Deer Don't Hurt Nobody

Hung out with the Dude-Bros at the barbershop the other day.

They've got a small barbershop on the first floor of an old house in mixed use residential / light commercial area.

They've got 2 giant TVs that are right in your face.

And they turn them up so they're loud enough to be heard over 4 sets of clippers running at the same time.

Last time I was there they were watching some Alaskan State Troopers show (which I was OK with).

This time they were watching Citizens Under Attack.  Which was some type of armed robbery surveillance footage show.  I was not OK with that.

Also, you're supposed to yell stuff at the TV.

***

Overheard at the same visit:

CUSTOMER (with strong RI accent): I don't hunt deer.  Deer don't hurt nobody.  I only hunt bear.

(It sounded like he was hunting bear with a handgun.  Seriously.)

"Listen! Do you smell something?"

I haven't really been able to smell anything for the last 2 years.  I figured it was just years of allergies and sinus infections finally catching up to me.  And I know it was sometime in the last 2 years because I really can't tell when Kid #2 needs a change.

"Is his diaper full?"

"I honestly don't know."

I mentioned my smelling problems to my allergist at my last visit.  And they sent me to an ENT specialist to get it checked out.

ENT guys gives me mega-horse pill antibiotics and super prednisone.

"Have you lost your sense of taste?"

"I don't think so."

Only I didn't realize how much I actually had.

Five days later...  Everything tastes SO GOOD to me right now.

(And... everything smells... kinda awful...)

Long story short, I've probably had a sinus infection for THE LAST TWO YEARS.

I'm tapering off the prednisone.  Right now.

And I can actually feel it.  I'm tripping balls.

It is... unpleasant.

Overheard at lunch yesterday

"I love my Buick."

"That is a good car."

"My father always had Buicks."

"That is a good car."

"It's probably time to get a new one... but they just last forever!"

"That is a good car."



Average age at the table:

68

Jenkins

Jenkins!  Get in my office!

Sir?

Jenkins... I'm looking at the report you turned in... And I'm not impressed.

Sorry, Sir.  What seems to be the problem?

This planet you recommended for invasion... Isn't it 70% water?

Yes, Sir.

SEVENTY.  PERCENT.  WATER.

Sir?

And aren't we, as a species, mortally wounded by water?

Ahhhh... Right.  I had completely forgot all about that.

I'm mean... C'mon... We're talking about a full scale PLANETARY INVASION here.  You don't just wing it.  A lot of planning has to go into these things. Pay attention to the chemistry and composition reports next time.

Yes, Sir.  Sorry Sir.

What will the humans think of us if we invade a planet then have to turn around simply because we can't handle what appears to be one of their most abundant resources?

Not very much, Sir.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to make me look bad.

Bee Sting

Got stung on the big toe. May have let out an M-F bomb in front of the boys. Father of the Year application currently under review...

Daddy Wednesday - April 5th, 2012

Home with both kids for the first time.


8:50 Put on "Iron Giant" for Kid #1.  He narrates the action as it happens for Kid #2.  This is actually pretty cute.

9:15 Spending most of my time feeding the boys.  No coffee for me yet.

9:20 Coffee headache.  Gah.

9:30 Kid #1 won't stop eating (note to self: ask doctor if tapeworm or growth spurt)

9:45 Kid #2 can hold the bottle by himself now.  Good stuff.

10:15 No nap from Kid #2 yet.  Degree of difficulty: All Pro.

10:45 Nose got.

11:00 Give Kid #2 the "finger test" to see if he's hungry.  He nearly takes my finger off.

11:05 Five minutes of bottle, then he passes out.  Niiiice.

11:15 Kid #1 perfectly happy with a morning of "Phineas and Ferb" and legos.

12:15 Kid #1 declares he doesn't need a nap.  I'm going to play along and see how this turns out.  (Spoiler alert: not well)

12:35 Hands are DELICIOUS.

12:45 Flushable toddler wipes help make a house a home.

2:00 Walkies.

2:30 The walk did not produce the desired napping effect.  Now entering: Fussytown.  Population: Us.

