It was pretty damned cold this morning, so I decided to drive Da Chimpz to school. I was the humanitarian thing to do, considering that Cookie was in his gym shorts -- having forgotten all his sweat pants in his locker last week).

Anyway, we got out to the car and I realized just how cold it was: the windshield was iced. Didn't require scraping, but soon enough it will. I hate the cold, but summer is clearly over.

Oh, and another recent hint of things to come: last week I was in the kitchen hustling the boys into getting their breakfast and getting them off to school. Before I could ask Cookie which cereal he wanted he reached up to the top of the refrigerator to take down the box of Frankenberry. Scary. Not just the unnatural pink glow of that particular cereal. Moreso how big Cookie is getting.

Yeah, it's election season and the lawn signs are up. Lots of local issues being advertised. My favorite is the lawn sign urging approval of a local initiative to spend a boatload of money to build a few new schools to replace a few old schools. The signs read "save money, vote yes." Get it? They want people to vote yes, so they avoid saying "spend a boatload of money"; instead they make signs that scream "save money." That's marketing.

Which the local pols do a lot. One local ad campaign promotes the airport. It's an ad I've heard often on Cleveland radio; they even give the airport a catchy little tag-line "going places." That's great. My question is this: who the hell are they advertising to? I mean, if you live in the area you are probably aware that there's an airport here. And even if you aren't, you can call a taxi and say "take me to the airport" and find yourself at Hopkins quite readily -- because there's no other major airport near here until you get to Akron (and that place is tiny).

Not that all airport ads mystify me. I hear an ad for Newark Airport on the New York radio stations and that commercial plays up the retail shops and restaurants, urging travelers to arrive early so they can spend their money. So the ad campaign's objective is fairly clear. With Cleveland, it's just another waste of public money.

And it's not like we can't use that money elsewhere. I won't get started on maybe letting taxpayers keep their money. And I've already made clear that I don't favor spending a boatload of money to replace school buildings. So if the money must be spent on making Hopkins Airport more popular among the locals then I will make a bold suggestion: clean up Terminal C so it doesn't stink of urine.

Seriously, it has been months: every time I walk through Terminal C there's an under-the-boardwalk reek that simply doesn't go away. I even asked Alane's friend to verify this on Friday as she went to catch her flight. Her verdict: piss galore. Hasn't any advertising rep noticed this while jetting into town to pick up his payment? Or is that where they got the idea for "going places"?

Yar! We went to 9 o'clock Mass followed by two hours of Cub Scout meeting and no one had the decency to talk like a pirate. Scaliwags.

There is much moping these days at Berea-Rose: the Wii has bitten the dust. Reading discussion boards for DIY diagnostics, we first determined that it was a failing laser gun preventing the drive from reading the game disks. We order the part and I sat with Da Chimpz through several YouTube tutorials on tearing down the Wii, replacing the component, and putting it back together. And on Thursday night that's exactly what we did: prepping the dining room table for delicate microsurgery that lasted well over an hour (I was trying to be methodical and let them do as much of the process as I dared).

Alane had already gone to bed by the time we had it all back together, but even she knew right away (from our cries of "We don't rock!") that operation had failed. Feh. We consoled ourselves on Friday night by watching Mystery Science Theater's take on the 80s horror classic Zombie Nightmare. And this morning we started making a 3D robot in Blender. We'll figure this Wii thing out soon enough.

Fast forward now to the end of summer vacation -- wait, you passed it.

Yes indeed, summer vacation ended as of this morning when we dressed up Da Chimpz and carted them off to school to start another exciting year of (ahem) learning. And mischief.

Well, at least I can't complain about it not being a hot enough summer. Unlike last year this has been a real heater. But that's already fading away as the nights get cool (and cicada loud). It's all good.

We downloaded Blender over the weekend and have been playing with 3D modeling. That's some complicated stuff. We did make a rudimentary computer game (a cube that displays Cookie's face; you can make it bounce on floating planes that display gorillas, Mojo artwork, and Mojo himself -- just don't misjudge your leap or you'll fall into the abyss).

We recently watched Clash of the Titans. Not a bad movie, though the gods on Olympus were dressed like ELO performing on Don Kirschner's Rock Concert. And now every time Cookie or Mojo are heading to the bathroom they announce with a sinister flourish "Release the Kraken!"

I need to blog more often; there's so much I've missed.

For all the supposed ease of interconnectedness, I still find it cumbersome to shift photos from the Droid over to the PC from which I can then upload them to Blogger. Sounds simple, and I know it is, but I just don't have the patience to stage the operation the way I once did.

