Traction . . . So Classic

Yesterday, when Ian's ankle was really hurting him, he wanted me to hook up a rope to the ceiling to hold his leg up-- and I knew exactly what he meant: classic hospital traction-- but I didn't have the equipment for it . . . and the way health care is now, instead of keeping you in the hospital for a few days after surgery, in traction, which would be helpful and ensure that your limb healed properly-- instead-- because hospital stays are way too expensive and inefficient-- they send you home with a couple of ambIT electronic pain control system pumps connected to catheters in your leg (sorry Rob) which deliver numbing medicine on a regular schedule and then in three days, you remove the catheters yourself . . . which seems fucking crazy, but I'll tell you how it goes on Tuesday when we remove unfasten from Ian's left leg (which is especially skinny, and perhaps the reason why they were leaking yesterday).

Prediction? Pain

Long day for Ian-- he woke up in postoperative pain at 3 AM and it got so bad we had to go to the ER, where they drugged him up until he finally stopped writhing and spewing profanity, and thus slept through the rumbling earthquake that shook the hospital as well as the rest of New Jersey; then at noon we were able to take him from the ER to the surgical clinic where, the day before, they operated on his ankle and the head anesthesiologist came in and fixed his numbing catheter pumps and redid the nerve block and now he seems to be doing better (and anything is better than puking in a vomit bag in the waiting room of the surgical clinic because you had too many meds and car rides in succession).

Ankle Surgery Part II

Ian survived his rescheduled ankle surgery-- although apparently, he was in some serious pain right afterward . . . which was remedied by a couple doses of fentanyl-- and now his ligaments and tendons are repaired and his ankle contains a screw and wedge that will hold things in place . . . and hopefully he will heal quickly and be back on the basketball/tennis court soon.

Brian Selznick

Two days ago our acting principal (our actual principal just retired) came to me and asked if I wanted to take my English class to meet the author/illustrator Brian Selznick-- he was being inducted into the EBHS Hall of Fame and then he was going to speak to a small audience in the media center-- of course, I said "yes," because anything is better than teaching seniors the last period of the day-- especially when it's been training for four days straight-- and while I wasn't 100% certain who Brian Selznick was when the principal invited my class, I figured he was the guy who wrote and illustrated The Invention of Hugo Cabret because I knew that author was from East Brunswick and it turns out I was right-- and what a treat, Selznick is an excellent speaker, compelling, smart, and funny-- and he uses lots of gesticulations-- first he summarized his weird and wild career . . . illustrating books; writing books with illustrations; doing surreal puppetry that reminded me of Being John Malkovich; writing screenplays; seeing one of his creations turned into a Scorcese film; etcetera . . . but it was no fairy tale story-- he spent fifteen years illustrating small-time children's books before he took three years off from that gig to write and draw The Invention of Hugo Cabret-- which was a real favorite in my house . . . and we got the book before we knew the author graduated from East Brunswick-- Selznick also spoke on creativity, where good ideas come from, his constant desire to change things up artistically, what it was like to be gay in high school in the '80s (very different than now-- he was impressed by all the rainbow flag posters around the school promoting LGBTQ+ clubs-- back when he was in high school it was like The Replacements album . . . Don't Tell a Soul) and the fact that when you are in high school, you are focused on the present and it all seems normal, but when you look back at it, it's always kind of strange . . . and he mentioned the casual homophobic slurs and racial stereotypes in Sixteen Candles as an example-- anyway, it was a good time-- and the fact that one of my student's dad graduated with Selznick, and Selznick remembered hanging out with him back in the day sort of brought the whole shebang full circle.

Rain or Shine, the Mail Gets Delivered and the Dog Gets Walked

Long as I remember the rain been coming down-- clouds of mystery pouring confusion on the ground- good men through the ages trying to find the sun and I wonder, still, I wonder who'll stop the rain . . . and more importantly, who will walk the dog in this rain-- and the answer to that question is: me.

I Prefer Mary Anne

 I do not like (nor am I competent at) peeling ginger.

And after the Third Week of PT, Dave's Calf Rose Again

On this fine Easter morning, my wife and I played some pickleball to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus . . . and even more miraculously-- the resurrection of my strained right calf.

You Can't Piss (or Serve) Into the Wind

I am sorry to say, but nobody learned nothin' at yesterday's tennis practice-- aside from the fact that you can't really play tennis when there are 30 mph wind gusts . . . although we tried our best and one group even played an entire set of doubles-- but it was ugly, very ugly . . . the wind is a bitch.

The Secret? You Should Be Hitting Lots of Overheads . . .

Time to go teach my second singles player how to beat a "pusher"-- and not a drug pusher-- a tennis player who likes to mimic a wall-- because he had a frustrating loss against a kid who barely looked like he was interested in hitting the ball-- the kid just kept bopping it back, with very little pace, until my guy would get frustrated and blast it deep or hit the net-- it's frustrating to play a wall-- you have to adjust your game radically--Mitch Hedberg said it best: "The depressing thing about tennis is that no matter how good I get, I'll never be as good as a wall."