2:45 After a bottle... ANGRY NAPS.

3:30 ANGRY AWAKE.

3:45 Now Kid #1 starts acting up.

4:00 Kid #2 starts boxing his reflection in the mirror.

4:30 Kid #1 REALLY acting up now.  Kid #2 upset, but he's not really sure why.  Degree of difficulty: All Madden.

5:25 Tag me out.  I'm done.


One last thought- It's amazing how quickly healthy eating gets tossed out the window when you're taking care of small people.

Daddy Wednesday.  Week 4.

(Parenting pro tip:  Never wear black when spending the day with a baby.  Neutral colors hide the baby blam much better.)

9:00 - 9:45  First bottle of the day is always tough.  Just waiting for the first BIG POOP of the day before we go out (him, not me).

9:46 Annnnnd... There it is.

9:49 WHY ARE THERE SO MANY GODDAMNED BUTTONS THIS OUTFIT?!

10:05 Get dressed, Baby...  We're going out!

10:20 - 11:30 OUT!  Fresh air!  Sunshine!  Visiting!  Conversations!  With other adults!

11:30 Back home.  The house smells like stale coffee and asparagus pee with a hint of dog.  Might be time to open up a window.  (Note to self:  These are the things you don't realize when you don't leave the house.)  The boy is sleeping hard.

12:20 What is that sound?

12:22 Holy crap, Crazy Neighbor is blowing up a bouncy house.  (What other wacky antics am I missing while I'm at work during the day?)

12:30 I make a bagel for myself, then proceed to grab it from the toaster without having a plate to put it on.  Damn.  Again... Parenting kills brain cells.

1:35 Two hour nap.  Then sad.

1:45 After a bottle and a poop, he seems much better.

2:15 Aaga booga boo gabbas.

2:30 How big is Baby?  SO BIG!

2:45 - 3:00 Tummy time, peek-a-boo, rolling around on the floor, and general silliness.

3:02 I go to the bathroom then get the "Oh my God, I thought you were never coming back" look.

3:05 - 3:30 Walkies.  More fresh air.  Glorious.

3:32 I spot a hawk swooping over the area we were just walking.  LOOKING FOR TASTY TASTY BABY MEAT, NO DOUBT.

3:40 - 4:20 Unexpected second nap.  There might be something to this fresh air thing.

5:30 Back home with Mom.  I drop back down to #2 on the depth chart.

8:15 The boys are in bed.  The dog has been dewatered.  The trash has been taken out.  Magic Happy scotch Time for Daddy.

Daddy Wednesday

After 13 weeks at home with the new baby, my wife is going back to work part time.  I'll be taking Wednesdays off to help out with the transition and get a little bonding time in with Kid #2 (Little D).

Here's my running diary of the first Daddy Wednesday with Kid #2.


6:20 Up to let the dog out.  Kid #1 hears me shortly after and wants to get up, too.

6:30 - 7:05 Getting Kid #1 dressed.  This should normally be a 10 minute job.  Not a good sign of things to come.

7:25 We're off to a great start.  Kid #1 has epic meltdown because he can't have Valentine's Day candy for breakfast.  Timeout.

8:15 Get Kid #1 to daycare.  There will come a day when I can handle both kids alone all day.  Today is not that day.  One of the daycare teachers tries to steal Little D.  I think she's kidding.

8:40 Home.  Coffee (for me, not the baby).

9:05 - 9:40 The morning nap is just a rumor.  Finally get him to take the first bottle of the day.  He obviously prefers "on tap".

10:00 Little D seems to like "Flight of the Conchords" reruns more than "Louie".  He's not big on pathos.

10:00 - 10:28 Staring at each other.

10:30 HUNGRY.

11:02 He falls asleep in my arms.  I sneeze immediately after and wake him up again.  Dammit.

11:28 I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  Yikes.

11:31 - 11:33 Shave, shower, take the dog out.

11:50 Find myself talking to the TV.

11:53 First attempt at my own lunch.

11:55 - 12:15 We play the game where I walk him around and he cries when I stop moving.  Nobody wins.