It's that impatience that has led this blog to dereliction.

But hey, maybe we can breathe some life back into it. I hope to get some reports from Hartford this week -- we hear there was a big party up there last night. We eagerly await a damage report.

Up late last night to sit by the fire, have a few drinks, and in the spirit of vino veritas contemplate the solutions to light speed and time travel.

I think we came close!

Of course, in the darkness I couldn't see that I'd been stepping in giant gobs of molten marshmallow that the kids had dripped and dropped in the grass. Didn't spot it until this morning when I got dressed for Mass and noticed big clumps of grass stuck to the side of my shoe. Went outside to pound it off and discovered I had marshmallow soles -- which IIRC were quite popular in the 1970s.

See, we did conquer time travel!

For now we're just hanging at the house. Earlier we went out back and lit off some firecrackers -- just a few packs. Later tonight will be the town fireworks over Polio Pond. Should be fun.

Had a lovely backyard breakfast with the neighbors this morning, flipping pancakes al fresco (though these days I can't even eat the things) after making a ton of Bob Evans sausage on my own stove to bring out. Lots of kids running about, with chocolate chip and/or blueberry smears across their faces.

Hot weather is descending upon Berea Rose this weekend. That's okay, I got the A/C on (having capitulated to Alane earlier in the week). Da Chimpz just got back from their gymnastics practice. I'll go downstairs and see what they're doing. Had them out front last night to throw the Nerf ball around -- always good for giving me the sore-shoulder for the next few days (but worth it).

Maybe we'll go to Mass this evening so I can spend the morning rolling out the meatballs (as one should spend a quality Sunday morning).

I wonder if Frylock is still singing Morrissey songs to himself? The more you ignore me, the closer I get...

I got a text message from Bazzukajoe the other day asking me why our hapless prez is once again coming to visit Ohio. My response: "He really wants me to be his friend." Which is actually quite a funny response considering there's some truth to it. Steve just now took it even further, crooning over the phone in his best Morrissey warble:

When you sleep
I will creep
Into your thoughts
Like a bad debt
That you can't pay.

Wow! Life has reduced itself to a sad-sack stalker song by Morrissey! Even the preceding line about how "I bear more grudges/Than lonely high court judges" is just a little too close to reality to be coincidence. This guy isn't like a bad debt we can't pay, he is bad debt.

Yes, the pain was indeed enough to make a shy bald buddhist reflect and plan a mass murder.

Went to a high schol graduation party last evening and everything was lovely -- not least because I resisted the urge to provide the putatve college freshman with gratuitous advice about what to expect. "Almost everyone you meet is full of crap," I wanted to say. "And the more authentic they are trying to be, the more full of crap they are." I kept it to myself; she's a smart kid and I tend to think she will figure this out for herself (thus achieving the non-classroom part of her education).

Went to a Mets game Thursday night. What the hell is a National League team from Queens doing in Cleveland anyway? It was a good time. Alane and I tried to remember the last time we attended a Mets game. We're pretty sure it was in 1999 -- a fistful of proofs of purchase from packages of Khans hot dogs got us cut rate seats to Shea on a pleasant summer night before children.

Haven't watched much of any baseball this year. But last night I made an exception. As unnatural as interleague play might be it has brought my hapless Mets into Cleveland to face off against my hapless Indians. So last night I plopped in front of the TV and watched me some game.

And you never saw two teams work so hard to blow the game! Lots of sloppy play, strange ump calls, and vuvuzela-strength-annoying commentary by the local sportscasters. But all in all a good game -- and a Met win!

Gotta wake Da Chimpz soon. School ended last week, so now they go to their day camp over in town. They like it. (Well, except for Mojo who thought it manifestly unjust that they declared half the wet field off limits yesterday even though he was sure there was no mud there. This bothered Mojo greatly and I fear he is becoming radicalized by the systemic oppression.)

Been meaning to give an update on the bacon soap situation -- things are looking up! What first seemed like just a dish of greasy goo has now solidified into something that looks and feels a lot like an honest-to-goodness bar of soap.




Stinks pretty bad. Leaves an yecho film on your skin after wetting it. And has red dye in it, so washing is not exactly what you'd be doing anyway...

But technically, I do think we created some soap here.

Still need to edit down the video for Youtube posting -- not that it's very interesting... Just me standing in my garage mixing caustic chemicals while being mocked by by wife and friends and abandoned by my children.

I got ideas, though. Bacon soap sounds like an excellent Fathers Day gift. Watch your mailbox, Don Vito. The neighborhood dogs are definitely going to chase the local letter carrier.