Can Someone Drive Me to the House I Need to Paint?

Apparently, in the US, depending on the state you live in, you might need a license to paint nails but not to paint houses.

Earworm Exorcism!

I have finally finished my most ambitious audio project ever, the top secret project that I erased earlier in the week-- it is a new episode of We Defy Augury titled "Earworm Exorcism" and it is an obsessive, comprehensive, and digressive deep dive into how these insidious auditory creatures worm their way into our brains, wrap around our cerebral cortex, and make us susceptible to suggestion of the catchiest kind-- a veritable shitload of the sounds that capture our consciousness-- and the theory and philosophy of why and how they do this-- but be warned: your brain might not survive unscathed . . . this many earworms have NEVER been assembled in one place before; three fantastic podcast episodes inspired this project:

"The Case of the Missing Hit" (Reply All)

"Whomst Amongst Us Let the Dogs out" (99% Invisible)

"Louie Louie: The Strange Journey of the Dirtiest Song Never Written" (Lost Notes)

but I don't think anyone has ever assembled this many earworms in one place-- here's a visual of all the clips . . .

and while I'm happy to be done, people keep reminding me of earworms that I forgot to include-- so I either need to edit them into this episode or start working on a sequel.

The Animals Are Wild

Another crisp wildlife photo from yours truly (and possible good news on the alleged raccoon in the attic front . . . yesterday, I climbed into the attic crawl space-- which is not a fun thing to do, as it's filled with loose insulation-- and I saw that the wire guard around the roof vent had been dislodged and pushed in, forming an entry hole-- so Ian and I pushed the wire mesh back in place and reinforced the wire guard around the roof vent with some staples and then last night, I heard some critter on the roof-- trying to get in, scratching at the wire guard-- but I didn't hear any mewling of babies or any critters inside the attic-- so maybe the creatures-- which I believe are raccoons-- will give up and move on to some other poor soul's house and make a nest in their attic).

 

Spring Break?

Ian and I woke up at 5:10 AM to go for his ankle surgery, but when we arrived at University Orthopedics, the building was surrounded by fire and police vehicles and enough flashing lights to give you a seizure-- after waiting a few minutes at the edge of the parking lot, we were informed that there was smoke in the building and a generator blew, so there would be no appointments today-- which really sucks because we scheduled this to coincide with my Spring Break and my wife's Spring Break-- which is next week-- so that we could take care of Ian while he's incapacitated-- and though I went to bed early, I did NOT get a good night's sleep because it seems that a raccoon has broken into our attic (which happened once before-- quite a tale) and it was making noise through the night-- probably pregnant female making a nest-- and on our early morning drive, Ian and I saw two raccoons strolling along the sidewalk across the street from our house . . . perhaps they are the culprits-- so it seems my Spring Break will consist of scheduling the animal removal guy and the roof guy; grading all the essay I received right before break-- the quarter ends right when we get back; going to PT for my torn calf; rescheduling Ian's surgery, and coaching tennis . . . no wet t-shirt contests for me.

Top Secret Project Update

I am now past where I was before I erased what I had . . . home stretch.

Top-Secret Project Update

It is taking longer than I thought to get to where I was (before I erased my top-secret project off my external drive). 

How to (Rarely) Tie a Tie

 For the rest of my life, I am only getting dressed up if someone I know gets married or dies.

Brief Period of Mourning Followed Renewed Motivation

 I am working on a very special episode of We Defy Augury-- top secret . . . but it involves scores and scores of clips-- and I was more than halfway done with it but then this morning, I somehow erased the entire project on Logic-- and it was stored on the external drive and the Time Machine does NOT back up the drive that the back up is stored on- if that makes sense?-- so it is truly gone . . . and so I'm starting over and I am looking at this as a good thing-- the episode was getting a bit ponderous so hopefully now I will tighten things up (and finish it by the end of Spring Break).

Funny is Funny and That's Funny

I passed by the new liquor store on First Avenue this morning, noticed the lovely new sign, and then my eyes focused on one particular portion of the sign and I knew I had to stop and take a picture.

 

Both Are Better Than Badminton

High school tennis season has begun and I hadn't hit any balls since my son Ian got injured last summer-- it's been all pickleball since then-- and I forgot how enjoyable it is to hit a tennis ball, especially three particular shots: a topspin forehand, a low driving slice backhand, and an overhead smash-- while I love the frenetic nature of pickleball, I also love the grace, style, and thwack of a good tennis stroke.

Just Desserts

After a dinner party on Saturday night, my wife informed me that "dense" was not an appropriate way to describe a dessert, specifically a lemon bar that our friend made-- and that the term "dense" is derogatory in dessert-describing-terms . . . I honestly meant it as a compliment-- the lemon bar was very delicious-- but I was just informing folks that you could not eat two of these lemon bars in one sitting because they had some serious substance to them-- but my wife informed me that the word I was looking for was "rich."