12:45 Happy fun smile time.

1:00 Second attempt at lunch.

1:20  "Could you please take a nap for Daddy?"  He just smiles and laughs at me.

1:40 Nap.  Finally.  (I also pass out for 20 minutes.)

2:20 HUNGRY.

2:40 Back to sleep.

4:30 Holy crap, still sleeping.

5:05 Up from the Epic Late Afternoon Nap.  No longer fighting me on the bottle.  Chatty.

5:15 Little D can't stop staring at his hands.  They must be awesome...

5:35 Reinforcements arrive.  Phew.


6:00 - 8:00 Dinner.  Wresting.  Baths.  Stories.  Bedtime for the boys.

9:30 I pass out on the couch (about 45 minutes before my normal bedtime).

BATHTIME

A one act play by P. Canole

SON:  I want to take a bath tonight.

FATHER runs bath.

2 minutes later

SON:  I don't waaant to take a baaaaaaath.

FATHER finally gets SON in the bath.

10 minutes later

SON:  I don't waaant to get out of the baaaaaaath.

FATHER gets SON out of the tub then goes downstairs and pours himself a drink.

Circle of Life

I dropped off a bunch of old CDs at Newbury Comics on Saturday.

The guy actually thanked me for having interesting stuff to sell back.

Then I went and spent that money on insulation for the attic.

In other news, I am old.

Making New Friends

Monday morning.  York, Maine.  Day after a Sox - Yankees game.

I'm coming out of a store wearing my Red Sox shirt.  Old Guy (probably 70) wearing high end golf clothes sees my shirt as he's walking in.

Old Guy:  Who won the game last night?

Me:  Sox won 3 - 2 in the 10th.

Old Guy: GodDAMMIT!

Me:  Sorry to break your heart.


Relax, Old Guy.  It's early August.  Both teams are making the playoffs.

My Day

 

First, let me start off by saying we've had a very positive daycare experience.

Phone rings.  It's daycare.  Daycare never calls just to say "hi".

"Hello, Mr. Canole?"

"Yes."

"This is the school nurse from daycare."

"Is everything OK?"

"Yes.  There's just a red spot on your son's arm that we're a little worried about."

"That's a mosquito bite.  We were out in the yard on Sunday and I smacked one off his arm."

"Well, I think it's ringworm."

"What?!"

"He'll have to get a note from the doctor."

"I'm pretty sure it's a mosquito bite."

"It's raised and very red."

"He's probably been scratching it."

"Well, either way, we'd like you to take him to the doctor."

"For a mosquito bite?"

"Well, I think it's ringworm."

"And if it's not?"

"Well, he'll have to get a note from the doctor."

"For a mosquito bite?"

"Yes."



And you know what it turned out to be?

(wait for it)...

A mosquito bite.

I understand wanting to be overly cautious.  But I just left work for the day and took my son to the doctor for...  a mosquito bite.

(photo by J. Canole)

Buffalo Marathon 5/29/2011

I ran my first full marathon last week.

My goals were:

 - finish standing up

 - finish under 4:30

 - don't shit my pants


I'm proud to say I managed to achieve two of these goals.


Injuries

I had a variety of injuries leading up to race day.  I missed about 10 days in March and April because I tweaked my knee pretty bad.  They tell you to not ramp up your mileage too fast when you're training for a marathon.  They tell you to cross train and get other kinds of activities in other than running when you're training for a marathon.  I did not do these things.  Lesson = learned.

Two weeks before my race I cut my finger pretty badly and required 4 stitches.  While this didn't really have any impact on my race, it was pretty stupid on my part.

The final injury happened toward the end of my 20 mile training run (two weeks before race day).  I had a strange pain I had never felt before on the top of my right foot.  I thought it was the shoe's fault.  I briefly toyed with the idea of running the race in a different pair of shoes.  But two weeks isn't enough time to break in a new pair of shoes.  The pain didn't go away as I got closer to race day.  I convinced myself I had a stress fracture.  I started to panic.  I ended up taking a detour from the camping trip and finding an orthopedist in Ellicottville, NY (population: 12) two days before race day.  Long story short, I heard what I needed to hear: it's not broken and you're not going to do permanent damage to it by running ("the joint is irritated").

