Tuesday, September 29, 2009 at 09:16AM Paco has a "Lick granuloma". It's a nasty spot on a dog's wrist or ankle area caused by the dog's own incessant licking.
Great news is it works for the entire family.
I'm going to wear one at work so people won't bother me.
Thursday, September 24, 2009 at 09:28PM I just got the silent treatment on the phone. My wife is a little upset with me or, more likely, she's upset that she knew hours before she was upset with me that she was going to be upset with me. She knew what was going to happen. I knew what was going to happen. And it so frustrates her that it still happens.
I'm in Salt Lake. I drove here for work. I had plans to go to Ikea to get some stuff for the house. This evening I called Sarah to say I was on my way to the Swedish Megastore and wanted to know what to get. She told me not to go. She said she didn't yet know what the house needed and we didn't need to spend the money. I scolded her. "How could I be in Salt Lake and not go to Ikea?"
And if she didn't know she was going to be upset before that, then she certainly knew now.
I went to Ikea. I was only going to eat some meatballs, get a toy for Q and a bracket for a kitchen cabinet. But I ate and while eating got sad. This is Salt Lake, where people have lots of kids. It's weird, I'll see twelve kids under the age of five and only one set of parents. It seems biologically impossible but the adults shout out to them as if they all belong to them: "Tyler, Britney, Emma, Jacob, Jebediah..."
And it was all these kids that had me missing my guys. I gravitated to all brightly colored kid things and put them in my cart. I got a cool little crane. A set of moon and star wall lights. A red rug. (A rug? Wtf?) So I wandered the store and I got lost. Several times I even went against the arrows.
I bought shelves, a purple lamp shade and stuffed rabbit driving a carrot car.
I had a plan to sift through my bounty and see what I should take back. Just then a voice over the loud speaker said I had five minutes before the store closed. I sprinted to the checkout.
I got back to the hotel and the valet guy asked how my trip to Ikea was. I told him to look at my back seat. It's filled with junk. It looks like a grabber machine.
I called Sarah and, with a glimmer of hope, told her everything. I thought there might be a chance she'd encourage me to bring it all home.
Phone call is over. I'm going back to Ikea.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009 at 09:31PM I gotta write just a little bit. I've been on the road doing a tribal media tour. KWRR, a radio station on the Wind River Reservation, pretty much let me take over. Or maybe that's just what they're used to white guys doing, so figured they could get some thinking done while I talked. And that's something I can't figure out with some Native Americans; what in the heck are they thinking about?
I'm obvious. I cheer when the Broncos win, I cry during a promo for Extreme Home Makeover, I hold forkfuls of meat in the air and shriek with delight. But in the conversation I had with the host of the Naturally Native show, I couldn't tell what was going on. Had I just offended her? Was she sad, or dealing with inner turmoil, or was she happy and just reflecting upon it. I suffered in a noiseless vacuum. My Indian name would be Awkward Silence.
This woman would start a song and then just get up and leave the studio. Now my history of commercial radio has me terrified of dead air. Still today the only time I turn up a radio is when it's silent. I listen to it with the childish delight and morbid curiosity of a professional wrestling fan. But the deejay would go to the bathroom or meet a friend for lunch, I don't know, but the song would stop and it would take her three or for minutes to come back into the studio. And it would kill me. I would sit there in the silence thinking I'd done something wrong. And she would walk back in unscathed and turn on the microphones.
Apparently people are used to this. Maybe this is what radio needs: a bit of a respite. "You've heard a lot of noise for a while so now we're going to give you some silence."
But she'd casually go back on the air and say, "This is Naturally Native and I'm with Jared from the Census."
She would turn and look at me. And I would look back at her. And she would look at me and I would look at her. She'd keep looking and I'd feel myself slipping into pit of anxiety. But she would just keep looking.
And then, Awkward Silence would speak. I would talk and talk. I would spin a serpentine web of facts and anecodotes and childhood experiences. Occasionally I'd stop and look at her. She'd look back at me. So I'd keep talking. After about five minutes I'd ask if she wanted to play some music.
She'd say, "OK, we're going to play some music." And play some music.
After the first hour I told her the show was one of the best ever. It wasn't tightened with expecations of back to back to back beats and lasers and weather on the tens. It was like radio on the range with vast space for every element to move.
Despite the expansive and bewildering unknown, it was one of the most relaxed atmospheres I've ever been in my life. Although I have no idea if she felt the same way.
(video to come!)
