A bit of stuff

Not everything I think fits neatly into a blog post. Sometimes I want to express myself but just can’t find an appropriate outlet. Since the practice of blogging allows for periodic self-indulgence, here are some things I’ve been thinking about lately.

Klingons are supposed to be the ultimate warriors, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one win a fight except with another Klingon. Worf once beat up a string of opponents in an episode of DS9, but even Quark, a simpering Ferengi, was able to outwit a Klingon warrior on the Klingon home world, in front of the Klingon High Council. And Worf once got his heiney handed to him by a group of three or four Ferengi. This has been bothering me for a long time.

Mrs. Happy and I tried going on the South Beach diet so that she could take off some of her stubborn pregnancy weight. I don’t really need to lose weight. For much of my life, I’ve been dangerously thin, and only in recent years have I reached what experts consider the ideal weight for a man of my height and frame. I need to eat healthier foods, though, and South Beach is supposed to condition you to eat well. From Wednesday to Sunday, Mrs. Happy lost three pounds. In that same time period, I lost almost six. I don’t have six pounds to lose, so I’m not on the diet anymore.

I love reading Charles Dickens. Great Expectations has long been one of my favorite books. Right now I’m reading David Copperfield, and I like it even more. I wish I had his talent for expression and first-person point-of-view. Tater shows a little aptitude in that direction, I hope, but even he has a long way to go. Here’s a bit from DC that I particularly enjoyed, about the narrator’s wedding day:

The church is calm enough, I am sure, but it might be a steam-power loom in full action, for any sedative effect it has on me. I am too far gone for that.

And after the honeymoon:

Sometimes, of an evening, when I looked up from my writing, and saw her seated opposite, I would lean back in my chair, and think how queer it was that there we were, alone together as a matter of course–nobody’s business any more–all the romance of our engagement put away on a shelf, to rust–no one to please but one another–one another to please for life.

Speaking of Tater, he can sit up now. He can also eat mushy rice, play chords on his four-key piano, and open doors that are slightly ajar. He still gets cuter every day.

I feel like the Michael Jordan of Minesweeper. I got pretty good at it back in the early ’90s when Windows was new, but since I’ve been unemployed, I’m an absolute ace. No mine is safe from me. I will root it out and mark it for all to see. Unless, of course, it’s under one of two adjacent squares, either of which could logically be hiding it. My best time is 143 seconds on the expert level. I’m sure there are people out there who can do better, but I don’t want to know about them.

I’ve always considered myself a “geek by association” simply because it seems the only people who will be friends with me are the intelligent and unacceptably eccentric social outcasts. It occurs to me now that I can’t be an actual geek because no true geek would enjoy playing Minesweeper, much less admit it in public.

I don’t know why anyone would ever go to the effort of making a full-length motion picture with stop-motion animation, but I’m glad they do. I recently saw Corpse Bride and Wallace & Gromit in The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. Both sound pretty morbid, but both are sweet, funny, original films, lovingly crafted and a joy to watch.

I really haven’t been in a blogging mood lately. I feel vaguely guilty when I neglect my blog, but that doesn’t help me write. I’ve considered scrapping it completely, but I know that as soon as I do, I’ll wish I hadn’t. Instead, I’ll just make it official that this site will not be updated regularly for a while. I’ll only write when I have something to say.


Earlier this evening, I was changing a dirty diaper on Tater. Mrs. Happy walked into the room, looked at him, and said, “Is he a sigh noo?” I thought for a moment she was inquiring whether he had joined a Psi Nu fraternity. When I asked her what in the world she was talking about, she explained that she only wondered if tonight’s episode of CSI was new or a rerun (“Is CSI new?”). I didn’t know, but I laughed anyway.