Race Day

The forecast was for rain (thunderstorms actually).  I did not sleep well the night before.  I got up at 5:30, ate my oatmeal, and got dressed.  I went out at 6:30 and made the "rain gear or sunscreen" call.  I went with sunscreen.  I was glad I did.

It ended up being hot and muggy.  Way too hot for Buffalo. 

Having done the half marathon twice, I was pretty familiar with the first 13 miles of the course.  After 13 the pack thinned out considerably.  There was a batch of us that I considered "my group".  There was a little bit of chatting, but not much.

The crowds were great.  Sure they don't get enough fiber and cheer for a lousy football team owned by Mr. Magoo, but the people of Western New York are genuinely good people.  The reactions were mostly positive, with a few "What the hell are you people doing?" faces thrown in.  I got a lot of compliments on my Red Sox hat.  I got high-fived by a cop.  And a priest.

Up to this point, the longest run I had ever done was the 20 mile training run two weeks before.  The marathon was worse than the 20 because of the heat.  The last half of my 20 was done in the rain.  Rain would have been much better.  I was toast for the last 3 or 4 miles.  The weather was too much.  I was zig zagging from side to side looking for whichever side of the street the shade was on (and I knew I had been out there a long time because I could smell that people were now cooking lunch instead of breakfast).  It wasn't that I was particularly sore or crampy.  I was just out of gas.  After training through a harsh winter and a cold, wet spring, my body just couldn't handle the heat.

I had to resort to the little mental tricks you play with yourself when you're first starting to run.  "Just run to that light post then you can take a break."  "Just run past this intersection and you can walk for a bit."

Eventually I made it.  Someone was sadistic enough to be offering beer at mile 25.  I politely declined.  I probably would have just stayed there if I had one.

I spent a few minutes feeling sorry for myself about not making my goal time.  And then I reminded myself that I just knocked a MAJOR LIFE GOAL off the to-do list.  So I got that going for me.  Which is nice.

The Next Day

I woke up super hungry.  My muscles ached with hunger.  Whoa...

I was sore, but not completely wrecked.  Little Man took charge of the "active recovery" part and made sure I don't sit too much.

There were some extra calories.  And a second cup of coffee.

Last year after my second half marathon I remember thinking that this was pretty nuts and I wasn't eager to try it again in the near future.  For some reason, I'm ready to go as soon as possible again this time.  I've definitely got another marathon in me.  And I'd like to see how I do under better conditions.

Thanks to my family and friends for putting up with me the last few months.

Short Short Story

(behind me while waiting in line for ice cream)

Girl 1: How was your prom?

Girl 2: It was great!  How was yours?

Girl 1: It was... OK.

On the Bikepath...

13 Year-Old on a Skateboard:  "How far is it to the Lincoln Mall?"

Me:  "Jeez, probably another 4 or 5 miles."

[long pause]

13 Year-Old on a Skateboard:  "How far have we gone so far?"

Me:  "I don't know.  Where did you start from?"

Thursday at the Gym


Characters ME (running on a treadmill, because it's too cold to go outside) and Old Guy, late 60s, on the treadmill at 2.0 MPH, who we'll call FRANKIE.


FRANKIE: They took my hip out.  I don't move so good these days.  Look at you!  You're doin' good.

ME: But you're still moving.  That's the important thing.

FRANKIE:  I can swim.  But that's about it these days.

ME:  Swimming is great for you.  I should be doing that more.

FRANKIE:  I used to run like you.  But not no more.  I run da Boston race there.

ME:  That's great!

FRANKIE:  I used to play basketball.

ME:  That's always how I end up hurting myself.

FRANKIE:  We were playing against some college kids from BC a while back.  Me and some guy.  And we beat them!  He says to me 'You're pretty good for your age.'  I tells him, 'Fuck you, I'm good for any age!  I just beat your ass!'



(FRANKIE then cracks himself up laughing and has a coughing fit.)

