incidentally, her mother seemed disparaged to learn I've got her watching Star Trek TNG and that she loves it).

I ruled out Star Trek, then Battlestar Gallactica, and realized it must be Firefly! I did a search for "Firefly theme song" and Google returned "The Ballard of Serenity" - a ha, it fits! I knee-jerked and blurted out "My guess is 'the Ballad of Serenity'!"

Wrong! So close, and so wrong! After so much careful thought and manipulative questioning, I got hasty and missed the mark by a hair's width! Fortunately, Micah didn't specify any prize for herself if I lost, but she certainly gloated.

Oh, the song was from Firefly, officially titled "The Ballad of Jayne" (though guessing "Hero of Canton" or even "that song in Firefly about Jayne" would have sufficed):

Falling Fowl Feces

The Fail: I was riding my bike in Australia (circa 2009) and recall a specific place where a small thud hit the back of my helmet.  Upon inspection, I learned I had been pooped on, you know, by a bird. It was gross, but at least not this gross.


After that experience (and watching that video), I have taken measures to minimize chance encounters with avian fecal matter.

There's really only two rules to follow to avoid bird blasts:

1. Directly observe birds.  If you see a bird, stationary or in motion, take care to not be under it or any vector at which a projectile poop could propel to your person.  Birds lack sphincter muscles and simply can't control when or where they go.
2. Indirectly observe birds.  If you are walking and see a concentration of bird poop on the ground, you can be sure at least one bird hangs out directly over that spot, be it a tree branch, lamp post, or power line.  I have found it worth it to habitually imagine such spots as impassible pillars (of poop!) and walk around them, even when inconvenient or embarrassing.  It's better to explain "I don't like getting pooped on." and seem odd than to actually get pooped on. I promise.

I just took a short walk through a park near my office - a walk I take so often I know all the path's "poop pillars" - and walked around a speckled spot of stool as a turd tumbled from the tree above. So, as of today, I've tied up the score. 

Hank: 1

Birds: 1

PS Sorry this is my second poop-related post in a row.

Poopshake Alliteratives and Parallelisms

The other day, after a quick stop at Jack In The Box, we returned from a great day trip to find our boy had used the 1.5 hour drive home to see just how much he could poop without us noticing.

It's a lot.

Like, overflowing-in-the-car-seat-and-dripping-on-the-carpet-as-we-rush-him-to-the-tub a lot.

Don't be fooled by his snugly wiles - he's literally full of ****

About 15 minutes, 50 wet wipes, two towels, one trip to the garbage can, and three steps back inside later, I felt the soft, warm squish of moderately viscous infantile feces flow between my big and second toes.

Five minutes, three wet wipes, 14 squirts of cleaner, and two rags later, I sat down with Micah to enjoy an episode of TNG and my much awaited chocolate Oreo milkshake (yes, if you ask they make the Oreo milkshake with chocolate ice cream).  I had told my brother earlier that day how I hadn't consumed a milkshake in a while and had been avoiding my favorite treat, but after the day's hike I thought it was well deserved.

Then I spilled it.

I think I thought about crying for a second.  Another moderately viscous (though normally highly viscous, it had been waiting 20+ minutes for me by now) semi-fluid on the carpet.  But this one stung.  I had spilled it and nothing I could do would bring it back and consume the delicious.

I was so distraught that Micah took the repeat round of rag-on-rug rubbing and I realized something important as I mourned my milkshake mishap:

Poop piling up doesn't really make life worse; losing the milkshakes does really make life worse.  It's because poop can be disposed of and always is with a little effort, but milkshakes were meant to be enjoyed and, once lost, are impossible to recover and practically irreplaceable.

James likes when his mom reads to him :-)

Glad I've got my many metaphorical milkshakes that aren't getting dropped on the carpet anytime soon, particularly Micah and James.

And yeah, even if he's got poop literally coming out of his pants, I love my little buddy.

If you commented with your best/worst poop and/or milkshake story, I'd be down with it.

French Military Victories: I'm Feeling Lucky!

I played tennis with my friend, Andrew Bates, last Saturday morning.  The skies were clear, blue and sunny and I got some good exercise while getting repeatedly beaten without contest.  After a few warm up rallies and explanation of forgotten rules (it's been several years since I've played), we played a few games, er, sets... matches? Irregardless, I lost every single one.  I think the best I did was scoring two points in a row one time.

At any rate, I was horrible, but had fun.  Honestly, I think my reflections on failure have enabled me to have more fun, even in defeat.

On Monday (Memorial Day), I went disc golfing; Micah and James came along for the walk.  On the second hole I lost a disc to a small jungle off the fairway.  That, plus the unusually crowded day on the course made me just quit early and opt in for a family walk.

Oh, what do those defeats have to do with the post title you ask? If you don't know, you won't understand. ;-)