Friday, September 18, 2009 at 09:20PM Sarah has this problem whereby she destroys places. In a creepy Stephen King Firestarter way she can annihilate something by simply being associated with it. Where the pyrokinetic Drew Barrymore torched the things she didn't like, Sarah, by her mere presence, lays waste to things she DOES like. This dark magic is most notable with restaurants. Sarah being a veggie makes it a little more difficult to find a really good, satisfying eatery. Often I'm knee deep in flesh and eating my way to a dessert of those little shrimp wrapped in bacon, and Sarah is making the most of a dinner roll. So to find a place like Emily's, a downtown Denver establishment that Sarah called "the best veggie restaurant ever," is a real score. We still don't know why Sarah obliterated it.
As one excited scientist exclaims in the trailer to Firestarter, "It's not for what she did...it's for who she is..."
Status: Emily's would be sold to a guy who wanted to expand it's repertoire to more worldly cuisine. He added Korean and Chinese food. The place was on the verge of becoming one of those obese emporium Asian Super Buffets with chafing dishes full of Kung Pao, mac and cheese and Skittles. Emily is no longer with us.
Sarah also liked the homemade ice cream place across from Swedish hospital. High school kids would sometimes take time away from talking with their friends to serve up cones and shakes. In a moment of sweet reflection you could freeze the fleeting summer.
Status: Gone. The place that replaced it: Gone. The place that replaced the place that replaced it: Gone.
Pizza Hut, not exactly a vegetarian haven, still made Sarah's death list. Their restaurants were a nice place to spend time over a pitcher of cold soda. And I don't know if you've ordered from them in a while, but their pies have declined. The pizza you used to get in their expansive booths was the stuff that made heart attacks worth it.
Status: Pizza Hut has cut back on real estate to invest in researching how to fit a chocolate cake in a breadstick. Look for their Mountain Dew cheese and mayonnaise-stuffed crust coming soon! Many of their old buildings have become Mexican restaurants touting the branding slogan, "It's really dark in here!"
What's next? Sarah has moved to online retail. She loves Zappos. Has for years. She was so set on extinguishing them she recently sent them this letter:
To: cs@zappos.com
Subject: #73673105
Date: Thu, 10 Sep 2009 04:18:10 +0000
Just wanted to write to say that you guys absolutely ROCK.
I placed an order yesterday, YESTERDAY and I received my bag TODAY! Unbelievable.
I could go on about how I placed an order through Amazon 4 (that is FOUR) months ago for the same product and still have not received it. It took that long to finally receive a credit from them as well. And there is Zappos, just taking care of business with free shipping and I get the NEXT DAY.
So, thank you thank you thank you. I would love to take someone out to lunch to show my gratitude.
-Sarah Ewy
Wednesday, September 16, 2009 at 09:33PM All that's needed to make any child look like they're in a horror movie.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009 at 09:29PM The good news is that Quin goes to the bathroom all by himself. The bad news is that he's going to the bathroom by himself. He'll come running at us yelling, "I peed, I peed!" But we have no idea where.
This morning he really nailed it, toilet and all. I got back from the park with Paco and everybody was all smiles and high fives. I thought we’d finally successfully refinanced the house, but it was even bigger. Quin had told mom he needed to go, and all the proper protocol was followed to the last drop.
To Q’s credit, he’s been interested in the toilet for a long time, it’s just his mom and dad are too weary and too strapped for time to always follow through. His daycare provider said she was ready to go with a program that involves dropping his shorts and taking him to the toilet every fifteen minutes. And then presumably you stand there until he goes, or the fifteen minutes is up. And then I guess the plus side is you’re all set to do it again.
Our issue is that with the new baby and Sarah back at work we’re always in a hurry and only frightening the little guy during a very important developmental phase. (If humans ever get too high on our place in the food chain just recall that learning how to poop can mess us up for life.)
But Q is close. And it won’t be long before he’s all set with the toilet thing. And yes I just knocked on wood.
Today Sarah and I discussed doing cocaine. It makes sense why people do it. I want to stay up late and write. Sarah is getting up once or twice a night to feed Otto. We figured we could do it at night to get more done. But then we realized we’d need it in the morning to wake up. There goes the whole addiction thing.
So I think illicit drugs are off the table (barring my mad pining for diet soda and coffee). Sadly, however, Sarah and I ended this evening's conversation with the conclusion that sleep is just a waste of time. We’d like to be up to finish our house and clean whatever in the hell is so sticky on the kitchen floor. There’s just not enough time to get things done.
I’m struck by how strange it is that our brains, part of the very vehicle that needs sleep, has decided that sleep is only a detriment to our day. What in the hell is wrong with us? Did our potty training go terribly wrong?
It’s just a thought. I know I’ll be out cold in about twenty minutes. Although with Q getting up before six and Otto ready to eat at all hours, our children do their best to make it a reality.
Sunday, September 13, 2009 at 11:29PM 