"LOCKED OUT"

A short film by P. Canole

INT. OFFICE HALLWAY - DAY


COWORKER

You running today, Pat?

PAT

I sure am!

COWORKER

At the gym?

PAT

Nope.  I'm hitting the track.  I'm outside, Baby!

EXT. PAT WALKING ON SIDEWALK.  MIDDAY.  EARLY SPRING.  PAT HAS RUNNING CLOTHES ON.

PAT

(to self)

Boy, I sure can't wait to run on the track!

(smiling, looking around)

PAT WALKS AROUND CORNER AND SEES

PAT

(quietly at first)

No... No...  Just... No...

(then louder)

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

(a single tear falls down PAT's cheek... camera pulls back... rain starts to fall)

END

Pat Report - Special Asthma Investigation Edition


Short version:

Who's got two thumbs and probably doesn't have asthma?

THIS GUY!



Long version:

Today was the methacholine challenge.  This is the third (and hopefully final) test my new allergy and asthma doctor has ordered to see if I actually have exercise induced asthma (we've been operating under the assumption that I've had asthma for the last year).

You breath into a tube and they measure your lung capacity.  Then you inhale a bunch of chemicals that taste like band-aids and swimming pool.  It's supposed to make your lungs tighten up (your twenty-five cent word of the day is "bronchoconstriction").  Then you breath into the tube again.

For a guy my age, height and weight, I had roughly 150% of the lung capacity you would have expected for someone with asthma to start with (thanks, running!).

After inhaling the drugs... I was still at 150% (actually, slightly better).

So... I still have to have a follow-up with my new doctor, but this tests strongly indicates no asthma.

The moral of the story is that sometimes doctors can be dipshits, too.

The only question now is how to tell my old doctor allergy I'll be leaving.  Do I just not make another appointment?  Or do I write the "Dear Dr. Douchebag" letter?  The temptation is strong.

And I no longer have to take the medication that lists "asthma related death" as a possible side effect.  So there's that.

I Say "Doctor, Ain't There Nothin' I Can Take..."

I spoke to a new asthma and allergy doctor this week.  He listened to my questions.  He asked follow up questions.

He didn't give me one word answers.  He never asked me to "trust his 20 years experience".

He actually ordered up some tests instead of just guessing at the problem and handing me some pills.

It was a much much better experience.

The kicker - the new guy doesn't even think I have asthma.

He thinks it might be some kind of long running low grade sinus infection that I never got rid of.

Wednesday was the nebulizer test (asthma) and sinus CT scan.

Next week is a scratch test (allergies)... which means I have to give up my Benadryl habit for a few days.

The week after is a "methacholine challenge".  Which I think is a segment from "Double Dare".

He also told me stop with the Symbicort.  Which is good.  Because every time the commercial comes on and mentions "asthma related death", I kinda shit my pants just a little bit.


So the big question is... Why does this feel like such a revelation to find a doctor who listens and tries to solve problems?  Shouldn't they all be like that?

Pat Leaves the House on a School Night with his Lady Friend

We had my in-laws staying with us last week. They seem to eat their body weight in toast and tea on a daily basis, but other than that, they're not too bad to have around.

Plus... Free babysitting!

We're fairly social people. We like to do stuff. But our access to the Outside World has been virtually shut off somewhat reduced since becoming parents. If we do get to leave the house these days, it's usually during daylight hours, when Little People are at their most cooperative. (Ever take an overtired toddler out in public after dark? Not recommended. They're like Gremlins.)

Last Thursday, I left work, picked up the Little Dude, brought him home to my in-laws and hustled downtown to meet up with Jen.

We went out to dinner and a show at The Rep.

Our table had a view of a relatively busy street downtown.

And there were people! Out! Doing stuff!

It simply hadn't occurred to me that all you other people still had your own lives and got to go out and do stuff (on a school night even!).

Honestly, I was shocked.

The only problem was the tiredness. Years of early morning wake-ups have conditioned my body to start shutting down at 10:00 PM. I was worried about falling asleep on the drive home. Seriously.