Good News for Uncle Saint

Mom went to go visit the non-lapsed Catholic members of her side of the family for Easter, and came back with some fun news.

Father Michael McGivney, who founded the Knights of Columbus and was also my Great Great Grandmother's brother (I think making him my Great Great Great Uncle) is now one step closer to sainthood. Next up: Beatification.

My dad joked when I was 13 that I was probably the only kid in my bat mitzvah class related to someone who might someday get declared a Catholic Saint.

Connect A Cut

So I am here now, and I will make several observations.

1. It is not nearly as cold as I feared it would be. However, at about 27 degrees, it is still painfully cold for a SoCal wimp like me.

2. Good lord, Wheaten Terriers have a lot of energy. My mom had thought my aunt's new dog was a Bichon Frisé, but it only looked like that when she was a puppy. Now she looks like a Honey I Blew Up The Bichon Frise, and was dragging me all over the black ice in the parking lot when I helped my aunt take her for a walk.

Still: Not taking me for a walk anywhere near as much as the late, lamented Rosie the Rottweiler.

3. Guest passes to health clubs are ridiculously expensive. My uncle was nice enough to get me one to the L.A. Fitness he goes to, and just for a week, it's more than I pay for a month at 24 Hour Fitness. I felt bad, but I'm way too broke to make a magnanimous offer to pay for it, and will accept it as my xmas gift from him.

4. My god, Grandfather clocks are annoying if you're not used to them. My aunt and uncle have one that BONGGGGs every 15 minutes, and I don't know how the hell I'm going to be able to get to sleep tonight.

Sarcastic British Geeks = Hilarity

My cousin Mark, who enjoys the Halo series very much, sent me the following video, which he said captured his feelings about Halo 3 very well.

I'm not a gamer much beyond Tetris and desperately trying to find a Wii (and then finding it at the one point I couldn't afford it) for the last few months, but I thought this review by a Brit for an Aussie magazine was hysterical:



Now every time someone says the words "Easy Street" I'm going to picture a little sign below it that says "We've got hookers!"

On a separate but related note, I was listening to one of my BBC podcasts and I heard a member of Parliament (a Conservative who was chairing some committee related to finance) describe the missing data fiasco I wrote about the other day as "a major cock-up."

It still sounded more dignified than anything anyone in Congress has said in some time.

Name Your Children Well

I have a story I recently learned about from my mom to share with those of you who are having kids. You are a percentage of my group of friends which is increasing at an alarming rate, so I feel a need to warn you.

This is the story of what happens when a joke goes too far. This is the true story of my grandfather and his three younger brothers.

My grandfather was the firstborn, and his parents named him Tom. His next youngest brother came along, and he was named Richard, and called Dick. Naturally, the third brother was, in due course, named Harry.

And then, my great-grandparents had a surprise. So they wound up with Tom, Dick, Harry...and Bobby.

Bobby, as you might imagine, wound up with something of a complex. It is widely suspected within mom's family that his family's naming scheme contributed to his eventual drinking problem.

So please, my friends, name your children well, and avoid silly naming schemes. For the sake of your childrens' future sanity, do not be like my great-grandparents.

Odd Jobs

I am not the only member of my family with a job that is a bit unusual.

My stepbrother Rob does PR for Chik-Fil-A, which is how he ended up doing the weather in a cow costume on the local Fox morning show in Atlanta.

Cute Overload: Antarctic Edition

My dad and Ray Ann went to Antarctica in January, and since Ray Ann refuses to go digital, they just got their Picture CD back and passed along photos I can actually share.

And they have some awesome pictures, most of which were taken by Ray Ann (click to see full size versions):

My dad and a penguin having a staring contest



My dad and Ray Ann in front of 100,000 penguins



A very cool set of icebergs



3 Emperor Penguins



Ridiculously adorable baby seals



Penguins re-enacting 2001: A Space Odyssey on an iceberg

Parental Advisory

I've got assorted parental units in town starting today in celebration of Dad's 70th birthday tomorrow. Weirdness alert: My boss's mom recently turned 70 as well. I suppose that's what happens when you wait to have kids until you're 45.

Speaking of weird, did anyone else watch Jericho (shut up, it's the most unintentionally hilarious show on television) and notice that Aasif Mandvi from the Daily Show was the doctor? That was just bizarre, especially because he was randomly using a British accent.

I Am Turning Into My Mother

I love my mom, but one of her odder habits is that she hums Christmas carols. Like, 365 days a year. And not even the whole tune, but one phrase, over and over and over again (specifically the title phrase of "Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland").

I'm not even sure she's aware she's doing it, and this is where my troubles come in.

I'm up to my eyeballs in Christmas crap for work (*cough* back at 9pm tuesdays after baseball! *cough*) right now, and it is seeping into every corner of my brain.

While finally cleaning out my overflowing inbox, I started singing to myself. And it was only when I got an entire verse in, I realized what I was singing.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas,
Just like the ones I used to know
Where those treetops glisten
And children listen
To hear sleigh bells in the snow...

And then I put my head down on my desk and said softly, "Oh dear god, it's starting."

This Is Not My Week

First, there was the whole issue of the bad timing of my trip to Atlanta. Then when I came back, the cat decided I was a chew toy.

Now, we have the trifecta: Disease!

All my Atlanta-based relatives came over for brunch on Sunday afternoon, and I got to hold Elias, my 5-month old nephew, who I hadn't yet met.

Elias was kind enough to sneeze directly in my face, covering me in baby spit. I asked if he's been sick lately and his parents chose that point to tell me "Oh...uh, yeah, he's got a cold."

I thought I'd managed to avoid Sneezing Baby Disease when I felt fine all day Sunday and all day yesterday. I woke up this morning feeling shittier than usual, but shrugged it off.

Then when I got to work, I got into a steep downward spiral, rapidly losing energy and the ability to even hold myself upright.

I couldn't even finish half of my lunch. Anyone who knows me (or has seen my Wide Load ass) knows that's a big old red flag. I decided to go home.

I emailed my parents to let them know, and pointed out to my dad the potential red flag of Elias sneezing on me.

I got an email back within 20 minutes: Max, Elias' older brother, had just tested positive for strep throat. I immediately went to the bathroom mirror and looked at my tonsils, which were huge.

So I called the doctor to try and set up an appointment to get a strep test, and after a long and ridiculous argument trying to get myself in to get tested today, they gave me the first appointment tomorrow.

Of course, given the way this week has been going, I'll probably turn out to have malaria instead.